Sorcerer's Amulet by Michael Moorcock

Author:Michael Moorcock [Moorcock, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780886772161
Goodreads: 11051895
Publisher: Lancer Books
Published: 1968-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

HAWKMOON’S DILEMMA

THE GREAT COURTYARD of the castle was clogged with bodies. Some were of the warrior women, but most were of men wearing the collar of the Mad God. Dried blood caked the cobbles not occupied by corpses in the grotesque attitudes of death.

Hawkmoon’s horse snorted in fear as the stench of decaying flesh filled its nostrils, but he urged it on, dreading that he would see Yisselda’s face among the dead.

He dismounted, turning over stiff bodies of women, peering at them closely, but none was Yisselda.

The Warrior in Jet and Gold entered the courtyard, Oladahn and D’Averc behind him. “She is not here,” said the warrior. “She is alivewithin.”

Hawkmoon’s bleak face rose. His hand trembled as it took the bridle of his horse. “Hashas he done ought to her, Warrior?”

“That you must see for yourself, Duke Dorian.” The Warrior in Jet and Gold pointed at the castle’s main doorway. “Through there lies the court of the Mad God. A short passage leads to the main hall, and there he sits awaiting you… .”

“He knows of me?”

“He knows that one day the Red Amulet’s rightful wearer must arrive to claim what is his… .”

“I care nothing for the amulet, only for Yisselda. Where is she, Warrior?”

“Within. She is within. Go claim both your rights your woman and your amulet. Both are important in the Runestaff’s scheme.”

Hawkmoon turned and ran for the doorway, disappearing into the darkness of the castle.

The interior of the castle was incredibly chill. Cold water dripped from the roof of the passage, and moss grew on the walls. Blade in hand, Hawkmoon crept along it, half-expecting an attack.

But none came. He reached a large wooden door, stretching twenty feet above his head, and paused.

From behind the door came a strange rumbling sound, a deep-voiced murmuring that seemed to fill the hall beyond. Cautiously Hawkmoon pushed against the door, and it yielded. He put his head through the gap and peered in upon a bizarre scene.

The hall was of strangely distorted proportions. In some parts the ceilings were very low, in others they soared upward for fifty feet. There were no windows, and the light came from brands stuck at random in the walls.

In the center of the hall, on a floor on which one or two corpses lay as they had been cut down earlier, was a great chair of black wood, studded with inlaid plaques of brass. In front of this, swinging from a part of the ceiling that was relatively low, was a large cage, such as would be used for a tame bird, save that this was much bigger. In it, Hawkmoon saw huddled a human figure.

Otherwise, the weird hall was deserted, and Hawkmoon entered, creeping across the floor toward the cage.

It was from this, he realized, that the distressed muttering sound was coming; yet it seemed impossible, for the noise was so great. Hawkmoon decided that it was because the sound was amplified by the peculiar acoustics of the hall.

He reached the cage and could see the huddled figure only dimly, for the light was poor.

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