The War Hound and the World's Pain by Michael Moorcock Read Free Book Online

relied, I began the necessary ritual. It was at my moment of greatest weakness. And it is at that moment, you must know, when Lucifer’s servants come calling.”
    “You summoned a demon?”
    “And sold my soul.”
    “And were saved.”
    “After the pact was made, I appeared to contract the Plague and was thrown, living, into a pit on the outskirts of town. From that pit I escaped and the Plague went from me. Two days after that, as I lay in a barn, my Master appeared to me in person. He said that He had special need of me. He brought me here, where I was instructed in His service.”
    “You truly believe that it was Lucifer who brought you here? That this is Lucifer’s castle?” I reached out to touch her face.
    “I know that Lucifer is my Master. I know that this is His domain on Earth.” She could tell that I did not believe her.
    “But He is not in residence today?” I said.
    “He is here now,” she told me flatly.
    “I discovered no sign of Him.” I was insistent.
    “Could you recognize the sign of Lucifer?” she asked me. She spoke as if to a child.
    “I would expect at least a hint of brimstone,” I told her.
    She gestured about her. “This whole castle, the forest outside, is His sign. Could you not guess? Why do even the smallest insects avoid it? Why do whole armies fear it?”
    “Then why did I feel only a hint of trepidation when I came here? How can you live here?”
    Her expression approached pity.
    “Only the souls He owns can exist here,” she said.
    I shuddered and became cold. I was almost convinced by her. Happily, my reason once again began to function. My ordinary sense of self-preservation. I stepped from the bed and began pulling on my linen. “Then I’ll be leaving,” I said. “I have no wish to make a pact with Lucifer or anyone who calls himself Lucifer. And I would suggest, Sabrina, that you accompany me. Unless you wish to remain enslaved by your illusion.”
    She became wistful.
    “If only it were an illusion, and you truly could save me.”
    “I can. On the back of my very ordinary horse. Leave with me now.”
    “I cannot leave and neither can you. For that matter, because the horse has served you, neither can your horse,”
    I scoffed at this. “No man is wholly free and the same, madam, may be said for the beast he rides, but we are both free enough to go from here at once!”
    “You must stay and meet my Master,” she said.
    “I am not about to sell my soul.”
    “You must stay.” She reached a hand to me. It trembled. “For my sake.”
    “Madam, such pleas to my honour are pointless. I have no honour left. I thought that I had made that perfectly clear.”
    “I beg you,” she said.
    It was my desire, rather than my honour, which held me there. I hesitated. “You say that your Master is in the castle now?”
    “He waits for us.”
    “Alone? Where? I’ll take my sword and deal with your ‘Lucifer’, your enchanter, in my own habitual fashion. He has deceived you. Good, sharp steel will enlighten Him and prove to you that He is mortal. You’ll be free soon enough, I promise you.”
    “Bring your sword if you wish,” she said.
    She rose and began to dress herself in flowing white silk. I stood near her, watching impatiently as she took pains with her clothing. I even felt a pang of jealousy, as a cuckolded husband knows when he sees his wife dressing for her lover.
    It was odd, indeed, that such a beautiful and intelligent woman could believe herself in thrall to Satan Himself. Our times were such that human despair took many forms of madness.
    I buckled my sword-belt about my shirted waist, pulled on my boots and stood before her, trying to determine the depth of her illusion. Her stare was direct and there was pain in it, as well as a strange sort of determination.
    “If you are crazed,” I said, “it is the subtlest form of insanity I’ve ever witnessed.”
    “The human imagination confers lunacy on everyone,” she said, “dependent upon