«So be it, » Elric's tone was stubborn, »do you think I wish the memory to live on-the memory of evil, ruin and destruction? The memory of a man with deficient blood in his veins-a man called Friends-layer, Woman-slayer and many other such names?»

Darnizhaan spoke urgently, almost in terror. «Elric, you have been duped! Somewhere you have been given a conscience. You must join with us. Only if the Lords of Chaos can establish their reign will we survive. If they fail, we shall be obliterated! »

«Good.»

«Limbo, Elric. Limbo! Do you understand what that means?»

«I do not care. Where is my wife?» Elric blocked the truth from his mind, blocked out the terror in the meaning of the Dead God's words. He could not afford to listen or fully to comprehend. He must save Zarozinia.

«I have brought the swords, » said he, «and wish my wife to be returned to me.»

«Very well, » the Dead God smiled hugely in his relief. «At least if we keep the blades, in their true shape, beyond the earth, we may be able to retain control of the world. In your hands they could destroy not only us but you, your world, all that you represent. Beasts would rule the earth for millions of years before the age of intelligence began again. And it would be a duller age than this. We do not wish it to occur. But if you had kept the swords, it would have come about almost inevitably! »

«Oh, be silent! » Elric cried. «For a god, you talk too much. Take the swords-and give me back my wife! »

At the Dead God's command, some of the acolytes scampered away. Elric saw their gleaming bodies disappear into the darkness. He waited nervously until they returned, carrying the struggling body of Zarozinia. They set her on the ground and Elric saw that her face bore the blank look of hock.

«Zarozinia! »

The girl's eyes roamed about before they saw Elric. She began to move towards him' but the acolytes held her bade, giggling. Darnizhaan stretched forward two gigantic, glowing hands.

«The swords first.»

Elric and Dyvim Slorm put them into his hands. The Dead God straightened up, clutching his prizes and roaring his mirth. Zarozinia was now released and she ran forward to grasp her husband's hand, weeping and trembling. Elric leant down and stroked her hair, too disturbed to say anything.

Then he turned to Dyvim Slorffl, shouting: «Let us see if our plan will work, cousin! »

Elric stared up at Stormbringer writhing in Daraizhaan's grasp. «Stormbringer! Kerana soliem, o'glara...»

Dyvim Slorm also called to Mournblade in the Ancient Tongue of Melnibone, the mystic, sorcerous tongue which had been used for rune-casting and demon-raising all through Melnibone's twenty thousand years of history.

Together, they commanded the blades, as if they were actually wielding them in their hands, so that merely by shouting orders, Elric and Dyviro Slorm began their work. This was the remembered quality of both blades when paired in a common fight. The blades twisted in Darnizhaan's glowing hands. He started backwards, his shape faltering, sometimes manlike, sometimes beastlike, sometimes totally alien. But he was evidently horrified, this god.

Now the swords wrenched themselves from the clutching hands and turned on him. He fought against them, fending them off as they wove about in the air, whining malevolently, triumphantly, attacking him with vicious power. At Elric's command, Stormbringer slashed at the supernatural being and Dyvim Slorm's Mournblade followed its example. Because the runeblades were also supernatural, Darnizhaan was harmed dreadfully whenever they struck his form.

«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.

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 Sepriz. «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 Slonn 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’ll 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.»

«What is that?»

«An earth free of the major forces of Chaos.»

«You mean a world free of sorcery, I presume...?»

«Not entirely free of sorcery, but chaos and sorcery will not dominate the world of the future as it does this world.»

«Then that is worth striving for, Sepiriz, » Elric said almost with relief. «But what part do the runeblades play in the scheme of things?»

«They have two functions. One, to rid this world of the great dominating sources of evil-»