ONE

The turquoise sea was peaceful in the golden light of early evening, and the two men at the rail of the ship stood in silence, looking north to the misty horizon. One was tall and slim, wrapped in a heavy black cloak, its cowl flung back to reveal his long, milkwhite hair; the other was short and red-headed.

‘She was a fine woman and she loved you,’ said the short man at length. ‘Why did you leave her so abruptly?’ ‘She was a fine woman,’ the tall one replied, ‘but she would have loved me to her cost. Let her seek her own land and stay there. I have already slain one woman whom I loved, Moonglum. I would not slay another.’ Moonglum shrugged. ‘I sometimes wonder, Elric, if this grim destiny of yours is the figment of your own guilt-ridden mood.’ ‘Perhaps,’ Elric replied carelessly. ‘But I do not care to test the theory. Let’s speak no more of this.’ The sea foamed and rushed by as the oars disrupted the surface, driving the ship swiftly towards the port of Dhakos, capital of Jharkor, one of the most powerful of the Young Kingdoms. Less than two years previously Jharkor’s king, Darmit, had died in the ill-fated raid on Imrryr, and Elric had heard that the men of Jharkor blamed him for the young king’s death, though this was not the case. He cared little whether they blamed him or not, for he was still disdainful of the greater part of mankind.

‘Another hour will see nightfall, and it’s unlikely we’ll sail at night,’ Moonglum said. ‘I’m to bed, I think.’ Elric was about to reply when he was interrupted by a high-pitched shout from the crows nest.

“Sail on larboard stern!”

The lookout must have been half asleep, for the ship bearing down on them could easily be made out from the deck. Elric stepped aside as the captain, a dark-faced Tarkeshite, came running along the deck.

‘What’s the ship, captain?’ called Moonglum.

‘A Pan Tang trireme—a warship. They’re on ramming course.’ The captain ran on, yelling orders to the helm to turn the ship aside.

Elric and Moonglum crossed the deck to see the trireme better. She was a black-sailed ship, painted black and heavily gilded, with three rowers to an oar as against their two. She was big and yet elegant, with a high curving stern and a low prow. Now they could see the waters broken by her big, brasssheathed ram. She had two lateen-rigged sails, and the wind was in her favour.

The rowers were in a panic as they sweated to turn the ship according to the helmsman’s orders.

Oars rose and fell in confusion and Moonglum turned to Elric with a half-smile.

‘They’ll never do it. Best ready your blade, friend.’ Pan Tang was an isle of sorcerers, fully human, who sought to emulate the old power of Melnibone.

Their fleets were among the best in the Young Kingdoms and raided with little discrimination. The Theocrat of Pan Tang, chief of the priest-aristocracy, was Jagreen Lern, who was reputed to have a pact with the powers of Chaos and a plan to rule the world.

Elric regarded the men of Pan Tang as upstarts Who could never hope to mirror the glory of his ancestors, but even he had to admit that this ship was impressive and would easily win a fight with the Tarkeshite galley.

Soon the great trireme was bearing down on them and captain and helmsman fell silent as they realised they could not evade the ram. With a harsh sound of crushed timbers, the ram connected with the stern, holing the galley beneath the waterline.

Elric stood immobile, watching as the trireme’s grappling irons hurtled towards their galley’s deck.

Somewhat half-heartedly, knowing they were no match for the well-trained and well-armoured Pan Tang crew, the Tarkeshites ran towards the stern, preparing to resist the boarders.

Moonglum cried urgently: ‘Elric—we must help!’ Reluctantly Elric nodded. He was loathe to draw the runesword from its scabbard at his side. Of late its power seemed to have increased.

Now the scarlet-armoured warriors were swinging towards where the Tarkeshites waited. The first wave, armed with broadswords and battle-axes, hit the sailors, driving them back.

Now Elric’s hand fell to the hilt of Stormbringer.

As he gripped it and drew it, the blade gave an odd, disturbing moan, as if of anticipation, and a weird black radiance flickered along its length. Now it throbbed in Elric’s hand like something alive as the albino ran forward to aid the Tarkeshite sailors.

Already half the defenders had been hewed down and as the rest retreated, Elric, with Moonglum at his heels, moved forward. The scarlet-armoured warriors’ expressions changed from grim triumph to startlement as Elric’s great black-blade shrieked up and down and clove through a man’s armour from shoulder to lower ribs.

