The hard skeletons of trees had a blighted look and the horse kicked earth the colour of ashes as its rider drove it fiercely through the sick wasteland that had once been gentle Eshmir, the golden garden of the East.
A plague had smitten Eshmir and the locust had stripped her of her beauty. Both plague and locust went by the same name-Terarn Gashtek, Lord of the Mounted Hordes, sunken-faced carrier of destruction; Terarn Gashtek, insane blood-drawer, the shrieking flame bringer. And that was his other name-Flame Bringer.
The rider who witnessed the evil that Terarn Gashtek had brought to gentle Eshmir was named Moonglum. Moonglum was riding, now, for Karlaak by the Weeping Waste, the last outpost of the Western civilisation of which those in the Eastlands knew little. In Karlaak,
Moonglum knew he would find Elric of Melnibone who now dwelt permanently in his wife's graceful city. Moonglum was desperate to reach Karlaak quickly, to warn Elric and to solicit his help.
He was small and cocky, with a broad mouth and a shock of red hair, but now his mouth did not grin and his body was bent over the horse as he pushed it on towards Karlaak. For Eshmir, gentle Eshmir, had been Moonglum's home province and, with his ancestors, had formed him into what he was. So, cursing, Moonglum rode for Karlaak. But so did Terarn Gashtek. And already the Flame Bringer had reached the Weeping Waste. The horde moved slowly, for they had wagons with them which had at one time dropped far behind but now the supplies they carried were needed. As well as provisions, one of the wagons carried a bound prisoner who lay on his back cursing Terarn Gashtek and his slant-eyed battlemongers.
Drinij Bara was bound by more than strips of leather, that was why he cursed, for Drinij Bara was a sorcerer who could not normally be held in such a manner. If he had not succumbed to his weakness for wine and women just before the Flame Bringer had come down on the town in which he was staying, he would not have been trussed so, and Terarn Gashtek would not now have Drinij Bara's soul.
Drinij Bara's soul reposed in the body of a small, black cat-the cat which Terarn Gashtek had caught and carried with him always, for, as was the habit of Eastern sorcerers, Drinij Bara had hidden his soul in the body of the cat for protection. Because of this he was now slave to the Lord of the Mounted Hordes, and had to obey him lest the man slay the cat and so send his soul to Hell.
It was not a pleasant situation for the proud sorcerer, but he did not deserve less.
There was on the pale face of Elric of Melnibone some slight trace of an earlier haunting, but his mouth smiled and his crimson eyes were at peace as he looked down at the young, black-haired woman with whom he walked in the terraced gardens of Karlaak.
"Elric," said Zarozinia, "have you found your happiness?"
He nodded. "I think so. Stormbringer, now hangs amid cobwebs in your father's armoury. The drugs I discovered in Troos keep me strong, my eyesight clear, and need to be taken only occasionally. I need never think of travelling or fighting again. I am content, here, to spend my time with you and study the books in Karlaak's library. What more would I require?"
"You compliment me overmuch, my lord. I would become complacent."
He laughed. "Rather that than you were doubting. Do not fear, Zarozinia, I possess no reason, now, to journey on. Moonglum, I miss, but it was natural that he should become restless of residence in a city and wish to revisit his homeland."
"I am glad you are at peace, Elric. My father was at first reluctant to let you live here, fearing the black evil that once accompanied you, but three months have proved to him that the evil has gone and left no fuming berserker behind it."
Suddenly there came a shouting from below them, in the street a man's voice was raised and he banged at the gates of the house.
"Let me in, damn you, I must speak with your master."
A servant came running: "Lord Elric-there is a man at the gates with a message. He pretends friendship with you."
"His name?"
"An alien one-Moonglum, he says."
"Moonglum! His stay in Elwher has been short. Let him in! "
Zarozinia's eyes held a trace of fear and she held Elric's arm fiercely. "Elric-pray he does not bring news to take you hence."
"No news could do that. Fear not, Zarozinia." He hurried out of the garden and into the courtyard of the house. Moonglum rode hurriedly through the gates, dismounting as he did so.
"Moonglum, my friend! Why the haste? Naturally, I am pleased to see you after such a short time, but you have been riding hastily-why?"
The little Eastlander's face was grim beneath its coating of dust and his clothes were filthy from hard riding.
"The Flame Bringer comes with sorcery to aid him," he panted. "You must warn the city."
"The Flame Bringer? The name means nothing-you sound delirious, my friend."
"Aye, that's true, I am. Delirious with hate. He destroyed my homeland, killed my family, my friends and now plans conquests in the West. Two years ago he was little more than an ordinary desert raider but then he began to gather a great horde of barbarians around him and has been looting and slaying his way across the Eastern lands. Only Elwher has not suffered from his attacks, for the city was too great for even him to take. But he has turned two thousand miles of pleasant country into a burning waste. He plans world conquest, rides westwards with five hundred thousand warriors! "
"You mentioned sorcery-what does this barbarian know of such sophisticated arts?"
"Little himself, but he has one of our greatest wizards in his power-Drinij Bara. The man was captured as he lay drunk between two wenches in a tavern in Phum. He had put his soul into the body of a cat so that no rival sorcerer might steal it while he slept. But Terarn Gashtek, the Flame Bringer, knew of this trick, seized the cat and bound its legs, eyes and mouth, so imprisoning Drinij Bara's evil soul. Now the sorcerer is his slave-if he does not obey the barbarian, the cat will be killed by an iron blade and Drinij Bara's soul will go to Hell."
"These are unfamiliar sorceries to me," said Elric. "They seem little more than superstitions."
"Who knows that they may be-but so long as Drinij Bara believes what he believes, he will do as Terarn
Gashtek dictates. Several proud cities have been destroyed with the aid of his magic."
"How far away is this Flame Bringer?"
"Three days' ride at most. I was forced to come hence by a longer route, to avoid his outriders."
"Then we must prepare for a siege."
"No, Elric-you must prepare to flee! "
"To flee-should I request the citizens of Karlaak to leave their beautiful city unprotected, to leave their homes?"
"If they will not-you must, and take your bride with you. None can stand against such a foe."
"My own sorcery is no mean thing."
"But one man's sorcery is not enough to hold back half a million men also aided by sorcery."
"And Karlaak is a trading city-not a warrior's fortress. Very well, I will speak to the Council of Elders and try to convince them."
"You must convince them quickly, Elric, for if you do not Karlaak will not stand half a day before Terarn Gashtek's howling blood-letters."
"They are stubborn," said Elric as the two sat in his private study later that night. "They refuse to realise the magnitude of the danger. They refuse to leave and I cannot leave them for they have welcomed me and made me a citizen of Karlaak."
"Then we must stay here and die?"
"Perhaps. There seems to be no choice. But I have another plan. You say that this sorcerer is a prisoner of Terarn Gashtek. What would he do if he regained his soul?"