Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [85]
“This is what should be, I think,” said the Pearl Warrior.
“League yourself with us again, Pearl Warrior,” said Oone, with all her considerable authority. “It is what she desires!”
“No. It is so that she shall not be betrayed. You must dissolve. Now! Now! Now!” His head was flung back as he screamed these last words, for all the world like a dog gone rabid.
Elric drew a sword from its scabbard. It shone with the same silver light that poured from the Pearl Warrior’s blade. Oone followed his example, though more reluctantly.
“We shall pass now, Pearl Warrior.”
“Nothing will here! I want your freedom.”
“She shall have it!” said Oone. “It is not yours, not unless she bestows it upon you herself.”
“She says it is mine. I will be that. I will be that!”
Elric could not follow this strange conversation and he chose not to waste time with it. He urged his silver horse forward, the blade glaring in his hand. So balanced was this sword, so familiar to his grip, that he felt for a moment that it was somehow the natural counterpart to his runesword. Was this a sword forged by Law to serve its purposes, just as Stormbringer had, by all accounts, been forged by Chaos?
The Pearl Warrior guffawed and widened his awful eyes. Death was in them. The death of the world. He lowered the same misshapen lance he had brandished at them before and Elric saw it was encrusted with old blood. The warrior held his ground and the lance was suddenly threatening Elric’s eyes so that the albino had to throw himself to one side to avoid its points, striking upwards as he did so and feeling a greater resistance to his blow than anything he had felt before. The Pearl Warrior seemed to have gained strength since their last encounter.
“Ordinary soul!” The lips twisted in this insult, clearly as disgusting as any the Pearl Warrior could conceive. And he began to chuckle again, this time because Oone was riding at him, her sword stretched out full before her, a spear held in her hand, her reins between her teeth. The sword drove forward, the spear swung back as she poised to throw. Then sword and spear struck the Pearl Warrior at the exact same moment so that his breastplate cracked like the shell of some great crustacean and was pierced by the sword.
Elric marveled at this strategy, which he had never witnessed before. Oone’s strength and co-ordination were almost beyond credibility. It was a feat of arms warriors would speak of for a thousand years to come, which many would try to emulate and would die in the trying.
The spear had done its work in breaking open the Pearl Warrior’s armour and the sword had completed the action. But the Pearl Warrior had not been killed.
He groaned. He cackled. He floundered. His sword came up as if to protect his chest from the blow already struck. His great horse reared and its nostrils flared with fury. Oone turned her own mount away. Her sword had left its tip in the Pearl Warrior’s body. She was reaching for a second spear, for her dagger.
Elric drove forward again, his own spear aimed at the cracked armour, hoping to follow her example, but the blade struck the ivory and was turned. Elric lost balance long enough for the Pearl Warrior to take the advantage. The sword struck the steel of Elric’s armour with a noise that made a cacophony in his helmet and brought bright sparks like a fire. He fell onto his horse’s neck, barely able to block the next thrust. Then the Pearl Warrior had shrieked, the eyes growing still wider, the mouth gaping red and the foul breath steaming from it, while blood poured from under the gorget between his helmet and his breastplate. He fell towards Elric and the albino realized that the haft of a spear was sticking from his chest in exactly the same place where Oone had broken the creature’s armour.
“This will not remain so!” cried the Pearl Warrior. It was a threat. “I cannot do that thing!”
Then he had tumbled in a heap from his horse and clattered like old bones onto the flagstones of the courtyard.