More of the cutthroats were ascending, and Smiorgan hacked at the rigging, having the satisfaction of seeing half a score go flying down to break their bones on the deck below, or be swallowed by the waves.
Earl Saxif D'Aan was beginning to recover, but he was still stunned.
"Fool! " he was crying. "Fool! " But it was not possible to tell if he referred to Elric or to himself.
Elric's voice became a wail, rhythmical and chilling, as he chanted his incantation, and the strength from the man he had killed flowed into him and sustained him. His crimson eyes seemed to flicker with fires of another, nameless color, and his whole body shook as the strange runes shaped themselves in a throat which had never been made to speak such sounds.
His voice became a vibrant groan as the incantation continued, and Smiorgan, watching as more of the crew made efforts to climb the mainmast, felt an unearthly coldness creep through him.
Earl Saxif D'Aan screamed from below:
"You would not dare! "
The sorcerer began to make passes in the air, his own incantation tumbling from his lips, and Smiorgan gasped as a creature made of smoke took shape only a few feet below him. The creature smacked its lips and grinned and stretched a paw, which became flesh even as it moved, toward Smiorgan. He hacked at the paw with his sword, whimpering.
"Elric! " cried Count Smiorgan, clambering higher so that he grasped the rail of the crow's nest. "Elric! He sends demons against us now! "
But Elric ignored him. His whole mind was in another world, a darker, bleaker world even than this one. Through gray mists, he saw a figure, and he cried a name. "Come! " he called in the ancient tongue of his ancestors. "Come! "
Count Smiorgan cursed as the demon became increasingly substantial. Red fangs clashed and green eyes glared at him. A claw stroked his boot and no matter how much he struck with his sword, the demon did not appear to notice the blows.
There was no room for Smiorgan in the crow's nest, but he stood on the outer rim, shouting with terror, desperate for aid. Still Elric continued to chant.
"Elric! I am doomed! "
The demon's paw grasped Smiorgan by his ankle.
"Elric! "
Thunder rolled out at sea; a bolt of lightning appeared for a second and then was gone. From nowhere there came the sound of a horse's hooves pounding, and a human voice shouting in triumph.
Elric sank back against the rail, opening his eyes in time to see Smiorgan being dragged slowly downward. With the last of his strength he flung himself forward, leaning far out to stab downward with Stormbringer. The runesword sank cleanly into the demon's right eye and it roared, letting go of Smiorgan, striking at the blade which drew its energy from it, and as that energy passed into the blade and thence to Elric, the albino grinned a frightful grin so that, for a second, Smiorgan became more frightened of his friend than he had been of the demon. The demon began to dematerialize, its only means of escape from the sword which drank its life-force, but more of Saxif D'Aan's rogues were behind it, and their blades rattled as they sought the pair.
Elric swung himself back over the rail, balanced precariously on the yard as he slashed at their attackers, yelling the old battle-cries of his people. Smiorgan could do little but watch. He noted that Saxif D'Aan was no longer on deck and he shouted urgently to Elric:
"Elric! Saxif D'Aan. He seeks out the girl."
Elric now took the attack to the pirates, and they were more than anxious to avoid the moaning runesword, some even leaping into the sea rather than encounter it. Swiftly the two leaped from yard to yard until they were again upon the deck.
"What does he fear? Why does he not use more sorcery?" panted Count Smiorgan, as they ran toward the cabin.
"I have summoned the one who rides the horse, " Elric told him. "I had so little time-and I could tell you nothing of it, knowing that Saxif D'Aan would read my intention in your mind, if he could not in mine! "
The cabin doors were firmly secured from the inside. Elric began to hack at them with the black sword.
But the door resisted as it should not have resisted. "Sealed by sorcery and I've no means of unsealing it, " said the albino.
"Will he kill her?"
"I don't know. He might try to take her into some other plane. We must-"
Hooves clattered on the deck and the white stallion reared behind them, only now it had a rider, clad in bright purple and yellow armor. He was bareheaded and youthful, though there were several old scars upon his face. His hair was thick and curly and blond and his eyes were a deep blue.
He drew tightly upon his reins, steadying the horse. He looked piercingly at Elric. "Was it you, Melnibonиan, who opened the pathway for me?"
"It was."
"Then I thank you, though I cannot repay you."
"You have repaid me, " Elric told him, then drew Smiorgan aside as the rider leaned forward and spurred his horse directly at the closed doors, smashing through as though they were rotted cotton.
There came a terrible cry from within and then Earl Saxif D'Aan, hampered by his complicated robes of gold, rushed from the cabin, seizing a sword from the hand of the nearest corpse, darting Elric a look not so much of hatred but of bewildered agony, as he turned to face the blond rider.
The rider had dismounted now and came from the cabin, one arm around the shivering girl, Vassliss, one hand upon the reins of his horse, and he said, sorrowfully:
"You did me a great wrong, Earl Saxif D'Aan, but you did Gratyesha an infinitely more terrible one. Now you must pay."
Saxif D'Aan paused, drawing a deep breath, and when he looked up again, his eyes were steady, his dignity had returned.
"Must I pay in full?" he said.
"In full."
"It is all I deserve, " said Saxif D'Aan. "I escaped my doom for many years, but I could not escape the knowledge of my crime. She loved me, you know. Not you."
"She loved us both, I think. But the love she gave you was her entire soul and I should not want that from any woman."
"You would be the loser, then."
"You never knew how much she loved you."
"Only-only afterward...."
"I pity you, Earl Saxif D'Aan." The young man gave the reins of his horse to the girl, and he drew his sword. "We are strange rivals, are we not?"
"You have been all these years in Limbo, where I banished you-in that garden on Melnibonи?"
"All these years. Only my horse could follow you. The horse of Tendric, my father, also of Melnibonи, and also a sorcerer."
"If I had known that, then, I'd have slain you cleanly and sent the horse to Limbo."
"Jealousy weakened you, Earl Saxif D'Aan. But now we fight as we should have fought then-man to man, with steel, for the hand of the one who loves us both. It is more than you deserve."
"Much more, " agreed the sorcerer. And he brought up his sword to lunge at the young man who, Smiorgan guessed, could only be Prince Carolak himself.
The fight was predetermined. Saxif D'Aan knew that, if Carolak did not. Saxif D'Aan's skill in arms was up to the standard of any Melnibonиan nobleman, but it could not match the skill of a professional soldier, who had fought for his life time after time.
Back and forth across the deck, while Saxif D'Aan's rascals looked on in openmouthed astonishment, the rivals fought a duel which should have been fought and resolved two centuries before, while the girl they both plainly thought was the reincarnation of Gratyesha watched them with as much concern as might her original have watched when Saxif D'Aan first encountered Prince Carolak in the gardens of his palace, so long ago.
Saxif D'Aan fought well, and Carolak fought nobly, for on many occasions he avoided an obvious advantage, but at length Saxif D'Aan threw away his sword, crying: "Enough. I'll give you your vengeance, Prince Carolak. I'll let you take the girl. But you'll not give me your damned mercy-you'll not take my pride."