Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [105]
“You must stay here with Mother Phatt,” said Charion. “It is your duty, my dear.”
“You must stay, too, dear child!” cried Fallogard Phatt in great dismay. “You are not a warrior! You are a clairvoyant!”
“I am both now, Uncle,” she said firmly. “I have no special blade to aid me, but I have my special wit, which gives me considerable advantage of most opponents. I learned much, Uncle, in the service of Gaynor the Damned! Let me go with you, ladies, I beg.”
“Aye,” said Princess Mishiguya, “you are well-fitted to battle Chaos. You may go with us.”
“And I would go with you, also,” said the Rose. “My magic is exhausted, but I have fought Chaos many times and survived, as you know. Let me bear my Swift Thorn and my Little Thorn into battle beside you. For if we are to die at this time, I would rather die fulfilling my vocation.”
“Then so be it,” said Princess Shanug’a and looked enquiringly towards her kinsman. “Five swords against Chaos—or six?”
Elric was still staring at that horrific army which looked as if everything obscene and evil and brutish and greedy in the human race had been given features. He turned back with a shrug. “Six, of course. But they will require our every resource to defeat them. I suspect that we do not see all that Chaos sends against us. Yet I, too, have not made use of everything …”
He raised his gauntleted hand to his lips, brooding on a matter which had just entered his mind.
Then he said: “The others must stay here, to make their escape if need be. I charge you, Master Wheldrake, with the well-being of Mother Phatt and Koropith Phatt, as well as Fallogard …”
“Really, sir. I am capable …” said that untidy idealist.
“I have every respect for your capabilities, sir,” said Elric, “but you are not experienced in these matters. You must be ready to flee, since you have no means of defending yourself or your people. Your psychic gifts might help you find a means of escape before Chaos discovers you. Believe me, Master Phatt, if it seems we are about to be defeated you must flee this realm! Use whatever powers you still possess to find a means of escape—and take the others with you.”
“I will not leave while Charion is here,” said Wheldrake firmly.
“You must, for everyone’s sake,” Charion said. “Uncle Fallogard will have need of you.”
But it was fairly clear from Wheldrake’s manner that he had made up his own mind on the matter.
“The horses are ready for us in the stables below,” said Princess Tayaratuka. “Six horses of copper and silver, as the weaving demands.”
Wheldrake watched his friends leave. Something he disliked in himself was grateful that he did not have to go with them and face such disgusting foes; something else yearned to go with them, yearned to be part of their epic fight, rather than its mere recorder …
A little later, as he leaned upon the balcony and watched the slow, sickening advance of that evil, brutified pack, crushing all it encountered and taking only absent-minded pleasure in the destruction it caused, the poet saw six figures leave the shadows of the cliff and ride on chestnut, silver-maned horses without hesitating into the clashing crystals of the forest. Elric, the three sisters, Charion Phatt and the Rose—side by side they cantered—straight-backed in their saddles—to do battle with that manifestation of perverse evil and greedy cruelty—to fight for their very future: for their history; for the merest memory of their ever having existed somewhere in the vast multiverse …
At this sight, Wheldrake laid down his expectant pen and, instead of concocting some glorious Romance from the action of those six brave riders, he offered up an impassioned prayer in respect of the lives and the souls of his cherished friends.
Pride in his companions, together with his fears for their well-being, had struck the little man speechless.
Now he watched as the Rose broke away from her fellows and rode a little way ahead until she was only a few yards from the first swaying howdahs of the massive war-beasts, part-mammal, part-reptile,