Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [39]
“Greetings,” it hissed, “and beware—for I am the guardian of Urish’s treasure.”
“A thing of hell,” Elric said. “A demon raised by Theleb K’aarna. He has been brewing his spells for a long time, methinks, if he can command so many foul servants.” He frowned and weighed Stormbringer in his hand but, oddly, the blade did not seem to hunger for battle.
“I warn thee,” hissed the demon, “I cannot be slain by a sword—not even that sword. It is my wardpact . . .”
“What is that?” whispered Moonglum, eyeing the demon warily.
“He is of a race of demons used by all with sorcerous power. He is a guardian. He will not attack unless himself attacked. He is virtually invulnerable to mortal weapons and, in his case, he has a ward against swords—be they supernatural or no. If we attempted to slay him with our swords, we should be struck down by all the powers of hell. We could not possibly survive.”
“But you have just destroyed a god! A demon is nothing compared with that!”
“A weak god,” Elric reminded him. “And this is a strong demon—for he is a representative of all demons who would mass with him to preserve his wardpact.”
“Is there no chance of defeating him?”
“If we are to help Rackhir, there is no reason for trying. We must get to our horses and try to warn the caravan. Later, perhaps, we can return and think of some sorcery which will aid us against the demon.” Elric bowed sardonically to the demon and returned his salute. “Farewell unlovely one. May your master not return to release you and thus ensure you squat in this filth for ever!”
The demon slobbered in rage. “My master is Theleb K’aarna—one of the most powerful sorcerers amongst your kind.”
Elric shook his head. “Not my kind. I shall be slaying him soon and you will be left there until I discover the means of destroying you.”
Somewhat pettishly, the demon folded its multitude of arms and closed its eyes.
Elric and Moonglum strode through the muck-strewn hall towards the door.
They were close to vomiting by the time they reached the steps leading into the forum. The rest of Elric’s potions had been taken when his purse was taken and they had no protection now against the stink. Moonglum spat on the steps as they descended into the square and then he looked up and drew his two swords in a cross-arm motion.
“Elric!”
Some dozen beggars were rushing at them, bearing an array of clubs, axes and knives.
Elric laughed. “Here’s a titbit for you, Stormbringer!” He drew his sword and began to swing the howling blade around his head, moving implacably towards the beggars. Almost immediately two of their number broke and ran, but the rest came in a rush at the pair.
Elric brought the sword lower and took a head from its shoulders and had bitten deep into the next man’s shoulder before the first’s blood had begun to spout.
Moonglum darted in with his two slim swords and engaged two of the beggars at the same time. Elric stabbed at another and the man screamed and danced, clutching at the blade which remorselessly drew out his soul and his life.
Stormbringer was singing a sardonic song now and three of the surviving beggars dropped their weapons and were off across the square as Moonglum neatly took both his opponents simultaneously in their hearts and Elric hacked down the rest of the rabble as they shouted and groaned for mercy.
Elric sheathed Stormbringer, looked down at the crimson ruin he had caused, wiped his lips as a man might who had just enjoyed a fine meal, caused Moonglum to shudder, and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“Come—let’s to Rackhir’s aid!”
As Moonglum followed the albino, he reflected that Elric had absorbed more than just the Burning God’s life-force in the encounter in the labyrinth. Much of the callousness of the Lords of Chaos was in him today.
Today Elric seemed a true warrior of ancient Melniboné.
CHAPTER FIVE
Things Which Are Not Women
The beggars had been too absorbed in their triumph over the albino and their plans