“Why, Lord Urlik, you seem to need…”
“Leave here!”
“But I would help you…”
“You will perish if you stay.”
“How do you know that?”
“I am not sure—but I do know it. I speak truly, Bladrak. Leave—for pity’s sake!”
Bladrak hesitated for another moment and then ran from the room, locking the door behind him.
I was alone with the case that held the Black Sword and the voice continued to chant in my head:
BLACK SWORD
BLACK SWORD
BLACK SWORD
AROUSE THE BLACK BLADE AND THE PATTERN IS MADE
THE DEED WILL BE DONE AND THE PRICE WILL BE PAID
BLACK SWORD
BLACK SWORD
BLACK SWORD
“Very well!” I screamed. “I will do it. I will take up the Black Sword again. I will pay the price!”
The chanting ceased.
There was a terrible stillness in the room.
I heard my own breath rasping as my eyes fixed on the case on the table and were held by it.
In a low voice I said at last:
“Come to me, Black Sword. We shall be as one again.”
* * *
The lid of the case sprang open. A wild, triumphant howling filled the air—an almost human voice which awakened a thousand memories within me.
* * *
I was Elric of Melniboné and I defied the Lords of Chaos with my runesword Stormbringer in my hands and a wild joy in my heart…
I was Dorian Hawkmoon and I fought against the Beast Lords of the Dark Empire and my sword was called the Sword of the Dawn…
I was Roland dying at Roncesvalles with the magic blade Durandana slaying half a hundred Saracens…
I was Jeremiah Cornelius. No sword now but a needle gun shooting darts as I was chased through a city by a surging, insane mob…
I was Prince Corum in the Scarlet Robe, seeking vengeance at the Court of the Gods…
I was Artos the Celt, riding with my burning blade uplifted against the invaders of my kingdom’s shores…
And I was all of these and more than these and sometimes my weapon was a sword, at others it was a spear, at others a gun… But always I bore a weapon that was the Black Sword or a part of that strange blade.
Always a weapon—always the warrior.
I was the Eternal Champion and that was my glory and my doom…
* * *
And a strange mood of reconciliation came over me then and I was proud of my destiny.
Yet why had I denied it?
* * *
I recalled a billowing cloud of brightness. I remembered grief. I remembered sealing the sword in its case and swearing I would not bear it again. I remembered a voice and a prophecy…
“In refusing one doom, ye shall know another—a greater…”
“No doom can be greater,” I shouted.
Then I was John Daker—unhappy, unfulfilled, before the voice called across the aeons for him to become Erekosë.
The crime I had committed was in refusing the Black Sword.
But why had I refused it? Why had I tried to rid myself of it?
It seemed to me that that had not been the first time I had tried to part my own destiny from that of the Black Sword…
“Why?” I murmured. “Why?”
* * *
“Why?”
Then from the case a strange, black radiance spilled and I was drawn towards it until I stared down upon that familiar sight.
It was a heavy, black broadsword. Carved into its blade and hilt were runes which I could not read. Its pommel was a sphere of gleaming black metal. It was more than five feet long in its blade and its hilt was more than large enough to accommodate two hands.
My own hands reached involuntarily towards it now.
They touched the hilt and the sword seemed to rise and settle comfortably in my grip, purring as a cat might purr.
I shuddered and yet I was filled with joy.
But now I understood what was meant by the term “unholy joy”.
With this sword in my hands I ceased to be a man and became a demon.
I laughed. My laughter was gigantic and shook the room. I swung the sword about and it shrieked its wild music. I raised it and I brought it down upon the table of quartz.
The table split completely in twain. Chips of quartz flew everywhere.
“This is the Whole Sword!” I cried. “This is the Cold Sword! This is the Black Sword and soon it must feed!”
In the recesses of my brain I understood that it was rare for me to hold the actual blade. Usually I had a weapon which drew its power from the Black Sword, which was a manifestation of the Black Sword.
Because I had sought to challenge Destiny, Destiny had taken vengeance. What followed could only be accomplished with the whole power of the Black Sword, but I still did not know what it was to be.
One of Bladrak’s girls entered the room through another door. Her face was horrified as she saw me.
“My master sent me to ask if—” She screamed.
The Black Sword twisted in my hand and plunged towards her, almost dragging me with it. It buried itself in her body, passing completely through to the other side. She danced in a dreadful jig of death as, with her remaining life, she sought to drag herself off the blade.
“It is cold—aaah, how it is cold!” she sighed.
And then she died.
The sword was wrenched from her. Blood seemed to increase its dark radiance. It howled again.
“No!” I shouted. “That should not have been! Only my enemies are to be slain!”
And I thought something like a chuckle escaped the sated sword as Bladrak rushed in to see what had happened, looked at me, looked at the sword, looked at the dead girl and groaned in terror.
He rushed to the case. There was a sheath in there and he flung it at me. “Sheathe the thing, Urlik! Sheathe it, I beg you!”
Silently I accepted the sheath. Almost without my raising it the Black Sword slid into the scabbard.
Bladrak looked at the poor, dead woman, at the shattered table.
Then he looked at my face and an expression of anguish covered his features.
