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Authors: Michael Moorcock
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feet long curving out over an area of at least twenty feet!
The rider approaching me was clearly a warrior of the region, but with subtle differences of dress, black face paint, shaven
head, scalp lock worn long, a lance and a war-shield held in his left hand, his right hand gripping the decorated reins of
his huge mount. It was impossible to judge the rider’s size, but it was clear the mammoth was not young. The old tusks were
splintered and bound but could still very easily kill almost anything which attacked their owner.
My heart thumped with sickening speed. I looked for some advantage. At the last moment the mammoth’s trunk rose in a gesture
of peace. At the same time the painted warrior raised his palm to reassure me.
The mammoth swung her weight forward and began to lower herself onto her knees as the newcomer slid blithely down her back
and landed on the turf.
His tone was at odds with his ferocious black mask. “The prophecy told me I would meet my friend Ayanawatta here but only
hinted at his companion. I am sorry if I alarmed you. Please forgive the death paint. I’ve been in a fairly intense dispute.”
This thoroughly decorated man had a similar grace of manner to Ayanawatta, but something about his movements was familiar
to me. His posture, however, was more brooding. His paint was a black, glowing mask in which two dark rubies burned. I held
on to the spear and took a step back. I began to feel sicker still as I recognized him.
Silently, fascinated, I waited for him to approach.
CHAPTER THREE
A Prince of the Prairie
Do not ask me how I came here,
Do not ask my name or nation,
Do not ask my destination,
For I am Dawadana, the Far Sighted,
Dawadana, Seer and Singer,
Who bore the lance, the Justice Bringer,
Who brought the law out of the East,
Sworn to seek but never speak.
W. S. H ARTE ,
“The Maker of Laws”
H e was, of course, the same youth I had seen at the house. His face was so thickly painted I knew him only by his white hands
and red eyes. He did not appear to recognize me at all and seemed a little disappointed. “Do you know where Ayanawatta is?”
I guessed he’d failed to find fish in the river and hadgone hunting in the woods, since his bow and a lance were missing.
“Well, we have some big game to hunt now,” the newcomer said. “I’ve found him at last. I would have reached him sooner if
I had understood my pygmy dream better.” This was offered as apology. He returned to his mount and led the great woolly black
pachyderm down to the water to drink. I admired the saddle blanket and the beaded bridle. Attached to the intricately carved
wooden saddle was a long, painted quiver from which the sharp metal tongues of several lances jutted. Beaver and otter fur
covered the saddle and parts of his bridle. The mammoth herself was, as I had thought, not in her prime. There were grizzled
marks around her mouth and trunk, and her ivory was stained and cracked, but she moved with surprising speed, turning her
vast, tusked head once to look into my eyes, perhaps to convince herself that I was friendly. Reassured, she dipped her trunk
delicately into the cold water, her hairy tail swinging back and forth, twitching with pleasure.
As his mount quenched her mighty thirst, the young man knelt beside the water and began rubbing the black paint from his face,
hair and arms. When he stood up he was once again the youth I had seen at the house. His wet hair was still streaked with
mud or whatever he had put in it, but it was as white as my own. He seemed about ten years younger than me. His face had none
of the terror and pleading I had seen such a short time before. He was ebullient, clearly pleased with himself.
I chose to keep my own counsel. Before I offered toomuch, I would wait until I had a better idea of what all this meant. I would instead give him a hint.
“I am Oona, Elric’s daughter,” I said. This apparently was nothing to him,
The rider approaching me was clearly a warrior of the region, but with subtle differences of dress, black face paint, shaven
head, scalp lock worn long, a lance and a war-shield held in his left hand, his right hand gripping the decorated reins of
his huge mount. It was impossible to judge the rider’s size, but it was clear the mammoth was not young. The old tusks were
splintered and bound but could still very easily kill almost anything which attacked their owner.
My heart thumped with sickening speed. I looked for some advantage. At the last moment the mammoth’s trunk rose in a gesture
of peace. At the same time the painted warrior raised his palm to reassure me.
The mammoth swung her weight forward and began to lower herself onto her knees as the newcomer slid blithely down her back
and landed on the turf.
His tone was at odds with his ferocious black mask. “The prophecy told me I would meet my friend Ayanawatta here but only
hinted at his companion. I am sorry if I alarmed you. Please forgive the death paint. I’ve been in a fairly intense dispute.”
This thoroughly decorated man had a similar grace of manner to Ayanawatta, but something about his movements was familiar
to me. His posture, however, was more brooding. His paint was a black, glowing mask in which two dark rubies burned. I held
on to the spear and took a step back. I began to feel sicker still as I recognized him.
Silently, fascinated, I waited for him to approach.
CHAPTER THREE
A Prince of the Prairie
Do not ask me how I came here,
Do not ask my name or nation,
Do not ask my destination,
For I am Dawadana, the Far Sighted,
Dawadana, Seer and Singer,
Who bore the lance, the Justice Bringer,
Who brought the law out of the East,
Sworn to seek but never speak.
W. S. H ARTE ,
“The Maker of Laws”
H e was, of course, the same youth I had seen at the house. His face was so thickly painted I knew him only by his white hands
and red eyes. He did not appear to recognize me at all and seemed a little disappointed. “Do you know where Ayanawatta is?”
I guessed he’d failed to find fish in the river and hadgone hunting in the woods, since his bow and a lance were missing.
“Well, we have some big game to hunt now,” the newcomer said. “I’ve found him at last. I would have reached him sooner if
I had understood my pygmy dream better.” This was offered as apology. He returned to his mount and led the great woolly black
pachyderm down to the water to drink. I admired the saddle blanket and the beaded bridle. Attached to the intricately carved
wooden saddle was a long, painted quiver from which the sharp metal tongues of several lances jutted. Beaver and otter fur
covered the saddle and parts of his bridle. The mammoth herself was, as I had thought, not in her prime. There were grizzled
marks around her mouth and trunk, and her ivory was stained and cracked, but she moved with surprising speed, turning her
vast, tusked head once to look into my eyes, perhaps to convince herself that I was friendly. Reassured, she dipped her trunk
delicately into the cold water, her hairy tail swinging back and forth, twitching with pleasure.
As his mount quenched her mighty thirst, the young man knelt beside the water and began rubbing the black paint from his face,
hair and arms. When he stood up he was once again the youth I had seen at the house. His wet hair was still streaked with
mud or whatever he had put in it, but it was as white as my own. He seemed about ten years younger than me. His face had none
of the terror and pleading I had seen such a short time before. He was ebullient, clearly pleased with himself.
I chose to keep my own counsel. Before I offered toomuch, I would wait until I had a better idea of what all this meant. I would instead give him a hint.
“I am Oona, Elric’s daughter,” I said. This apparently was nothing to him,
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