Swords & Dark Magic

by Jonathan Strahan; Lou Anders

  There were no further traces of the human about the Lady Fernrath. She was completely Phoorn, speaking in the ancient language used between Phoorn and Melnibonéan. Completely Phoorn as she bent that beautiful serrated neck to let him mount, turning her head so that residues of fiery venom from her mouth-sacs fell bursting upon the tiled terrace and did not harm him.

  As if suspicious of pursuit, the lady firedrake peered this way and that into the night, her great claws clattering on the terra cotta, her wings stretching, wide, wide as she prepared to lift into the darkness of the night, giving voice with wild, beautiful music to the Phoorn’s ancient Song of Flight. Springing off the terrace, she began to gallop across the lawn, her sharp senses noting the obstacles as she approached that obsidian sea.

  And then she was aloft.

  And Elric, seated astride her gigantic, exquisite body, found himself flinging back his head, letting the cool air stream through his long white hair as he lifted his own voice to join in harmony with that complex melody, as natural to him and his kind as when the Phoorn and his own people first came to this sweet, glorious world and determined to take stewardship of it in the name of their ideals.

  What had gone wrong between the time when he had enjoyed a long idyll with her and fallen in love in a new way? Then their faith in the Great Balance translated into so many practical notions of order and justice. Now? Now he had become used to lies, secrecies, political and other bargains. The whole world was a darker, more threatening place. If he had known how the changes in the World Below were mirrored in the World Above, he would not have had his friends come with him.

  But all such thoughts were dissipating, for he rode a dragon again, bonding, as his genes remembered, with that monstrous, thumping heart, the deep, slow pulse, the beating of vast wings and the sweeping from side to side of that long, muscular tail. He relished the comfort of his heavy black armour but missed his great dragon spear, through which his thoughts were transmitted back and forth.

  Now all he could tell was that he was heading west and inland. As dawn sunlight streaked the blue-black horizon, they flew over a forest, spired by great pines, towards a turreted fortress of gold-veined white marble, woven in a way to show both artistic elegance and sturdy practicality—and also, somehow, a faint sense of menace.

  Fernrath dived into the depth of the forest, wings close together, claws extended, and neck hunched. She landed perfectly in a glade through which light had yet to penetrate. She allowed him to descend, then spoke to him in Phoorn. “Now we must roost until this afternoon when they begin their tournament. The targets have yet to be chosen and assembled in the castle grounds, within the central bailiwick.” And, cocooning him in her folded wings, she perched on a massive lower branch of one of the tallest trees, and went to sleep.

  A Question of Ancestry

  That evening, when the sun was still high enough in the sky to burn a bright orange, and she told him of her plans, Prince Elric and Lady Fernrath made their way along a hard-beaten red earthen road towards the unsuspected magnificence of the White Fort, which rose like a fantastic cloud of clear-edged smoke from the sharp green of the almost impenetrable forest.

  Reaching the six-foot-thick ironbound timber of the white-painted gates, she called out with such authority that the gates swung open at once, the huge iron bars rising on balancing machinery. They were recognised by their race and this gave them unquestioned admission.

  The fort was formed as a series of large towers, one inside the other, to be defended to the death. Each tower had land, which could, if necessary, grow its own food. Elric realised it existed on the same principles as Imrryr, built to impress and to be impregnable at the same time. His people had used an island and an ocean for this. Addric Heed used a trackless forest.

  She led him through one walled area after another, through towers and halls and finally up a flight of steps to a short gallery and out into the upper tiers of an amphitheatre, the stone seats arranged to look down onto a long oval green where targets had been arranged for an archery contest. Elric recognised this as something his own ancestors used to play. At Fernrath’s signal, he sat down with her well above the occupied tiers. She began to tell him again what she planned and what he must do. From the archery green, drifting in on the light, late-morning air, came the distant screams of the targets, the heavy thunk of arrows into bodies, and the applause as an archer made a good score in one of the marked parts of the slave’s upper body.