“Now I know why you did not wish to wield the blade,” he said softly.
I could not speak. I attached the great scabbard to my belt and the Black Sword hung at my side at an angle.
Then I said: “You all wished me to arouse the blade and use it. Now, I think, we begin to understand the consequences. The Black Sword must be fed. It will feed on friends if it cannot feed on enemies…”
Bladrak turned his eyes away.
“Is a boat ready?” I asked him.
He nodded.
I left that ruined room of death.
6
THE BLACK BLADE’S FIEF
THEY HAD GIVEN me a boat and a steersman.
The boat was a small one, with high, curving sides, plated with red gold and bronze. The steersman sat in front of me, controlling the leather-winged herons which flew low through the twilight air.
The Scarlet Fjord was soon no more than a glow hanging above the distant cliffs, then that vanished and brown cloud enclosed our gloomy world.
For a long while we sped over the black and sluggish sea until the jagged obsidian cliffs came in sight. Then we saw the bay overlooked by Rowernarc—and in the bay were crammed the besieging ships of the Silver Warriors.
Belphig had not wasted time. It was possible that I had arrived too late.
The craft of the invaders were very large and similar in design to Belphig’s sea-chariot, but apparently with no slevahs to tow them.
We stayed out of sight and the steersman brought the boat to a halt on the crystalline beach quite close to the spot where Belphig’s men had first encountered me.
Telling the steersman to await my return, I began to move cautiously along the shore in the direction of the Obsidian City.
* * *
Keeping to the cover of the rocks, I was able to round the corner of the bay and see exactly what I faced.
Plainly Rowernarc had capitulated without a battle. Prisoners were being herded down the ramps towards the ships.
Handling their halberds as awkwardly as ever, the slim Silver Warriors were dotted everywhere on the causeways.
Belphig himself was not in sight, but halfway up the cliff I saw my chariot, its bears in their harness, being trundled down to the beach. Doubtless this was part of their booty.
Shanosfane was not among the prisoners. I guessed that Belphig had had him confined to his “province” of Dhötgard for the moment—if the Lord Spiritual had not already killed the Lord Temporal.
But how was I to reach Dhötgard when every level was crowded with the alien invaders?
Even with the aid of the Black Sword I would surely be swamped by weight of numbers if I tried to cut my way up to Dhötgard. And if I reached the place, how would I return?
Then a thought came to me as I watched my bears being urged towards the sea where a series of planks had been placed between the shallows and the nearest ship.
Deliberating no further I leapt up, drew my sword and ran for the chariot.
I had almost reached it before I was seen. A Silver Warrior shouted in a high, fluting voice, flinging his halberd at me. I knocked it aside with the sword, which, for all its weight, handled as easily as a fencing foil. I sprang into the chariot and gathered up the reins, turning the bears back towards the Obsidian City.
“Ho, Render! Ho, Growler!”
As if their spirits had risen at my sudden appearance, the bears reared in their harness and wheeled about.
“Ho, Longclaw! Ho, Snarler!”
The wheels of the chariot scraped round in the crystal rock and then we were driving straight for the causeway.
I ducked as more halberds were thrown, but they were poor throwing weapons at the best of times and the Silver Warriors’ lack of skill with them did not help. Slaves and soldiers scattered and we had reached the first level in no time.
Now the Black Sword was crooning again. An evil song, a mocking song.
As I raced past them, I slashed at warriors who tried to stick me with their weapons and now when I struck their armour it was they who yelled, not me…
Up and up we charged and I felt an old, familiar battle-joy returning. The Black Sword cut off heads and limbs and bright blood streamed the length of its blade, dappling the sides of the chariots and the white pelts of the bears.
“On, Render! On, Longclaw!”
We were almost at the level of Dhötgard. Everywhere men were shouting and running in all directions.
“On, Snarler! On, Growler!”
Even faster ran my mighty bears until we came to the great door which protected Dhötgard. It had been drawn right back. I guessed that some spy in Shanosfane’s household had been paid to do this. But it suited me now for I was able to drive the chariot right into the palace and continue at breakneck speed through the very passages themselves.
At last I reached the plain chamber where I had first met Shanosfane. I brushed aside the curtain and there he was.
He looked a little thinner, there was some hurt in his eyes, but he looked up from a manuscript as if he had been disturbed only for a moment when the Silver Warriors had arrived in Rowernarc.
“My Lord Urlik?”
“I have come to rescue you, Lord Shanosfane.”
His black features showed mild surprise.
“Belphig will kill you now that he has helped betray Rowernarc.”
“Why should Belphig kill me?”
“You threaten his rule.”
“Rule?”
“Lord Shanosfane, if you remain here you are doomed. There will be no more reading. No more study.”
“I do it only to pass the time…”
“Do you not fear death?”
“No.”
“Well, then…” I sheathed my sword, ran forward and knocked him sharply on the back of the neck. He slumped onto the desk. I flung him over my shoulder and ran for the exit. My bears were snarling as Silver Warriors rushed towards us. I dumped Shanosfane in the chariot and leapt at the warriors.
