CHAPTER FIVE
Things Which Are Not Women

The beggars had been too absorbed in their triumph over the albino and their plans for their attack on the caravan of Tanelorn to think to seek the mounts on which Elric and Moonglum had come to Nadsokor.

They found the horses where they had left them the previous night. The superb Shazarian steeds were cropping the grass as if they had been waiting only a few minutes.

They climbed into their saddles and soon were riding as fast as the fleet horses could carry them Northnorth-east to the point the caravan was logically due to reach.

Shortly after noon they had found it a long sprawl of waggons and horses, awnings of gay, rich silks, brightly decorated harness, it stretched across the floor of a shallow valley. And surrounding it on all sides was the squalid and motley beggar army of King Urish of Nadsokor.

Elric and Moonglum reined in their horses when they reached the brow of the hill and they watched.

Theleb K’aarna and King Urish were not immediately visible and at last Elric saw them on the opposite hill. By the way in which the sorcerer was stretching out his arms to the deep blue sky Elric guessed he was already summoning the aid he had promised Urish.

Below Elric saw a flash of red and knew that it must be the scarlet garb of the Red Archer. Peering closer he saw one or two other shapes he recognised Brut of Lashmar with his blond hair and his huge, burly body almost dwarfing his warhorse; Carkan, once of Pan Tang himself, but now dressed in the chequered cloak and fur cap of the barbarians of Southern Ilmiora. Rackhir himself had been a Warrior Priest from Moonglum’s country beyond the Weeping Waste, but all these men had foresworn their gods to go to live in peaceful Tanelorn where, it was said, even the greatest Lords of the Higher Worlds could not enter Eternal Tanelorn, which had stood for uncountable cycles and would outlive the Earth herself.

Knowing nothing of Theleb K’aarna’s plan Rackhir was plainly not too worried by the appearance of the beggar rabble which was as poorly armed as those Elric and Moonglum had fought in Nadsokor.

“We must ride through their army to reach Rackhir now,” Moonglum said.

Elric nodded but he made no move. He was watching the distant hill where Theleb K’aarna continued his incantation, hoping that he might guess what kind of aid the sorcerer was summoning.

A moment later Elric yelled and spurred his horse down the hill at a gallop. Moonglum was almost as startled as the beggars as he followed his friend into the thick of the ragged horde, slashing this way and that with the longest of his swords.

Elric’s Stormbringer emitted black radiance as it carved a bloody path through the beggar army, leaving in its wake a mess of dismembered bodies, entrails and dead, horrified eyes.

Moonglum’s horse was splashed with blood to the shoulder and it snorted and balked at following the white-skinned demon with the howling black blade, but Moonglum, afraid that the beggar ranks would close, forced it on until at last they were both riding towards the caravan and someone was yelling Elric’s name.

It was Rackhir the Red Archer, clothed in scarlet from head to foot, with a red bone bow in his hand and a red quiver of crimson-fletched arrows on his back. On his head was a scarlet skull cap decorated with a single scarlet feather. His face was weather beaten and all but fleshless. He had fought with Elric before the Fall of Imrryr and together they had discovered the Black Swords. Rackhir had gone on to seek Tanelorn and find it at last.

Elric had not seen Rackhir since then. Now he noted an enviable look of peace in the archer’s eyes. Rackhir had once been a Warrior Priest in the Eastlands, serving Chaos, but now he served nothing but his tranquil Tanelorn.

“Elric! Have you come to help us send Urish and his beggars back to where they came from?” Rackhir was laughing, evidently pleased to see his old friend. “And Moonglum! When did you two meet? I have not seen thee since I left the Eastlands!”

Moonglum grinned. “Much has come to pass since those days, Rackhir.”

Rackhir rubbed at his aquiline nose. “Aye so I’ve heard.”

Elric dismounted swiftly. “No time for reminiscence now, Rackhir. You’re in greater danger than you know.”

“What? When did the beggar rabble of Nadsokor offer anything to fear? Look how poorly armed they are!”

