'No! '
With an effort Elric dragged Aubec's blade from its scabbard. But it seemed too heavy to hold upright, it tugged his arm so that it rested on the floor, his arm hanging straight at his side. Elric drew deep breaths of heavy air into his lungs. His vision was dimming. Yyrkoon had become a shadow. Only the two black swords, standing still and cool in the very centre of the circular chamber, were in focus. Elric sensed Rackhir enter the chamber and stand beside him.
'Yyrkoon, ' said Elric at last, 'those swords are mine.'
Yyrkoon smiled and reached up towards the blades. A peculiar moaning sound seemed to issue from them. A faint, black radiance seemed to emanate from them. Elric saw the runes carved into them and he was afraid.
Rackhir fitted an arrow to his bow. He drew the string back to his shoulder, sighting along the arrow at Prince Yyrkoon. 'If he must die, Elric, tell me.'
'Slay him, ' said Elric.
And Rackhir released the string.
But the arrow moved very slowly through the air and then hung halfway between the archer and his intended target.
Yyrkoon turned, a ghastly grin on his face. 'Mortal weapons are useless here, ' he said.
Elric said to Rackhir, 'He must be right. And your life is in danger, Rackhir. Go...'
Rackhir gave him a puzzled look. 'No, I must stay here and help you...'
Elric shook his head. 'You cannot help, you will only die if you stay. Go.'
Reluctantly the Red Archer unstrung his bow, glanced suspiciously up at the two black swords, then squeezed his way through the doorway and was gone.
'Now, Yyrkoon, ' said Elric, letting Aubec's sword fall to the floor. 'We must settle this, you and I.'
4
Two Black Swords
AND THEN THE runeblades Stormbringer and Mournblade were gone from where they had hung so long.
And Stormbringer had settled into Elric's right hand. And Mournblade lay in Prince Yyrkoon's right hand.
And the two men stood on opposite sides of the Pulsing Cavern and regarded first each other and then the swords they held.
The swords were singing. Their voices were faint but could be heard quite plainly. Elric lifted the huge blade easily and turned it this way and that, admiring its alien beauty.
'Stormbringer, ' he said.
And then he felt afraid.
It was suddenly as if he had been born again and that this runesword was born with him. It was as if they had never been separate.
'Stormbringer.'
And the sword moaned sweetly and settled even more smoothly into his grasp.
'Stormbringer! ' yelled Elric and he leapt at his cousin.
'Stormbringer! '
And he was full of fear--so full of fear. And the fear brought a wild kind of delight--a demonic need to fight and kill his cousin, to sink the blade deep into Yyrkoon's heart. To take vengeance. To spill blood. To send a soul to hell.
And now Prince Yyrkoon's cry could be heard above the thrum of the swordvoices, the drumming of the pulse of the cavern.
'Mournblade! '
And Mournblade came up to meet Stormbringer's blow and turn that blow and thrust back at Elric who swayed aside and brought Stormbringer round and down in a sidestroke which knocked Yyrkoon and Mournblade backward for an instant. But Stormbringer's next thrust was met again. And the next thrust was met. And the next. If the swordsmen were evenly matched, then so were the blades, which seemed possessed of their own wills, though they performed the wills of their wielders.
And the clang of the metal upon metal turned into a wild, metallic song which the swords sang. A joyful song as if they were glad at last to be back to battling, though they battled each other.
And Elric barely saw his cousin, Prince Yyrkoon, at all, save for an occasional flash of his dark, wild face. Elric's attention was given entirely to the two black swords, for it seemed that the swords fought with the life of one of the swordsmen as a prize (or perhaps the lives of both, thought Elric) and that the rivalry between Elric and Yyrkoon was nothing compared with the brotherly rivalry between the swords who seemed full of pleasure at the chance to engage again after many millennia.
And this observation, as he fought--and fought for his soul as well as his life--gave Elric pause to consider his hatred of Yyrkoon.
Kill Yyrkoon he would, but not at the will of another power. Not to give sport to these alien swords.
Mournblade's point darted at his eyes and Stormbringer rose to deflect the thrust once more.
Elric no longer fought his cousin. He fought the will of the two black swords.
Stormbringer dashed for Yyrkoon's momentarily undefended throat. Elric clung to the sword and dragged it back, sparing his cousin's life. Stormbringer whined almost petulantly, like a dog stopped from biting an intruder.
And Elric spoke through clenched teeth. 'I'll not be your puppet, runeblade. If we must be united, let it be upon a proper understanding.'
The sword seemed to hesitate, to drop its guard, and Elric was hard put to defend himself against the whirling attack of Mournblade which, in turn, seemed to sense its advantage.
Elric felt fresh energy pour up his right arm and into his body. This was what the sword could do. With it, he needed no drugs, would never be Weak again. In battle he would triumph. At peace, he could rule with pride. When he travelled, it could be alone and without fear. It was as if the sword reminded him of all these things, even as it returned Mournblade's attack.
And what must the sword have in return?
Elric knew. The sword told him, without words of any sort. Stormbringer needed to fight, for that was its reason for existence. Stormbringer needed to kill, for that was its source of energy, the lives and the souls of men, demons-even gods.
And Elric hesitated, even as his cousin gave a huge, cackling yell and dashed at him so that Mournblade glanced off his helm and he was flung backwards and down and saw Yyrkoon gripping his moaning black sword in both hands to plunge the runeblade into Elric's body.
And Elric knew he would do anything to resist that fate--for his soul to be drawn into Mournblade and his strength to feed Prince Yyrkoon's strength. And he rolled aside, very quickly, and got to one knee and turned and lifted Stormbringer with one gauntleted hand upon the blade and the other upon the hilt to take the great blow Prince Yyrkoon brought upon it. And the two black swords shrieked as if in pain, and they shivered, and black radiance poured from them as blood might pour from a man pierced by many arrows. And Elric was driven, still on his knees, away from the radiance, gasping and sighing and peering here and there for sight of Yyrkoon who had disappeared.
And Elric knew that Stormbringer spoke to him again. If Elric did not wish to die by Mournblade, then Elric must accept the bargain which the Black Sword offered.
'He must not die! ' said Elric. 'I will not slay him to make sport for you! '
And through the black radiance ran Yyrkoon, snarling and snapping and whirling his runesword.
Again Stormbringer darted through an opening, and again Elric made the blade pull back and Yyrkoon was only grazed.
Stormbringer writhed in Elric's hands.
Elric said: 'You shall not be my master.'
And Stormbringer seemed to understand and become quieter, as if reconciled. And Elric laughed, thinking that he now controlled the runesword and that from now on the blade would do his bidding.
'We shall disarm Yyrkoon, ' said Elric. 'We shall not kill him.'
Elric rose to his feet.
Stormbringer moved with all the speed of a needle-thin rapier. It feinted, it parried, it thrust. Yyrkoon, who had been grinning in triumph, snarled and staggered back, the grin dropping from his sullen features.
Stormbringer now worked for Elric. It made the moves that Elric wished to make. Both Yyrkoon and Mournblade seemed disconcerted by this turn of events. Mournblade shouted as if in astonishment at its brother's behaviour. Elric struck at Yyrkoon's sword-arm, pierced cloth--pierced flesh--pierced sinew-pierced bone. Blood came, soaking Yyrkoon's arm and dripping down onto the hilt of the sword. The blood was slippery. It weakened Yyrkoon's grip on his runesword. He took it in both hands, but he was unable to hold it firmly.