Vanishing Tower - Michael Moorcock [21]
The bird seemed to change course and come back towards Kaneloon. Was it merely waiting for instructions from its sleeping mistress? Or was it refusing to obey Moonglum's commands?
Elric backed through the muddy, bloody snow so that the pile of corpses now lay behind him. He fought on, but with very little hope.
The bird went past, far to his right.
Elric thought ironically that he had completely mistaken the significance of the bird's leaving the castle battlements and by mistiming his decision had merely brought his death closer—perhaps Myshella's and Moonglum's deaths closer, too.
Kaneloon was doomed. Myshella was doomed. Lormyr and perhaps the whole of the Young Kingdoms were doomed.
And he was doomed.
It was then that a shadow passed across the battling men and the Kelmain screamed and fell back as a great din rent the air.
Elric looked up in relief, hearing the sound of the metal bird's clashing wings. He looked for Moonglum in the saddle and saw instead the tense face of Myshella herself, her hair blowing around her face as it was disturbed by the beating wings.
"Quickly, Lord Elric, before they close in again."
Elric sheathed the runesword and leapt towards the saddle, swinging himself behind the Sorceress of Kaneloon. Then they rose into the air again, while arrows hurtled around their heads and bounced off the bird's metal feathers.
"One more circuit of the Host and then we return to the castle," she said. "Your rune and the Nanorion worked to defeat Theleb K'aarna's enchantment, but they took longer than either of us would have liked. See, already Prince Umbda is ordering his men to mount and ride to Castle Kaneloon. And Kaneloon has only Moonglum to defend her now."
"Why this circuit of Umbda's army?"
"You will see. At least, I hope you will see, my lord."
She began to sing a song. It was a strange, disturbing chant in a language not dissimilar to the Melnibonéan High Speech, yet different enough for Elric to understand only a few words, for it was oddly accented.
Around the camp they flew. Elric saw the Kelmain form their ranks into battle order. Doubtless Umbda and Theleb K'aarna had by now decided on the best mode of attack.
Then back to the castle beat the great bird, settling on the battlements and allowing Elric and Myshella to dismount. Moonglum, his features taut, came running to meet them.
They went to look at the Kelmain.
And they saw that the Kelmain were on the move.
"What did you do to—" began Elric, but Myshella raised her hand.
"Perhaps I did nothing. Perhaps the sorcery will not work."
"What was it you . . . ?"
"I scattered the contents of the purse you brought. I scattered it around their whole army. Watch. . . ."
"And if the spell has not worked—" Moonglum murmured. He paused, straining his eyes through the gloom. "What is that?"
Myshella's satisfied tone was almost ghoulish as she said: "It is the Noose of Flesh."
Something was growing out of the snow. Something pink that quivered. Something huge. A great mass that arose on all sides of the Kelmain and made their horses rear up and snort.
And it made the Kelmain shriek.
The stuff was like flesh and it had grown so high that the whole Kelmain Host was obscured from sight. There were noises as they tried to train their battle-engines upon the stuff and blast their way through.
There were shouts. But not a single horseman broke out of the Noose of Flesh.
Then the substance began to fold in over the Kelmain and Elric heard a sound such as none he had heard before.
It was a voice.
A voice of a hundred thousand men all facing an identical terror, all dying an identical death.
It was a moan of desperation, of hopelessness, of fear.
But it was a moan so loud that it shook the walls of Castle Kaneloon.
"It is no death for a warrior," murmured Moonglum, turning away.
"But it was the only weapon we had," said Myshella. "I have possessed it for a good many years but never before did I feel the need to use it."