Evening came, but he hardly noticed the sun’s setting. Night fell, but he continued to march, unaware of the cold. Already he was weakening. He rejoiced in the weakness where previously he had fought to retain the strength he enjoyed only through the power of the Black Sword.

  And sometime around midnight, beneath a pale moon, his legs buckled and he fell sprawling in the sand and lay there while the remains of his sensibilities left him.

  * * *

  “Prince Elric. My lord?”

  The voice was rich, vibrant, almost amused. It was a woman’s voice and Elric recognised it. He did not move.

  “Elric of Melniboné.”

  He felt a hand on his arm. She was trying to pull him upright. Rather than be dragged he raised himself with some difficulty to a sitting position. He tried to speak, but at first no words would come from his mouth which was dry and full of sand. She stood there as the dawn rose behind her and brightened her long black hair framing her beautiful features. She was dressed in a flowing gown of blue, green and gold and she was smiling.

  As he cleared the sand from his mouth he shook his head, saying at last: “If I am dead, then I am still plagued by phantoms and illusions.”

  “I am no more illusion than anything else in this world. You are not dead, my lord.”

  “You are, in that case, many leagues from Castle Kaneloon, my lady. You have come from the other side of the world—from edge to edge.”

  “I have been seeking you, Elric.”

  “Then you have broken your word, Myshella, for when we parted you said that you would not see me again, that our fates had ceased to be twined.”

  “I thought then that Theleb K’aarna was dead—that our mutual enemy had perished in the Noose of Flesh.” The sorceress spread her arms wide and it was almost as if the gesture summoned the sun, for it appeared over the horizon, suddenly. “Why did you walk thus in the desert, my lord?”

  “I sought death.”

  “Yet you know it is not your destiny to die in such a way.”

  “I have been told as much but I do not know it, Lady Myshella. However,” he stumbled upright and stood swaying before her, “I am beginning to suspect that it is so.”

  She came forward, bringing a goblet from beneath her robes. It was full to the brim with a cool, silvery liquid. “Drink,” she said.

  He did not lift his hands towards the cup. “I am not pleased to see you, Lady Myshella.”

  “Why? Because you are afraid to love me?”

  “If it flatters you to think that—aye.”

  “It does not flatter me. I know you are reminded of Cymoril and that I made the mistake of letting Kaneloon become that which you most desire—before I understood that it is also what you most fear.”

  He lowered his head. “Be silent!”

  “I am sorry. I apologised then. We drove away the desire and terror together for a little while, did we not?”

  He looked up and she was staring intently into his eyes. “Did we not?”

  “We did.” He took a deep breath and stretched out his hands for the goblet. “Is this some potion to sap my will and make me work for your interests?”

  “No potion could do that. It will revive you, that is all.”

  He sipped the liquid and immediately his mouth was clean and his head clear. He drained the goblet and he felt a glow of strength in all his limbs and vitals.

  “Do you still wish to die?” she asked as she received back the cup, replacing it beneath her robes.

  “If death will bring me peace.”

  “It will not—not if you die now. That I know.”

  “How did you find me here?”

  “Oh, by a variety of means, some of them sorcerous. But my bird brought me to you.” She extended her right arm to point behind him.

  He turned and there was the bird of gold and silver and brass which he himself had once ridden while in Myshella’s service. Its great metallic wings were folded but there was intelligence in its emerald eyes as it waited for its mistress.

  “Have you come, then, to return me to Tanelorn?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. I have come to tell you where you may discover our enemy Theleb K’aarna.”

  He smiled. “He threatens you again?”

  “Not directly.”

  Elric shook sand from his cloak. “I know you well, Myshella. You would not interfere in my destiny unless it had again become in some way linked with your own. You have said that I am afraid to love you. That may be true, for I think I am afraid to love any woman. But you make use of love—the men to whom you give your love are men who will serve your purpose.”