“They have a sorcerer with them Theleb K’aarna of Pan Tang. See that’s him on yonder hill.”

Rackhir frowned. “Sorcery. These days I’ve little guard against that. How good is the sorcerer, do you know?”

“He is one of the most powerful in Pan Tang.”

“And the wizards of Pan Tang almost equal your folk, Elric, in their skills.”

“I fear he more than equals me at present, for my Actorios Ring has been stolen from me by Urish.”

Rackhir looked strangely at Elric, noting something in the albino’s face which he had evidently not seen there when they last parted. “Well,” he said, “we shall have to defend ourselves as best we can. . . .”

“If you cut loose your horses so that all your folk could be mounted we might be able to escape before

Theleb K’aarna invokes whatever supernatural aid it is he seeks.” Elric nodded as the giant, Brut of Lashmar, rode up grinning at him. Brut had been a hero in Lashmar before he had disgraced himself.

Rackhir shook his head. “Tanelorn needs the provisions we carry.”

“Look,” said Moonglum quietly.

On the hill where Theleb K’aarna had been standing there had now appeared a billowing cloud of redness, like blood in clear water.

“He is successful.” Rackhir murmured. “Brut! Let all be mounted. We’ve no time to prepare further defences, but we’ll have the advantage of being on horseback when they attack.”

Brut thundered off, yelling at the men of Tanelorn. They began to unharness the wagon horses and ready their weapons.

The cloud of redness above was beginning to disperse and out of it shapes were emerging. Elric tried to distinguish the shapes but could not at that distance. He climbed back into his saddle as the horsemen of Tanelorn now formed themselves into groups which would, when the attack came, race through the unmounted beggars striking swiftly and passing on. Rackhir waved to Elric and went to join one of these divisions. Elric and Moonglum found themselves at the head of a dozen warriors armed with axes, pikes and lances.

Then Urish’s voice cawed out over the waiting silence.

“Attack, my beggars! They are doomed!”

The beggar rabble began to move down the sides of the valley. Rackhir raised his sword as the signal to his men. Then the first groups of cavalry rode out from the caravan, straight at the advancing beggars.

Rackhir replaced his blade and took up his bow. From where he sat on his horse he began to send arrow after arrow into the beggar ranks.

There was shouting everywhere now as the warriors of Tanelorn met their foes, driving wedges everywhere in their mass.

Elric saw Carkan’s chequered cape in the midst of a sea of rags, filthy limbs, clubs and knives. He saw Brut’s great blond head towering over a cluster of human filth.

And Moonglum said: “Such creatures as these are unfit opponents for the warriors of Tanelorn.”

Elric pointed grimly up the hill. “Perhaps they’ll prefer their new foes.”

Moonglum gasped. “They are women!”

Elric drew Stormbringer from its scabbard. “They are not women. They are Elenoin. They come from the Eighth Plane and neither are they human. You will see.”

“You recognize them?”

“My ancestors fought them once.”

A strange, shrill ululation reached their ears now. It came from the hillside where Theleb K’aarna’s figure could again be seen. It came from the shapes which Moonglum was sure were women. Red-haired women whose tresses fell almost to their knees and covered their otherwise completely naked bodies. They danced down the hill towards the besieged caravan and they whirled swords about their heads which must have been over five feet long.

“Theleb K’aarna is clever,” Elric muttered. “The warriors of Tanelorn will hesitate before striking at women. And while they hesitate the Elenoin will rip and slash and slay them.”

Rackhir had already seen the Elenoin and he, too, recognised them for what they were. “Do not be deceived, men!” he called. “These creatures are demons!” He glanced across at Elric and there was a look of resignation on his face. He knew the power of the Elenoin. He spurred his horse towards the albino. “What can we do, Elric?”

Elric sighed. “What can mortals do against the Elenoin?”

“Have you no sorcery?”

“With the Ring of Kings I could summon the Grahluk, perhaps. They are the ancient enemies of the

Elenoin. Theleb K’aarna has already made a gateway from the Eighth Plane.”

