The Stealer of Souls (47 page)

The commander’s face was pale for he had seen in the past what Elric and his hellblade could do.

“He’s not here, Elric, I swear.”

“What? Am I to be thwarted again? I know you are lying!” Elric advanced on the group who backed away, their swords ready.

“Our Theocrat does not need to protect himself by means of lies, doom-fostered one!” sneered a young officer, braver than the rest.

“Perhaps not,” Elric’s voice was low and menacing as he rushed towards the youth, swinging Stormbringer in a shrieking arc, “but at least I’ll have your life before I put the truth of your words to the test.”

The man put up his blade to block Stormbringer’s swing. The runesword cut through the metal with a triumphant cry, swung back again and plunged itself into the officer’s side. He gasped, but remained standing with his hands clenched.

Elric laughed. “My sword and I need revitalizing—and your soul should make an appetizer before I take Jagreen Lern’s!”

“No!” the youth groaned. “Oh, no, not my soul!” His eyes widened, tears streamed from them and madness came into them for a second before Stormbringer satiated itself and Elric drew it out, replenished. He had no sympathy for the man. “Your soul would have gone to the depths of hell in any case,” he said lightly. “But now I’ve put it to some use, at least.”

Two other officers scrambled over the rail, seeking to escape their comrade’s fate.

Elric hacked at the hand of one. He fell, screaming, to the deck, his hand still grasping the rail. The other he skewered in the bowels and, as Stormbringer sucked out his soul, he hung there, pleading incoherently in an effort to avert the inevitable.

So much vitality flowed into Elric that, as he rushed at the remaining group around the commander, he seemed to fly over the deck and rip into them, slicing away limbs as if they were flowers-stalks, until he encountered the commander himself. The commander said weakly: “I surrender. Do not take my soul.”

“Where is Jagreen Lern?”

The commander pointed into the distance, where the Chaos fleet could be seen creating havoc amongst the Eastern ships. “There! He sails with Pyaray of Chaos whose fleet that is. You cannot reach him there for any man not protected—or not already dead—would turn to flowing flesh once he neared the fleet.”

“That cursed hellspawn still cheats me,” Elric grimaced. “Here’s payment for your information—” Without mercy for one of the men who had wasted and enslaved two continents, Elric stuck his blade through the ornate armour and, delicately, with all the old malevolence of his sorcerer ancestors, tickled the man’s heart before finishing him.

He looked around for Kargan, but couldn’t see him. Then he noted that the Chaos fleet had turned back. At first he thought it was because Straasha had at last brought aid, but then he saw that the remnants of his fleet were fleeing. Jagreen Lern was victorious. Their plans, their formations, their courage—none of these had been capable of withstanding the horrible warpings of Chaos. And now the dreadful fleet was bearing down on the two flagships, locked together by their grapples. There was no chance of cutting one of them free before the fleet arrived. Elric yelled to Dyvim Slorm and Moonglum whom he saw running towards him from the other side of the deck.

“Over the side! Over, for your lives—and swim as far as you can away from here!”

They looked at him, startled, then realized the truth of his words. Others, from both sides, were already leaping into the bloody water. Elric sheathed his sword and dived. The sea was cold, for all the warm blood in it, and he gasped as he swam in the direction of Moonglum’s red head, which he could see ahead and, close to it, Dyvim Slorm’s honey-coloured hair. He turned once and saw the very timbers of the two ships begin to melt, to twist and curl in strange patterns as the Ships of Hell arrived. He felt very relieved he had not been aboard. He reached his companions.

“A short-term escape this,” said Moonglum, spitting water from his mouth. “What now, Elric? Shall we strike for the Purple Towns?” Moonglum’s capacity for facetiousness had not, it seemed, been limited by witnessing the defeat of their fleet and the advance of Chaos. The Isle was too far away.

Everywhere, the Chaos ships were disrupting nature. Soon their influence would engulf them, too.

Then, to their left they saw the water froth and form itself into what was to Elric a familiar shape.

“Straasha!”

