"Yes, I sense him. What do you want of him?"
"Nothing which is his-but he has two souls, one of them not his own."
"That is so-his name is Fiarshern of the great family of Trrechoww. I will call him. He will come to me."
Outside, the barbarians were striving to conquer their fear of the supernatural events taking place in the wagon. Terarn Gashtek cursed them: "There are five hundred thousand of us and a few of them. Take them now! "
His warriors began to move cautiously forward.
Fiarshern, the cat, heard a voice which it knew instinctively to be that of one which it would be foolish to disobey. It ran swiftly towards the source of that voice.
"Look-the cat-there it is. Seize it quickly."
Two of Terarn Gashtek's men jumped forward to do his bidding, but the little cat eluded them and leaped lightly into the wagon.
"Give the human back its soul, Fiarshern," said Meerclar softly. The cat moved towards its human master and dug its delicate teeth into the sorcerer's veins.
A moment later Drinij Bara laughed wildly. "My soul is mine again. Thank you, great Cat Lord. Let me repay you! "
"There is no need," smiled Meerclar mockingly, "and, anyway, I perceive that your soul is already bartered. Goodbye, Elric of Melnibone. I was pleased to answer your call, though I see that you no longer follow the ancient pursuits of your fathers. Still, for the sake of old loyalties I do not begrudge you this service. Farewell, I go back to a warmer place than this inhospitable one."
The Lord of the Cats faded and returned to the world of blue and amber warmth where he once more resumed his interrupted sleep.
"Come, Brother Sorcerer," cried Drinij Bara exultantly. "Let us take the vengeance which is ours."
He and Elric sprang from the wagon, but the two others were not quite so quick to respond.
Terarn Gashtek and his men confronted them. Many had bows with long arrows fitted to them.
"Shoot them down swiftly," yelled the Flame Bringer. "Shoot them now before they have time to summon further demons! "
A shower of arrows whistled towards them. Drinij Bara smiled, spoke a few words as he moved his hands almost carelessly. The arrows stopped in midflight, turned back and each uncannily found the throat of the man who had shot it. Terarn Gashtek gasped and wheeled back, pushing past his men and, as he retreated, shouted for them to attack the four.
Driven by the knowledge that if they fled they would be doomed, the great mass of barbarians closed in.
Dawn was bringing light to the cloud-ripped sky as Moonglum looked upwards. "Look, Elric," he shouted pointing.
"Only five," said the albino. "Only five-but perhaps enough."
He parried several lashing blades on his own sword and, although he was possessed of superhuman strength, all the power seemed to have left the sword so that it was only as useful as an ordinary blade. Still fighting, he relaxed his body and felt the power leave him, flowing back into Stormbringer.
Again the runeblade began to whine and thirstily sought the throats and hearts of the savage barbarians.
Drinij Bara had no sword, but he did not need one, he was using subtler means to defend himself. All around him were the gruesome results, boneless masses of flesh and sinew.
The two sorcerers and Moonglum and the messenger forced their way through the half-insane barbarians who were desperately attempting to overcome them. In the confusion it was impossible to work out a coherent plan of action. Moonglum and the messenger grabbed scimitars from the corpses of the barbarians and joined in the battle.
Eventually, they had reached the outer limits of the camp. A whole mass of barbarians had fled, spurring their mounts westwards. Then Elric saw Terarn Gashtek, holding a bow. He saw the Flame Bringer's intention and shouted a warning to his fellow sorcerer who had his back to the barbarian. Drinij Bara, yelling some disturbing incantation, half-turned, broke off, attempted to begin another spell, but the arrow pierced his eye.
He screamed: "No! "
Then he died.
Seeing his ally slain, Elric paused and stared at the sky and the great wheeling beasts which he recognised.
Dyvim Slorm, son of Elric's cousin Dyvim Tvar the Dragon Master, had brought the legendary dragons of Imrryr to aid his kinsman. But most of the huge beasts slept, and would sleep for another century-only five dragons had been aroused. As yet, Dyvim Slorm could do nothing for fear of harming Elric and his comrades.
Terarn Gashtek, too, had seen the magnificent beasts. His grandiose plans of conquest were already fading and, thwarted, he ran towards Elric.
"You white-faced filth," he howled, "you have been responsible for all this-and you will pay the Flame Bringer's price! "
Elric laughed as he brought up Stormbringer to protect himself from the incensed barbarian. He pointed to the sky: "These, too, can be called Flame Bringers, Terarn Gashtek-and are better named than thou! "
Then he plunged the evil blade full into Terarn Gashtek's body and the barbarian gave a choking moan as his soul was drawn from him.
"Destroyer, I may be, Elric of Melnibone," he gasped, "but my way was cleaner than yours. May you and all you hold dear be cursed for eternity! "
Elric laughed, but his voice shook slightly as he stared at the barbarian's corpse. "I've rid myself of such curses once before, my friend. Yours will have little effect, I think." He paused. "By Arioch, I hope I'm right. I'd thought my fate cleansed of doom and curses, but perhaps I was wrong...."
The huge horde of barbarians were nearly all mounted now and fleeing westwards. They had to be stopped for, at the pace they were travelling, they would soon reach Karlaak and only the Gods knew what they would do when they got to the unprotected city.
Above him, he heard the flapping of thirty-foot wings and scented the familiar smell of the great flying reptiles which had pursued him years before when he had led a reaver fleet on the attack of his home-city. Then he heard the curious notes of the Dragon Horn and saw that Dyvim Slorm was seated on the back of the leading beast, a long spearlike goad in his gauntleted right hand.
The dragon spiralled downward and its great bulk came to rest on the ground thirty feet away, its leathery wings folding back along its length. The Dragon Master waved to Elric.
"Greetings, King Elric, we barely managed to arrive in time I see."
"Time enough, kinsman," smiled Elric. "It is good to see the son of Dyvim Tvar again. I was afraid you might not answer my plea."
"Old scores were forgotten at the Battle of Bakshaan when my father Dyvim Tvar died aiding you in the siege of Nikorn's fortress. I regret only the younger beasts were ready to be awakened. You'll remember the others were used but a few years past."
"I remember," said Elric. "May I beg another favour Dyvim Slorm?"
"What is that?"
"Let me ride the chief dragon. I am trained in the arts of the Dragon Master and have good reason for riding against the barbarians-we were forced to witness insensate carnage a while ago and may, perhaps, pay them back in their own coinage."
Dyvim Slorm nodded and swung off his mount. The beast stirred restlessly and drew back the lips of its ta pering snout to reveal teeth as thick as a man's arm, as long as a sword. Its forked tongue flickered and it turned its huge, cold eyes to regard Elric.
Elric sang to it in the old Melnibonean speech, took the goad and the Dragon Horn from Dyvim Slorm and carefully climbed into the high saddle at the base of the dragon's neck. He placed his booted feet into the great silver stirrups.
"Now, fly, dragon brother," he sang, "up, up and have your venom ready."
He heard the snap of displaced air as the wings began to beat and then the great beast was clear of the ground and soaring upwards into the grey and brooding sky.