«What's this? What’s this? What’s this?»
Elric shouted in impudent triumph at seeing his shield work with such effect: «‘Tis Elric of Melnibone, great lord. Come to destroy thee! »
Another tentacle dropped towards him, seeking to curl around the shield and seize him. Then another followed it and another. Elric hacked at one, severed its sensitive tip, saw another touch the shield, recoil and shrivel and then avoided the third in order to run round the deck and ascend, as swiftly as he could, the ladder leading to the deck above. Here he saw Jagreen Lern, his eyes wide. The Theocrat was clad in his familiar scarlet armour. On his arm was his buckler and in the same hand an axe, while his right hand held a broadsword. He glanced down at these weapons, obviously aware of their inadequacy against Elric's.
«You later, Theocrat, » Elric promised grimly.
«You're a fool, Elric! You're doomed now' whatever you do! »
It was probably true, but he did not care.
«Aside, upstart, » Elric said as, his shield up, he moved warily towards the many-teotacled Lord of Chaos.
«You are the killer of many cousins of mine, Elric, » the creature said in a low voice. «And you've banished several Dukes of Chaos to their own domain so that they cannot reach Earth again. For that you must pay. But I at least do not underestimate you, as, in likelihood, they did.» A tentacle reared above him and tried to come down from over the shield's rim and seize his throat. He took a step backwards and blocked the attempt with the shield.
Then a whole web of tentacles began to come from all sides, each one curling around the shield, knowing its touch to be death. He skipped aside, avoiding them with difficulty, slicing about him with Stormbringer.
As he fought, he remembered Straasha's last message: «Strike for the crystal a-top his head. There is his life and his soul.» Elric saw the blue radiating crystal which he had originally taken to be one of Lord Pyaray's several eyes.
He moved in towards the roots of the tentacles, leaving his back badly unprotected, but there was nothing else for it. As he did so, a huge maw gaped in the thing's head and tentacles began to draw him towards it. He extended his shield towards the maw and had the satisfaction of seeing yellow jelly-like stuff spurt from it as the Lord of Chaos screamed in pain.
He got his foot on one tentacle stump and clambered up the slippery hide of the Chaos Lord, every time his shield touched him creating some sort of wound so that Lord Pyaray began to thresh about dreadfully. Then he stood above the glowing soul-crystal. For an instant he paused, then plunged Stormbringer point-first into the crystal!
There came a mighty throbbing from the heart of the entity's body. It gave vent to a monstrous shriek sad then Elric yelled as Stormbringer took the soul of a Lord of Hell and channelled this surging vitality through to him. It was too much. He was hurled backwards.
He lost his footing on the slippery back, stumbled off the deck itself and fell to another nearly a hundred feet below. He landed with bone-cracking force, but, thanks to the stolen vitality, was completely unharmed. He got up, ready to clamber towards Jagreen Lern.
The Theocrat’s anxious face peered down at him and he yelled: «You'll find a present for you in yonder cabin, Elric! »
Torn between pursuing the Theocrat and investigating the Cabin, Elric turned and opened the door. From inside came a dreadful sobbing.
«Zarozinia! » he cried. He ducked into the dark place and there he saw her.
Her lovely body was dreadfully changed so that it now resembled the body of a white worm. Only her head, the same beautiful head, was left.
Horrified he almost dropped his shield.
«Did Jagreen Lern do this?»
«He and his ally.» The head nodded.
Sickened, Elric could hardly bear to look at her. «Another great score that must be paid, » he muttered.
And then the worm-body had threshed and impaled itself on his sword. «There! » the head cried. «Take my soul into you. Elric, for I am useless to myself and you, now! Carry my soul with yours and we shall be forever together.» He tried to withdraw the thirsty runeblade, but it was impossible. And. unlike any other sensation he had ever received from it, this was almost gentle, warm and pleasant, his wife's soul flowed into his and he wept as it did so.
«Oh, Zarozinia, » he sobbed. «Oh, my love! »
So she died, her soul blending with his as, years before, the soul of his first love, Cymoril, had been taken. He did not look at the dreadful worm-body, did not glance at her face, but walked slowly from the cabin.
But now it appeared that the deck was disintegrating, flowing apart Jagreen Lern had evidently made good his escape and Elric in his present mood, did not feel ready to pursue him. Sword and shield both aiding him in their ways, he leapt from the ship to the pulsating ground and ran for the Nihrain steed.
Then, the tears still flowing down his white face, he rode, leaving the Ships of Hell breaking apart behind him. At least these would threaten the world no more and a blow had been struck against Chaos. Now only the horde itself remained to be dealt with-and the dealing would not be so easy.
He rejoined his friends in silence, said nothing to them and led the way over the shaking earth towards Melnibone, island of his ancestors, where the last stand against Chaos would be made, the last battle fought and his destiny completed.
And in his mind as he rode, he seemed to hear Zarozinia's youthful voice whispering comforting words as, still sobbing, he galloped away from the camp of Chaos.
BOOK FOUR
Doomed Lord's Passing
For the mind of Man alone is free to explore the lofty vastness of the cosmic infinite, to transcend ordinary consciousness, to roam the secret corridors of the brain where past and future melt into one... And universe and individual are tinted, the one mirrored in the other, and each contains the other.
-The Chronicle of the Black Sword
One
The dreaming city no longer dreamed in splendour. The tat: tend towers of Imrryr were blackened husks, tumbled rags of masonry standing sharp and dark against a sullen sky. Once, Elric's vengeance had brought fire to the city, and the fire had brought ruin.
Streaks of cloud, like sooty smoke, whispered across the pulsing mm so that the shouting, red-stained waters beyond Imrryr were soiled by shadow, and they seemed to become quieter as if bushed by the black scan that rode across their ominous turbulence.
Upon a confusion of fallen masonry, a man stood watching the waves. A tall man' broad-shouldered, slender at hip, a man with slanting brows, pointed, lobeless ears, high cheekbones and crimson, moody eyes In a dead white ascetic face. He was dressed in black, quilted doublet and heavy cloak, both high-collared, emphasising the pallor of his albino kin. The wind, erratic and warm, played with his cloak, fingered it and passed mindlessly on to howl through the broken towers.
Elric heard the howling and his memory was filled by the sweet, the malicious and melancholy melodies of old Melnibone. He remembered, too, the other music his ancestors had created when they had elegantly tortured their slaves, choosing them for the pitch of their screams and forming them into the instruments of unholy symphonies. Lost in this nostalgia for a while, he found something dose to forgetfulness and he wished that he had never doubted The code of Melnibone, wished that he had accepted it without question and thus left his mind unsundered. Bitterly, he smiled.
A figure appeared below him and climbed the tumbled stones to stand by his side. He was a small, red-haired man with a wide mouth and eyes that had once been bright and amused.