D'Averc put out his hand. "No, Hawkmoon. Do not tamper with it. I'm inclined to believe the old man.
Besides, he seemed well-disposed toward you. He must have meant you well. Probably he intended to tell you where this was, give you more explicit directions as to how to reach the places-presuming they were places-he spoke of. If we try to work the rings now, there's no telling where we'll find ourselves-possibly even back in that unpleasant company we left in Mygan's cave!"
Hawkmoon nodded. "Perhaps you're wise, D'Averc. But what do we do now?"
"First we do as Mygan said, and remove his rings. Then we head south-to that place-what did he call it?"
"Narleen. It could be a person. A thing."
"South, at any rate, we go, to find out if this Narleen be place, person or thing. Come." He bent beside the corpse of Mygan of Llandar and began to strip the crystal rings from his fingers. "From what I saw of his cavern, it's almost certain that he found these in the city of Halapandur. That equipment he had in his cave evidently came from there. These must have been one of the inventions of those people before the onset of the Tragic Millenium…"
But Hawkmoon was barely listening to him. Instead he was pointing out across the plain.
"Look!"
The wind was blowing up.
In the distance something gigantic and reddish purple came rolling, emitting lightnings.
BOOK TWO
As THE CHAMPION ETERNAL served the Runestaff, so had Mygan of Llandar (though knowingly) and the philosopher of Yel had seen fit to deposit Hawkmoon in a strange, unfriendly land, giving him little information, in order, as he saw it, to further the Runestaff's cause. So many destinies were interlinked now-the Kamarg's with Granbretan's, Granbretan's with Asiacommunista, Asiacommunistas's with Amarehk-Hawkmoon's with D'Averc's, D'Averc's with Flana's, Flana's with Meliadus's, Meliadus's with King Huon's, King Huon's with Shenegar Trott's, Shenegar Trott's with Hawkmoon's; and all this on only one of Earth's many planes-so many destinies weaving together to do the Runestaff's work which was begun when Meliadus swore upon the Runestaff his great oath of vengeance against the inhabitants of Castle Brass and thus set the pattern of events. Paradoxes and ironies were all apparent in the fabric, would become increasingly clearer to those whose fates were woven into it. And while Hawkmoon wondered where he was placed in time or space, King Huon's scientists perfected more powerful war machines that helped the armies of the Dark Empire spread faster and further across the globe, to stain the map with blood…
- The High History of the Runestaff
Chapter One
ZHENAK-TENG
HAWKMOON AND D'AVERC watched the strange sphere approach and then wearily drew their swords.
They were in rags, their bodies all bloody, their faces pale with the strain of the fight, and there was little hope in their eyes.
"Ah, I could do with the amulet's power now," said Hawkmoon of the Red Amulet which, on the Warrior's advice, he had left behind at Castle Brass.
D'Averc smiled wanly. "I could do with some ordinary mortal energy," he said. "Still, we must do our best, Duke Dorian." He straightened his shoulders.
The thundering sphere came closer, bouncing over the turf. It was a huge thing, full of flashing colors and there was no question of swords being useful against it.
It rolled to a halt with a dying, growling noise and stopped close by, towering over them.
Then it began to hum and a split appeared at its centre, widening out until it seemed the sphere would split in two. From it appeared white, delicate smoke drifting in a cloud to the ground.
The cloud now began to disperse and a tall, wellproportioned figure was revealed, his long fair hair held from his eyes by a silver coronet, his bronzed body clad in a short divided kilt of light brown color. He appeared to have no weapons.
Hawkmoon looked at him warily.
"Who are you?" he said. "What do you want?"
The occupant of the sphere smiled. "That's a question I should ask you," he said in a peculiar accent.
"You have been in a fight, I see-and one of your number is dead. He seems old to have been a warrior."
"Who are you?" Hawkmoon asked again.
"You are single-minded, warrior. I am Zhenak-Teng of the family of Teng. Tell me who you fought here. Was it the Charki?"
"The name means nothing. We fought no one here," D'Averc said. "We are travellers. Those we fought are a great distance away now. We came here fleeing them…"
"And yet your wounds look fresh. You will accompany me back to Teng-Kampp?"
"That is your city?"
"We do not have cities. Come. We can help youdress your wounds, perhaps even revive your friend."
"Impossible. He is dead."
"We can revive the dead as often as not," the handsome man said airily. "Will you come with me?"
Hawkmoon shrugged. "Why not?" He and D'Averc lifted the body of Mygan between them and advanced towards the sphere, Zhenak-Teng leading the way.
They saw that the interior of the sphere was, in fact, a cabin in which several men could sit comfortably. Doubtless the thing was a familiar form of transport here, for Zhenak-Teng made no effort to help them, leaving them to work out for themselves where they should sit and how they should position themselves.
He waved his hand over the control board of the sphere and the crack in the side began to seal itself.
Then they were off, rolling smoothly over the turf at a fantastic speed, seeing dimly the landscape they passed.
The plain stretched on and on. Never once did they see trees or rocks or hills or rivers. Hawkmoon began to wonder if it were not, in fact, artificial-or had been artificially levelled at some time in the past.
Zhenak-Teng had his eyes pressed close to an instrument through which, presumably, he could see his way. His hands were on a lever attached to a wheel which he swung in one direction or another from time to time, doubtless steering the strange vehicle.
Once they passed at a distance a group of moving objects that they could not define through the shifting walls of the sphere. Hawkmoon pointed them out.
"Charki," Zhenak-Teng said. "With luck, they will not attack."
They seemed to be grey things, the color of dark stone, but with many legs and waving protuberances.
Hawkmoon could not decide whether they were creatures or machines, or neither.
An hour passed and at last the sphere began to slow.
"We are nearing Teng-Kampp," Zhenak-Teng said.
A little later the sphere rolled to a halt and the bronzed man leant back, sighing with relief. "Good," he said. "I found what I set out looking for. That force of Charki is feeding in a south-westerly direction and should not come too close to Teng-Kampp."
"What are the Charki?" D'Averc asked, gasping as he moved and his wounds began to hurt again.
"The Charki are our enemies, creatures created to destroy human life," Zhenak-Teng replied. "They feed from above ground, sucking up energy from the hidden Kampps of our people."
He touched a lever and with a jolt the globe began to descend into the ground.
The earth seemed to swallow them up and then close above them. The globe continued to descend for a few moments and then stopped. A bright light came on suddenly and they saw they were in a small underground chamber, barely large enough to hold the sphere.
"Teng-Kampp," said Zhenak-Teng laconically, touching a stud in the control panel which caused the sphere to split again.
They descended to the floor of the chamber, carrying Mygan with them, ducking to pass tinder an archway and emerge in another chamber where men dressed similarly to Zhenak-Teng hurried forward, presumably to service the sphere.