Elric was borne up and roped to the mast, but he was scarcely aware of it, for his head lolled on his right shoulder, only semi-conscious.

The massive fleet plunged onwards, certain of victory.

By mid-afternoon Elric was aroused from his stupor by the shout of the helmsman. «Sad to the south-east! Lormyrian fleet approaches.»

With impotent anger, Elric saw the fifty two-masted ships, their sails bright against the sombre scarlet of Jagreen Lern's vessels, come into line with the others.

Lormyr, though a smaller power than Argimiliar, had a larger navy. Elric judged that King Mootan's treachery had cost the south more than a quarter of its strength.

Now he knew there was absolutely no hope for the south and that Jagreen Lern's certainty of victory was well-founded.

Night fell and the huge fleet lay at anchor. A guard came to feed Elric a mushy porridge containing another dose of the revitalising drug. As he revived, his anger increased, and Jagreen Lern paused by the mast on two occasions, taunting him savagely.

«Soon after dawn we shall meet the southern fleet, » Jagreen Lern smiled, »and by noon what is left of it will float as bloody driftwood behind us as we press on to establish our reign over those nations who so foolishly relied on their seapower as defence.»

Elric remembered how he had warned the Icings of the Southlands that this was likely to happen if they stood alone against the theocrat. But he wished that he had been wrong. With the defeat of the south, the conquest of the east seemed bound to follow and, when Jagreen Lern ruled the world, Chaos would dominate and the earth revert to the sniff from which it had been formed millions of years before.

All through that moonless night he brooded, pulling his thoughts together, summoning all his strength for a plan that was, as yet, only a shadow in the back of his mind.

The rattle of anchors woke him.

Shaking in the light of the watery sun. he saw the southern fleet on the horizon, riding gracefully in hollow pomp towards the ships of Jagreen Lern.

Either, he thought, the southern kings were very brave or else they did not understand the strength of their enemies.

Beneath him, on Jagreen Lern's foredeck, a great catapult rested, and slaves had already filled its cup with a large hall of flaming pitch. Normally. Elric knew, such catapults were an encumbrance, since when they reached that size they were difficult to rewind and gave lighter war-machines the advantage. Yet obviously Jagreen Lern's engineers were not fools. Elric noted extra mechanisms on the big catapult and realised they were equipped to rewind rapidly.

The wind had dropped and five hundred pairs of muscles alone strove to row Jagreen Lern's galley along. On the deck, in disciplined order, his warriors took their posts beside the great boarding platforms that would drop down on to opponent ships and grapple them at the same time as they formed a bridge between the vessels.

Elric was forced to admit that Jagreen Lern had used foreright. He had not relied wholly on supernatural aid. His ships were the best equipped he had ever seen.

The southern fleet, Elric decided, was doomed. To fight Jagreen Lern was not bravery-it was insanity.

But Jagreen Lern had made one mistake. He had, in his gnawing desire for vengeance, ensured that Elric's vitality was restored for a few hours and this vitality extended to his mind as well as his body.

Stormbringer had vanished. With the sword he was, among men, all but invincible. Without it, he was helpless. These were facts. Therefore he must somehow regain the blade. But how? It had returned to the plane of Chaos with its brothers, presumably drawn back there by the overwhelming force of the rest.

He must contact it

He dare not summon the entire horde of blades with spell, that would be tempting providence too far.

He heard the sudden thwack and roar as the giant catapult discharged its first shot. The flame-shrouded pitch went arching over the ocean and landed short, boiling the sea around it as it guttered and sank. Swiftly the war-engine was rewound and he marvelled at the speed as another ball of flaring pitch was forked into its cup. Jagreen Lern looked up at him and laughed.

«My pleasure will be short-there are not enough of them to put up a decent fight. Watch them perish, Elric! »

Brie said nothing, pretended to be dazed and frightened.

The next fireball struck one of the leading ships directly and Elric saw tiny figures scampering about, striving desperately to quench the spreading pitch, but within a minute the whole ship was ablaze, a gouting mass of flame as the figures now jumped overboard, unable to save their vessel.

Now the air around him sounded to the rushing heat of the fireballs and within range now, the southerners retaliated with their lighter machines until it seemed the sky was filled with a thousand comets and the heat almost equalled that which Elric had experienced in the torture chamber.

Mack smoke began to drift as the brass beaks of the ships' rams ground through timbers, impaling ships like skewered fish. The hoarse yells of fighting men began to sound and Elric heard the dash of iron as the first few opposing warriors met.

But now he only vaguely heard the sounds, for he was concentrating.

At last he was ready and, aware that his voice would probably not be heard by human ears above the noise of war, called in a desperate and agonising voice: «Stormbringer! » His straining mind echoed the shout and he seemed to look beyond the turbulent battle, beyond the ocean, beyond the very earth to a place of shadows and terror. Something moved there. Many things moved there.

He heard a curse from beneath him and saw Jagreen Lern pointing up at him.

«Gag the white-faced sorcerer.» Jagreen Lern's eyes met Elric's and the theocrat sucked in his tips, deliberating a bare moment before adding: «And if that doesn't put an end to his babbling-slay him! »

The lieutenant began to climb the mast towards Elric.

«Stormbringer! Your master perishes! »

He struggled in the biting ropes but could hardly move.

«Stormbringer! »

All his life he had hated the sword he relied so much upon. Now he called for it as a lover calls for his betrothed.

The warrior grasped his foot and shook it «Silence! You heard my master.»

With insane eyes, Elric looked down at the warrior who shuddered and drew his sword, hanging to the mast with one hand and readying himself to make a stab at Elric's vitals.

«Stormbringer! » Elric sobbed the name. He must live. Without him, Chaos would surely rule the world.

The man hinged at Elric's body-yet the blade did not reach the albino. Then Elric remembered, with sudden humour, that Jagreen Lern had placed a protective spell about him! The Theocrat's own magic had saved his energy.

«Stormbringer.»

Now the warrior gasped and the sword dropped from his fingers. He seemed to grapple with something invisible at his throat and Elric saw the man's fingers sliced off and blood sport from the stumps. Then, slowly, a shape materialised and, with bounding relief, the albino saw that it was a sword - but own runesword impaling the warrior and sucking out his soul.

The warrior dropped, but Stormbringer hung in the air and men turned to slash the ropes restraining Elric's hands and men nestled firmly, with horrid affection, in it’s master's right fist.

At once the stolen life-stuff of the warrior began to pour through Elric's being and the pain of his body vanished. Quickly he grasped a piece of the sail's rigging and cut away the rest of his bonds until he was swinging by one hand on tile rope.

«Now, Jagreen Lern, we’ll see who takes vengeance, finally.»

He wrenched up the hatch-cover and stared down at the pitiful figure of his friend. Evidently he had been left to starve to death. A rat scuttled away as the light shone down. Elric jumped into the hold and saw, with horror, that part of Moonglum's right arm had been gnawed already. He heaved the body on to his shoulder, aware that the heart still beat, though faintly, and clambered back on to the deck.