Elric began to shiver as he pushed at the chilling body of the beast. Stormbringer moaned and murmured in his hand, and then it pierced some part of the beast's body, and a horrible cold strength began to fill the albino. Reinforced by the beast's own life-force, he heaved upwards. The beast continued to smother him, though now a thin, barely audible sound was coming from it. Elric guessed that Stormbringer's small wound was hurting the creature.
Desperately, for he was shaking and aching with cold, he moved the sword and stabbed again. Again the thin sound from the beast; again cold energy flooded through him, and again he heaved. This time the beast was flung off and crawled back towards the portal. Elric sprang up, raised Stormbringer high, and brought the sword down on the golden creature's skull. The skull shattered as ice might shatter.
Elric rang forward into the passage and, once within, the place became filled with roars and shrieks that echoed and were magnified. It was as if the voice that the cold beast had lacked outside was shouting its death-agonies here.
Now the floor rose until he was running up a spiral ramp. Looking down, he shuddered, for he looked into an infinite pit of subtle, dangerous colours that swam about in such a way that he could hardly take his eyes from them. He even felt his body begin to leave the ramp and go towards the pit, but he strengthened his grip on the sword and disciplined himself to climb on.
Upwards, as he looked, was the same as downwards. Only the ramp had any kind of constancy, and this began to take on the appearance of a thinly-cut jewel, through which he could see the pit and in which it was reflected.
Greens and blues and yellows predominated, but there were also traces of dark red, black, and orange, and many other colours not in an ordinary human spectrum.
Elric knew he was in some province of the Higher Worlds and guessed that it would not be long before the ramp led him to new danger.
Danger did not seem to await him when at last he came to the end of the ramp and stepped on to a bridge of similar stuff, which led over the scintillating pit to an archway that shone with a steady blue light.
He crossed the bridge cautiously and as cautiously entered the arch. Everything was blue-tinged here, even himself; and he trod on, the blue becoming deeper and deeper as he progressed.
Then Stormbringer began to murmur and, either warned by the sword or by some sixth sense of his own, Elric wheeled to his right. Another archway had appeared there and from this there began to shine a light as deep red as the other was blue. Where the two met was a purple of fantastic richness and Elric stared at this, experiencing a similar hypnotic pull as he had had when climbing the ramp. Again his mind was stronger, and he forced himself to enter the red arch. At once another arch appeared to his left, sending a beam of green light to merge with the red, and another to his left brought yellow light, one ahead brought mauve until he seemed trapped within the criss-cross of beams. He slashed at them with Stormbringer, and the black radiance reduced the beams for a moment to streamers of light, which reformed again. Elric continued to move forward.
Now, looming through the confusion of colour, a shape appeared and Elric thought it was that of a man.
Man it was in shape—but not in size it seemed. Yet, when it drew closer, it was no giant—less than Elric's height. Still it gave the impression of vast proportions, rather as if it were a giant and Elric had grown to its size.
It blundered towards Elric and went through him. It was not that the man was intangible—it was Elric who felt the ghost. The creature's mass seemed of incredible density. The creature was turning, its huge hands reaching out, its face a mocking grimace. Elric struck at it with Stormbringer and was astonished as the runesword was halted, making no impression on the creature's bulk.
Yet when it grasped Elric, its hands went through him. Elric backed away, grinning now in relief. Then he saw with some terror that the light was gleaming through him. He had been right—he was the ghost!
The creature reached out for him again, grabbed him again, failed to hold him.
Elric, conscious that he was in no physical danger from the monster, yet also highly conscious that his sanity was about to be permanently impaired, turned and fled.
Quite suddenly he was in a hall, the walls of which were of the same unstable, shifting colours as the rest of the place. But sitting on a stool in the centre of the hall, holding in his hands some tiny creatures that seemed to be running about on his palm, was a small figure who looked up at Elric and grinned merrily.
“Welcome, King of Melnibone. And how fares the last ruler of my favourite earthly race?”
