Vanishing Tower - Michael Moorcock [2]
After several weeks cooped up in the hold of the Tarkeshite ship they were glad to be moving again.
Now small villages—squat houses of stone and thatch—came in sight, but Elric and Moonglum were careful to avoid them.
Lormyr was one of the oldest of the Young Kingdoms and much of the world's history had been made there. Even the Melnibonéans had heard the tales of Lormyr's hero of ancient times, Aubec of Malador of the province of Klant, who was said to have carved new lands from the stuff of Chaos that had once existed at the World's Edge. But Lormyr had long since declined from her peak of power (though still a major nation of the Southwest) and had mellowed into a nation that was at once picturesque and cultured. Elric and Moonglum passed pleasant farmsteads, well-nurtured fields, vineyards and orchards in which the golden-leaved trees were surrounded by time-worn, moss-grown walls. A sweet land and a peaceful land in contrast to the rawer, bustling North-western nations of Jharkor, Tarkesh and Dharijor which they had left behind.
Moonglum gazed around him as they slowed their horses to a trot. "Theleb K'aarna could work much mischief here, Elric. I am reminded of the peaceful hills and plains of Elwher, my own land."
Elric nodded. "Lormyr's years of turbulence ended when she cast off Melniboné's shackles and was first to proclaim herself a free nation. I have a liking for this restful landscape. It soothes me. Now we have another reason for finding the sorcerer before he begins to stir his brew of corruption."
Moonglum smiled quietly. "Be careful, my lord, for you are once again succumbing to those soft emotions you so despise. . . ."
Elric straightened his back. "Come. Let's make haste for Iosaz."
"The sooner we reach a city with a decent tavern and a warm fire, the better." Moonglum drew his cape tighter about his thin body.
"Then pray that the sorcerer's soul is soon sent to Limbo, Master Moonglum, for then I'll be content to sit before the fire all winter long if it suits you."
And Elric made his horse break into a sudden gallop as grey evening closed over the tranquil hills.
Chapter Two
White Face Staring Through Snow
Lormyr was famous for her great rivers. It was her rivers that had helped make her rich and had kept her strong.
After three days' travelling, when a light snow had begun to drift from the sky, Elric and Moonglum rode out of the hills and saw before them the foaming waters of the Schlan River, tributary of the Zaphra-Trepek which flowed from beyond Iosaz down to the sea at Trepesaz.
No ships sailed the Schlan at this point, for there were rapids and huge waterfalls every few miles, but at the old town of Stagasaz, built where the Schlan joined the Zaphra-Trepek, Elric planned to send Moonglum into town and buy a small boat in which they could sail up the Zaphra-Trepek to Iosaz where Theleb K'aarna was almost certain to be.
They followed the banks of the Schlan now, riding hard and hoping to reach the outskirts of the town before nightfall. They rode past fishing villages and the houses of minor nobles, they were occasionally hailed by friendly fishermen who trawled the quieter reaches of the river, but they did not stop. The fishermen were typical of the area, with ruddy features and huge curling moustaches, dressed in heavily embroidered linen smocks and leather boots that reached almost to their thighs; men who in past times had been ever ready to lay down their nets, pick up swords and halberds and mount horses to go to the defence of their homeland.
"Could we not borrow one of their boats?" Moonglum suggested. But Elric shook his head. "The fishermen of the Schlan are well known for their gossiping. The news of our presence might well precede us and warn Theleb K'aarna."
"You seem needlessly cautious. . . ."
"I have lost him too often."
More rapids came in sight. Great black rocks glistened in the gloom and roaring water gushed over them, sending