Vanishing Tower - Michael Moorcock [33]
He drew another deep breath and coughed.
Then he realised that the drug he had swallowed was beginning to wear off.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat out saliva. Something of the stink of Nadsokor had entered his nostrils.
He stumbled back towards the portal. The peculiar stuff still shimmered there. He pressed his hand against it and it gave reluctantly but then held firm. He leant his whole weight on it but it would still not give any further. It was like a particularly tough membrane but it was not flesh. Was this the stuff with which the Lords of Law had sealed off the tunnel, entrapping their enemy, the Lord of Chaos? The only light in the tunnel came from the membrane itself.
"By Arioch, I'll turn the tables on the Beggar King," Elric murmured. He threw back his rags and put his hand on Stormbringer's pommel. The blade purred as a cat might purr. He drew the sword from its scabbard and it began to sing a low, satisfied song. Now Elric hissed as its power flowed up his arm and into his body. Stormbringer was giving him the strength he needed—but he knew that Stormbringer must be paid soon, must taste blood and souls and thus replenish its energy. He aimed a great blow at the shimmering wall. "I'll hack down this portal and release the Burning God upon Nadsokor! Strike true, Stormbringer! Let flame come to devour the filth that is this city!"
But Stormbringer howled as it bit into the membrane and it was held fast. No rent appeared in the stuff. Instead Elric had to tug with all his might to get the sword free. He withdrew, panting.
"The portal was made to withstand the efforts of Chaos," Elric murmured. "My sword's useless against it. And so, unable to go back I must, perforce, go forward." Stormbringer in hand he turned and began to make his way along the passage. He took one turn and then another and then a third and the light had disappeared completely. He reached for his pouch where his flint and tinder were kept, but the beggars had cut that from his belt as they carried him. He decided to retrace his steps. But by now he was deeply within the labyrinth and he could not find the portal.
"No portal—but no God, it seems. Mayhap there's another exit from this place. If it's blocked by a door of wood, then Stormbringer will soon carve me a path to freedom."
And so he pressed further into the labyrinth, taking a hundred twists and turns in the darkness before he paused again.
He had noticed that he was growing warmer. Now, instead of feeling horribly cold, he felt uncomfortably hot. He was sweating. He removed some of the upper layers of his rags and stood in his own shirt and breeks. He had begun to thirst.
Another turning and he saw light ahead.
"Well, Stormbringer, perhaps we are free after all!"
He began to run towards the source of the light. But it was not daylight, neither was it the light from the portal. This was firelight—of brands, perhaps.
He could see the sides of the tunnel quite clearly in the firelight. Unlike the masonry in the rest of Nadsokor, this was free of filth—a plain, grey stone stained by the red light.
The source of the light was around the next bend. But the heat had grown greater and his flesh stung as the sweat sprang from his pores.
"AAH!"
A great voice suddenly filled the tunnel as Elric rounded the bend and saw the fire leaping not thirty yards distant.
"AAH! AT LAST!"
The voice came from the fire.
And Elric knew he had found the Burning God.
"I have no quarrel with you, my lord of Chaos!" he called. "I, too, serve Chaos!"
"But I must eat," came the voice. "CHECKALAKH MUST EAT!"
"I am poor food for one such as you," Elric said reasonably, putting both his hands around Stormbringer's hilt and taking a step backward.
"Aye, beggar, that thou art—but thou art the only food they send!"
"I'm no beggar!"
"Beggar or not, Checkalakh will devour thee!"
The flames shook and a shape began to be made of them. It was a human shape but comprised entirely of flame. Flickering