  Sitting in a tall, carved chair was the slender pirate slaver Addric Heed, clad in light-yellow robes, an orange scarf swathing his head and shoulders. Surrounded by his captains, of his own kind as well as human, and by others, lightly armed or bearing no weapons at all, he was unmistakeably Elric’s and Fernrath’s kin. Elric recognized one of the men as the saturnine trader on the ship. Fernrath nodded when he murmured this information to her. “He raids up and down this coast, as he has done for two centuries. The slaves will be sold in Hizss, which depends upon the trade for her subsistence. Those traders inspect the stock here and know roughly what they’ll bid when they return to Hizss. They keep their own bands of soldiers in Hizss. You know the place of which I told you?”

  “Aye. On the far side and in the furthest tower.”

  “He’ll expect no attack if I work my Phoorn sorcery, but you must hurry, Nephew, for it will be hard for me to keep so many engaged.”

  Then, as a lull came in the tournament, Lady Fernrath rose in her seat and called: “How goes the game, Brother?”

  And saw Addric Heed’s head come up in astonishment as he stopped halfway through a joke with his human visitors. He controlled his features, though a question still hovered in his eyes. “Sister! You should have warned me. I’ll have rooms prepared! Your entourage is below?”

  “Beyond the gates,” she said. “I did not know if I’d be welcome.” She swayed a little, the outline of her human shape flickering like a mirage, just enough for the onlookers to narrow their eyes, wondering at their own untrustworthy perceptions. A light mist seemed to escape from her mouth and nostrils.

  Addric Heed frowned. “Are you well, Sister?”

  “Oh, well enough, Brother. Well enough.” A strange scent drifted upon the air. “Prince Elric and myself have been travelling through a night and a day to find you. He is here to recruit your help, as I understand it. I agreed to bring him to you.”

  Addric Heed relaxed a little now he had an explanation he could believe. She made a movement with her hands. Her watchers found it hard to take their attention off her. “Can you help me, Brother? Can you help me, Brother? Can you help our cousin?”

  “Gladly, dear Sister.” His words were quite as formal and without warmth, but there was no animosity in them. Elric guessed that both had grown used to keeping secrets, even from themselves. Evidently, Addric Heed had no notion of how disgusting his sister found his trade and why, for other reasons, she should hate him when she and her adopted city did so well from the wealth he brought in. Equally, who knew the resentments and greed her brother fostered in his own soul?

  Elric hung back as if in discretion or embarrassment, for Addric Heed had forgotten his manners, his whole attention upon his sister. Elric nodded to his nearest kinfolk and typically ignored the humans, even the one he knew from the ship. He went to loll in a seat some distance away, as if to enjoy on his own the meeting of brother and sister. None offered him any attention.

  All eyes but Elric’s were now on the were-dragon as she continued to mesmerise them, her body swaying almost imperceptibly. After some minutes, he rose and slipped away. None noticed when he was no longer in his seat. He crossed an expanse of marble and, lifting a metal bar, stepped swiftly into the doorway she had told him to find.

  Within the tower room, the only light came from what stood on a small table. This rosy radiance drew Elric to it immediately. He blinked, holding his hand before his eyes.

  At first it seemed the room and its treasure were unguarded. No need for gua
rds when the whole fort was occupied by one’s own men, thought the albino, stepping towards a beautifully carved pedestal. He responded audibly to their beauty. They were just as she had described them on the road to the fort. This was Addric Heed’s most valuable treasure indeed. With these in his possession, he controlled his ship, and with his unique ship, he dominated the seaways. Elric had seen many extraordinary gems in his life and his dreamquests, yet still he was astonished. The bloody light pulsed from two perfect crimson-coloured pearls of magnificent size, depth, and luster, each as large as his fist. Was Addric Heed so certain of his power that he could leave such remarkable gems where anyone might come upon them? The albino reached towards them. He had understood that more than men protected the red pearls.

