Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [59]
Then it seemed the rush of water grew louder and he realized he heard the sound of hoofs on rock. Formed as if by the spray, a figure suddenly appeared on the far side of the bridge, bearing down on him, its long, pale sword poised to strike.
There was nowhere to turn. The only way of avoiding the warrior was to jump from the bridge into the torrent below. Elric found his vision dimmed even as he prepared to spring forward, hoping to catch the horse’s bridle and at least halt the rider in his tracks.
Then again there was a whirring of wings and something fixed itself on the attacker’s helm, slashing at the face within. It was Whiskers, spitting and yowling like any ordinary alley cat engaged in a brawl over a piece of ripe fish.
The horse reared. The rider gave out a shriek of rage and pain and released the bridle in order to try to pull the little cat from him. Whiskers rushed upward into the air, out of reach. Elric glimpsed glaring, silvery eyes, a skin which glowed with the leper’s mark, and then the horse, out of control, had slipped on the wet rock and fallen sideways. For a moment it tried to get back to its feet, the rider yelling and roaring as if demented, the long, white sword still in his hand. And then both had tumbled over the edge of the bridge and went falling, a chaotic mixture of arms and hoofs, down into the echoing chasm to be swallowed by the distant, murky waters.
Elric was gasping for breath. Jaspar Colinadous came to grip his arm and steady him, helping him and Oone cross to the far side of the rocky slab and stand upon the bank, still scarcely aware of what had happened to them.
“I’m grateful again to Whiskers,” said Elric with an unstable grin. “That’s a valuable pet you have, Master Colinadous.”
“More valuable than you know,” said the little man feelingly. “He has played a crucial part in more than one world’s history!” He patted the cat as the beast returned to his arms, purring and pleased with himself. “I’m glad we were able to be of service to you.”
“We’re well rid of the bridge’s guardian.” Elric peered down into the foam. “Are we to encounter more such attacks, my lady?”
“Most certainly,” she said. She was frowning as if lost in some conundrum only she perceived.
Jaspar Colinadous pursed his lips. “Here,” he said. “Look how the gorge narrows. It becomes a tunnel.”
It was true. They could now see how the rocks leaned in upon one another so that the pass was little more than a cave barely large enough to let Elric enter without bending his head. A set of crude steps led up to it and from time to time a little flicker of yellow fire appeared within, as if the place were lit by torches.
Jaspar Colinadous sighed. “I had hoped to journey with you further than this, but I must turn back now. I can go no further than the Marador Gate, which is what this seems to be. To do so would be to destroy me. I must find other companions now, in the Land of Dreams-in-Common.” He seemed genuinely regretful. “Farewell, Prince Elric, Lady Oone. I wish you success in your adventure.”
And suddenly the little man had turned and walked swiftly back over the bridge, not looking behind him. He left them almost as suddenly as he had arrived and was gone back into the darkness before either could speak, his cat with him.
Oone seemed to accept this and, at Elric’s questioning glance, said: “Such people come and go here. Another rule the dreamthief learns is ‘Hold on to nothing but your own soul.’ Do you understand?”
“I understand that it must be a lonely thing to be a dreamthief, madam.”
And with that Elric began to climb the great rough-hewn steps which led into the Marador Gate.
CHAPTER THREE
Of Beauty Found in Deep Caverns
The tunnel began to descend almost as soon as they had entered it. Where it had at first been cool now the air became hot and humid so that sometimes it seemed to Elric he was wading through water. The little lights which gave faint illumination were not, as he had at first thought, lamps or