Stormbringer - Michael Moorcock [22]
"Elric!" he raved, "Elric—you do not know what you are doing! Stop them! Stop them! You should have listened more carefully to what I told you. Stop them!"
But Elric in his hate and malice urged on the blades, made them plunge into the Dead God's being time after time so that his shape sometimes faltered, faded, the colours of its bright beauty dulling. The acolytes fled upwards into the vale, convinced that their lord was doomed. Their lord, also, was so convinced. He made one lunge towards the mounted men and then the fabric of his being began to shred before the blades' attack; wisps of his body-stuff seemed to break away and drift into the air to be swallowed by the black night.
Viciously and ferociously, Elric goaded the blades while Dyvim Slorm's voice blended with his in a cruel joy to see the bright being destroyed.
"Fools!" he screamed, "in destroying me, you destroy yourselves!"
But Elric did not listen and at last there was nothing left of the Dead God and the swords crept back to lie contentedly in their masters' hands.
Quickly, with a sudden shudder, Elric scabbarded Stormbringer.
He dismounted and helped his girl-wife on to the back of his great stallion and then swung up into the saddle again. It was very quiet in the Vale of Xanyaw.
Six
Three people, bent in their saddles with weariness, reached the Chasm of Nihrain days later. They rode down the twisting paths into the black depths of the mountain city and were there welcomed by Sepiriz whose face was grave, though his words were encouraging.
"So you were successful, Elric," he said with a small smile.
Elric paused while he dismounted and aided Zarozinia down. He turned to Sepiriz. "I am not altogether satisfied with this adventure," he said grimly, "though I did what I had to in order to save my wife. I would speak with you privately, Sepiriz."
The black Nihrainian nodded gravely. "When we have eaten," he said, "we will talk alone."
They walked wearily through the galleries, noting that there was considerably more activity in the city now, but there was no sign of Sepiriz's nine brothers. He explained their absence as he led Elric and his companions towards his own chamber. "As servants of Fate they have been called to another plane where they can observe something of the several different possible futures of the earth and thus keep me informed of what I must do here."
They entered the chamber and found food ready and, when they had satisfied their hunger, Dyvim Slorm and Zarozinia left the other two.
The fire from the great hearth blazed. Elric and Sepiriz sat together, unspeaking, hunched in their chairs.
At last, without preamble, Elric told Sepiriz the story of what had happened, what he remembered of the Dead God's words, how they had disturbed him—even struck him as being true.
When he had finished, Sepiriz nodded. "It is so," he said. "Darnizhaan spoke the truth. Or, at least, he spoke most of the truth, as he understood it."
"You mean we will all soon cease to exist? That it will be as if we had never breathed, or thought, or fought?"
"That is likely."
"But why? It seems unjust."
"Who told you that the world was just?"
Elric smiled, his own suspicions confirmed. "Aye, as I expected, there is no justice."
"But there is," Sepiriz said, "justice of a kind—justice which must be carved from the chaos of existence. Man was not born to a world of justice. But he can create such a world!"
"I'd agree to that," Elric said, "but what are all our strivings for if we are doomed to die and the results of our actions with us?"
"That is not absolutely the case. Something will continue. Those who come after us will inherit something from us."