“
I could not aid thee, I could not aid thee. Though I tried, my ancient enemy was too strong for me. Forgive me. In recompense let me take you and your friends back with me to my own land and save you, at least from Chaos.
”

“But we cannot breathe beneath the sea!”

“
You will not need to
.”

“Very well.”

Trusting to the elemental’s words, they allowed themselves to be dragged beneath the waters and down into the cool, green depths of the sea, deeper and deeper until no sunlight filtered there and all was wet darkness and they lived, though at normal times the pressure would have crushed them.

They seemed to travel for miles through the mysterious underwater grottoes until at last they came to a place of coral-coloured rounded constructions that seemed to drift slowly in a sluggish current. Elric knew it. The domain of Straasha the Sea-King.

The elemental bore them to the largest construction and one section of it seemed to fade away to admit them. They moved now through twisting corridors of a delicate pink texture, slightly shadowed, no longer in water. They were now on the plane of the elemental folk. In a huge circular cave, they came to rest.

With a peculiar rushing sound, the sea-king walked to a large throne of milky jade and sat upon it, his green head on his green fist.

“
Elric, once again I regret I was unable, after all, to aid you. All I can do now is have some of my folk carry you back to your own land when you have rested here for a while. We are all, it seems, helpless against this new strength which Chaos has of late
.”

Elric nodded. “Nothing can stand against its warping influence—unless it is the Chaos Shield.”

Straasha straightened his back. “
The Chaos Shield. Ah, yes. It belongs to an exiled god, does it not? But his castle is virtually impregnable
.”

“Why is that?”

“
It lies upon the topmost crag of a tall and lonely mountain, reached by a hundred and sixty-nine steps. Lining these steps are forty-nine elder trees, and of these you would have to be especially wary. Also Mordaga has a guard of a hundred and forty-four warriors. I’m explicit in giving numbers, for they have a mystic value
.”

“Of the warriors I would certainly be wary. But why the elders?”

“
Each elder contains the soul of one of Mordaga’s followers who was punished thus. They are vengeful trees—ever ready to take the life of anyone that comes into their domain
.”

“A hard task, to get that shield for myself,” Elric mused. “But get it I must, for without it Fate’s purpose would be forever thwarted—and with it I might have vengeance on the one who commands the Chaos fleet—and Jagreen Lern who sails with him.”

“
Slay Pyaray, Lord of the Fleet of Hell, and, lacking his direction, the fleet itself would perish. His life-force is contained in a blue crystal set in the top of his head and striking at that with a special weapon is the only means of killing him
.”

“Thanks for that information,” Elric said gratefully. “For when the time comes, I shall need it.”

“What do you plan to do, Elric?” Dyvim Slorm asked.

“Put all else aside for the moment and seek the sad giant’s shield. I
must
—for if I do not have it, every battle fought will be a repetition of the one we have just lost.”

“I will come with you, Elric,” Moonglum promised.

“I also,” said Dyvim Slorm.

“We shall require a fourth if we are to carry out the prophecy,” Elric said. “I wonder what became of Kargan.”

Moonglum looked at the ground. “Did you not notice?”

“Notice what?”

“On board Jagreen Lern’s flagship when you were hewing about you in an effort to reach the main deck. Did you not know, then, what you had done—or rather what your cursed sword did?”

Elric felt suddenly exhausted. “No. Did I—did it—
kill
him?”

“Aye.”

“Gods!” He wheeled and paced the chamber, slapping his fist in his palm. “Still this hell-made blade exacts its tribute for the service it gives me. Still it drinks the souls of friends. ’Tis a wonder you two are still with me!”

“I agree it’s extraordinary,” Moonglum said feelingly.

“I grieve for Kargan. He was a good friend.”

“Elric,” Moonglum said urgently. “You know that Kargan’s death was not your responsibility. It was fated.”

“Aye, but why must I always be the executioner of fate? I hesitate to list the names of the good friends and useful allies whose souls my sword has stolen. I hate it enough that it must suck souls out to give me my vitality—but that it should be most partial to my friends, that is what I cannot bear. I’ve half a mind to venture into the heart of Chaos and there sacrifice us both! The guilt is indirectly mine, for if I was not so weak I
must
bear such a blade, many of those who have befriended me might be alive now.”

