Elric ceased to wonder why so few animals inhabited that stretch of the swamp. Overhead the sky was beginning to darken.
Stormbringer throbbed in Elric's grasp as he called the names of the ancient demon-gods of his people. The nauseous ghoul obviously recognized the names. For an instant, it wavered backwards. Elric made his legs move towards the thing. Now he saw that the ghoul was not white at all. But it had no colour to it that Elric could recognize.
There was a suggestion of orangeness dashed with sickening greenish yellow, but he did not see the colours with his eyes-he only sensed the alien, unholy tinctures.
Then Elric rushed towards the thing, shouting the names which now had no meaning to his surface consciousness. "Balaan-Marthim! Aesma! Alastor! Saebos! Verdelet! Nizilfkm! Haborym! Haborym of the Fires Which Destroy!" His whole mind was torn in two. Part of him wanted to run, to hide, but he had no control over the power which now gripped him and pushed him to meet the horror. His sword blade hacked and slashed at the shape. It was like trying to cut through water-sentient, pulsating water. But Stormbringer had effect. The whole shape of the ghoul quivered as if in dreadful pain. Elric felt himself plucked into the air and his vision went. He could see nothing-do nothing but hack and cut at the thing which now held him.
Sweat poured from him as, blindly, he fought on.
Pain which was hardly physical-a deeper, horrifying pain, filled his being as he howled now in agony and struck continually at the yielding bulk which embraced him and was pulling him slowly towards its gaping maw. He struggled and writhed in the obscene grasp of the thing. With powerful arms, it was holding him, almost lascivi-ously, drawing him closer as a rough lover would draw a girl. Even the mighty power intrinsic in the runesword did not seem enough to kill the monster. Though its efforts were somewhat weaker than earlier, it still drew Elric nearer to the gnashing, slavering mouth-slit.
Elric cried the names again, while Stormbringer danced and sang an evil song in his right hand. In agony, Elric writhed, praying, begging and promising, but still he was drawn inch by inch towards the grinning maw.
Savagely, grimly, he fought and again he screamed for Arioch. A mind touched his-sardonic, powerful, evil-and he knew Arioch responded at last! Almost imperceptibly, the Mist Giant weakened.
Elric pressed his advantage and the knowledge that the ghoul was losing its strength gave him more power. Blindly, agony piercing every nerve of his body, he struck and struck.
Then, quite suddenly, he was falling.
He seemed to fall for hours, slowly, weightlessly until he landed upon a surface which yielded beneath him. He began to sink.
Far off, beyond time and space, he heard a distant voice calling to him. He did not want to hear it; he was content to lie where he was as the cold, comforting stuff in which he lay dragged him slowly into itself.
Then, some sixth sense made him realize that it was Shaarilla's voice calling him and he forced himself to make sense out of her words.
"Elric-the marsh! You're in the marsh. Don't move! "
He smiled to himself. Why should he move? Down he was sinking, slowly, calmly-down into the welcoming marsh… Had therebeen another time like this; another marsh?
With a mental jolt, full awareness of the situation came back to him and he jerked his eyes open. Above him was mist. To one side a pool of unnamable colouring was slowly evaporating, giving off a foul odour. On the other side he could just make out a human form, gestic-ulating wildly. Beyond the human form were the barely discernible shapes of two horses. Shaarilla was there. Beneath him-
Beneath him was the marsh.
Thick, stinking slime was sucking him downwards as he lay spreadeagled upon it, half-submerged already. Stormbringer was still in his right hand. He could just see it if he turned his head. Carefully, he tried to lift the top half of his body from the sucking morass. He succeeded, only to feel his legs sink deeper. Sitting upright, he shouted to the girl.
"Shaarilla! Quickly-a rope!"
"There is no rope, Elric!" She was ripping off her top garment, frantically tearing it into strips.
Still Elric sank, his feet finding no purchase beneath them.
Shaarilla hastily knotted the strips of cloth. She flung the makeshift rope inexpertly towards the sinking albino. It fell short. Fumbling in her haste, she threw it again. This time his groping left hand found it. The girl began to haul on the fabric. Elric felt himself rise a little and then stop.
"It's no good, Elric-I haven't the strength."
Cursing her, Elric shouted: "The horse-tie it to the horse!"
She ran towards one of the horses and looped the cloth around the pommel of the saddle. Then she tugged at the beast's reins and began to walk it away.
Swiftly, Elric was dragged from the sucking bog and, still gripping Stormbringer, was pulled to the inadequate safety of the strip of turf.
Gasping, he tried to stand, but found his legs incredibly weak beneath him. He rose, staggered, and fell. Shaarilla knelt down beside him.
"Are you hurt?"
Elric smiled in spite of his weakness. "I don't think so."
"It was dreadful. I couldn't see properly what was happening. You seemed to disappear and then-then you screamed that-that name!"
She was trembling, her face pale and taut.
"What name?" Elric was genuinely puzzled. "What name did I scream?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter-but whatever it was-it saved you. You reappeared soon afterwards and fell into the marsh…"
Stormbringer's power was still flowing into the albino. He already felt stronger.
With an effort, he got up and stumbled unsteadily towards his horse.
"I'm sure that the Mist Giant does not usually haunt this marsh- it was sent here. By what-or whom-I don't know, but we must get to firmer ground while we can."
Shaarilla said: "Which way-back or forward?"
Elric frowned. "Why, forward, of course. Why do you ask?"
She swallowed and shook her head. "Let's hurry, then," she said.
They mounted their horses and rode with little caution until the marsh and its cloak of mist was behind them.
Now the journey took on a new urgency as Elric realized that some force was attempting to put obstacles in their way. They rested little and savagely rode their powerful horses to a virtual standstill.
On the fifth day they were riding through barren, rocky country and a light rain was falling.
The hard ground was slippery so that they were forced to ride more slowly, huddled over the sodden necks of their horses, muffled in cloaks which only inadequately kept out the drizzling rain. They had ridden in silence for some time before they heard a ghastly cackling baying ahead of them and the rattle of hoofs.
Elric motioned towards a large rock looming to their right. "Shelter there," he said. "Something comes towards us-possibly more enemies.
With luck, they'll pass us." Shaarilla mutely obeyed him and together they waited as the hideous baying grew nearer.