Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [9]
“I share your opinion of yourself, Master Anigh.”
“Then shall I take the sword and find a buyer for you?” He came again into the light, hand reaching towards the bundle.
Elric fell back, shaking his head and smiling a little. “I, too, young Anigh, have much ignorance. But, unlike you, I think I might also be a fool.”
“Knowledge brings power,” said Anigh. “Power shall take me into the entourage of the Baroness Narfis, perhaps. I could become a captain in her guard. Maybe a noble!”
“Oh, one day you’ll surely be more than either.” Elric drew in stale air, his frame shuddering, his lungs enflamed. “Do what you will, though I doubt Stormbringer will go willingly.”
“May I see it?”
“Aye.” With painful awkward movements Elric rolled to the bed’s edge and plucked the wrappings free of the huge sword. Carved with runes which seemed to flicker unsteadily upon the blade of black, glowing metal, decorated with ancient and elaborate work, some of mysterious design, some depicting dragons and demons intertwined as if in battle, Stormbringer was clearly no mundane weapon.
The boy gasped and drew back, almost as if regretting his suggested bargain. “Is it alive?”
Elric contemplated his sword with a mixture of loathing and something akin to sensuality. “Some would say it possessed both a mind and a will. Others would claim it to be a demon in disguise. Some believe it composed of the vestigial souls of all damned mortals, trapped within as once, in legend, a great dragon was said to dwell inside another pommel than that which the sword now bears.” To his own faint distaste, he found that he was taking a certain pleasure in the boy’s growing dismay. “Have you never looked upon an artifact of Chaos before, Master Anigh? Or one who is wedded to such a thing? Its slave perhaps?” He let his long, white hand descend into the dirty water and raised it to wet his lips. His red eyes flickered like dying embers. “During my travels I have heard this blade described as Arioch’s own battlesword, able to slice down the walls between the very Realms. Others, as they die upon it, believe it to be a living creature. There is a theory that it is but one member of an entire race, living in our dimension but capable, should it desire, of summoning a million brothers. Can you hear it speaking, Master Anigh? Will that voice delight and charm the casual buyers in your market?” And a sound came from the pale lips that was not a laugh yet contained a desolate kind of humour.
Anigh withdrew hastily into the sunlight again. He cleared his throat. “You called the thing by a name?”
“I called the sword Stormbringer but the peoples of the Young Kingdoms sometimes have another name, both for myself and for the blade. The name is Soulstealer. It has drunk many souls.”
“You’re a dreamthief!” Anigh’s eyes remained on the blade. “Why are you not employed?”
“I do not know the term and I do not know who would employ a ‘dreamthief.’” Elric looked to the boy for further explanation.
But Anigh’s gaze did not leave the sword. “Would it drink my soul, master?”
“If I chose. To restore my energy for a while, all I would have to do would be to let Stormbringer kill you and perhaps a few more and then she’d pass her energy on to me. Then, doubtless, I could find a steed and ride away from here. Possibly to Kwan.”
Now the Black Sword’s voice grew more tuneful, as if approving of this notion.
“Oh, Gamek Idianit!” Anigh got to his feet, ready to flee if necessary. “This is like that story on Mass’aboon’s walls. This is what those who brought about our isolation were said to wield! Aye, the leaders bore identical swords to these. The teachers at the school tell of it. I was there. Oh, what did they say!” And he frowned deeply, an object lesson to anyone wishing to point a moral concerning the benefits of attending at classes.
Elric regretted frightening the boy. “I am not disposed, young Anigh, to maintain my own life at the expense of others who have offered me