“Could you not try to call the Grahluk?” Rackhir begged.

“While I tried my sword would not be aiding you. I think Stormbringer is more use today than spells.”

Rackhir shuddered and turned his horse away to order his men to re-form their ranks. He knew now that they were all to die.

And now the beggars fell back, as horrified by the Elenoin as were the men of Tanelorn.

Still singing their shrill, chill song, the Elenoin lowered their swords and spread out along the hill, each one smiling at them.

“How can they . . . ?” Then Moonglum saw their eyes. They were huge, orange, animal eyes. “Oh, by the Gods!” And then he saw their teeth long, pointed teeth which glinted like metal.

The horsemen of Tanelorn fell back to the waggons in a long, ragged line. Horror, despair, uncertainty was on every face save Elric’s and on his face was a look of grim anger. His crimson eyes smouldered as he held Stormbringer across his saddle pommel and regarded the demon women, the Elenoin.

The singing grew louder until it made their ears fill with sharp pain and made their stomachs turn. The Elenoin raised their slender arms and began to whirl their long swords about their heads again, staring at them all the while through beastlike, insensate eyes malicious, unblinking eyes.

Then Carkan of Pan Tang, his fur cap askew, his chequered cloak billowing, gave a strangled yell and urged his heavy horse at them, his own sword waving.

“Back, demons! Back, spawn of hell!”

“Aaaaaaaah!” gasped the Elenoin in anticipation. “Eeeeeeeh!” they sang.

And Carkan was suddenly in the midst of a dozen slender, slashing swords and he and his horse were cut all to tiny morsels of flesh which lay in a heap at the feet of the Elenoin. And their laughter filled the valley as some of them bent to pop the flesh into their fanged mouths.

A groan of horror and hatred went up from the ranks of Tanelorn then and screaming men, hysterical with fear and disgust, began to fling themselves at the Elenoin who laughed the more and whirled their sharp swords.

Stormbringer murmured as it seemed to hear the sounds of battle, but Elric did not move as he stared at the scene. He knew that the Elenoin would kill all as they had killed Carkan.

Moonglum moaned. “Elric there must be some sorcery against them!”

“There is! But I cannot summon the Grahluk!” Elric’s chest was heaving and his brain was in turmoil. “I cannot, Moonglum!”

“For the sake of Tanelorn, you must try!”

Then Elric was riding forward, Stormbringer howling, riding at the Elenoin and screaming Arioch’s name as his ancestors had screamed it since the founding of Imrryr!

“Arioch! Arioch! Blood and souls for my Lord Arioch!”

He parried the whirling blade of an Elenoin and glared into the bestial eyes as Stormbringer sent a shudder down his arm. He struck and his own blow was parried by the demon that was not a woman. Red hair swung and curled around his throat. He hacked at it and it loosened its grip. He thrust at the naked body and the Elenoin danced aside. Another whistling blow from the slim sword and he flung himself backwards to avoid it, toppling from his saddle and springing instantly to his feet to parry a second attack, gripped Stormbringer in both hands and stepped forward under the blade to plunge the Black Sword into the smooth belly. The Elenoin shouted with anger and green foulness billowed from the wound. The Elenoin fell, still glaring and snarling, still living. Elric chopped at the neck and the head sprang off, its hair thrashing at him. He dashed forward, picked up the head and began to run up the hill to where the beggars were gathered, watching the destruction of Tanelorn’s warriors. As he approached the beggars broke and began to run, but he caught one in the back with his blade. The man fell, tried to crawl on, but his twisted knees would not support him and he collapsed into the stained grass. Elric picked the wretch up and flung him over his shoulder. Then he turned and began to run down the hill back to the camp. The warriors of Tanelorn were fighting well, but half their number had already been slain by the Elenoin. Almost unbelievably there were also several Elenoin corpses on the field.

