Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [38]
“Sorana,” said Rackhir thickly, “you died.”
“I disappeared,” said she, “and this is where I came. I was told that you would come to this place and decided that I would meet you.”
“But this is the Domain of the Grey Lords—and you serve Chaos.”
“I do—but many are welcome at the Grey Lords’ Court, whether they be of Law, Chaos or neither. Come, I will escort you there.”
Bewildered, now, Rackhir let her lead the way across the strange terrain and Lamsar followed him.
Sorana and Rackhir had been lovers once, in Yeshpotoom-Kahlai, the Unholy Fortress, where evil blossomed and was beautiful. Sorana, sorceress, adventuress, was without conscience but had high regard for the Red Archer since he had come to Yeshpotoom-Kahlai one evening, covered in his own blood, survivor of a bizarre battle between the Knights of Tumbru and Loheb Bakra’s brigand-engineers. Seven years ago, that had been, and he had heard her scream when the Blue Assassins had crept into the Unholy Fortress, pledged to murder evil-makers. Even then he had been in the process of hurriedly leaving Yeshpotoom-Kahlai and had considered it unwise to investigate what was obviously a death-scream. Now she was here—and if she was here, then it was for a strong reason and for her own convenience. On the other hand, it was in her interests to serve Chaos and he must be suspicious of her.
Ahead of them now they saw many great tents of shimmering grey which, in the light, seemed composed of all colours. People moved slowly among the tents and there was an air of leisure about the place.
“Here,” Sorana said, smiling at him and taking his hand, “the Grey Lords hold impermanent court. They wander about their land and have few artifacts and only temporary houses which you see. They’ll make you welcome if you interest them.”
“But will they help us?”
“You must ask them.”
“You are pledged to Eequor of Chaos,” Rackhir observed, “and must aid her against us, is that not so?”
“Here,” she smiled, “is a truce. I can only inform Chaos of what I learn of your plans and, if the Grey Lords aid you, must tell them how, if I can find out.”
“You are frank, Sorana.”
“Here there are subtler hypocrisies—and the subtlest lie of all is the full truth,” she said, as they entered the area of tall tents and made their way towards a certain one.
In a different realm of the Earth, the huge horde careered across the grasslands of the North, screaming and singing behind the black-armoured horseman, their leader. Nearer and nearer they came to lonely Tanelorn, their motley weapons shining through the evening mists. Like a boiling tidal wave of insensate flesh, the mob drove on, hysterical with the hate for Tanelorn which Narjhan had placed in their thin hearts. Thieves, murderers, jackals, scavengers—a scrawny horde, but huge…
And in Tanelorn the warriors were grim-faced as their outriders and scouts flowed into the city with messages and estimates of the beggar army’s strength.
Brut, in the silver armour of his rank, knew that two full days had passed since Rackhir had left for the Sighing Desert. Three more days and the city would be engulfed by Narjhan’s mighty rabble—and they knew there was no chance of halting their advance. They might have left Tanelorn to its fate, but they would not. Even weak Uroch would not. For Tanelorn the Mysterious had given them all a secret power which each believed to be his only, a strength which filled them where before they had been hollow men. Selfishly, they stayed—for to leave Tanelorn to her fate would be to become hollow again, and that they all dreaded.
Brut was the leader and he prepared the defense of Tanelorn—a defense which might just have held against the beggar army but not against it and Chaos. Brut shuddered when he thought that if Chaos had directed its full force against Tanelorn, they would be sobbing in Hell at that moment.
Dust rose high above Tanelorn, sent flying by the hoofs