The Weird of the White Wolf - Michael Moorcock [31]
Elric recognised the name. “So you are from Elwher, Master Moonglum. I have heard of the place. A new city, is it not? Some few centuries old. You have ridden far.”
“Indeed I have, sir. Without knowledge of the language used in these parts, the journey would have been harder, but luckily the slave who inspired me with tales of his homeland taught me the speech thoroughly.”
“But why do you travel these parts—have you not heard the legends?” Shaarilla spoke incredulously.
“Those very legends were what brought me hence—and I'd begun to discount them, until those unpleasant pups set upon me. For what reason they decided to give chase, I will not know, for I gave them no cause to take a dislike to me. This is, indeed, a barbarous land.”
Elric was uncomfortable. Light talk of the kind which Moonglum seemed to enjoy was contrary to his own brooding nature. But in spite of this, he found that he was liking the man more and more.
It was Moonglum who suggested that they travel together for a while. Shaarilla objected, giving Elric a warning glance, but he ignored it.
“Very well then, friend Moonglum, since three are stronger than two, we'd appreciate your company. We ride towards the mountains.” Elric, himself, was feeling in a more cheerful mood.
“And what do you seek there?” Moonglum inquired.
“A secret,” Elric said, and his new-found companion was discreet enough to drop the question.
THREE
* * *
So they rode, while the rainfall increased and splashed and sang among the rocks with the sky like dull steel above them and the wind crooning a dirge about their ears. Three small figures riding swiftly towards the black mountain barrier which rose over the world like a brooding God. And perhaps it was a God that laughed sometimes as they neared the foothills of the range, or perhaps it was the wind whistling through the dark mystery of canyons and precipices and the tumble of basalt and granite which climbed towards lonely peaks. Thunder clouds formed around those peaks and lightning smashed downwards like a monster finger searching the earth for grubs. Thunder rattled over the range and Shaarilla spoke her thoughts at last to Elric; spoke them as the mountains came in sight.
“Elric—let us go back, I beg you. Forget the Book—there are too many forces working against us. Take heed of the signs, Elric, or we are doomed!”
But Elric was grimly silent, for he had long been aware that the girl was losing her enthusiasm for the quest she had started.
“Elric—please. We will never reach the Book. Elric, turn back.”
She rode beside him, pulling at his garments until impatiently he shrugged himself clear of her grasp and said:
“I am intrigued too much to stop now. Either continue to lead the way—or tell me what you know and stay here. You desired to sample the Book's wisdom once—but now a few minor pitfalls on our journey have frightened you. What was it you needed to learn, Shaarilla?”
She did not answer him, but said instead: “And what was it you desired, Elric? Peace, you told me. Well, I warn you, you'll find no peace in those grim mountains—if we reach them at all.”
“You have not been frank with me, Shaarilla,” Elric said coldly, still looking ahead of him at the black peaks. “You know something of the forces seeking to stop us.”
She shrugged. “It matters not—I know little. My father spoke a few vague warnings before he died, that is all.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that He who guards the Book would use all his power to stop mankind from using its wisdom.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else. But it is enough, now that I see that my father's warning was truly spoken. It was this guardian who killed him, Elric—or one of the guardian's minions. I do not wish to suffer that fate, in spite of what the Book might do for me. I had thought you powerful enough to aid me—but now I doubt it.”
“I have protected you so far,” Elric said simply. “Now tell me what you seek from the Book?”
“I am too ashamed.”
Elric did not press the question, but eventually she spoke softly, almost whispering.