Elric: The Stealer of Souls
- Автор: Муркок Майкл
- Серия: Chronicles of the Last Emperor of Melnibone #1
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Фэнтези
Электронная книга - «Elric: The Stealer of Souls». Краткое содержание книги:
–from the Foreword by Alan Moore, creator of V for Vendetta
Shaking, he went to the door and flung it open, calling for his guards, but none answered him.
His runesword Stormbringer hung in the city's armoury and would take time to get. His throat tight with pain and anger, he ran down the corridors and stairways, dazed with anxiety, trying to grasp the implications of his wife's disappearance.
Above the palace, thunder still crashed, eddying about in the noisy night. The palace seemed deserted and he had the sudden feeling that he was completely alone, that he had been abandoned. But as he ran out into the main courtyard and saw the insensible guards he realized at once that their slumber could not be natural. Realization was coming even as he ran through the gardens, through the gates and down to the city, but there was no sign of his wife's abductors.
Where had they gone?
He raised his eyes to the shouting sky, his white face stark and twisted with frustrated anger. There was no sense to it. Why had they taken her? He had enemies, he knew, but none who could summon such supernatural help. Who, apart from himself, could work this mighty sorcery that made the skies themselves shake and a city sleep?
To the house of Lord Voashoon, Chief Senator of Karlaak and father of Zarozinia, Elric ran panting like a wolf. He banged with his fists upon the door, yelling at the astonished servants within.
"Open! It is Elric. Hurry!"
The doors gaped back and he was through them. Lord Voashoon came stumbling down the stairs into the chamber, his face heavy with sleep.
"What is it, Elric?"
"Summon your warriors. Zarozinia has been abducted. Those who took her were demons and may be far from here by now-but we must search in case they escaped by land."
Lord Voashoon's face became instantly alert and he shouted terse orders to his servants between listening to Elric's explanation of what had happened.
"And I must have entrance into the armoury," Elric concluded. "I must have Stormbringer!"
"But you renounced the blade for fear of its evil power over you!"
Lord Voashoon reminded him quietly.
Elric replied impatiently. "Aye-but I renounced the blade for Zarozinia's sake, too. I must have Stormbringer if I am to bring her back. The logic is simple. Quickly, give me the key."
In silence Lord Voashoon fetched the key and led Elric to the armoury where the weapons and armour of his ancestors were held, unused for centuries. Through the dusty place strode Elric to a dark alcove that seemed to contain something which lived.
He heard a soft moaning from the great black battle-blade as he reached out a slim-fingered white hand to take it. It was heavy, yet perfectly balanced, a two-handed broadsword of prodigious size, with its wide crosspiece and its blade smooth and broad, stretching for over five feet from the hilt. Near the hilt, mystic runes were engraved and even Elric did not know what they fully signified.
"Again I must make use of you, Stormbringer," he said as he buckled the sheath about his waist, "and I must conclude that we are too closely linked now for less than death to separate us."
With that he was striding from the armoury and back to the courtyard where mounted guards were already sitting nervous steeds, awaiting his instructions.
Standing before them, he drew Stormbringer so that the sword's strange, black radiance flickered around him, his white face, as pallid as bleached bone, staring out of it at the horsemen.
"You go to chase demons this night. Search the countryside, scour forest and plain for those who have done this thing to our princess!
Though it's likely that her abductors used supernatural means to make their escape, we cannot be sure. So search-and search well!"
All through the raging night they searched but could find no trace of either the creatures or Elric's wife. And when dawn came, a smear of blood in the morning sky, his men returned to Karlaak where Elric awaited them, now filled with the nigromantic vitality which his sword supplied.
"Lord Elric-shall we retrace our trail and see if daylight yields a clue?" cried one.
"He does not hear you," another murmured as Elric gave no sign.
But then Elric turned his pain-racked head and he said bleakly,
"Search no more. I have had time to meditate and must seek my wife with the aid of sorcery. Disperse. You can do nothing further."
Then he left them and went back towards his palace, knowing that there was still one way of learning where Zarozinia had been taken. It was a method which he ill-liked, yet it would have to be employed.
Curtly, upon returning, Elric ordered everyone from his chamber, barred the door and stared down at the dead thing. Its congealed blood was still on him, but the axe with which he had slain it had been taken away by its comrades.
Elric prepared the body, stretching out its limbs on the floor. He drew the shutters of the windows so that no light filtered into the room, and lit a brazier in one corner. It swayed on its chains as the oil-soaked rushes flared. He went to a small chest by the window and took out a pouch. From this he removed a bunch of dried herbs and with a hasty gesture flung them on the brazier so that it gave off a sickly odour and the room began to fill with smoke. Then he stood over the corpse, his body rigid, and began to sing an incantation in the old language of his forefathers, the Sorcerer Emperors of Melnibone. The song seemed scarcely akin to human speech, rising and falling from a deep groan to a high-pitched shriek.
The brazier speared flaring red light over Elric's face and grotesque shadows skipped about the room. On the floor the dead corpse began to stir, its ruined head moving from side to side. Elric drew his runesword and placed it before him, his two hands on the hilt. "Arise, soulless one!" he commanded.
Slowly, with jerky movements, the creature raised itself stiffly upright and pointed a clawed finger at Elric, its glazed eyes staring as if beyond him.
"All this," it whispered, "was pre-ordained. Think not that you can escape your fate, Elric of Melnibone. You have tampered with my corpse and I am a creature of Chaos. My masters will avenge me."
"How?"
"Your destiny is already laid down. You will know soon enough."
"Tell me, dead one, why did you come to abduct my wife? Who
sent you hither? Where has my wife been taken?"
"Three questions, Lord Elric. Requiring three answers. You know that the dead who have been raised by sorcery can answer nothing directly."
"Aye-that I know. So answer as you can."
"Then listen well for I may recite only once my rede and then must return to the nether regions where my being may peacefully rot to nothing. Listen:
"Beyond the ocean brews a battle;
Beyond the battle blood shall fall.
If Elric's kinsman ventures with him
(Bearing a twin of that he bears)
To a place where, man-forsaken,
Dwells the one who should not live,
Then a bargain shall be entered.
Elric's wife shall be restored."
With this the thing fell to the floor and did not stir thereafter. Elric went to the window and opened the shutters. Used as he was to enigmatic verse-omens, this one was difficult to unravel. As daylight entered the room, the rushes sputtered and the smoke faded. Beyond the ocean… There were many oceans. He resheathed his runesword and climbed onto the disordered bed to lie down and contemplate the rede. At last, after long minutes of this contemplation, he remembered something he had heard from a traveler who had come to Karlaak, from Tarkesh, a nation of the Western Continent, beyond the Pale Sea.