Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [15]
“We must not forget the sorcerous fortresses of the Outer Islands,” Rigenos told me, “at World’s Edge. The Outer Islands lie in the Gateway to the Ghost Worlds and from there they can summon their ghoulish allies. Perhaps, now Paphanaal is taken, we should concentrate on smashing their strength in the West, at World’s Edge.”
I wondered if he over-estimated the power of the Ghost World denizens. “Have you ever seen these halflings?” I asked him.
“Oh, yes, my friend,” he replied. “I’ve seen them. You are wrong if you believe them legendary things. They are, in one sense at least, real enough.”
He had convinced me. “Very well,” I said. “We’ll leave a force here strong enough to defend the city, return to Necranal, re-equip the fleets and make war on the Outer Islands. But how do you plan to use Ermizhad? Will you leave her here or take her back to Necranal?”
“Necranal, I think,” he said. “We shall keep her in our principal city until such time as we need to use her, if ever we have to bargain with Arjavh.”
“A sensible plan,” I agreed.
“We’ll settle our position here,” he said, “and set sail back to Necranal within a week. We should waste no time—now that we have gained Paphanaal, we must fear an attack from Prince Arjavh’s frightful Ghost Armies.”
There were minor details of the plan to discuss and, while the victorious warriors pleasured themselves on Eldren bounty, we talked of urgent matters.
It was slower going back to the Two Continents, for our mighty vessels groaned with captured Eldren treasure.
Ermizhad had been grudgingly given decent quarters next to mine. This was at my request. Although he hated the Eldren still, King Rigenos had exhausted some of the earlier ferocity he had felt in the heat of war. However, he would have nothing to do with her and when he got the opportunity he spoke of Ermizhad in her presence as if she was not there; spoke disdainfully of her and his disgust for all her kind.
I saw a little of her and, in spite of the king’s warnings, came to like her. She was certainly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her beauty was different from the cool beauty of Iolinda, my betrothed.
What is love? Even now, now that the whole pattern of my destiny has been fulfilled, I do not know. Oh, yes, I still loved Iolinda, but I think while I did not know it I was falling in love with Ermizhad. I refused to believe in the stories told about her and held affection for her though, at the time, had no thought of pursuing it, remaining loyal to Iolinda. But there must be countless forms of love. Which is the form which conquers the rest? I cannot define it. I shall not try.
Ermizhad’s beauty had the fascination for being an unhuman beauty, but close enough to my race’s ideal to attract me.
She had the long pointed Eldren face, slanting eyes that seemed blind in their strange milkiness, slightly pointed ears, high slanting cheekbones and a slender body that was almost boyish. All the Eldren women were slender, like this, small-breasted and narrow-waisted. Her red lips were fairly wide, curving naturally upwards so that she always seemed to be on the point of smiling while her face was in repose.
For the first week out she would not speak. I saw that she had everything for her comfort and she thanked me through her guards, that was all. But one day I stood outside the set of cabins where she, the king and I had our apartments, leaning over the rail looking at a grey sea and an overcast sky.
She took the initiative.
“Greetings, Sir Champion,” she said half-mockingly as she came out of her cabin.
I turned, surprised.
“Greetings—Lady Ermizhad,” said I. She was dressed in a cloak of midnight blue flung around a simple smock of pale blue wool.
“A day of omens, I think,” she said looking at the gloomy sky which boiled darkly