The figure was dressed in shimmering motley. On his head was a tall, spiked crown—a travesty of and a comment upon the crowns of the mighty. His face was angular and his mouth wide.
“Greetings, Lord Balo,” Elric made a mock bow. “Strange hospitality you offer in your welcome.”
“Ahaha—it did not amuse you, eh? Men are so much harder to please than gods—you would not think it, would you?”
“Men's pleasures are rarely so elaborate. Where is Queen Yishana?”
“Allow me my pleasures also, mortal. Here she is, I think.” Balo plucked at one of the tiny creatures on his palm. Elric stepped forward and saw that Yishana was indeed there, as were many of the lost soldiers. Balo looked up at him and winked. “They are so much easier to handle in this size.”
“I do not doubt it, though I wonder if it is not we who are larger rather than they who are smaller....”
“You are astute, mortal. But can you guess how this came to be?”
“Your creature back there—your pits and colours and archways—somehow they warp—what?”
“Mass, King Elric. But you would not understand such concepts. Even the Lords of Melnibone, most godlike and intelligent of mortals, only learned how to manipulate the elements in ritual, invocation, and spell, but never understood what they manipulated—that is where the Lords of the Higher Worlds score, whatever their differences.”
“But I survived without need for spells. I survived by disciplining my mind!”
“That helped, for certain—but you forget your greatest asset—that disturbing blade there. You use it in your petty problems to aid you, and you never realise that it is like making use of a mighty war galley to catch a sprat. That sword represents power in any Realm, King Elric!”
“Aye, so it might. This does not interest me. Why are you here, Lord Balo?”
Balo chuckled, his laughter rich and musical. “Oho, I am in disgrace. I quarrelled with my masters, who took exception to a joke of mine about their insignificance and egotism, about their destiny and their pride. Bad taste to them, King, is any hint of their own oblivion. I made a joke in bad taste. I fled from the Higher Worlds to Earth, where, unless invoked, the Lords of Law or Chaos can rarely interfere. You will like my intention, Elric, as would any Melnibonean—I intend to establish my own Realm on Earth—the Realm of Paradox. A little from Law, a little from Chaos—a Realm of opposites, of curiosities and jokes.”
“I'm thinking we already have such a world as you describe, Lord Balo, with no need for you to create it!”
“Earnest irony, King Elric, for an insouciant man of Melnibone.”
“Ah, that it may be. I am a boor on occasions such as these. Will you release Yishana and myself?”
“But you and I are giants—I have given you the status and appearance of a god. You and I could be partners in this enterprise of mine!”
“Unfortunately, Lord Balo, I do not possess your range of humour and am unfitted for such an exalted role. Besides,” Elric grinned suddenly, “it is in my mind that the Lords of the Higher Worlds will not easily let drop the matter of your ambition, since it appears to conflict so strongly with theirs.”
Balo laughed but said nothing.
Elric also smiled, but it was an attempt to hide his racing thoughts. “What do you intend to do if I refuse?”
“Why, Elric, you would not refuse!
I can think of many subtle pranks that I could play on you ...”
“Indeed? And the Black Swords?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Balo, in your mirth and obsessions you have not considered everything thoroughly. You should have exerted more effort to vanquish me before I came here.”
Now Elric's eyes gleamed hot and he lifted the sword, crying:
“Arioch! Master! I invoke thee, Lord of Chaos!”
Balo started. “Cease that, King Elric!”
“Arioch—here is a soul for you to claim!”
“Quiet, I say!”
“Arioch! Hear me!” Elric's voice was loud and desperate.
Balo let his tiny playthings fall and rose hurriedly, skipping towards Elric.
“Your invocation is unheeded!” He laughed, reaching out for Elric. But Stormbringer moaned and shuddered in Elric's hand and Balo withdrew his hand. His face became serious and frowning.
“Arioch of the Seven Darks—your servant calls you!”
The walls of flame trembled and began to fade. Balo's eyes widened and jerked this way and that.