Elric saw Moonglum defending himself with both swords. He saw Rackhir, still mounted, shouting orders to his men. He saw Brut of Lashmar in the thick of the fight. But he ran on until he stood behind one of the waggons and had dropped both his bloody bundles to the ground. With his sword he split open the twitching body of the beggar and he gathered up the hair of the Elenoin and soaked it in the man’s blood.

Again he stood upright, looking towards the west, with the bloody hair in one hand and Stormbringer in the other. He raised both sword and head and began to speak in the ancient High Speech of Melnibone.

Held to the West and soaked in the blood of an enemy, the hair of an Elenoin must be used to summon the enemies of the Elenoin the Grahluk. He remembered the words he had read in his father’s ancient grimoire.

And now the invocation:

Grahluk come and Grahluk slay! Come kill thine ancient enemy! Make this thy victory day.

All the strength of the Burning God was leaving him as he used the energy to perform the invocation. And perhaps without the Ring of Kings he was wasting that strength for nothing.

Grahluk speed without delay! Come kill thine ancient enemy! Make this thy vengeance day.

The spell was far less complex than many he had used in the past. Yet it took as much from him as any spell ever had.

“Grahluk, I summon thee! Grahluk, here you may take vengeance on your foes!”

Many cycles since, the Elenoin were said to have driven the Grahluk from their lands in the Eighth Plane and the Grahluk sought revenge now at every opportunity.

All around Elric the air shivered and turned brown, then green, then black.

“Grahluk! Come destroy the Elenoin!” Elric’s voice was weakening. “Grahluk the gateway is made!”

And now the ground trembled and strange winds blew at the blood-soaked hair of the Elenoin and the air became thick and purple and Elric fell to his knees, still croaking the invocation.

“Grahluk ...”

A shuffling sound. A grunting noise. The stink of something unnameable.

The Grahluk had come. They were apelike creatures as bestial as the Elenoin. They carried nets and ropes and shields. Once, it was said, both Grahluk and Elenoin had had intelligence had been part of the same species which had devolved and divided.

They moved out of the purple mist in their scores and they stood looking at Elric who was still on his knees. Elric pointed at where the remaining warriors of Tanelorn were still fighting the Elenoin.

“There ...”

The Grahluk snorted with battle-greed and shambled towards the Elenoin.

The Elenoin saw them and their shrill wailing voices changed in quality as they retreated a short distance up the hill.

Elric forced himself to his feet and gasped: “Rack Mr! Withdraw your warriors. The Grahluk will do their work now. . . .”

“You helped us after all!” Rackhir yelled, turning his horse. His clothes were all in tatters and there were a dozen wounds on his body.

They watched as the Grahluk’s nets and nooses flashed towards the screaming Elenoin whose sword blows were stopped by the Grahluk shields. They watched as the Elenoin were crushed and throttled and parts of their entrails devoured by the grunting, apelike demons.

And when the last of the Elenoin was dead, the Grahluk picked up the fallen swords and reversed them and fell upon them.

Rackhir said: “They are killing themselves. Why?”

“They live only to destroy the Elenoin. Once that is done, they have nothing left for which to exist.” Elric swayed and Rackhir and Moonglum caught him.

“See!” Moonglum laughed. “The beggars are running!”

“Theleb K’aarna,” Elric muttered. “We must get Theleb K’aarna. . . .”

“Doubtless he has gone back with Urish to Nadsokor,” Moonglum said.

“I must I must retrieve the Ring of Kings.”

“Plainly you can work your sorcery without it,” Rackhir said.

“Can I?” Elric looked up and showed his face to Rackhir who lowered his eyes and nodded.

“We will help you get back your ring,” Rackhir said quietly. “There’ll be no more trouble from the beggars. We’ll ride with you to Nadsokor.”

“I had hoped you would.” Elric climbed with difficulty into the saddle of a surviving horse and jerked at its reins, turning it towards the City of Beggars. “Perhaps your arrows will slay what my sword cannot. . . .”

“I do not understand you,” Rackhir said.

Moonglum was mounting now. “We’ll tell you on the way.”