The Bane of the Black Sword - Michael Moorcock [8]
"There is something coming near which only I can deal with," he informed the men. "I will ride on ahead."
He spurred his horse into a wary canter, keeping his eyes before him. Stormbringer's voice was louder, sharper—a muted shriek. The horse trembled and Elric's own nerves were tense. He had not expected trouble so soon and he prayed that whatever evil was lurking in the forest was not directed against him.
"Arioch, be with me," he breathed. "Aid me now, and I'll dedicate a score of warriors to you. Aid me, Arioch."
A foul odour forced itself into Elric's nostrils. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hands, his eyes seeking the source of the stink. The horse whinnied. Elric jumped from the saddle and slapped his mount on the rump, sending it back along the trail. He crouched warily, Stormbringer now in his grasp, the black metal quivering from point to pommel.
He sensed it with the witch-sight of his forefathers before he saw it with his eyes. And he recognised its shape. He, himself, was one of its masters. But this time he had no control over Quaolnargn—he was standing in no pentacle and his only protection was his blade and his wits. He knew, also, of the power of Quaolnargn and shuddered. Could he overcome such a horror single-handedly?
"Arioch! Arioch! Aid me!" It was a scream, high and desperate.
"Arioch!"
There was no time to conjure a spell. Quaolnargn was before him, a great green toad-thing which hopped along the trail obscenely, moaning to itself in its Earth-fostered pain. It towered over Elric so that the albino was in its shadow before it was ten feet away from him. Elric breathed quickly and screamed once more: "Arioch! Blood and souls, if you aid me, now!"
Suddenly, the toad-demon leapt.
Elric sprang to one side, but was caught by a long-nailed foot which sent him flying into the undergrowth. Quaolnargn turned clumsily and its filthy mouth opened hungrily, displaying a deep toothless cavity from which a foul odour poured.
"Arioch!"
In its evil and alien insensitivity, the toad-thing did not even recognize the name of so powerful a demon-god. It could not be frightened—it had to be fought.
And as it approached Elric for the second time, the clouds belched rain from their bowels and a downpour lashed the forest.
Half-blinded by the rain smashing against his face, Elric backed behind a tree, his runesword ready. In ordinary terms, Quaolnargn was blind. It could not see Elric or the forest. It could not feel the rain. It could only see and smell men's souls—its feed. The toad-demon blundered past him and, as it did so, Elric leapt high, holding his blade with both hands, and plunged it to the hilt into the demon's soft and quivering back. Flesh—or whatever Earth-bound stuff formed the demon's body—squelched nauseatingly. Elric pulled at Stormbringer's hilt as the sorcerous sword seared into the hellbeast's back, cutting down where the spine should be but where no spine was. Quaolnargn piped its pain. Its voice was thin and reedy, even in such extreme agony. It retaliated.
Elric felt his mind go numb and then his head was filled with a pain which was not natural in any sense. He could not even shriek. His eyes widened in horror as he realised what was happening to him. His soul was being drawn from his body. He knew it. He felt no physical weakness, he was only aware of looking out into. . .
But even that awareness was fading. Everything was fading, even the pain, even the dreadful hell-spawned pain.
"Arioch!" he croaked.
Savagely, he summoned strength from somewhere. Not from himself, not even from Stormbringer—from somewhere. Something was aiding him at last, giving him strength—enough strength to do what he must.
He wrenched the blade from the demon's back. He stood over Quaolnargn. Above him. He was floating somewhere, not in the air of Earth. Just floating over the demon. With thoughtful deliberation he selected a spot on the demon's