Six
At last, though Elric did not know how, the turbulent dart gave way to light, and there came a noise-a cosmic roar of hate and frustration-and he knew that the Lords of Chaos had been defeated and banished. The Lords of Law victorious, Fate's plan had been achieved, though it still required the last note of the horn to bring it to its required conclusion.
And Elric realised he did not have the strength left to blow the horn the third time.
About the two friends, the world was taking on a distinct shape again. They found they were standing on a rocky plain and in the distance were the slender peaks of new-formed mountains, purple against a mellow sky.
Then the earth began to move. Faster and faster it whirled, day giving way to night with incredible rapidity, and then it began to slow until the sun was again all but motionless in the sky, moving with something like its customary speed.
The change had taken place. Law ruled here now, yet the Lords of Law had departed without thanks.
And though Law ruled, it could not progress until the horn was blown for the last time.
«So it is over, » Moonglum murmured. «All gone-Elwher, my birth-place, Karlaak by the Weeping Waste, Bakshaan, even the Dreaming City and the Isle of Melnibone. They no longer exist, they cannot be retrieved. And this is the new world formed by Law. It looks much the same as the old.»
Elric, too, was filled with a sense of loss, knowing that all the places that were familiar to him, even the very continents were gone and replaced by different ones. It was like the loss of childhood and perhaps that was what it was-the passing of the earth's childhood.
He shrugged away the thought and smiled. «I’m supposed to blow the horn for the final time if the earth's new life is to begin. Yet I haven't the strength. Perhaps Fate is to be thwarted after all?»
Moonglum looked at him strangely. «I hope not, friend.»
Elric sighed. «We are the last two left, Moonglum, you and I. It is fitting that even the mighty events that have taken place have not burned our friendship, have not separated us. You are the only friend whose company has not worn on me, the only one I have trusted.»
Moonglum grinned a shadow of his old, cocky grin. «And where we've shared adventures, I've usually profited if you have not. The partnership has been complementary. I shall never know why I chose to share your destiny. Perhaps it was no doing of mine, but Fate's, for there is one final act of friendship I can perform...»
Elric was about to question Moonglum when a quiet voice came from behind him.
«I bear two messages. One of thanks from the Lords of Law-and another from a more powerful entity.»
«Sepiriz! Elric turned to face his mentor. «Well, are you satisfied with my work?»
«Aye-greatly.» Sepiriz's face was sad and he stared at Elric with a look of profound sympathy. «You have succeeded in everything but the last act which is to blow the Horn of Fate for the third time. Because of you the world shall know progression and its new people shall have the opportunity to advance by degrees to a new state of being.»
«But what is the meaning of it all?» Elric said. «That I have never fully understood.»
«Who can? Who can know why the Cosmic Balance exists, why Fate exists and the Lords of the Higher Worlds? Why there must always be a champion to fight such battles? There seems to be an infinity of space and time and possibilities. There may be an infinite number of beings, one above the other, who see the final purpose, though, in infinity, there can be no final purpose. Perhaps all is cyclic and this same event will occur again and again until the universe is run down and fades away as the world we knew has faded. Meaning, Elric? Do not seek that, for madness lies in such a course.»
«No meaning, no pattern. Then why have I suffered all?»
«Perhaps even the gods seek meaning and pattern and this is merely one attempt to find it. Look-» he waved his hands to indicate the newly-formed earth. «All this is fresh and moulded by logic. Perhaps the logic will control the newcomers, perhaps a factor will occur to destroy that logic. The gods experiment, the Cosmic Balance guides the destiny of the earth, men struggle and credit the gods with knowing why they struggle-but do the gods know?»
«You disturb me further when I had hoped to be comforted.» he sighed. «I have lost wife and world - and do not know why.»
«I am sorry. I have come to wish you farewell, my friend. Do what you must.»
«Aye. Shall I see you again?»
«No, for we are both truly dead. Our age has gone.»
Sepiriz seemed to twist in the air and disappear.
A cold silence remained.
At length Elric's thoughts were interrupted by Moonglum. «You must blow the horn, Elric. Whether it means nothing or much-you must blow it and finish this business forever! »
«How? I have scarcely enough strength to stand on my feet.»
«I have decided what you must do. Slay me with Stormbringer. Take my soul and vitality into yourself-then you will have sufficient power to blow the last blast.»
«Kill you, Moonglum! The only one left-my only true friend? You babble! »
«I mean it. You must, for there is nothing else to do. Further, we have no place here and must die soon at any rate. You told me how Zarozinia gave you her soul - well take mine, too! »
«I cannot.»
Moonglum paced towards him and reached down to grip Stormbringer. Stormbringer hilt, pulling it half-way from the sheath.
«No, Moonglum! »
But now the sword sprang from the sheath on its own volition. Elric struck Moonglum's hand away and gripped the Hilt. He could not stop it. The sword rose up, dragging his arm with it, poised to deliver a blow,
Moonglum stood with his arms by his side, his face expressionless, though Elric thought he glimpsed a flicker of fear in the eyes. He struggled to control the blade, but knew it was impossible.
«Let it do its work, Elric.»
The blade plunged forward and pierced Moonglum's heart. His blood sprang out and covered it. His eyes blurred and filled with horror. «Ah, no – I – had – not – expected this! »
Petrified, Elric could not tug the sword from his friend's heart. Moonglum's energy began to flow up its length and course into his body, yet, even when all the little Eastlander's vitality was absorbed, Elric remained staring at the small corpse until the tears flowed from his crimson eyes and a great sob racked him. Then the blade came free.
He flung it away from him and it did not clatter on the rocky ground but landed as a body might land. Then it seemed to move towards him and stop and he had the suspicion that it was watching him.
He took the horn and put it to his lips. He blew the blast to herald in the night of the new earth. The night that would precede the new dawn. And though the horn's note was triumphant, Elric was not. He stood full of infinite loneliness and infinite sorrow, his head tilted back as the sound rang on. And, when the note faded from triumph to a dying echo that expressed something of Elric's misery, a huge outline began to form in the sky above the earth, as if summoned by the horn.
It was the outline of a gigantic hand holding a balance and, as he watched, the balance began to right itself until each side was true.
And somehow this relieved Elric's sorrow as he released his grip on the Horn of Fate.
«There is something, at least, » he said, «and if it’s an illusion, then it's a reassuring one.»
He turned his head to one side and saw the blade leave the ground, sweep into the air and then rush down on him.
«Stormbringer! » he cried, and then the hellsword struck his chest, he felt the icy touch of the blade against his heart, reached out his fingers to clutch at it, felt his body constrict, felt it sucking his soul from the very depths of his being, felt his whole personality being drawn into the runesword. He knew, as his life faded to combine with the sword's, that it had always been his destiny to die in this manner. With the blade he had killed friends and lovers, stolen their souls to feed his own waning strength. It was as if the sword had always used him to this end, as if he was merely a manifestation of Stormbringer and was now being taken back into the body of the blade which had never been a true sword. And, as he died, he wept again, for he knew that the fraction of the sword's soul which was his would never know rest but was doomed to immortality, to eternal struggle.