Stormbringer

A huge face began to take form in the mist . «Sepiriz! » Elric recognised the face of his mentor. But the black Nihrainian, disembodied, did not appear to hear him. «Sepiriz - are you dead?»

The face faded, then reappeared almost at once upon the rest of the man's tall frame.

«Elric. I have discovered you at last, robed in your astral body, I see. Thank Fate, for I thought I had failed to summon you. Now we must make haste. A breach has been made in the defences of Chaos and we go to confer with the Lords of Law! »

«Where are we?»

«Nowhere as yet. We travel to the Higher Worlds. Come, hurry, I'll be your guide.»

Down, down, through pits of softest wool not engulfed and comforted; through canyons that were cut between blazing mountains of light which utterly dwarfed them, through caverns of infinite blackness wherein their bodies shone and Elric knew that the dark nothingness went away in all directions for ever.

And then they seemed to stand upon a horizonless plateau, perfectly flat with occasional green and blue geometric constructions rising from it. The iridescent air was alive with shimmering patterns of energy, weaving intricate shapes that seemed very formal. And there, too, were things in human form-things which had assumed such shape for the benefit of the men who now encountered them.

The White Lords of the Higher Worlds, enemies of Chaos, were marvellously beautiful, with bodies of such symmetry that they could not be earthly. Only Law could create such perfection and, Elric thought, such perfection defeated progress. That the twin forces complemented one another was now plainer than ever before, and for either to gain complete ascendancy over the other meant entropy or stagnation for the cosmos. Even though Law might dominate the earth, Chaos must be present, and vice versa, The Lords of Law were accoutred for war. They had made this apparent in their choice of earth-like garb. Fine metals and silks-or their like on this plane-gleamed on their perfect bodies. Slender weapons were at their sides and their overpoweringly beautiful faces seemed to glow with purpose. The tallest stepped forward.

«So, Sepiriz, you have brought the one whose destiny it is to aid us. Greetings, Elric of Melnibone. Though spawn of Chaos you be, we have cause to welcome you. Do you recognise me? The one whom your earthly mythology calls Donblas the Justice Maker.»

Immobile, Elric said: «I remember you, Lord Donblas. You are misnamed, I fear, for justice is nowhere present in the world.»

«You speak of your realm as if it were all realms.» Donblas smiled without rancour, though it appeared that he was unused to such impudence from a mortal. Elric remained insouciant. His ancestors had been opposed to Donblas and all his brethren, and it was still hard to consider the White Lord an ally. «I see now how you have managed to defy our opponents, » Lord Donblas continued with approval. «And I grant you that justice ca

Elric did not look directly at Donblas, for the sight of his beauty was disturbing. «Then let's to work, my lord, and change the world as soon we may. Let's bring the novelty of justice to our sobbing realm.»

«Haste, mortal, is impossible here! » It was another White Lord speaking, his pale yellow surcoat rippling over the clear steel of breastplate and greaves, the single Arrow of Law emblazoned on it

«I'd thought the breach to earth made, » Elric frowned. «I’d thought this martial sight a sign that you prepared war against Chaos! »

«War is prepared-but not possible until the summons comes from your realm.»

«From us! Has not Earth screamed for your aid? Have we not worked sorceries and incantations to bring you to us? What further summons do you need?»

«The ordained one, » said Lord Donblas firmly.

«The ordained one? Gods! (You'll pardon me, my lords.) Is further work required of me, then?»

«One last great task, Elric, » said Sepiriz softly. «As I have told you. Chaos blocks the attempts of the White Lords to gain access to our world. The Horn of Fate must be blown thrice before this business is fully terminated. The first blast will wake the Dragons of Imrryr, the second will allow the White Lords entrance to the earthly plane, the third–» he paused.

«Yes, the third?» Elric was impatient

«The third will herald the death of our world! »

«Where lies this mighty horn?»

«In one of several realms, » said Sepiriz. «A device of this kind ca

«And how can I accomplish such a journey?»

Once again Lord Donblas spoke levelly. «We will give you the means. Equip yourself with sword and shield of Chaos, for they will be of some use to you, though not so powerful as in your world. Go you then to the highest point on the ruined Tower of B'all'nezbett in Imrryr and step off into space. You will not fall-unless what little power we retain on earth fails us.»

«Comforting words, my Lord Donblas. Very well. I shall do as you decree, to satisfy my own curiosity if naught else.»

Donblas shrugged. «This is only one of many worlds-almost as much a shadow as your own-but you may not approve of it You will notice its sharpness, its clearness of outline-that will indicate that Time has exerted no real influence upon it that its structure has not been mellowed by many events. However, let me wish you safe passage, mortal, for I like you-and I have cause to thank you, too. Though you be of Chaos, you have within you several of the qualities we of Law admire. Go now-return to your mortal body and prepare yourself for the venture ahead of you.»

Elric bowed again and glanced at Sepiriz. The black Nihrainian stepped back three paces and disappeared into the gleaming air. Elric followed him.

Once again their astral bodies ranged the myriad planes of the supernatural universe, experiencing sensations unfamiliar to the physical mind, before, quite without warning, Elric felt suddenly heavy and opened his eyes to discover that he was in his own bed in the tower of D'a'rputna. Through the faint light filtering between chinks in the heavy curtain thrown over the window-slit, he saw the round Chaos Shield, its eight-arrowed symbol pulsing slowly as if in concert with the sun, and beside it his unholy runeblade Stormbringer, lying against the wall as if already prepared for their journey into the might-be world of a possible future.

Then Elric slept again, more naturally, and was tormented, also, by more natural nightmares so that at last he screamed in his sleep and woke himself to find Moonglum standing by the bed. There was an expression of sad concern upon his narrow face. «What is it, Elric? What ails your slumber?»

He shuddered. «Nothing. Leave me, Moonglum, and I’ll join you when I rise.»

«There must be reason for such shouting. Some prophetic dream, perhaps?»

«Aye, prophetic sure enough. I thought I saw a vision of my thin blood split by a hand that was my own. What import has this dream, what moment? Answer that, my friend, and, if you can't then leave me to my morbid bed until these thoughts are gone.»

«Come, rouse yourself, Elric. Find forgetfulness in action. The candle of the fourteenth day burns low and Dyvim Slorm awaits your good advice.»

The albino pulled himself upright and swung his trembling legs over the bed. He felt enfeebled, bereft of energy. Moonglum helped him rise. «Throw off this troubled mood and help us in our quandary, » he said with a hollow levity that made his fears more plain.

«Aye, » Elric straightened himself. «Hand me my sword. I need its stolen strength.»