  “I do not deny that. I love only heroes—and only heroes who work to ensure the presence of the power of Law upon this plane of our Earth…”

  “I care not whether Law or Chaos gains predominance. Even my hatred of Theleb K’aarna has waned—and that was a personal hatred, nothing to do with any cause.”

  “What if you knew Theleb K’aarna once again threatens the folk of Tanelorn?”

  “Impossible. Tanelorn is eternal.”

  “Tanelorn is eternal—but its citizens are not. I know. More than once has some catastrophe fallen upon those who dwell in Tanelorn. And the Lords of Chaos hate Tanelorn, though they cannot attack it directly. They would aid any mortal who thought he could destroy those whom the Chaos Lords regard as traitors.”

  Elric frowned. He knew of the enmity of the Lords of Chaos to Tanelorn. He had heard that on more than one occasion they had made use of mortals to attack the city.

  “And you say Theleb K’aarna plans to destroy Tanelorn’s citizens? With Chaos’s aid?”

  “Aye. Your thwarting of his schemes concerning Nadsokor and Rackhir’s caravan made him extend his hatred to all dwelling in Tanelorn. In Troos he discovered some ancient grimoires—things which survived from the Age of the Doomed Folk.”

  “How can that be? They existed a whole time cycle before Melniboné!”

  “True—but Troos itself has lasted since the Age of the Doomed Folk and these were people who had many great inventions, a means of preserving their wisdom…”

  “Very well. I will accept that Theleb K’aarna found their grimoires. What did those grimoires tell him?”

  “They showed him the means of causing a rupture in the division which separates one plane of Earth from another. This knowledge of the other planes is largely mysterious to us—even your ancestors only guessed at the variety of existences obtaining in what the ancients termed the ‘multiverse’—and I know only a little more than do you. The Lords of the Higher Worlds can, at times, move freely between these temporal and spacial layers, but mortals cannot—at least not in this period of our being.”

  “And what has Theleb K’aarna done? Surely great power would be needed to cause this ‘rupture’ you describe? He does not have that power.”

  “True. But he has powerful allies in the Chaos Lords. The Lords of Entropy have leagued themselves with him as they would league themselves with anyone who was willing to be the means of destruction of those who dwell in Tanelorn. He found more than manuscripts in the Forest of Troos. He discovered those buried devices which were the inventions of the Doomed Folk and which ultimately brought about their destruction. These devices, of course, were meaningless to him until the Lords of Chaos showed him how they could be activated using the very forces of creation for their energy.”

  “And he has activated them? Where?”

  “He brought the device he wanted to these parts, for he needed space to work where he thought he could not be observed by such as myself.”

  “He is in the Sighing Desert?”

  “Aye. If you had continued on your horse you would have found him by now—or he you. I believe that is what drove you into the desert—a compulsion to seek him out.”

  “I had no compulsion save a need to die!” Elric tried to control his anger.

  She smiled again. “Have it thus if you will…”

  “You mean I am so manipulated by Fate that I cannot choose to die if I wish?”

  “Ask yourself for that answer.”

  Elric’s face was clouded with puzzlement and despair. “What is it, then, which guides me? And to what end?”

  “You must discover that for yourself.”

  “You want me to go against Chaos? Yet Chaos aids me and I am sworn to Arioch.”

  “But you are mortal—and Arioch is slow to aid you these days, perhaps because he guesses what lies in the future.”

  “What do you know of the future?”

  “Little—and what I know I cannot speak of to you. A mortal may choose whom he serves, Elric.”

  “I have chosen. I chose Chaos.”

  “Yet much of your melancholy is because you are divided in your loyalties.”

  “That, too, is true.”

  “Besides, you would not fight for Law if you fought against Theleb K’aarna—you would merely be fighting against one aided by Chaos—and those of Chaos often fight among themselves do they not?”

  “They do. It is also well known that I hate Theleb K’aarna and would destroy him whether he served Law or Chaos.”

  “Therefore you will not unduly anger those to whom you are loyal—though they may be reluctant to help you.”

  “Tell me more of Theleb K’aarna’s plans.”

