Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [106]
Then, from the leading howdah, all hung with human skins and other savageries, poked out a head to peer down at the Rose as she advanced upon the throng.
The helmet was immediately recognized by Wheldrake.
It belonged to Gaynor, ex-Prince of the Universal.
The death-seeker had come personally to savour the final agonies of these most irritating of his enemies.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Fight in the Crystalline Wood: Chaos Regenerated. The Tangled Woman. To The Ship That Was.
“Prince Gaynor,” said the Rose, “you and your warriors have invaded this land.” She spoke with angry formality. “And we now order you to leave. We are here to banish Chaos from this realm.”
Gaynor said coolly: “Sweet Rose, you have been driven mad by your knowledge of our power. You should not resist us further, lady. We ourselves are here to establish Gaynor’s rule once and for all upon your realm. We offer you the mercy of immediate death.”
“That mercy is a lie!” said Charion Phatt from where she sat on her silver-maned horse beside the others. “All that you say is a lie. And what is not a lie is mere vainglory!”
Gaynor’s mysterious helm turned slowly to regard the young woman and a deep, assured chuckle escaped the Prince of the Damned. “You have a naïve courage, child, but it is by no means sufficient to offer resistance to the power Chaos commands. Which I command.”
There was a fresh note in Gaynor’s voice, a new kind of confidence, and Elric wondered, with some unease, how the Prince of the Damned had come by it. Gaynor seemed to believe his position was, if anything, stronger. Did more Chaos Lords group behind him? Was this to be the beginning of the great battle between Law and Chaos which so many oracles had predicted in recent centuries?
As he watched the Rose raise herself in her saddle and draw her sword Swift Thorn, Elric marveled at the woman’s self-control; for she faced the creature that had betrayed her and caused the agonized deaths of all her people. She faced him and did not reveal in any way her contempt and hatred of him. Yet twice he had bested her in a struggle without beating her and this he must know. Perhaps that was the reason for his new-found braggadocio? Perhaps he sought to deceive them into believing he had more power than was apparent?
Now the Rose was riding back to rejoin her friends crying: “Know this, Gaynor the Damned, whatever is the worst thing you fear, that shall be your fate after this day! This I promise you!”
Gaynor’s answering laughter had little humour, merely threat. “There is no punishment I fear, madam. Do you not know that yet? Since I am not permitted the luxury of death, then I shall find it for myself—and make millions seek it with me! Each death I cause, lady, consoles me for an instant. You die in my place. All of you shall die in my place. For me.” His tone became a lover’s and his words caressed her retreating back like the foul coaxing hand of Vice personified. “For me, lady.”
When she took her place again with the others, the Rose looked steadily into Gaynor’s helm, which squirmed with the flames and smoke of his own myriad torments, and she said: “None of us shall die, Prince Gaynor. Least of all, on your behalf!”
“My surrogates!” called Gaynor, laughing again. “My sacrifices! Go to find death! Go! You do not realize I am your benefactor!”
But already the six of them, Elric and the Rose slightly ahead of their companions, were cantering through the shimmering, jangling forest, their swords drawn, their chestnut, silver-maned horses, bred in a distant age only for war and brought here by the sisters from some more barbaric realm, lifting their hoofs in sprightly anticipation of battle, their heavy harness clattering in unison with the broken