BO17-07 537 F 001 298-OCR-cropped nf nb pw sE IE 1.15 by Michael Moorcock

Author:Michael Moorcock [Moorcock, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I said nothing, of course. I remembered the first angels I had seen, as a little girl, amongst the gentle hills of Morsdale. Those had not been at all warlike and had seemed very respectable to me.

I had left the path which leads away south of Corum’s Tam and gone down into a little secret spot only I and my father knew about. He had the sense, of course, to leave the place alone. As I began to drink my flask of Tizer and eat a fishpaste sandwich, I looked up. An entire choir of them were directly overhead, spiralling into heaven, rank upon rank, the lowest and broadest ranks hovering some fifteen feet above my head. Their faces shone like polished pewter and brass and their folded wings were rustling ivory. They were engaged in some kind of dance. The dance was, I think, a way of communicating between themselves. A few of them showed a casual interest in me. I caught snatches of sound. They had seen me watching them and seemed to approve. Together with unconditional love, their dark eyes contained everything I had ever wished to learn. I sat in the heather, my tender back against a limestone spur, my little pink feet dangling in the bright ripple of water below me, and watched them for a lifetime.

I witnessed at least three similar visitations eveiy week throughout 1952 and 1953. It did not occur to me then that it was as easy for me to pass into their sphere as it was for them to pass into ours. Eventually, of course, and against all my father’s warnings, I put my first tentative foot into the Second Ether and found myself on a moonbeam road. During the so-called Game of the Raped Planet I had a million years to regret that step. But now I am glad I took it.

Immortality is not easily earned, nor kept. We ‘eternals’ are doomed to perpetual vigilance and an uneasy relationship with time, yet I have no yearning towards death as popular myth suggests. My life is lived to the fullest and in moderation. Prince Lobkowitz taught me much about the pleasures of self-restraint and the ecstacy which comes when standing silent and still, alone amongst the elements, or from taking a different, subtler kind of path to one’s desired destination. While one learns, one lusts for immortality. And so one continues to learn.

My mother had much the same attitude in her own life. Her curiosity was so closely associated with her sexual desire that she could not satisfy one without gratifying the other. This naturally led to the vast and varied list of lovers she had enjoyed, but gave her a certain reputation for flightiness, which I do not believe was earned.

I had stayed with her after both my god-fathers had contacted her and warned her of my wildness and I had escaped justice for the third time, on account of my youth. I had given my word that I

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