  “You must see for yourself. There is your horse.” She pointed again and this time he saw the golden mare emerge from the other side of a dune. “Head north-east as you were heading, but move cautiously lest Theleb K’aarna becomes aware of your presence and traps you.”

  “Suppose I merely return to Tanelorn—or choose to try to die again?”

  “But you will not, will you, Elric? You have loyalties to your friends, you wish in your heart to serve what I represent—and you hate Theleb K’aarna. I do not think you would wish to die for the moment.”

  He scowled. “Once more I am burdened with unwanted responsibilities, hedged by considerations other than my own desires, trapped by emotions which we of Melniboné have been taught to despise. Aye—I will go, Myshella. I will do what you wish.”

  “Be careful, Elric. Theleb K’aarna now has powers which are unfamiliar to you, which you will find difficult to combat.” She gave him a lingering look and suddenly he had stepped forward and had seized her, kissed her while tears flowed down his white face and mingled with hers.

  Later he watched as she climbed into the onyx saddle of the bird of silver and gold and called out a command. The metal wings beat with a great clashing, the emerald eyes turned and the gem-studded beak opened. “Farewell, Elric,” said the bird.

  But Myshella said nothing, did not look back.

  Soon the metal bird was a speck of light in the blue sky and Elric had turned his horse towards the north-east.

  3 The Barrier Broken

  Elric reined in behind the cover of a crag. He had found the camp of Theleb K’aarna. A large tent of yellow silk had been erected beneath the protection of an overhang of rock which was part of a formation making a natural amphitheatre among the dunes of the desert. A wagon and two horses were close to the tent, but all this was dominated by the thing of metal which reared in the centre of the clearing. It was contained in an enormous bowl of clear crystal. The bowl was almost globular with a narrow opening at the top. The device itself was asymmetrical and strange, composed of many curved and angular surfaces which seemed to contain myriad half-formed faces, shapes of beasts and buildings, illusive designs coming and going even as Elric looked upon it. An imagination even more grotesque than that of Elric’s ancestors had fashioned the thing, amalgamating metals and other substances which logic denied could ever be fused into one thing. A creation of Chaos which offered a clue as to how the Doomed Folk had come to destroy themselves. And it was alive. Deep within it something pulsed, as delicate and tentative as the heartbeat of a dying wren. Elric had witnessed many obscenities in his life and was moved by few of them, but this device, though superficially more innocuous than much he had seen, brought bile into his mouth. Yet for all his disgust he remained where he was, fascinated by the machine in the bowl, until the flap of the yellow tent was drawn back and Theleb K’aarna emerged.

  The sorcerer of Pan Tang was paler and thinner than when Elric had last seen him, shortly before the battle between the beggars of Nadsokor and the warriors of Tanelorn. Yet unhealthy energy flushed the cheeks and burned in the dark eyes, gave a nervous swiftness to the movements. Theleb K’aarna approached the bowl.

  As he came closer Elric could hear him muttering to himself.

  “Now, now, now,” murmured the sorcerer. “Soon, soon will die Elric and all who league with him. Ah, the albino will rue the day when he earned my vengeance and turned me from a scholar into what I am today. And when he is dead, then Queen Yishana will realise her mistake and give herself to me. How could she love that pale-faced anachronism more than a man of my great talents? How?”

  Elric had almost forgotten Theleb K’aarna’s obsession with Queen Yishana of Jharkor, the woman who had wielded a greater power over the sorcerer than could any magic. It had been Theleb K’aarna’s jealousy of Elric which had turned him from a relatively peaceful student of the dark arts into a vengeful practitioner of the most frightful sorceries.

  He watched as Theleb K’aarna began with his finger to trace complicated patterns upon the glass of the bowl. And with every completed rune the pulse within the machine grew stronger. Oddly coloured light began to flow through certain sections, bringing them to life. A steady thump issued from the neck of the bowl. A peculiar stink began to reach Elric’s nostrils. The core of light became brighter and larger and the machine seemed to alter its shape, sometimes becoming apparently liquid and streaming around the inside of the bowl.