“Yet the blade’s major purpose seems a noble one,” Moonglum said in a baffled voice. “Oh, I fail to understand all this—paradox, paradox upon paradox. Are the gods mad or are they so subtle we cannot fathom the workings of their minds?”

“It’s hard enough at times like these to remember any greater purpose,” Dyvim Slorm agreed. “We are pressed so sorely, that we haven’t a moment for thought, but must fight the next battle and the next, forgetting often why it is we fight.”

“Is the purpose, indeed, greater and not lesser,” Elric smiled bitterly. “If we are the toys of the gods—are not perhaps the gods themselves mere children?”

“
These questions are of no present importance
,” said Straasha from his throne.

“And at least,” Moonglum told Elric, “future generations will thank Stormbringer if she fulfills her destiny.”

“If Sepiriz is right,” Elric said, “future generations will know nothing of any of us—blades or men!”

“Perhaps not consciously—but in the depths of their souls they will remember us. Our deeds will be spoken of as belonging to heroes with other names, that is all.”

“That the world forgets me is all I ask,” Elric sighed.

As if growing impatient with this fruitless discussion, the sea-king rose from his throne and said: “
Come, I will make certain that you are transported to land, if you have no objection to traveling back in the same manner as you came here?
”

“None,” said Elric.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

They staggered wearily onto the beach of the Isle of the Purple Towns and Elric turned back to address the sea-king, who remained in the shallows.

“Again I thank you for saving us, Lord of the Sea,” he said respectfully. “And thanks also for telling me more of the sad giant’s shield. By this action you have perhaps, given us the opportunity to make certain that Chaos will be swept away from the ocean—and the land, also.”

“
Aahh
,” the sea-king nodded, “
yet even if you are successful and the sea is unspoiled, it will mean the passing of us both, will it not?
”

“True.”

“
Then let it be so, for I at least am weary of my long existence. But come—now I must return to my folk and hope to withstand Chaos for a little longer. Farewell!
”

And the sea-king sank into the waves again and vanished.

When they eventually reached the Fortress of Evening, heralds ran out to assist them.

“How went the battle? Where is the fleet?” one asked Moonglum.

“Have the survivors not yet returned?”

“Survivors? Then…?”

“We were defeated,” Elric said hollowly. “Is my wife still here?”

“No, she left soon after the fleet sailed, riding for Karlaak.”

“Good. At least we shall have time to erect new defenses against Chaos before they reach that far. Now, we must have food and wine. We must devise a fresh plan of battle.”

“Battle, my lord? With what shall we fight?”

“We shall see,” Elric said, “we shall see.”

Later they watched the battered survivors of the fleet sailing into the harbour. Moonglum counted despairingly. “Too few,” he said. “This is a black day.”

From behind them in the courtyard a trumpet sounded.

“An arrival from the mainland,” Dyvim Slorm said.

They strode together down to the courtyard in time to see a scarlet-clad archer dismounting from his horse. His near-fleshless face might have been carved from bone. He stooped with weariness.

Elric was surprised. “Rackhir! You command the Ilmioran coast. Why are you here?”

“We were driven back. The Theocrat launched not one fleet but two. The other came in from the Pale Sea and took us by surprise. Our defenses were crushed, Chaos swept in and we were forced to flee. The enemy has established itself less than a hundred miles from Bakshaan and marches across country—if march is the word, rather it
flows
. Presumably it expects to meet up with the army the Theocrat intends to land here.”

“Aaahh, we are surely defeated…” Moonglum’s voice was little more than a sigh.

“We must have that shield, Elric,” Dyvim Slorm said.

Elric frowned, his heart sinking. “Any further steps we take against Chaos will be doomed unless we have its protection. You, Rackhir, will be the fourth man in the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?”

“I’ll explain later. Are you fit enough to ride back with us now?”

“Give me two hours to sleep and then I will be.”

“Good. Two hours. Make your preparations, my friends, for we go to claim the sad giant’s shield!”