  As he moved to pluck them from the pedestal, there came a movement from the corner of the room. A sound. Something chuckled. Then a voice dry as summer corn spoke. “Good afternoon, stranger. You are an optimist, I see. For all your appearance, no doubt you are another would-be thief who supposes my master grows careless as he watches the competition. Well, Lord Addric Heed might not give his treasure the attention it deserves, but I value it if anything too much.” The unseen guardian uttered a small, squeaking sound, like a mouse. “Oh, I do. I do. But then it’s easier for me, eh?” Squeak, squeak. “For you see I have only one task to perform, after all. And I take much pleasure in performing that task.” Squeak. “While Addric Heed has many things on his mind. Do you fear me yet, mortal?”

  At this question, Elric laughed, knowing a sudden exhilaration as his hand flew to his left hip. He seized the hilt of his sword and began slowly to slide it from its scabbard.

  A responding chuckle from the darkness, almost good-humoured and lazy. “My dear mortal, you had best hear who I am before you waste your time drawing a weapon. You still have time to open that door and leave. Who knows? Perhaps Lord Addric Heed will not notice your visit and you can escape with your life. See? I give you time to turn and just possibly reach the door before I catch you.” Another squeak was followed by a series of little wet ticking noises, as if from tiny rodent lips.

  Elric sighed. He continued to unscabbard his great black battle blade, standing his ground, peering into the roseate darkness in the hope of seeing his antagonist. “You are a very assured guard,” he said.

  “I would perhaps be more modest had I not caught and punished every thief who ever sought to steal those beautiful pearls. They are living things, you know, the Eyes of Hemric. I have guarded them for the past hundred and fifty years, ever since my master, Lord Addric Heed, brought me up from Hell for the purpose and placed them in my safekeeping.”

  Then something large began to rise from the flagstone floor to hover over the crimson pearls. The gems glittered and winked in their own light and Elric had the uncanny sense that they watched him. In that, at least, they certainly resembled eyes. The albino permitted himself a shudder as he continued to draw his sword. What was it that guarded the Eyes of Hemric so confidently?

  Then Stormbringer was free at last of the scabbard and writhing like a living thing in its master’s two hands and howling with a profound and horrible hunger. And then Elric let his laughter roar from his throat as all the old lust for death filled him.

  Overhead, two black wings spread with a brittle, whispering sound and fluttered up towards the tower room’s roof. Squeak. A kind of invitation.

  “Coward,” said Elric. “Do you know who I am now? Do you fear for your life? For your soul, if you have one? Come down and engage me if you dare, for it would give me pleasure. I look forward to the novelty. I have never fought one of your race before.”

  From above, there came a further series of squeaks and smackings. “No mortal has ever fought an Asquinux and succeeded in defeating one.” The flying thing opened huge blue eyes, glaring into Elric’s face. “You are dead,” it said. “I have your life now, for I know your secret. You have failed to restore Law to your dissipating world.”

  “No doubt you are confusing me with another, Sir Monster, for when I die it will not be in the cause of Law, but in my own cause, or that of Chaos.” With casual familiarity, Elric swung the howling blade this way and that. Its black radiance met the red and flowed into it, throbbing. “But all that will depend on my luck and the Duke of Hell I serve. For my patron is Arioch of Chaos, one of Entropy’s great generals.”

  “That hero died in another world. He has no power here.” There was puzzlement in the half-seen creature’s blue eyes. It’s black, flat muzzle twitched. Then it opened a scarlet mouth, glittering with luminous teeth, each sharp as a dagger. Languidly, it licked its oddly shaped lips with a long blue tongue.

  “I know not by what crude sorcery your master brought you out of the Far Hell and kept you here, but I warn you, petty demon, to avoid me if you can. I am Elric and the sword I hold was forged in the flames of the burning damned to serve Chaos as I serve Duke Arioch. This blade is called Stormbringer and is quite as hungry as you are. I am very hungry, too.”

  The demon squeaked again. Each time the sound grew less audible yet somehow more ominous. It flapped up towards the roof again and hung there for a moment, its dark blue frowning eyes regarding Elric’s own glittering red orbs. It shifted its gaze from Elric’s eyes to the pearls it guarded and it made a small, puzzled sound. Again it opened its mouth and licked its teeth with its blue tongue, one by one, as if counting them. Then, with a high, whistling sound, its long white fangs clashing, its eyes glaring, the thing dropped upon him. Elric whirled, trying to engage the Asquinux face-to-face, but it would not let him. Its slender claws dug through his armoured back, making it impossible for him to stab with any precision.

