Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [67]
The rabbit-warrior pulled the spear from the oak, which ceased to scream, and flung it into another tree. This, in turn, set up a swirling and a moaning until even the Count of Magnes Doar shook his head in irritation and drew his weapon out of the trunk. “You must fight me, I think,” he said.
It was then that they heard a yell from the other side of the right pillar and something white and rearing appeared there. It was another of the pale riders in armour of bone, tortoiseshell and mother-of-pearl, his horrible eyes slitted with hatred, his horse’s hoofs beating at a barrier which had not been there when Oone and Elric passed through.
Then it was down and the warrior was charging.
The albino and the dreamthief made to defend themselves, but it was the Count of Magnes Doar who moved ahead of them and jabbed his spear up at the warrior’s body. Steel was deflected by an armour stronger than it looked and the sword rose and fell, almost contemptuously, slicing down through the brass helm into the brain of the rabbit-warrior. He staggered backwards, his hands clutching at his head, his sword and spear abandoned. His round brown eyes seemed to grow still wider and he began to squeal. He turned slowly, round and round, then fell to his knees.
Elric and Oone had positioned themselves behind the bole of one of the oaks, ready to defend themselves when the rider attacked.
The horse reared again, snorting with the same mindless fury as its master, and Elric darted from his cover, seized the dropped spear and stabbed up to where the breastplate and gorget joined, sliding the spearhead expertly into the warrior’s throat.
There came a choking sound which in turn grew to a familiar chuckling and the rider had turned his horse and was riding ahead of them again, along the path through the forest, his body swaying and jerking as if in its death agonies, yet still borne on by the horse.
They watched it disappear.
Elric was trembling. “If I had not already seen him die on the bridge from Sadanor I would swear that was the same man who attacked me there. He has a puzzling familiarity.”
“You did not see him die,” said Oone. “You saw him plunge into the river.”
“Well, I think he is dead now, after that stroke. I almost severed his head.”
“I doubt if he is,” she said. “It’s my belief he is our most powerful enemy and we shall not have to deal with him in any serious way until we near the Fortress of the Pearl itself.”
“He protects the Fortress?”
“Many do.” She embraced him again, swiftly, then sank to one knee to inspect the dead Count of Magnes Doar. In death he more resembled a man, for already the hair on his face and hands was fading to grey and even his flesh seemed on the point of disappearance. The brass helm, too, had turned an ugly shade of silver. Elric was reminded of Alnac’s dying. He averted his eyes.
Oone, too, stood up quickly and there were tears in her eyes. The tears were not for the Count of Magnes Doar. Elric took her in his arms. He was suddenly full of longing for someone he barely remembered from old dreams, the dreams of his youth, someone who, perhaps, had never existed.
He thought he felt a slight shudder run through Oone as he embraced her. He reached out for a memory of a little boat, of a fair-haired girl sleeping at the bottom of the vessel as it drifted out to open sea, of himself sailing a skiff towards her, full of pride that he might be her rescuer. Yet he had never known such a girl, he was sure, though Oone reminded him of that girl grown up.
With a gasp Oone moved away from him. “I thought you were … It’s as if I’d always known you…” She put her hands to her face. “Oh, this damned land is well-called, Elric!”
“Yet what danger is there to us?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Who knows? Much or little. None? The dreamthieves say that it is in the Land of Forgotten Love that the most important decisions are made. Decisions which can have the most monumental