“Oh, Lord Arioch—come reclaim your straying Balo!”
“You cannot!” Balo scampered across the room where one section of the flame had faded entirely, revealing darkness beyond.
“Sadly for you, little jester, he can . . .” The voice was sardonic and yet beautiful. From the darkness stepped a tall figure, no longer the shapeless gibbering thing that had, until now, been Arioch's favoured manifestation when visiting the Realm of Earth. Yet the great beauty of the newcomer, filled as it was with a kind of compassion mingled with pride, cruelty, and sadness, showed at once that he could not be human. He was clad in doublet of pulsing scarlet, hose of ever-changing hue, a long golden sword at his hips. His eyes were large, but slanted high, his hair was long and as golden as the sword, his lips were full and his chin pointed like his ears.
“Arioch!” Balo stumbled backwards as the Lord of Chaos advanced.
“It was your mistake, Balo,” Elric said from behind the jester. “Did you not realise only the Kings of Melnibone may invoke Arioch and bring him to the Realm of Earth? It has been their age-old privilege.”
“And much have they abused it,” said Arioch, smiling faintly as Balo grovelled. “However, this service you have done us, Elric, will make up for past misuses. I was not amused by the matter of the Mist Giant ...”
Even Elric was awed by the incredibly powerful presence of the Chaos Lord. He also felt much relieved, for he had not been sure that Arioch could be summoned in this way.
Now Arioch stretched an arm down towards Balo and lifted the jester by his collar so that he jerked and struggled in the air, his face writhing in fear and consternation.
Arioch took hold of Balo's head and squeezed it. Elric looked on in amazement as the head began to shrink. Arioch took Balo's legs and bent them in, folding Balo up and kneading him in his slender, inhuman hands until he was a small, solid ball. Arioch then popped the ball into his mouth and swallowed it.
“I have not eaten him, Elric,” he said with another faint smile. “It is merely the easiest way of transporting him back to the Realms from which he came. He has transgressed and will be punished. All this”—he waved an arm to indicate the citadel—“is unfortunate and contradicts the plans we of Chaos have for Earth—plans which will involve you, our servant, and make you mighty.”
Elric bowed to his master. “I am honoured, Lord Arioch, though I seek no favours.”
Arioch's silvery voice lost some of its beauty and his face seemed to cloud for a second. “You are pledged to serve Chaos, Elric, as were your ancestors. You will serve Chaos! The time draws near when both Law and Chaos will battle for the Realm of Earth—and Chaos shall win! Earth will be incorporated into our Realm and you will join the hierarchy of Chaos, become immortal as we are!”
“Immortality offers little to me, my lord.”
“Ah, Elric, have the men of Melnibone become as the half-apes who now dominate Earth with their puny "civilisations"? Are you no better than these Young Kingdom upstarts? Think what we offer!”
“I shall, my lord, when the time you mention comes.” Elric's head was still lowered.
“You shall indeed,” Arioch raised his arms. “Now to transport this toy of Balo's to its proper Realm, and redress the trouble he has caused, lest some hint reaches our opponents before the proper time.”
Arioch's voice swelled like the singing of a million brazen bells and Elric sheathed his sword and clapped his hands over his ears to stop the pain.
Then Elric felt his body seem to shred apart, swell and stretch until it became like smoke drifting on air. Then, faster, the smoke began to be drawn together, becoming denser and denser and he seemed to be shrinking now. All around him were rolling banks of colour, flashes and indescribable noises. Then came a vast blackness and he closed his eyes against the images that seemed reflected in the blackness.
When he opened them he stood in the valley and the singing citadel was gone. Only Yishana and a few surprised-looking soldiers stood there. Yishana ran towards him.
“Elric—was it you who saved us?”
“I must claim only part of the credit,” he said.
“Not all my soldiers are here,” she said, inspecting the men. “Where are the rest—and the villagers abducted earlier?”
