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
Then he turned to Dyvim Slorm, shouting: "Let us see if our plan will work, cousin!"
Elric stared up at Stormbringer writhing in Darnizhaan's grasp.
"Stormbringer! Kerana soliem, o'glara… "
Dyvim Slorm also called to Mournblade in the High Tongue of Melnibone, the mystic, sorcerous tongue which had been used for rune-casting and demon-raising all through Melnibone's twenty thousand years of history.
Together, they commanded the blades, as if they were actually wielding them in their hands, so that merely by shouting orders, Elric and Dyvim Slorm began their work. This was the remembered quality of both blades when paired in a common fight. The blades twisted in Darnizhaan's glowing hands. He started backwards, his shape faltering, sometimes manlike, sometimes beastlike, sometimes totally alien.
But he was evidently horrified, this god.
Now the swords wrenched themselves from the clutching hands and turned on him. He fought against them, fending them off as they wove about in the air, whining malevolently, triumphantly, attacking him with vicious power. At Elric's command, Stormbringer slashed at the supernatural being and Dyvim Slorm's Mournblade followed its example. Because the runeblades were also supernatural, Darnizhaan was harmed dreadfully whenever they struck his form.
"Elric!" he raved, "Elric-you do not know what you are doing! Stop them! Stop them! You should have listened more carefully to what I told you. Stop them!"
But Elric in his hate and malice urged on the blades, made them plunge into the Dead God's being time after time so that his shape sometimes faltered, faded, the colours of its bright beauty dulling. The acolytes fled upwards into the vale, convinced that their lord was doomed. Their lord, also, was so convinced. He made one lunge towards the mounted men and then the fabric of his being began to shred before the blades' attack; wisps of his bodystuff seemed to break away and drift into the air to be swallowed by the black night.
Viciously and ferociously, Elric goaded the blades while Dyvim Slorm's voice blended with his in a cruel joy to see the bright being destroyed.
"Fools! " he screamed, "in destroying me, you destroy yourselves! "
But Elric did not listen and at last there was nothing left of the Dead God and the swords crept back to lie contentedly in their masters' hands.
Quickly, with a sudden shudder, Elric scabbarded Stormbringer.
He dismounted and helped his girl-wife onto the back of his great stallion and then swung up into the saddle again. It was very quiet in the Vale of Xanyaw.
Chapter Six
Three people, bent in their saddles with weariness, reached the Chasm of Nihrain days later. They rode down the twisting paths into the black depths of the mountain city and were there welcomed by Sepiriz whose face was grave, though his words were encouraging.
"So you were successful, Elric," he said with a small smile.
Elric paused while he dismounted and aided Zarozinia down. He turned to Sepiriz. "I am not altogether satisfied with this adventure,"
he said grimly, "though I did what I had to in order to save my wife. I would speak with you privately, Sepiriz."
The black Nihrainian nodded gravely. "When we have eaten," he said, "we will talk alone."
They walked wearily through the galleries, noting that there was considerably more activity in the city now, but there was no sign of Sepiriz's nine brothers. He explained their absence as he led Elric and his companions towards his own chamber. "As servants of Fate they have been called to another plane where they can observe something of the several different possible futures of the Earth and thus keep me informed of what I must do here."
They entered the chamber and found food ready and, when they had satisfied their hunger, Dyvim Slorm and Zarozinia left the other two.
The fire from the great hearth blazed. Elric and Sepiriz sat together, unspeaking, hunched in their chairs.
At last, without preamble, Elric told Sepiriz the story of what had happened, what he remembered of the Dead God's words, how they had disturbed him-even struck him as being true.
When he had finished, Sepiriz nodded. "It is so," he said.
"Darnizhaan spoke the truth. Or, at least, he spoke most of the truth, as he understood it."
"You mean we will all soon cease to exist? That it will be as if we had never breathed, or thought, or fought?"
"That is likely."
"But why? It seems unjust."
"Who told you that the world was just?"
Elric smiled, his own suspicions confirmed. "Aye, as I expected, there is no justice."
"But there is," Sepiriz said, "justice of a kind-justice which must be carved from the chaos of existence. Man was not born to a world of justice. But he can create such a world!"
"I'd agree to that," Elric said, "but what are all our strivings for if we are doomed to die and the results of our actions with us?"
"That is not absolutely the case. Something will continue. Those who come after us will inherit something from us."
"What is that?"
"An Earth free of the major forces of Chaos."
"You mean a world free of sorcery, I presume…?"
"Not entirely free of sorcery, but Chaos and sorcery will not dominate the world of the future as it does this world."
"Then that is worth striving for, Sepiriz," Elric said almost with relief. "But what part do the runeblades play in the scheme of things?"
"They have two functions. One, to rid this world of the great dominating sources of evil-"
"But they are evil, themselves!"
"Just so. It takes a strong evil to battle a strong evil. The days that will come will be when the forces of good can overcome those of evil. They are not yet strong enough. That, as I told you, is what we must strive for."
"And what is the other purpose of the blades?"
"That is their final purpose-your destiny. I can tell you now. I must tell you now, or let you live out your destiny unknowing."
"Then tell me," Elric said impatiently.
"Their ultimate purpose is to destroy this world!"
Elric stood up. "Ah, no, Sepiriz. That I cannot believe. Shall I have such a crime on my conscience?"
"It is not a crime, it is in the nature of things. The era of the Bright Empire, even that of the Young Kingdoms, is drawing to a close. Chaos formed this Earth and, for aeons, Chaos ruled. Men were created to put an end to that rule."
"But my ancestors worshipped the powers of Chaos. My patron demon, Arioch, is a Duke of Hell, one of the prime Lords of Chaos!"
"Just so. You, and your ancestors, were not true men at all, but an intermediary type created for a purpose. You understand Chaos as no true men ever could understand it. You can control the forces of Chaos as no true men ever could. And, as a manifestation of the Champion Eternal, you can weaken the forces of Chaos-for you know the qualities of Chaos. Weaken them is what you have done. Though worshipping the Lords of Chance, your race was the first to bring some kind of order to the Earth. The people of the Young Kingdoms have inherited this from you-and have consolidated it. But, as yet, Chaos is still that much stronger. The runeblades, Stormbringer and Mournblade, this more orderly age, the wisdom your race and mine have gained, all will go towards creating the basis for the true beginnings of Mankind's history. That history will not begin for many thousands of years, the type may take on a lowlier form, become more beastlike before it re-evolves, but when it does, it will re-evolve into a world bereft of the stronger forces of Chaos. It will have a fighting chance. We are all doomed, but they need not be."
"So that is what Darnizhaan meant when he said we were just puppets, acting out our parts before the true play began…" Elric sighed deeply, the weight of his mighty responsibility was heavy on his soul. He did not welcome it; but he accepted it.