"Who told you this?"
"A wise man."
Corum watched the puzzled albino go and sit down upon a treetrunk and place his head in his hands. "I have been drawn away at an unfortunate time," said Elric. "I pray that you speak the truth to me, Prince Corum." Suddenly he looked up and fixed Corum with those strange, crimson eyes. "It is a marvel that you speak at all-or at least that I understand you. How can this be?"
"I was-informed that we should be able to communicate easily-because 'we are part of the same thing.' Do not ask me to explain more, Prince Elric, for I know no more."
"Well this may be an illusion. I may have killed myself or become digested by that machine of Theleb K'aarna's, but plainly I have no choice but to agree to aid you in the hope that I am, in turn, aided." The albino glanced hard at Corum.
Corum went to get the horses where he had left them further up the road. He returned with them as the albino stood up, his hands on his hips, staring around him. He knew what it was to be plunged suddenly into a new world and he sympathized with the Melnibonean. He handed the black horse's reins to Elric and the albino climbed into the saddle and stood upright in the stirrups for a moment as he got the feel of the trappings, for he was plainly not used to the particular kind of saddle and stirrup.
They began to ride.
"You spoke of Tanelorn," said Elric. "It is for the sake of Tanelorn that I find myself in this dreamworld of yours."
Corum was astonished at Elric's casual mention of Tanelorn. "You know where Tanelorn lies?"
"In my own world, aye-but why should it lie in this one?"
"Tanelorn lies in all planes, though in different guises. There is one Tanelorn and it is eternal with many forms."
The two men continued to make their way through the forest as they spoke. Corum could hardly believe that Elric was real-just as Elric could hardly believe, it seemed, that this world was real. The albino rubbed his face several times and peered hard at Corum.
"Where go we now?" asked Elric finally. "To the castle?"
Corum spoke hesitantly, remembering Bolorhiag's words. "First we must have the Third Hero-the Many-Named Hero."
"And you will summon him with sorcery, too?"
Corum shook his head. "I was told not. I was told that he would meet us-drawn from whichever age he exists in by the necessity to complete the Three Who Are One."
"What mean these phrases? What is the Three Who Are One?"
"I know little more than you, friend Elric, save that it will need all three of us to defeat him who holds my guide prisoner."
Now they came to Balwyn Moor, leaving the forest behind them. On one side were the cliffs and the sea and the world was silent and at rest so that any threat from Chaos seemed very distant.
"Your gauntlet is of curious manufacture," Elric said.
Corum laughed. "So thought a doctor I lately encountered. He believed it was a man-made limb. But it is said to have belonged to a god-one of the Lost Gods, who mysteriously left the world millenia ago. Once it had special properties, just as this eye did. It could see into a netherworld-a terrible place from which I could sometimes draw aid."
"All you tell me makes the complicated sorceries and cosmologies of my world seem simple in comparison."
"It only seems complicated because it is strange," Corum answered. "Your world would doubtless seem incomprehensible to me if I were suddenly flung into it." Corum broke into laughter again. "Besides, this particular plane is not my world, either, though it resembles it more than do many. We have one thing in common, Elric, and that is that we are both doomed to play a role in the constant struggle between the Lords of the Higher Worlds-and we shall never understand why that struggle takes place, why it is eternal. We fight, we suffer agonies of mind and soul, but we are never sure that our suffering is worthwhile."
Elric plainly agreed completely. "You are right. We have much in common, you and I, Corum."
Corum looked down the road and there was a mounted man sitting stock still in his saddle. The warrior seemed to be waiting for them.
"Perhaps this is the Third of whom Bolorhiag spoke," said Corum as they slowed their pace and began, cautiously, to approach the warrior.
He was jet black with a huge, heavy, handsome head covered by the snarling mask of a snarling bear, its pelt going down his back. The mask could be used for a visor, Corum thought, but was now pushed off the face to reveal the melancholy eyes. He wore featureless plate armor, which was also black and, like Elric, he had a great black-hilted sword in a black scabbard. The pair of them made Corum feel almost gaudy in comparison. The black warrior's horse was not black-it was a strong, tall roan, a war horse. Hanging from his saddle was a great round shield.
The man did not seem pleased to see them. Rather he was horrified.
"I know you! I know you both!" he gasped.
Corum had never seen the man before and yet he, too, felt recognition.
"How came you here to Balwyn Moor, friend?" he asked.
The black warrior licked his lips, his eyes almost glazed. "Balwyn Moor? This is Balwyn Moor? I have been here but a few moments. Before that I was-I was… Ah! The memory starts to fade again." He pressed one massive black hand to his brow. "A name-another name! No more! Elric! Corum! But I-I am now…"
"How do you know our names?" cried Elric, aghast.
The man replied in a whisper. "Because-don't you see?-I am Elric-I am Corum-oh, this is the worst agony… Or, at least, I have been or am to be Elric and Corum…"
Corum was sympathetic. He remembered what Jhary had told him of the Champion Eternal. "Your name, sir?"
"A thousand names are mine. A thousand heroes I have been Ah! I am-I am-John Daker-Erekose-Urlik- many, many, many more… The memories, the dreams, the existences." He stared at them suddenly through his pain-filled eyes. "Do you not understand? Am I the only one to be doomed to understand? I am he who has been called the Champion Eternal-I am the hero who has existed forever-and, yes, I am Elric of Melnibone-Prince Corum Jhaelen Irsei-I am you, also. We three are the same creature and a myriad of other creatures besides. We three are one thing-doomed to struggle forever and never understand why. Oh! My head pounds. Who tortures me so? Who?"
From beside Corum Elric spoke. "You say you are another incarnation of myself?"
"If you would phrase it so! You are both other incarnations of myself!"
"So," Corum said, "that is what Bolorhiag meant by the Three Who Are One. We are all aspects of the same man, yet we have tripled our strength because we have been drawn from three different ages. It is the only power which might successfully go against Voilodion Ghagnasdiak of the Vanishing Tower."
Elric spoke quietly, "Is that the castle wherein your guide is imprisoned?"
"Aye." Corum took a stronger grip on the reins. "The Vanishing Tower flickers from one plane to another, from one age to another, and exists in a single location only for a few moments at a time. But because we are three separate incarnations of a single hero it is possible that we form a sorcery of some kind which will enable us to follow the tower and attack it. Then, if we free my guide, we can continue on to Tanelorn…"