The Weird of the White Wolf - Michael Moorcock [53]
“Best go with them, Yishana,” he murmured. “I think it will be satisfied with me.”
“No!”
He ignored her and stepped towards the creature as it landed and began to glide over the ground in his direction. He drew a quiescent Stormbringer, which felt heavy in his hand. A little strength flowed into him, but not enough. His only hope was to strike a good blow at the creature's vitals and draw some of its own life-force into himself.
The creature's voice shrilled at him, and the strange, insane face twisted as he approached. Elric realised that this was no true supernatural denizen of the nether worlds, but a once-human creature warped by Theleb K'aarna's sorcery. At least it was mortal, and he had only physical strength to contend with. In better condition it would have been easy for him—but now ...
The wings beat at the air as the taloned hands grasped at him. He took Stormbringer in both hands and swung the runeblade at the thing's neck. Swiftly the wings folded in to protect its neck and Stormbringer became entangled in the strange, sticky flesh. A talon caught Elric's arm, ripping it to the bone. He yelled in pain and yanked the sword from the enfolding wing.
He tried to steady himself for another blow, but the monster grabbed his wounded arm and began drawing him towards its now lowered head—and the horns that curled from it.
He struggled, hacking at the thing's arms with the extra strength that came with the threat of death.
Then he heard a cry from behind him and saw a figure from the corner of his eye, a figure that leapt forward with two blades gleaming in either hand. The swords slashed at the talons and with a shriek the creature turned on Elric's would-be rescuer.
It was Moonglum. Elric fell backwards, breathing hard, as he watched his little red-headed friend engage the monster.
But Moonglum would not survive for long, unless aided.
Elric racked his brain for some spell that would help; but he was too weak, even if he could think of one, to raise the energy necessary to summon supernatural help.
And then it came to him! Yishana! She was not as exhausted as he. But could she do it?
He turned as the air moaned to the beating of the creature's wings. Moonglum was only just managing to hold it off, his two swords flashing rapidly as he parried every effort to grasp him.
“Yishana!” croaked the albino.
She came up to him and placed a hand on his. “We could leave, Elric—perhaps hide from that thing.”
“No. I must help Moonglum. Listen—you realise how desperate our position is, do you not? Then keep that in mind while you recite this rune with me. Perhaps together we may succeed. There are many kinds of lizards in these parts, are there not?”
“Aye—many.”
“Then this is what you must say—and remember that we shall all perish by Theleb K'aarna's servant if you are not successful.”
In the half worlds, where dwelt the master-types of all creatures other than Man, an entity stirred, hearing its name. The entity was called Haaashaastaak; and it was scaly and cold, with no true intellect, such as men and gods possessed, but an awareness, which served it as well if not better. It was brother, on this plane, to such entities as Meerclar, Lord of the Cats, Roofdrak, Lord of the Dogs, Nuru-ah, Lord of the Cattle, and many, many others. This was Haaashaastaak, Lord of the Lizards. It did not really hear words in the exact sense, but it heard rhythms which meant much to it, even though it did not know why. The rhythms were being repeated over and over again, but seemed too faint to be worth much attention. It stirred and yawned, but did nothing . . .
'Haaashaastaak, Lord of Lizards,
Your children were fathers of men,
Haaashaastaak, Prince of Reptiles.
Come aid a grandchild now
'Haaashaastaak, Father of Scales,
Cold-blooded bringer of life...'
It was a bizarre scene, with Elric and Yishana desperately chanting the rune over