  Eyes blazing with battle hunger, Elric lifted his head and howled.

  “Arioch! Arioch! Aid me!”

  Roaring the name of his patron, Elric swung the blade back over his left shoulder and there was a crack as it connected with the demon’s bones.

  The Asquinux shouted suddenly, shockingly, red mouth widening, the noise filling the tower. One claw came free. A swinging cut over his head and Elric’s blade bit into the monster’s knotted flesh. There came a terrible shrieking sound as the demon dragged those claws from the metal protecting Elric’s shoulder. It flapped back into the shadows. Its white mouth was panting now and it turned its head, lapping its own foaming wounds, its blood dripping like rain.

  “You are more powerful than I, it is true,” said the demon in a quiet, deadly voice. “But I must try to kill you or break my compact with Addric Heed, in which case I should perish all the more painfully. Soon his army will come and you will perish on the points of a thousand swords.”

  With evident reluctance, the demon flapped down, attempting again to get purchase with its claws in Elric’s body. This time, however, Elric understood its intent and ducked, throwing up Stormbringer so that the demon fell back, yelling curses in its own tongue. Then Elric leapt forwards, stabbing, and the thing flapped further up the tower, trying to work its way around so that it could make another attack on the albino’s back, clearly its only manoeuvre. So Elric deliberately turned his back until he heard the demon begin to drop down, then whirled, swinging the great blade with all its wild momentum and striking the demon in its hip, which cracked and made the Asquinux scream and keep screaming. A flood of ichor gushed from its wound as it wheeled, its wings smacking at the crimson air.

  Again Elric ducked and threw himself to one side, dodging the attack. The thing’s fluids splashed on the floor, narrowly missing the albino. He leapt this time, stabbing. The blade slipped through flesh and met bone. Now a foul stench began to fill the tower room, and black blood boiled as the demon gave its sudden attention to the two great pearls, its claws reaching for them desperately.

  “You’ll not save them from me, little monster!”

  Elric swung Stormbringer again. The sword wailed with pleasure as its hunger began to be satiated. Elric felt the dark, supernatural energy flowing into him. He shuddered, for t
he stuff made every nerve tense, every muscle threaten to cramp. Savagely, he swung at one of the grasping claws and sliced it off.

  The claw began to inch by its own volition towards the pulsing red pearls. The demon shouted and its teeth clashed in fury. Elric grinned and swept the claw into a corner. Then he stabbed once more.

  The Asquinux whimpered, understanding its defeat as Stormbringer purred to itself, like a satisfied cat, feasting. The albino drew a deep, shuddering breath. Now the wounded Asquinux flapped about in the air just above the pearls, still struggling to fulfill the duty of its compact, knowing that the penalty of failure was worse than death. Something like a plea for mercy filled those huge blue eyes. But Elric was never merciful. The notion was alien to him and his kind.

  Elric chopped off the demon’s other grasping claw. Raging, it span in the air overhead, its teeth clashing, the ichor spraying. “You are a poor wretch of a guardian,” he said, “but you are doubtless all that Addric Heed could afford.”

  And when the creature turned its blue, despairing eyes upon him, the long teeth shuddering and clashing in its mouth, the red tongue flicking up and down, it said: “My weird said I could never be slain by a living mortal. But I did not know I could be killed by a dead man, nor by one as powerful as the thing dwelling in your blade.” The last of its energy throbbed out of it, pulsing through the sword, which took its due and passed the rest of the foul stuff on to its wielder. “Which is the master? You or the blade?”

  The wounds from the demon’s claws had burned into him and though he now had extra energy, he was losing blood. He stumbled to the table and picked up first one heavy pearl and then another, slipping them into his shirt beneath his breastplate and tightening the laces with one hand.