Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [20]
He spoke the truth, but Elric let his hatred control his lust for the potion. He called: “Anigh! Young Anigh!”
Slowly the boy emerged. “Aye, master.”
“I swear you’ll suffer no harm from any action of mine. And this foul degenerate now understands that if he hurts you in any way while I am gone he will die in the most terrible torment. And yet, boy, you must remember all I’ve said, for I know not where this adventure will lead me.” And Elric added in the cant, “Perhaps to death.”
“I hear you,” said Anigh in the same tongue. “But I would beg you, master, not to die yourself. I have some interest in your remaining alive.”
“No more!” Lord Gho strode across the courtyard signaling for Elric to accompany him. “Come. I’ll supply you with all you need to find the Fortress of the Pearl.”
“And I would be most grateful if you did not let me die. I would be a most grateful boy, master,” said Anigh from behind them as the door closed.
CHAPTER THREE
On the Red Road
So it was that next morning Elric of Melniboné left ancient Quarzhasaat not knowing what he sought or where to find it; knowing only that he must take the Red Road to the Silver Flower Oasis and there find the Bronze Tent where he would learn how he might continue on the path to the Pearl at the Heart of the World. And if he failed in this numinous quest, his own life at very least would be forfeit.
Lord Gho Fhaazi had offered no further illumination and it was evident the ambitious politician knew no more than he had repeated.
“The Blood Moon must make fire of the Bronze Tent before the Pathway to the Pearl shall be revealed.”
Knowing nothing of Quarzhasaat’s legends or history and very little of her geography, Elric had decided to follow the map he had been given. It was simple enough. It showed a trail stretching for at least a hundred miles between Quarzhasaat and the oddly named oasis. Beyond this were the Ragged Pillars, a range of low mountains. The Bronze Tent was not named and neither was there any reference to the Pearl.
Lord Gho believed the nomads to be better informed but had not been able to guarantee that they would be prepared to talk to Elric. He hoped that, once they understood who he was, and with a little of Lord Gho’s gold to reassure them, they would be friendly, but he knew nothing of the Sighing Desert’s hinterland, nor its people. He knew only that Lord Gho despised the nomads as primitives and resented occasionally admitting them into the city to trade. Elric hoped the nomads would be better mannered than those who still believed this whole continent to be under their rule.
The Red Road was well-named, dark as half-dried blood, cutting through the desert between high banks which suggested it had once been the river on whose sides Quarzhasaat had originally been built. Every few miles the banks descended to reveal the great desert in all directions—a sea of rolling dunes which stirred in a breeze whose voice was faint here but still resembled the sighing of some imprisoned lover.
The sun climbed slowly into a glaring indigo sky as still as an actor’s backdrop and Elric was grateful for the local costume provided him by Raafi as-Keeme before he left, a white cowl, loose white jerkin and britches, white linen shoes to the knee and a visor which protected his eyes. His horse, a bulky, graceful beast capable of great speed and endurance, was similarly clothed in linen, to protect it from both the sun and the sand which blew in constant gentle drifts across the landscape. Clearly some effort was made to keep the Red Road free of the drifts which gathered against its banks and gradually built them into walls.
Elric had lost none of his hatred either of his situation or of Lord Gho Fhaazi; neither had he lost his determination to remain alive and rescue Anigh, return to Melniboné and be reunited with Cymoril. Lord Gho’s elixir had proved as addictive as he had claimed and Elric carried two flasks of it in his saddle-bags. Now he truly believed it must indeed kill him eventually