Evidently they recognized him and the sword, for both were legendary. Though Moonglum was a skilled swordsman, they all but ignored him as they realised that they must concentrate all their strength on bringing Elric down if they were to survive.

The old, wild killing-lust of his ancestors now dominated Elric as the blade reaped souls. He and the sword became one and it was the sword, not Elric, that was in control. Men fell on all sides, screaming more in horror than in pain as they realised what the sword had drawn from them. Four came at him with axes whistling. He sliced off one’s head, cut a deep gash in another’s midriff, lopped off an arm, and drove the blade point first into the heart of the last. Now the Tarkeshites were cheering, following after Elric and Moonglum as they cleared the sinkhag galley’s decks of attackers. “

Howling like a wolf, Elric grabbed a” rope—part of the black and gold trireme’s rigging—and swung towards the enemy’s decks.

‘Follow him!’ Moonglum yelled. ‘This is our, only chance—this ship’s doomed!’ The trireme had raised decks fore and aft. On the foredeck stood the captain, splendid in scarlet and blue, his face aghast at this turn of events. He had expected to get his prize effortlessly, now it seemed he was to be the prize!

Stormbringer sang a wailing song as Elric pressed towards the foredeck, a song that was at once triumphant and ecstatic. The remaining warriors no longer rushed at him, and concentrated on Moonglum, who was leading the Tarkeshite crew, leaving Elric’s path to the captain clear.

The captain, a member of the theocracy, would be harder to vanquish than his men. As Elric moved towards him, he noted that the man’s armour had a peculiar glow to it—it had been sorcerously treated.

The captain was typical of his kind—stocky, heavily-bearded, with malicious black eyes over a strong, hooked nose. His lips were thick and red and he was smiling a little as, with axe in one hand and sword in the other, he prepared to meet Elric, who was running up the steps.

Elric gripped Stormbringer in both hands and lunged for the captain’s stomach, but the man stepped sideways and parried with his sword, swinging the axe left-handed at Elric’s unprotected head.

The albino had to sway to one side, staggered, and fell to the deck, rolling as the broadsword thudded into the deck, just missing his shoulder. Stormbringer seemed to-rise of its own accord to block a further axe blow and then chopped upwards to sheer off the head near the handle. The captain cursed and discarded the handle, gripped his broadsword in both hands and raised it. Again Stormbringer acted a fraction sooner than Eric’s own reactions. He drove the blade up towards the man’s heart. The magic treated armour stopped it for a second; but then Stormbringer shrilled a chilling, wailing song, shuddered as if summoning more strength, slipped on the armour again. And then the magic armour split like a nutshell, leaving Elric’s opponent bare-chested, his arms still raised for the strike. His eyes widened. He backed away, his sword forgotten, his gaze fixed on the evil runeblade as it struck him under the breastbone and drove in. He grimaced, whimpered, and dropped his sword, clutching instead at the blade, which was sucking out his soul.

‘By Chardros—not—not—aahhh!’

He died knowing that even his soul was not safe from the hell-blade borne by the wolf-faced albino.

Elric wrenched Stormbringer from the. corpse, feeling his own vitality increase as the sword passed on its stolen energy: refusing to consider the knowledge that he needed the sword the more he used it.

On the deck of the trireme, only the galley-slaves were left alive. But the deck was tilting badly, for the trireme’s ram and grapples still tied it to the sinking Tarkeshite ship.

‘Cut the grappling ropes and back water—quickly!’ Elric yelled. Sailors, realising what was happening, leapt forward to do as he ordered. The slaves backed water, and the ram came out: with a groan of split wood. The grapples were cut and the doomed galley set adrift.

Elric counted the survivors. Less than half the crew were alive, and their captain .had died in the first onslaught. He addressed the slaves.

‘If you’d have your freedom, row well towards Dhakos,’ he called. The sun was setting, but now that he was in command he decided to sail through the night by the stars.

Moonglum shouted incredulously: ‘Why offer them their freedom? We could sell them in Dhakos and thus be paid for today’s exertion!’ Elric shrugged. ‘I offer them freedom because I choose to, Moonglum.’ The redhead sighed and turned to supervise the throwing of the dead and wounded overboard. He would never understand the albino, he decided. It was probably for the best.

And that was how Elric came to enter Dhakos in some style, when he had originally intended to slip into the city without being recognised.

Leaving Moonglum to negotiate the sale of the trireme and divide the money between the crew and himself, Elric drew his hood over his head and pushed through the crowd which had collected, making for an inn he knew of by the west gate of the city.