same language.
And still the albino marched through the snow towards the huge host.
“By Chardros, Elric, stop!” cried Theleb K’aarna, his horse shifting nervously beneath him. “If you have come to bargain you are a fool. Kaneloon and her mistress must fall before Lormyr is ours—and Lormyr shall be ours, there’s no doubting that!”
Then Elric did stop and he brought up his eyes to burn into those of the sorcerer and there was a still, cold smile upon his pale lips.
Theleb K’aarna tried to meet Elric’s gaze but could not. His voice trembled when he next spoke.
“You cannot defeat the whole Kelmain Host!”
“I have no wish to, conjuror. Your life is all I desire.”
The sorcerer’s face twitched. “Well, you shall not have it! Hai, men of the Kelmain, take him!”
He wheeled his horse and rode into the protective ranks of his warriors, calling out his orders in their own tongue.
From the castle another figure burst, rushing to join Elric.
It was Moonglum of Elwher, a sword in either hand.
Elric half-turned.
“Elric! We’ll die together!”
“Stay back, Moonglum!”
Moonglum hesitated.
“Stay back, if you love me!”
Moonglum reluctantly retreated to the castle.
The Kelmain horsemen swept in, broad-bladed straight swords raised, instantly surrounding the albino.
They threatened him, hoping that he would lay down his sword and let himself be captured. But Elric smiled.
Stormbringer began to sing. Elric grasped the sword in both hands, bent his elbows then suddenly held the blade straight out before him.
He began to whirl like a Tarkeshite dancer, round and round, and it was as if the sword dragged him faster and faster while it gouged and gashed and decapitated the Kelmain horsemen.
For a moment they fell back, leaving their dead comrades heaped about the albino, but Prince Umbda, after a hurried conference with Theleb K’aarna, urged them upon Elric again.
And Elric swung his blade once more, but not so many of the Kelmain perished this time.
Armoured body fell against armoured body, blood mingled with brother’s blood, horses dragged corpses away with them across the snow and Elric did not fall, yet something was happening to him.
Then it dawned upon his berserker brain that, for some reason, his blade was sated. The energy still pulsed in its metal, but it transferred nothing more to its master. And his own stolen energy was beginning to wane.
“Damn you, Stormbringer! Give me your power!”
Swords rained down upon him as he fought and slew and parried and thrust.
“More power!”
He was still stronger than normal and much stronger than any ordinary mortal, but some of the wild anger was leaving him and he felt almost puzzled as more Kelmain came at him.
He was beginning to waken from the blood-dream.
He shook his head and drew deep breaths. His back was aching.
“Give me their strength, Black Sword!”
He struck at legs and arms and chests and faces and he was covered from head to foot in the blood of his attackers.
But the dead now hampered him worse than the living, for their corpses were everywhere and he almost lost his footing more than once.
“What ails you, runesword? Do you refuse to help me? Will you not fight these things because, like you, they are of Chaos?”
No, it could not be that. All that had happened was that the sword desired no more vitality and therefore gave Elric none.
He fought on for another hour before his grip on the sword weakened and a rider, half-mad with terror, struck a blow at his head, failed to split it but stunned him so that he fell upon the bodies of the slain, tried to rise, then was struck again and lost consciousness.
C HAPTER E IGHT
A Great Host Screaming
“It was more than I hoped,” murmured Theleb K’aarna in satisfaction, “but we have taken him alive!”
Elric opened his eyes and looked with hatred on the sorcerer who was stroking his black forked beard as if to comfort himself.
Elric could barely
And still the albino marched through the snow towards the huge host.
“By Chardros, Elric, stop!” cried Theleb K’aarna, his horse shifting nervously beneath him. “If you have come to bargain you are a fool. Kaneloon and her mistress must fall before Lormyr is ours—and Lormyr shall be ours, there’s no doubting that!”
Then Elric did stop and he brought up his eyes to burn into those of the sorcerer and there was a still, cold smile upon his pale lips.
Theleb K’aarna tried to meet Elric’s gaze but could not. His voice trembled when he next spoke.
“You cannot defeat the whole Kelmain Host!”
“I have no wish to, conjuror. Your life is all I desire.”
The sorcerer’s face twitched. “Well, you shall not have it! Hai, men of the Kelmain, take him!”
He wheeled his horse and rode into the protective ranks of his warriors, calling out his orders in their own tongue.
From the castle another figure burst, rushing to join Elric.
It was Moonglum of Elwher, a sword in either hand.
Elric half-turned.
“Elric! We’ll die together!”
“Stay back, Moonglum!”
Moonglum hesitated.
“Stay back, if you love me!”
Moonglum reluctantly retreated to the castle.
The Kelmain horsemen swept in, broad-bladed straight swords raised, instantly surrounding the albino.
They threatened him, hoping that he would lay down his sword and let himself be captured. But Elric smiled.
Stormbringer began to sing. Elric grasped the sword in both hands, bent his elbows then suddenly held the blade straight out before him.
He began to whirl like a Tarkeshite dancer, round and round, and it was as if the sword dragged him faster and faster while it gouged and gashed and decapitated the Kelmain horsemen.
For a moment they fell back, leaving their dead comrades heaped about the albino, but Prince Umbda, after a hurried conference with Theleb K’aarna, urged them upon Elric again.
And Elric swung his blade once more, but not so many of the Kelmain perished this time.
Armoured body fell against armoured body, blood mingled with brother’s blood, horses dragged corpses away with them across the snow and Elric did not fall, yet something was happening to him.
Then it dawned upon his berserker brain that, for some reason, his blade was sated. The energy still pulsed in its metal, but it transferred nothing more to its master. And his own stolen energy was beginning to wane.
“Damn you, Stormbringer! Give me your power!”
Swords rained down upon him as he fought and slew and parried and thrust.
“More power!”
He was still stronger than normal and much stronger than any ordinary mortal, but some of the wild anger was leaving him and he felt almost puzzled as more Kelmain came at him.
He was beginning to waken from the blood-dream.
He shook his head and drew deep breaths. His back was aching.
“Give me their strength, Black Sword!”
He struck at legs and arms and chests and faces and he was covered from head to foot in the blood of his attackers.
But the dead now hampered him worse than the living, for their corpses were everywhere and he almost lost his footing more than once.
“What ails you, runesword? Do you refuse to help me? Will you not fight these things because, like you, they are of Chaos?”
No, it could not be that. All that had happened was that the sword desired no more vitality and therefore gave Elric none.
He fought on for another hour before his grip on the sword weakened and a rider, half-mad with terror, struck a blow at his head, failed to split it but stunned him so that he fell upon the bodies of the slain, tried to rise, then was struck again and lost consciousness.
C HAPTER E IGHT
A Great Host Screaming
“It was more than I hoped,” murmured Theleb K’aarna in satisfaction, “but we have taken him alive!”
Elric opened his eyes and looked with hatred on the sorcerer who was stroking his black forked beard as if to comfort himself.
Elric could barely
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