And, in fury, hacked off the druid's head. Then, blade filthy with gore, he advanced on the children.
'Don't be afraid, little ones,' he said. 'I'll do you no harm.'
But the children did not seem to understand, for, when he cut free their gags, they writhed, spat, and screamed in unearthly voices. Sarazin sliced away their bonds.
'Go to your homes,' he said. Then, as they seemed slow in understanding, he said again: 'Go!'
He whacked a child on the buttocks with the flat of his sword. Whereupon all the children turned into rats and scuttled away into the forest, leaving their rags on the ground behind them. Sarazin, startled, could but stand and gape.
Cold water dripped on his neck. The cave was not made of stone at all, but of black ice – which was melting. The druid's body was already decomposing. Maggots swarmed in the flesh, which blackened, stenched, then fell away, leaving only bones. Which creaked, and arose. Clothed in a writhing red mist. 'Gaark,' said the bones.
At which Sarazin fled the cave, vaulted into the saddle, spurred his horse and galloped away pell-mell until his mount was sweating and lathered. Thereafter he kept the beast on the trot until the day's last birdsong failed in the gathering dark.
In the gloaming, he came upon a gigantic leather boot lying on its side. Sword in hand, he tested the musty shadows within. Finding nothing.
This,' said Sarazin, settling himself for the night, 'will have to do.'
He earnestly hoped the owner of the gigantic boot would not reclaim it before dawn.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ifrael Forest: an almost uninhabited area of Chenameg rumoured to be the haunt of wolves, witches, werewolves, vampires and worse. Sean Kelebes Sarazin, aka Watashi, has blundered into the deepest, darkest, most dangerous part of this shadow-doomed wasteland.
In the cold dawn Sarazin breakfasted upon broken biscuits and leather-tough jerked meat while the sullen rain fell with a noise like fifty million rats scuttling through the undergrowth. Then he pushed on, hoping he was going in the right direction, but fearing he was hopelessly lost.
At mid-morning, he was riding at walking pace in a (possibly) easterly direction when he heard a woman screaming. He spurred his horse, and shortly came upon a frightening scene. In a muddy clearing were two people tied to posts. One a fair damsel; the other, a dwarf.
Both were being menaced by a gore-clawed monster which had the head of a rat (swollen to gigantic size), the body of a bull and the tail of a lizard. This apparition so disconcerted Sarazin's mount that it reared, throwing its rider. Sarazin, flung to the earth, scrabbled for his sword as the monster loomed over him. Finding his steel, he slashed at the brute, missed, drew back his blade and saw the horrifying creature turn to mist then vanish. What's this? said Sarazin, in bewilderment. 'Fewer questions and more action,' growled the dwarf. Then began making grotesque faces at Sarazin.
Yes, cut us loose, for pity's sake,' said the damsel fair, in excellent Galish.
Sarazin advanced, awkwardly. He felt ashamed of the state he was in. He had not bathed for days. His clothes were befouled with mud and with worse.
Feeling gauche and uncomfortable, he cut free the lady. Her hair was fine-spun gold, her eyes chatoyant. Her silks – this was strange! – bore no spot of water. There was mud underfoot, but it had stopped raining. 'Now that,' she said, pointing at the dwarf. 'Loose that.' 'Yes, loose me, loose me!' said the dwarf frantically.
'I'll not set free that evil mannikin,' said Sarazin, who did not like the look of the dwarf at all.
'Hell swear to obey you,' said the damsel he had rescued. 'I'll do no such thing,' said the dwarf, promptly.
Her eyes flared. Momentarily, their captivating iri- descence was gone – replaced by a baleful red. 'Naj aji jin inz n'zoor,' she said, her voice axe-hard. The dwarf flinched. Like a spider cringing from flame.
'Glambrax will swear himself to your service,' she said. Tor my part, I will bind him to what he swears. Glambrax! Your oath!'
Reluctantly, the dwarf spoke, saying many things in a strange, hissing language Sarazin had never heard before. Then the woman spoke also in a similar tongue. Reverting to Galish she declared: 'He is yours. For life. His name is Glambrax.' 'Might I know your name, fair lady?' said Sarazin.
'I am Zelafona, a princess of the elven folk. Immortal is my health, yet insult sufficient can rend apart the spirit from the flesh.'
That – that monster,' said Sarazin. Was that sent by someone to – what? Kill you? With claws? Or with terror?
What kind of monster was it? How come it vanished at a sword-slash?'
'I know not,' said Zelafona, 'for not all is given to me to know. Let us retire to my home.'
'I trust it is not far,' said Sarazin, 'for, as you see, my horse has fled.'
Upon which Zelafona put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. High, pure and clear sang the note, and forth from the forest came Sarazin's horse in company with a milk-white mare richly caparisoned with gold and velvet. 'Come, Sarazin,' said Zelafona. 'Mount. Ride!' 'How did… how did you know my name?' 'I have my arts,' said the damsel.
'Not art sufficient to protect against your enemies, though. Who was it who bound you to that post? Who conjured that monster?'
Wiy mind is clouded,' said Zelafona. You ask many questions to which I have no answers.'
With that, Sarazin had to be content. He mounted his horse. Glambrax scrambled up behind him, and they were off, with Zelafona leading. We are here,' she said, shortly.
The gloomy forest gave way to verdant lawns sweeping up to a house. A house? A four-storey mansion set amidst noble trees and groves of ornamental bamboo. A buttermilk sun shone down from a blue sky as soft as a baby's bum. The sun illuminated carp pools and soft-playing fountains of waters coloured variously green, blue and yellow. But Sarazin's eyes were all for the house, which offered them a frontage in which a hundred windows glittered.
What… what are those windows made of?' said Sarazin. 'Of glass?' 'But of course,' said Zelafona, with a smile.
Sarazin had seen much built in stone, but had never in his life seen such a wealth of glass. He was impressed. What happened to the rain?' said Sarazin.
Was there rain?' asked Zelafona, her voice dreamy, a slim smile dancing delicate on her lips. Yes. A downpour which seemed forever.'
'Elven folk live sideways from the rest of the world,' said Zelafona. You are… of the elven folk?' 'I told you so at first acquaintance,' said she.
Was that true? Possibly, for the elven folk were known to be most wondrous fair. Or, alternatively, the woman might be a princess of human breed, the daughter of some kingdom far greater than Chenameg, living exiled here in splendour. Either way, she was something special, that was for certain. You look distant,' said Zelafona, 'Are you all right?'
The monster,' said Sarazin, 'it gave me a shock. Forgive me. My nerves-'
'I understand,' she said. You have my name, then. Zelafona. Our time together will be but brief, but you will have Glambrax with you for a lifetime. Thus you will remember me.'
'I don't want to sound ungrateful,' said Sarazin, 'but I'd have to think very carefully before taking Glambrax into my service.'
'But he's sworn his loyalty to you already!' said Zelafona. You heard him yourself.'
Yes,' said Sarazin, Tjut I – I'm not sure I want a dwarf as a servant.'
'But you will take him,' said she. 'As a courtesy. To me. You will swear as much.'
Such was her charm that Sarazin could not deny her this trifle. After all, he did not want to upset his princess. Whether she was a human or an elven daughter, she must surely be the one the prophecy spoke of, the one he would win. She was beautiful, voluptuous – she rivalled even Jamba's charms. Therefore he gave his oath on the matter.
