Stormbringer - Michael Moorcock [28]
Noon was approaching, with a hint of weird disturbances in the bright-clouded sky, when they saw a long line of people coming towards them. They flattened themselves behind a small rise and peered cautiously over it as the party drew nearer. These were no enemy soldiers, but gaunt women and starving children, men who staggered in rags, and a few battered riders, obviously the remnants of some defeated band of partisans who had held out against Jagreen Lern.
"I think we'll find friends, of sorts, here," Elric muttered thankfully, "and perhaps some information which will help us."
They arose and walked towards the wretched herd. The riders quickly grouped around the civilians and drew their weapons, but before any challenges could be given, someone cried from the enclosed ranks:
"Elric of Melniboné! Elric—have you come with news of rescue?"
Elric did not recognise the voice, but he knew his face was a legend, with its dead white skin and glowing crimson eyes.
"I'm seeking rescue myself, friend," he said with poorly-assumed cheerfulness. "We were shipwrecked on your coasts while trying to seek help in the Southlands, but unless we find another ship, our chances are poor."
"Which way did you sail, Elric?" said the unseen spokesman.
"South, I told you."
"Then you were going in the wrong direction!"
Elric straightened his back and tried to peer into the throng. "Who are you to tell us that?"
There was a movement in the crowd and a bent, middle-aged man with long, curling moustachios adorning his fair-skinned face broke from the ranks and stood leaning on a staff. The riders drew back their horses so that Elric could see him properly.
"I am named Ohada the Seer, once famous in Aflitain as an oracle. But Aflitain was razed in the sack of Shazar and I was lucky enough to escape with these few people who are all from Aflitain, one of the last cities to fall before Pan Tang's sorcerous might. I have a message of great import for you, Elric. It is for your ears only and I received it from one you know—one who may help you and, indirectly, us."
"You have piqued my curiosity and raised my hopes," Elric beckoned with his hand. "Come, seer, tell me your news and let's all trust it is as good as you hint."
Moonglum took a step back as the seer approached. Both he and the Aflitainians watched with curiosity as Ohada whispered to Elric. Elric himself had to strain to catch the words. "I bear a message from a strange man called Sepiriz. He says that he sent the storm but there is something which you must do that he cannot. He says to go to the carved city and there he will enlighten you further."
"Sepiriz! But I have recently left him! How did he contact you?"
"I am clairvoyant. He came to me in a dream."
"Your words could be treacherous, designed to lead me into Jagreen Lern's hands."
"Sepiriz added one thing to what he said—he told me that we should meet on this very spot. Could Jagreen Lern know that?"
"Unlikely—but, by the same reckoning, could anyone know that?" He nodded. "Thanks, seer." Then he shouted to the mounted warriors. "We need a pair of horses—your best!"
"Our horses are valuable to us," grumbled a knight in torn armour, "they are all we have."
"My companion and I need to move swiftly if we are to save the world from Chaos. Come, risk a pair of horses against the chance of vengeance on your conquerors!"
"Aye, very well." The knight dismounted and so did the man beside him. They led their steeds up to Elric and Moonglum.
Elric took the reins and swung himself into the saddle, the huge runesword slapping against his side. "I will," said he. "What are your plans, now?"
"We'll fight on, as best we can."
"Would it not be wiser to hide in the mountains or the Marshes of the Mist?"
"If you had witnessed the depravity and terror of Jagreen Lern's rule, you would not make such an enquiry," the knight said bleakly. "Though we cannot hope to win against a warlock whose servants can command the very