Elric_ The Stealer of Souls - Michael Moorcock [174]
Torn between pursuing the Theocrat and investigating the cabin, Elric turned and opened the door. From inside came a dreadful sobbing.
“Zarozinia!” He ducked into the dark place and there he saw her. Chaos had warped her. Only her head, the same beautiful head was left.
But her lovely body was dreadfully changed. Now it resembled the body of a huge white worm.
“Did Jagreen Lern do this?”
“He and his ally.”
“How have you retained your sanity?”
“By waiting for you. I have something to do that required me to keep my wits.” The worm-body undulated towards him.
“No—stand back,” he cried, disgusted against his will. He could hardly bear to look at her. But she did not heed him. The worm-body threshed forward and impaled itself on his sword. “There,” cried her head. “Take my soul into you, Elric, for I am useless to myself and you now! Carry my soul with yours and we shall be forever together.”
“No! You are wrong!” He tried to withdraw the thirsty runeblade, but it was impossible. And, unlike any other sensation he had ever received from it, this was almost gentle. Warm and pleasant, bringing with it her youth and innocence, his wife’s soul flowed into his and he wept. “Oh, Zarozinia. Oh, my love!”
So she died, her soul blending with his as, years earlier, the soul of his first love, Cymoril, had been taken. He did not look at the grotesque worm-body, did not glance at her face, but walked slowly from the cabin.
Though he was moved to an aching sadness, his sword seemed to chuckle as he resheathed it.
As he left the cabin, it appeared to him that the deck was disintegrating, flowing apart. Straasha had been right. The destruction of Pyaray also meant the destruction of his ghastly fleet. Jagreen Lern had evidently made good his escape and Elric, in his present mood, did not feel ready to pursue him. He was only regretful that the fleet had achieved its purpose before he had been able to destroy it. Sword and shield both aiding him in their ways, he leapt from the ship to the pulsating ground and ran for the Nihrain steed which was rearing up and flailing with its hoofs to protect itself from a group of gibbering Chaos creatures. He drew his runesword again and drove into them, quickly dispersing them and mounting the Nihrain stallion. Then, the tears still flowing down his white face, he rode wildly from the Camp of Chaos, leaving the Ships of Hell breaking apart behind him. At least these would threaten the world no more and a blow had been struck against Chaos. Now only the horde itself remained to be dealt with—and the dealing would not be so easy.
Fighting off the warped things which clawed at him, he finally rejoined his friends, said nothing to them but wheeled his horse to lead the way over the shaking earth towards Melniboné, where the last stand against Chaos could be prepared, the last battle fought and his destiny completed.
And in his dark, tormented mind he seemed to hear Zarozinia’s youthful voice whispering comfort as, still sobbing, he rode away from that Camp of Chaos.
And then did the Forces of Chaos challenge Fate and the great Cosmic Balance and seek greater power on Earth through their human medium. And the Lords of Law were unable to gain entrance to the Earth and there was one man only, Elric who bore the Black Sword, and he was destined to be torn upon the rack of Time and his destiny was to destroy his world so that Law might mould it anew. Lower dipped the Balance as Chaos gained strength, weaker became Law, and only Elric who bore the Black Sword could right the Balance by his actions and the power of the Black Sword…
—The Chronicle of the Black Sword SCIENCE FANTASY No. 64, April