The Bane of the Black Sword - Michael Moorcock [42]
The sorcerer produced a handful of powder from his belt pouch and hurled it into the air where it became first a gas, then a flickering ball of flame and finally a face, a dreadful unhuman face, formed in the flame.
"Dag-Gadden the Destroyer," intoned Drinij Bara, "you are sworn to our ancient pact—will you obey me?"
"I must, therefore I will. What do you command?"
"That you obliterate the walls of this town and so leave the men inside naked, like crabs without their shells."
"My pleasure is to destroy and destroy I shall." The flaming face faded, altered, shrieked a searing course upward and became a blossoming scarlet canopy which hid the sky.
Then it swept down over the town and, in the instant of its passing, the walls of Gorjhan groaned, crumbled and vanished.
Elric shuddered—if Dag-Gadden came to Karlaak, such would be their fate.
Triumphant, the barbarian battlemongers swept into the defenceless town.
Careful to take no part in the massacre, Elric and Moonglum were also helpless to aid the slaughtered townspeople. The sight of the senseless, savage bloodshed around them enervated them. They ducked into a small house which seemed so far untouched by the pillaging barbarians. Inside they found three cowering children huddled around an older girl who clutched an old scythe in her soft hands. Shaking with fear, she prepared to stand them off.
"Do not waste our time, girl," Elric said, "or you'll be wasting your lives. Does this house have a loft?"
She nodded.
"Then get to it quickly. We'll make sure you're unharmed."
They stayed in the house, hating to observe the slaughter-madness which had come upon the howling barbarians. They heard the dreadful sounds of carnage and smelled the stench of dead flesh and running blood.
A barbarian, covered in blood which was not his own, dragged a woman into the house by her hair. She made no attempt to resist, her face stunned by the horror she had witnessed.
Elric growled: "Find another nest, hawk—we've made this our own."
The man said: "There's room enough here for what I want."
Then, at last, Elric's clenched muscles reacted almost in spite of him. His right hand swung over to his left hip and the long fingers locked around Stormbringer's black hilt. The blade leapt from the scabbard as Elric stepped forward and, his crimson eyes blazing his sickened hatred, he smashed his sword down through the man's body. Unnecessarily, he clove again, hacking the barbarian in two. The woman remained where she lay, conscious but unmoving.
Elric picked up her inert body and passed it gently to Moonglum. "Take her upstairs with the others," he said brusquely.
The barbarians had begun to fire part of the town, their slaying all but done. Now they looted. Elric stepped out of the doorway.
There was precious little for them to loot but, still hungry for violence, they spent their energy on smashing inanimate things and setting fire to the broken, pillaged dwellings.
Stormbringer dangled loosely in Elric's hand as he looked at the blazing town. His face was a mask of shadow and frisking light as the fire threw up still longer tongues of flame to the misty sky.
Around him, barbarians squabbled over the pitiful booty; and occasionally a woman's scream cut above the other sounds, intermingled with rough shouts and the clash of metal.
Then he heard voices which were pitched differently to those in the immediate vicinity. The accents of the reavers mingled with a new tone—a whining, pleading tone. A group led by Terarn Gashtek came into view through the smoke.
Terarn Gashtek held something bloody in his hand—a human hand, severed at the wrist—and behind him swaggered several of his captains holding a naked old man between them. Blood ran over his body and gushed from his ruined arm, spurting sluggishly.
Terarn Gashtek frowned when he saw Elric. Then he shouted: "Now Westerner, you shall see how we placate our Gods with better gifts than meal and sour milk as this swine once did. He'll