  The golden mare snorted and began to shift uneasily. Elric automatically patted her neck and steadied her. Theleb K’aarna was now merely a silhouette against the swiftly changing light within the bowl. He continued to murmur to himself but his words were drowned by the heartbeats which now echoed among the surrounding rocks. His right hand drew still more invisible diagrams upon the glass.

  The sky seemed to be darkening, though it was some hours to sunset. Elric looked up. Above his head the sky was still blue, the golden sun still strong, but the air around him had grown dark, as if a solitary cloud had come to cover the scene he witnessed.

  Now Theleb K’aarna was stumbling back, his face stained by the strange light from the bowl, his eyes huge and mad.

  “Come!” he screamed. “Come! The barrier is down!”

  Elric saw a shadow then, behind the bowl. It was a shadow which dwarfed even the great machine. Something bellowed. It was scaly. It lumbered. It raised a huge and sinuous head. It reminded Elric of a dragon from one of his own caves, but it was bulkier and upon its enormous back were two rows of flapping ridges of bone. It opened its mouth to reveal row upon row of teeth and the ground shook as it walked from the other side of the bowl and stood staring down at the tiny figure of the sorcerer, its eyes stupid and angry. Another came pounding from behind the bowl, and another—great reptilian monsters from another Age of Earth. And following them came those who controlled them. The horse was snorting and prancing and desperately trying to escape, but Elric managed to calm her down again as he looked at the figures which now rested their hands on the obedient heads of the monsters. The figures were even more terrifying than the reptiles—for although they walked upon two legs and had hands of sorts they, too, were reptilian. They bore a peculiar resemblance to the dragon creatures and their size, also, was many times greater than a man’s. In their hands they had ornate instruments which could only be weapons—instruments attached to their arms by spirals of golden metal. A hood of skin covered their black and green heads and red eyes glared from the shadows of their faces.

  Theleb K’aarna laughed. “I have achieved it. I have destroyed the barrier between the planes and, thanks to the Lords of Chaos, have found allies which Elric’s sorcery cannot destroy because they do not obey the sorcerous rules of this plane! They are invincible, invulnerable—and they obey only Theleb K’aarna!”

  A huge snorting and screaming came from beasts and warriors alike.

  “Now we shall go against Tanelorn!” Theleb K’aarna shouted. “And with this power I shall return to Jharkor, to make fickle Yishana my own!”

  Elric felt a certain sympathy for Theleb K’aarna at that moment. Without the aid of the Lords of Chaos, his sorcery could not have achieved this. He had given himself up to them, had become one of their tools all because of his weak-minded love for Jharkor’s ageing queen. Elric knew he could not go against the monsters and their monstrous riders. He must return to Tanelorn to warn his friends to leave the city, to hope that he might find a means of returning these frightful interlopers back to their own plane. But then the mare screamed suddenly and reared, maddened by the sights, the sounds and the smells she had been forced to witness. And the scream sounded in a sudden silence. The rearing horse revealed itself to Theleb K’aarna as he turned his mad eyes in Elric’s direction.

  Elric knew he could not outride the monsters. He knew those weapons could easily destroy him from a distance. He drew the black hellsword Stormbringer from its scabbard and it shouted as it came free. He drove his spurs into the horse and he rode directly down the rocks towards the bowl while Theleb K’aarna was still too startled to give orders to his new allies. His one hope was that he could destroy the device—or at least break some important part of it—and in so doing return the monsters to their own plane.

  His white face ghastly in the sorcerous darkness, his sword raised high, he galloped past Theleb K’aarna and struck a mighty blow at the glass protecting the machine.

  The Black Sword collided with the glass and sank into it. Carried on by the momentum, Elric was flung from his saddle and he, too, passed through the glass without apparently breaking it. He glimpsed the dreadful planes and curves of the Doomed Folk’s device. His body struck them. He felt as if the fabric of his being was disintegrating…