Plainly they were used to weapons that could not harm them. The Black Sword whined and howled and it sheered through their strange armour to reveal that they were, indeed, very much like men. Their blood spilled as easily. Their innards spewed from the cuts the blade made. Their silver-flecked faces showed their pain.
I got back into the chariot, flicked the reins, turning it in the narrow passage and then gathering speed as we made for the main door.
Then I saw Belphig. He yelped as he saw our headlong approach and he flattened himself against the wall. I leaned out, trying to reach him with the sword, but he was too far distant.
We went around the door block and out onto the causeway again, going down much faster than we had come up.
This time our path was not blocked by Silver Warriors. They had learned to be wary. But they still flung their halberds at a safe distance and two nicked slight wounds in my left arm and my right cheek.
I was laughing at them again, holding my huge sword aloft. More powerful than the sword of Erekosë (which had been one of its partial manifestations) it thrummed out its evil song of death as my bears bore us towards the beach.
There was cheering now, from some quarters, as the prisoners saw me re-emerge. I shouted to them.
“Fight, men of Rowernarc! Fight! Turn on the Silver Warriors! Slay them if you can!”
Downward the chariot rumbled.
“Kill them or you will die!”
Some of the prisoners picked up halberds and began to fling them at their vanquishers. The Silver Warriors were again startled, not knowing how to react.
“Now flee!” I cried. “Make for the depths of the mountains and then head along the coast for the Scarlet Fjord. You will be welcome there—and safe. The Black Sword will defend you!”
I hardly knew what I was shouting, but it had a surprising effect on the spiritless people of Rowernarc. While the Silver Warriors were confused, they began to run. They still had time to be soldiers, I thought. And soldiers the survivors would become—for now they knew what their fate would be if they did not fight.
Laughing in my crazy battle-joy I drove the chariot down the cliff and its wheels bounced over the crystal.
“Shanosfane is safe!” I called to those who listened. “Your leader is with me.” As best I could I raised his prone body. “He is alive but unconscious!” I saw one of his eyelids flutter. He would not be unconscious for long.
Belphig and a party of Silver Warriors were still in pursuit. From one of the entrances now came Morgeg and his men on their seal-beasts and I knew I had to fear these more than the clumsy aliens.
Across the beach they crashed in pursuit. A spear grazed the shoulder of one of my bears. The powerful animals were labouring somewhat now, for I had driven them hard.
And then, halfway to where I had left the boat, the chariot wheel hit a rock and Shanosfane and I were flung onto the ground as the bears raced on, dragging the chariot behind them. It bounced, hit another rock, righted itself and, riderless, disappeared into the gloom.
I put Shanosfane over my shoulder again and began to run, but the thump of the seal-beasts’ fins came close behind. I saw the boat ahead. I turned to look at Morgeg and the others. They would reach me before I could get to the boat.
Shanosfane was moaning, rubbing his head. I put him down.
“See that boat, Lord Shanosfane. It will take you to safety. Get to it as quickly as you can.”
I took the Black Sword in both hands as the dazed Shanosfane staggered away.
Then I prepared to stand my ground.
Morgeg and six other riders, all armed with axes, charged at me. I whirled the huge sword around my head and sheered half through the necks of two of the seals. They bellowed as the blood p
umped from their veins. They tried to come on, but collapsed and threw their riders from their saddles. I killed one of the riders at once, lunging the Black Sword through steel and padding straight into his heart. I brought the blade round and killed a man who was still mounted. He jerked in his saddle and then toppled out.
The other man on foot came at me crablike with his battle-axe circling his head. I chopped at the haft of the axe and the blade went spinning through the air to strike a rider directly in the face and knock him from his saddle. I drove my sword through the weaponless warrior’s gorget.
Now Morgeg fought to control his frightened mount. He glared at me in hatred.
“You are tenacious, Count Urlik,” he said.
“It seems so.” I feinted at him.
There was only one rider left alive save Morgeg. I lowered my sword and spoke to the man. “Would you leave while I kill Morgeg? Or will you stay and be slain with him?”
The man’s pale face twitched, his mouth dropped open, he tried to say something, failed and wheeled his seal-beast about, heading back to Rowernarc.
Morgeg said quietly, “I think I should like to return, also.”
“You cannot,” I said simply. “I have to repay you for marooning me on that island.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“You did not check.”
“I thought the sea-stag killed you.”
“I killed the sea-stag.”
He licked his lips. “In that case, I should definitely like to return to Rowernarc.”
I lowered the Black Sword. “You may do so if you tell me one thing. Who leads you?”
“Why, Belphig leads us!”
“No. I mean who is the leader of the Silver Warr—”
Morgeg thought he had seen a chance. He swung his axe down on me.
But I blocked the blow with the flat of the sword. I turned my own weapon and the axe flew from his hand. The sword could not be stopped as it went to his groin and the point drove deeply in.
“Cold…” murmured Morgeg as his eyes closed. “So cold…”
The corpse fell backwards in the saddle and the seal-beast reared and turned, charging towards the bay.
I saw Belphig at the head of a group of Silver Warriors. There were a score of them and I wondered if even the Black Sword could deal with so many.
Phoenix in Obsidian Page 11
