History of the Runestaff, The (F.M.) by Moorcock Michael

Author:Moorcock, Michael [Moorcock, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, High Fantasy, Epic, Novel
ISBN: 9780765324733
Publisher: Gollancz
Published: 1979-01-01T02:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven - RETURN OF THE WARRIOR

NOW ONE OF the captains saw them and came riding up. His armor was in tatters and his sword broken, but there was joy in his face. "Count Brass! At last! Come sir, we must rally the men—drive the Dark Empire dogs back!"

Hawkmoon saw Count Brass force himself to smile, draw his great broadsword, and say, "Aye, Captain.

See if you can find a herald or two to tell all that Count Brass is back!"

A cheer went up from the hardpressed Kamargians as Count Brass and Hawkmoon appeared, and they held their ground, even drove the Granbretanians back in places. Count Brass, with Hawkmoon and Oladahn following, rode into the thick of his men, once again the invincible man of metal. "Aside, lads!" he called. "Aside and let me get at the enemy!"

Count Brass grabbed his own battered standard from a nearby rider, and with this balanced in the crook of his arm, his sword waving, he drove forward at the mass of beast masks ahead.

Hawkmoon rode up beside him, and they made a menacing, almost supernatural pair, the one in his flaming armor of brass and the other with the black jewel imbedded in his forehead, their swords rising and falling on the heads of the tightly packed Granbretan infantry. And when another figure joined them, a stocky man with fur covering his face and a flashing saber striking here and there like lightning, they seemed a trio out of mythology, unnerving the beast warriors of Granbretan so that they fell back.

Hawkmoon searched about for Meliadus, swearing that he would certainly kill him this time, but he could not see him for the moment.

Gauntleted hands tried to drag him from his saddle, but his sword slipped through eyeholes, split helms, and sliced heads from their shoulders.

The day wore, and the fighting continued without respite. Hawkmoon swayed in his saddle now, battleweary and halfdazed with pain from a dozen minor cuts and a great many bruises. His horse was killed, but the weight of men surrounding him was so great that he sat it for half an hour before he realized it was dead. Then he sprang off it and continued fighting on foot.

He knew that no matter how many he and the others killed, they were outnumbered and illequipped. Gradually they were being driven farther and farther back.

"Ah," he murmured to himself, "if only we had a few hundred fresh troops, we might win the day. By the Runestaff, we need aid!"

Suddenly a strange electric sensation ran through his body, and he gasped, recognizing what was happening to him, realizing that he had unconsciously invoked the Runestaff. The Red Amulet, which now glowed at his neck, spreading red light on the armor of his enemies, was now transmitting power into his body. He laughed and began to hew around him with fantastic strength, cutting back the circle of warriors attacking him. His sword snapped, but he grabbed a lance from a horseman riding at

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