Stormbringer

He looked up.

There, on the rock, stood a young dwarf with a long, brown beard that reached below his waist. He clutched a spear, his only weapon, and he was dad in russet breeks and jerkin with a green cap on his head and no shoes on his broad, naked feel He had eyes like quartz that were at once hard, harsh and humorous.

«That's my name, » Elric said quizzically. «Yet how is it you know me?»

«I am not of this world myself-at least, not exactly. I have no existence in time as you know it, but move here and there in the shadow worlds that the gods make. It is my nature to do so. In return for allowing me to exist, the gods sometimes use me as a messenger. My name is Jermays the Crooked, as unfinished as these worlds themselves.» He clambered down the rode and stood looking up at Elric.

«What's your purpose here?» asked the albino.

«Me thought you sought the Horn of Fate?»

«True. Know you where it lies?»

«Aye, » smiled the young dwarf sardonically. «It’s buried with the still-living corpse of a hero of this realm-a warrior they call Roland. Possibly yet another incarnation of the champion Eternal.»

«An outlandish name.»

«No more than yours to other ears. Roland, save that his life was not so doom beset, is your counterpart in his own realm. He met his death in a valley not far from here, trapped and betrayed by a fellow warrior. The horn was with him then and he blew it once before he died. Some say that the echoes still resound through the valley, and will resound forever, though Roland perished many years ago. The horn's full purpose is unknown here-and was unknown even to Roland. It is called Olifant and, with his magic sword Durandana, was buried with him in the monstrous grave mound that you see yonder.»

The dwarf pointed into the distance and Elric saw now he indicated something he had earlier taken to be a large hillock.

«And what must I do to gain this horn?» he asked.

The dwarf gri

«You say he's dead-then how can he fight me?»

«He wears the horn by a thong about his neck. If you attempt to remove it, he will defend his ownership, waking from the deathless sleep that seems to be the lot of most heroes in this world.»

Elric smiled. «It seems to me they must be short of heroes if they have to preserve them in that ma

«Perhaps, » the dwarf answered carelessly, «for there are a dozen or more who lie sleeping somewhere in this land alone. They are supposed to awaken only when a desperate need arises, yet I've known unpleasant things to happen and still they have alert. It could be they await the end of their world, which the gods may destroy if it proves unsuitable, in which case they will fight to prevent such a happening. It is merely a poorly conceived theory of my own and of little weight. Perhaps the legends arise from some dim knowledge of the fate of the Champion Eternal».

The dwarf bobbed a cynical bow and, hefting his spear, saluted Elric. «Farewell, Elric of Melnibone. When you wish to return I will be here to lead you-and return you must, whether alive or dead, for, as you are probably aware, your very presence, your physical appearance itself, contradicts this environment. Only one thing fits here...»

«What's that?»

«Your sword.»

«My sword? Strange, I should have thought that would be the last thing.» He shook a growing idea out of his mind. He did not have time to speculate. «I've no liking to be here, » he commented as the dwarf clambered over the rocks. He glanced in the direction of the great burial mound and began to advance towards it. Beside him he saw that the stream was moving naturally and he had the impression that though Law influenced this world, it was to some extent still forced to deal with the disrupting influence of Chaos.

The grave barrow, he could now see, was fenced about with giant slabs of unadorned stone. Beyond the stones were olive trees that had dull jewels hanging from their branches, and beyond them, through tee leafy apertures, Elric saw a tall, curved entrance blocked by gates of brass embossed with gold.

Though strong, Stormbringer, » he said to his sword, »I wonder if you'll be strong enough to war in this world as well as giving my body vitality. Let's test you.»

He advanced to the gate and drawing back his arm delivered a mighty blow upon it with the runesword. The metal rang and a dent appeared. Again he struck, this time holding the sword with both hands, but then a voice cried from his right.

«What demon would disturb dead Roland's rest?»

«Who speaks the language of Melnibone?» Elric retorted boldly.

«I speak the language of demons, for I perceive that is what you are. I know of no Melnibonean and am well-versed in the ancient mysteries.»

«A proud boast for a woman.» said Elric, who had not yet seen the speaker. She emerged, then, from around the barrow, and stood staring at him from out of her glowing green eyes: She had a long, beautiful face and was almost as pale as himself, though her hair was jet black. «What's your name?» he asked. «And are you a native of this world?»

«I am named Vivian, an enchantress, but earthly enough. Your Master knows the name of Vivian who once loved Roland, though he was too upright to indulge her, for she is immortal and a witch, » She laughed good-humouredly. «Therefore I am familiar with demons of your like and do not fear you. Aroint thee! Aroint thee-or shall I call Bishop Turpin to exorcise thee?»

«Some of your words, » said Elric courteously, «are unfamiliar and the speech of my folk much garbled. Are you some guardian of this hero's tomb?»

«Self-made guardian, aye. Now go! » She pointed towards the stone slabs.

«That is not possible. The corpse within has something of value to me. The Horn of Fate we call it, but you know it by another name.»

«Olifant! But that's a blessed instrument. No demon would dare touch it. Even I...»

«I am no demon- I'm sufficiently human, I swear. Now stand aside. This cursed door resists my efforts too well.»

«Aye, » she said thoughtfully. «You could be a man - though an unlikely one. But the white face and hair, the red eyes, the tongue you speak....»

«Sorcerer I be, but no demon. Please-stand aside.»

She looked carefully into his face and her look disturbed him. He took her by her shoulder. She felt real enough, yet somehow she had little real presence. It was as if she were far away rather than close to him. They stared at one another, both curious, both troubled. He whispered: «What knowledge could you have of my language? Is this world a dream of mine or of the gods? It seems scarcely tangible. Why?»

She heard him. «Say you so of us? What of your ghostly self? You seem an apparition from the dead past! »

«From the past! Aha-and you are of the future, as yet unformed. Perhaps that brings us to a conclusion?»

She did not pursue the topic but said suddenly: «Stranger, you will never break this door down. If you can touch Olifant, that speaks of you as mortal, despite your appearance. You must need the horn for an important task.»

Elric smiled. «Aye-for if I do not take it back from whence it came, you will never exist! »

She frowned. «Hints! Hints! I feel close to a discovery yet ca