Elric_ The Stealer of Souls - Michael Moorcock [150]
“Mortal? Yet he has lived so long?”
“Aye. Mordaga is mortal—though his life-span’s considerably greater than an ordinary man’s. He is obsessed with the knowledge that he must one day die. That is what saddens him.”
“And the weapon?”
“Not a weapon exactly—a shield. A shield with a purpose—one that Mordaga had made for himself when he raised a rebellion in the domain of the gods and sought to make himself greatest of them, and even wrest the Eternal Balance from He who holds it. For this he was banished to Earth and informed that he would one day die—slain by a mortal’s blade. The shield, as you might guess, is proof against the workings of Chaos.”
“How so?”
“The chaotic forces, if powerful enough, can disrupt any defense made of lawful matter; no construction based on the principles of order can withstand for long the ravages of sheer chaos, as we know.” Sepiriz leaned forward a little. “Stormbringer has shown you that the only weapon effective against Chaos is something of Chaos-manufacture. The same can be said for the Chaos Shield. This itself is Chaotic in nature and therefore there is nothing organized in it on which the random forces can act and destroy. It meets Chaos with Chaos, and so the hostile powers are subverted.”
“If I had only had such a shield of late—things might have gone better for us all!”
“I could not tell you of it. I am merely the servant of Fate and cannot act unless it is sanctioned by that which I serve. Perhaps, as I have guessed, it is willing to see Chaos sweep the world before it is defeated—if indeed it is defeated—so that it can completely change the nature of our planet before the new cycle begins. Change it will—but whether it will be ruled in the future primarily by Law or Chaos, that is in your hands, Elric!”
“How would I recognize this shield?”
“By the eight-arrowed Sign of Chaos which radiates from its boss. It is a heavy, round shield, made as a buckler for a giant. But, with the vitality you receive from your runesword, you will have the strength to carry it, have no fear. But first you must have the courage to win it from its present possessor. Mordaga is aware of the prophecy, told him by his fellow gods before they cast him forth.”
“Are you, too, aware of it?”
“I am. In our language it forms a simple rhyme:
“Mordaga’s pride; Mordaga’s doom,
Mordaga’s fate shall be
To die as men when slain by men,
Four men of destiny.”
“Four men? Who are the other three?”
“Those you will know of when the time comes for you to seek the Chaos Shield. Which will you do? Go to the Purple Towns—or will you go to find the shield?”
“I wish that I had the time to embark on a quest of that kind, but I have not. I must go to rally my men, shield or no.”
“You will be defeated.”
“We shall see, Sepiriz.”
“Very well, Elric. Since so little of your destiny is in your own hands, we should allow you to take just one decision at times,” Sepiriz said sympathetically.
“Fate is kind,” Elric commented ironically. He rose from his seat. “I’ll begin the journey straightway, for there’s no time to lose.”
CHAPTER TWO
With his milk-white hair streaming behind him and his red eyes blazing with purpose, Elric lashed his stallion through the cold darkness of the night, through a disturbed land which awaited Jagreen Lern’s attack in trepidation, for it could mean not only their deaths, but the drawing of their souls into the servitude of Chaos.
Already the standards of a dozen Western and Southern monarchs fluttered with Jagreen Lern’s as the kings of the conquered lands chose his command rather than death—and placed their peoples under his dominance so that they became marching, blank-faced creatures with enslaved souls, their wives and children dead, tormented or feeding the blood-washed altars of Pan Tang where the priests send up invocations to the Chaos Lords, and, ever-willing