“If Balo's tastes are like his masters', then I fear they now have the honour of being part of a demigod. The Lords of Chaos are not flesh-eaters, of course, being of the Higher Worlds, but there is something they savour in men which satisfies them . . .”
Yishana hugged her body as if in cold. “He was huge—I cannot believe that his citadel could contain his bulk!”
“The citadel was more than a dwelling-place, that was obvious. Somehow it changed size, shape—and other things I cannot describe. Arioch of Chaos transported it and Balo back to where they belong.”
“Arioch! But he is one of the Greatest Six! How did he come to Earth?”
“An old pact with my remote ancestors. By calling him they allow him to spend a short time in our realm, and he repays them with some favour. This was done.”
“Come, Elric,” she took his arm. “Let's away from the valley.”
Elric was weak and enfeebled by the efforts of summoning Arioch, and the experiences he had had before and since the episode. He could hardly walk; and soon it was Yishana who supported him as they made slow progress, the dazed warriors following in their wake, towards the nearest village, where they could obtain rest and horses to take them back to Dhakos.
Chapter Five
As they staggered past the blasted ruins of Thokara, Yishana pointed suddenly at the sky.
“What is that?”
A great shape was winging its way towards them. It had the appearance of a butterfly, but a butterfly with wings so huge they blotted out the sun.
“Can it be some creature of Balo's left behind?” she speculated.
“Hardly likely,” he replied. “This has the appearance of a monster conjured by a human sorcerer.”
“Theleb K'aarna!”
“He has surpassed himself,” Elric said wryly. “I did hot think him capable.”
“It is his vengeance on us, Elric!”
“That seems reasonable. But I am weak, Yishana—and Stormbringer needs souls if it is to replenish my strength.” He turned a calculating eye on the warriors behind him who were gaping up at the creature as it came nearer. Now they could see it had a man's body, covered with hairs or feathers hued like a peacock's.
The air whistled as it descended, its fifty-foot wings dwarfing the seven feet of head and body. From its head grew two curling horns, and its arms terminated in long talons.
“We are doomed, Elric!” cried Yishana. She saw that the warriors were fleeing and she cried after them to come back. Elric stood there passively, knowing that alone he could not defeat the butterfly-creature.
“
Best go with them, Yishana,” he murmured. “I think it will be satisfied with me.”
“No!”
He ignored her and stepped towards the creature as it landed and began to glide over the ground in his direction. He drew a quiescent Stormbringer, which felt heavy in his hand. A little strength flowed into him, but not enough. His only hope was to strike a good blow at the creature's vitals and draw some of its own life-force into himself.
The creature's voice shrilled at him, and the strange, insane face twisted as he approached. Elric realised that this was no true supernatural denizen of the nether worlds, but a once-human creature warped by Theleb K'aarna's sorcery. At least it was mortal, and he had only physical strength to contend with. In better condition it would have been easy for him—but now ...
The wings beat at the air as the taloned hands grasped at him. He took Stormbringer in both hands and swung the runeblade at the thing's neck. Swiftly the wings folded in to protect its neck and Stormbringer became entangled in the strange, sticky flesh. A talon caught Elric's arm, ripping it to the bone. He yelled in pain and yanked the sword from the enfolding wing.
He tried to steady himself for another blow, but the monster grabbed his wounded arm and began drawing him towards its now lowered head—and the horns that curled from it.
He struggled, hacking at the thing's arms with the extra strength that came with the threat of death.
Then he heard a cry from behind him and saw a figure from the corner of his eye, a figure that leapt forward with two blades gleaming in either hand. The swords slashed at the talons and with a shriek the creature turned on Elric's would-be rescuer.
It was Moonglum. Elric fell backwards, breathing hard, as he watched his little red-headed friend engage the monster.
But Moonglum would not survive for long, unless aided.
Elric racked his brain for some spell that would help; but he was too weak, even if he could think of one, to raise the energy necessary to summon supernatural help.
The Weird of the White Wolf Page 12
