Before he reached it, it sprang open and a huge, manlike thing with hands like grappling irons grinned at him.
He took a pace backward and then another until, seeing that the thing did not advance, stood his ground observing it.
It was a foot or so taller than he, with oval, multifaceted eyes that, by their nature, seemed blank. Its face was angular and had a grey, metallic sheen. Most of its body was comprised of burnished metal, jointed in the manner of armour. Upon its head was a tight-fitting hood, studded with brass. It had about it an air of tremendous and insensate power, though it did not move.
A golem Malador exclaimed for it seemed to him that he remembered such man-made creatures from legends. 'What sorcery created you' The golem did not reply but its hands--which were in reality comprised of four spikes of metal apiece--began slowly to flex themselves; and still the golem grinned.
This thing, Malador knew, did not have the same amorphous quality of his earlier visions. This was solid, this was real and strong, and even Malador's manly strength, however much he exerted it, could not defeat such a creature. Yet neither could he turn away.
With a scream of metal joints, the golem entered the hall and stretched its burnished hands towards the earl.
Malador could attack or flee, and fleeing would be senseless. He attacked.
His great sword clasped in both hands, he swung it sideways at the golem's torso, which seemed to be its weakest point. The golem lowered an arm and the sword shuddered against metal with a mighty clang that set the whole of Malador's body quaking. He stumbled backward. Remorselessly, the golem followed him.
Malador looked back and searched the hall in the hope of finding a weapon more powerful than his sword, but saw only shields of an ornamental kind upon the wall to his right. He turned and ran to the wall, wrenching one of the shields from its place and slipping it on to his arm. It was an oblong thing, very light, and comprising several layers of crossgrained wood. It was inadequate, but it made him feel a trifle better as he whirled again to face the golem. The golem advanced, and Malador thought he noticed something familiar about it, just as the demons of the labyrinth had seemed familiar, but the impression was only vague. Kaneloon's weird sorcery was affecting his mind, he decided. The creature raised the spikes on its right arm and aimed a swift blow at Malador's head. He avoided it, putting Up his sword as protection. The spikes clashed against the sword and then the left arm pistoned forward, driving at Malador's stomach.
The shield stopped his blow, though the spikes pierced it deeply. He yanked the buckler off the spikes, slashing at the golem's leg-joints as he did so. Still staring into the middle-distance, with apparently no real interest in Malador, the golem advanced like a blind man as the earl turned and leapt on to the table, scattering the scrolls. Now he brought his huge sword down upon the golem's skull, and the brass studs sparked and the hood and head beneath it was dented. The golem staggered and then grasped the table, heaving it off the floor so that Malador was forced to leap to the ground. This time he made for the door and tugged at its latchring, but the door would not open. His sword was chipped and blunted. He put his back to the door as the golem reached him and brought its metal hand down on the top edge of the shield. The shield shattered and a dreadful pain shot up Malador's arm. He lunged at the golem, but he was unused to handling the big sword in this manner and the stroke was clumsy.
Malador knew that he was doomed. Force and fighting skill were not enough against the golem's insensate strength. At the golem's next blow he swung aside, but was caught by one of its spike-fingers which ripped through his armour and drew blood, though at that moment he felt no pain.
He scrambled up, shaking away the grip and fragments of wood which remained of the shield, grasping his sword firmly.
"The soulless demon has no weak spot, " he thought, "and since it has no true intelligence, it cannot be appealed to. What would a golem fear?"
The answer was simple. The golem would only fear something as strong or stronger than itself.
He must use cunning.
He ran for the upturned table with the golem after him, leaped over the table and wheeled as the golem stumbled but did not, as he'd hoped, fall. However, the golem was slowed by its encounter, and Aubec took advantage of this to rush for the door through which the golem had entered. It opened.
He was in a twisting corridor, darkly shadowed, not unlike the labyrinth he had first found in Kaneloon. The door closed, but he could find nothing to bar it with. He ran up the corridor as the golem tore the door open and came lumbering swiftly after him.
The corridor writhed about in all directions, and, though he could not always see the golem, he could hear it and had the sickening fear that he would turn a corner at some stage and run straight into it.
He did not--but he came to a door and, upon opening it and passing through it, found himself again in the hall of Castle Kaneloon.
He almost welcomed this familiar sight as he heard the golem, its metal parts screeching, continue to come after him. He needed another shield, but the part of the hall in which he now found himself had no wall-shields--only a large, round mirror of bright, clear-polished metal. It would be too heavy to be much use, but he seized it, tugging it from its hook. It fell with a clang and he hauled it up, dragging it with him as he stumbled away from the go lem which had emerged into the room once more. Using the chains by which the mirror had hung, he gripped it before him and, as the golem's speed increased and the monster rushed upon him, he raised this makeshift shield.
The golem shrieked.
Malador was astounded. The monster stopped dead and cowered away from the mirror. Malador pushed it towards the golem and the thing turned its back and fled, with a metallic howl, through the door it had entered by.
Relieved and puzzled, Malador sat down on the floor and studied the mirror. There was Certainly nothing magical about it, though its quality was good. He grinned and said aloud: 'The creature’s afraid of something. It is afraid of itself' He threw back his head and laughed loudly in his relief. Then he frowned. 'Now to find the sorcerers who created him and take vengeance on them' He pushed himself to his feet, twisted the chains of the mirror more securely about his arm and went to another door, concerned lest the golem complete its cir cuit of the maze and return through the door. This door would not budge, so he lifted his sword and hacked at the latch for a few moments until it gave. He strode into a well-lit passage with what appeared to be another room at its far end--the door open. A musky scent came to his nostrils as he progressed along the passage--the scent that reminded him of Eloarde and the comforts of Klant.