"As a fellow sorcerer, I thought I'd help you," Elric said.
"I thought you were that. But, in my land, sorcerers are not so friendly to one another-the opposite, in fact."
"I'll tell you the truth-we need your aid to halt the barbarian's bloody progress. We have a common enemy. If we can help you regain your soul, will you help?"
"Help-of course. All I do is plan the way I'll avenge myself. But for my sake be careful-if he suspects that you're here to aid me, he'll slay the cat and slay us, too."
"We'll try to bring the cat to you. Will that be what you need?"
"Yes. We must exchange blood, the cat and I, and my soul will then pass back into my own body."
"Very well, I'll try to-" Elric turned, hearing voices outside. "What's that?"
The sorcerer replied fearfully. "It must be Terarn Gashtek-he comes every night to taunt me."
"Where's the guard?" The barbarian's harsh voice came closer as he entered the little tent. "What's...?" He saw Elric standing above the sorcerer.
His eyes were puzzled and wary. "What are you doing here, Westerner-and what have you done with the guard?"
"Guard?" said Elric, "I saw no guard. I was looking for my own tent and heard this cur cry out, so I entered. I was curious, anyway, to see such a great sorcerer clad in filthy rags and bound so."
Terarn Gashteck scowled. "Any more of such unwary curiosity my friend, and you'll be discovering what your own heart looks like. Now, get hence-we ride on in the morning."
Elric pretended to flinch and stumbled hurriedly from the tent.
A lone man in the livery of an Official Messenger of Karlaak goaded his horse southwards. The mount galloped over the crest of a hill and the messenger saw a village ahead. Hurriedly he rode into it, shouting at the first man he saw.
"Quickly, tell me-know you ought of Dyvim Slorm and his Imrryrian mercenaries? Have they passed this way?"
"Aye-a week ago. They went towards Rignariom by Jadmar's border, to offer their services to the Vilmirian Pretender."
"Were they mounted or on foot?"
"Both."
"Thanks, friend," cried the messenger behind him and galloped out of the village in the direction of Rignariom.
The messenger from Karlaak rode through the night-rode along a recently made trail. A large force had passed that way. He prayed that it had been Dyvim Slorm and his Imrryrian warriors.
In the sweet-smelling garden city of Karlaak, the at mosphere was tense as the citizens waited for news they knew they could not expect for some time. They were relying on both Elric and on the messenger. If only one were successful, there would be no hope for them. Both had to be successful. Both.
THREE
The tumbling sound of moving men cut through the weeping morning and the hungry voice of Terarn Gashtek lashed at them to hurry.
Slaves packed up his tent and threw it into a wagon. He rode forward and wrenched his tall war-lance from the soft earth, wheeled his horse and rode westwards, his captains, Elric and Moonglum among them, behind him.
Speaking the Western tongue, Elric and Moonglum debated their problem. The barbarian was expecting them to lead him to his prey, his outriders were covering wide distances so that it would be impossible to lead him past a settlement. They were in a quandary for it would be disgraceful to sacrifice another township to give Karlaak a few days' grace, yet...
A little later two whooping outriders came galloping up to Terarn Gashtek.
"A town, lord! A small one and easy to take! "
"At last-this will do to test our blades and see how easy Western flesh is to pierce. Then we'll aim at a bigger target." He turned to Elric: "Do you know this town?"
"Where does it lie?" asked Elric thickly.
"A dozen miles to the south-west," replied the outrider.
In spite of the fact that the town was doomed, Elric felt almost relieved. They spoke of the town of Gorjhan. "I know it," he said.
Cavim the Saddler, riding to deliver a new set of horse furniture to an outlying farm, saw the distant riders, their bright helmets caught by a sudden beam of sunlight. That the riders came from off the Weeping Waste was undoubtable-and he recognised menace in their massed progress.
He turned his mount about and rode with the speed of fear, back the way he had come to the town of Gorjhan.
The flat, hard mud of the street trembled beneath the thudding hooves of Cavim's horse and his high, excited shout knifed through shuttered windows.
"Raiders come! 'Ware the raiders! "
Within a quarter of an hour, the head-men of the town had met in hasty conference and debated whether to run or to fight. The older men advised their neighbours to flee the raiders, other younger men preferred to stay ready, armed to meet a possible attack. Some argued that their town was too poor to attract any raider.
The townspeople of Gorjhan debated and quarrelled, and the first wave of raiders came screaming to their walls.
With the realisation that there was no time for further argument came the realisation of their doom, and they ran to the ramparts with their pitiful weapons.
Terarn Gashtek roared through the milling barbarians who churned the mud around Gorjhan: "Let's waste no time in siege. Fetch the sorcerer! "
They dragged Drinij Bara forward. From his garments, Terarn Gashtek produced the small black cat and held an iron blade at its throat.
"Work your spell, sorcerer, and tumble the walls quickly."
The sorcerer scowled, his eyes seeking Elric, but the albino averted his own eyes and turned his horse away.
The sorcerer produced a handful of powder from his belt pouch and hurled it into the air where it became first a gas, then a flickering ball of flame and finally a face, a dreadful unhuman face, formed in the flame.
"Dag-Gadden the Destroyer," intoned Drinij Bara, "you are sworn to our ancient pact-will you obey me?"
"I must, therefore I will. What do you command?"
"That you obliterate the walls of this town and so leave the men inside naked, like crabs without their shells."
"My pleasure is to destroy and destroy I shall." The flaming face faded, altered, shrieked a searing course upward and became a blossoming scarlet canopy which hid the sky.
Then it swept down over the town and, in the instant of its passing, the walls of Gorjhan groaned, crumbled and vanished.
Elric shuddered-if Dag-Gadden came to Karlaak, such would be their fate.
Triumphant, the barbarian battlemongers swept into the defenceless town.
Careful to take no part in the massacre, Elric and Moonglum were also helpless to aid the slaughtered townspeople. The sight of the senseless, savage bloodshed around them enervated them. They ducked into a small house which seemed so far untouched by the pillaging barbarians. Inside they found three cowering children huddled around an older girl who clutched an old scythe in her soft hands. Shaking with fear, she prepared to stand them off.
"Do not waste our time, girl," Elric said, "or you'll be wasting your lives. Does this house have a loft?"
She nodded.
"Then get to it quickly. We'll make sure you're unharmed."
They stayed in the house, hating to observe the slaughter-madness which had come upon the howling barbarians. They heard the dreadful sounds of carnage and smelled the stench of dead flesh and running blood.
A barbarian, covered in blood which was not his own, dragged a woman into the house by her hair. She made no attempt to resist, her face stunned by the horror she had witnessed.
Elric growled: "Find another nest, hawk-we've made this our own."
The man said: "There's room enough here for what I want."
Then, at last, Elric's clenched muscles reacted almost in spite of him. His right hand swung over to his left hip and the long fingers locked around Stormbringer's black hilt. The blade leapt from the scabbard as Elric stepped forward and, his crimson eyes blazing his sickened hatred, he smashed his sword down through the man's body. Unnecessarily, he clove again, hacking the barbarian in two. The woman remained where she lay, conscious but unmoving.