Michael Moorcock - Elric 6 - Stormbringer
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This Berkley Book contains the complete
text of the original edition.
STORMBRINGER
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with
the author
PRINTING HISTOKY
DAW Books edition/November 1977
Berkley edition / March 1984
Second printing/July 1984
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1963. 1965, 1967, 1977 by Michael Moorcock.
Cover art by Robert Gould-
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part.
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address; The Berkley Publishing Group,
200 Madison Avenue. New York, New York 10016.
ISBN: 0-425-06559-6
A BERKLEY BOOK ® TM 757,375
The name "BERKLEY" and the stylized "B" with design
are trademarks belonging to Berkley Publishing Corporation.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
For J. G. Ballard. whose enthusiasm for
Eiric gave me the encouragement to begin
this particular book, my first attempt at
a full-length novel, and for Jim Cawthom,
whose illustrations based on my ideas in
turn gave me inspiration for certain scenes
in this book, and for Dave Britten, who
kept the magazines in which the serial
first appeared and who kindly loaned
them to me so that I could restore this
novel to its original shape and length.
STORM
BRINCER
Prologue
There came a time when there was great movement upon the
Earth and above it, when the destiny of Men and Gods was
hammered out upon'the forge of Fate, when monstrous wars
were brewed and mighty deeds were designed. And there rose
up in this time, which was called the Age of the Young King-
doms, heroes. Greatest of these heroes was a doom-driven ad-
venturer who bore a crooning rune blade that he loathed.
His name was Brie of Melnibone, king of ruins, lord of a
scattered race that had once ruled the ancient world. Eiric.
sorcerer and swordsman, slayer of kin, despoiler of his home
land, white-faced albino, last of his line.
Eiric, who had come to Kariaak by the Weeping Waste
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and had married a wife in whom he found some peace, some
surcease from the torment in him.
And Eiric, who had within him a greater destiny than he
knew, now dwelt in Kariaak with Zarozinia, his wife. and his
sleep was troubled, his dream dark, one brooding night in the
Month of the Anemone.. •
BOOK ONE
Dead God's Homecoming
la which, at long last, Eric's fate begins to be revealed to
hhn as the forces of Law and Chaos gather strength for the
final battle which will decide the future of Eiric's world...
One
Above the rolling earth great clouds tumbled down and bolts
of lightning charged groundwards to slash the midnight black,
split trees in twain and sear through roofs that cracked and
broke.
The dark mass of forest trembled with the shock and out
of it crept six hunched, unhuman figures who paused to stare
beyood the low hills towards the outline of a city. It was a
city of squat walls and slender spires, of graceful towers and
domes; and it bad a name which the leader of the creatures
knew. Kariaak by the Weeping Waste it was called.
Not of natural origin, the storm was ominous. It groaned
around the city of Kariaak as the creatures skulked past the
open gates and made their way through shadows towards the
elegant palace where Eiric slept. The leader raised an axe of
black iron in its clawed hand. The group came to a stealthy
halt and regarded the sprawling palace which lay on a hill
•urrounded by languorously-scented gardens. The earth shook
as lightning lashed it and thunder prowled across the turbu-
lent sky.
"Chaos has aided us in this matter," the leader grunted.
**Sec—already the guards fall in magic slumber and our en-
trance is thus made simple. The Lords of Chaos are good to
their servants."
He spoke the truth. Some supernatural force had been at
work and the warriors guarding Eiric's palace had dropped to
tee ground, their snores echoing the thunder. The servants of
Chaos crept past the prone guards, into the main courtyard
and from there into the darkened palace. Unerringly they
climbed twisting staircases, moved softly along gloomy cor-
ridors, to arrive at length outside the room where Eiric and
his wife lay in uneasy sleep.
As the leader laid a hand upon the door, a voice cried out
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Michael Moorcock
from within the room: "What's this? What things of heU dis-
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rupt my rest?11
"He sees list" sharply whispered one of the creatures.
"No," the leader said, "he sleeps—but such a sorcerer as
this Eiric is not so easily lulled into a stupor. We had best
make speed and do our work, for if be wakes it will be the
harder!"
He twisted the handle and eased the door open, his axe
half raised. Beyond the bed, heaped with tumbled furs and
silks, lightning gashed the night again, showing the white face
of the albino close to that of his dark-haired wife.
Even as they entered, he rose stiffly in the bed and his
crimson eyes opened, staring out at them. For a moment the
eyes were glazed and then the albino forced himself awake,
shouting: "Begone, you creatures of my dreams!"
The leader cursed and leaped forward, but he had been in-
structed not to slay this man. He raised the axe threateningly.
"Silence—your guards cannot aid you!"
Eiric jumped from the bed and grasped the thing's wrist,
his face close to the fanged muzzle. Because of his albmoism
he was physically weak and required magic to give him
strength. But so quickly did he move, that he had wrested the
axe from the creature's hand and smashed the shaft between
its eyes. Snarling, it fell back, but its comrades jumped for-
ward. There were five of them, huge muscles moving beneath
their furred skins.
Eiric clove the skull of the first as others grappled with
him. His body was spattered with the thing's blood and brains
and he gasped in disgust at the fetid stuff. He managed to
wrench his arm away and bring the axe up and down into the
collarbone of another. But then be felt his legs gripped and
he fell, confused but still battling. Then there came a great
blow on bis head and pain blazed through him. He made an
effort to rise, failed and fell back insensible.
Thunder and lightning still disturbed the night when, with
throbbing head, he awoke and got slowly to his feet using a
bedpost as support He stared dazedly around him.
Zarozinia was gone. The only other figure in the room was
the stiff corpse of the beast be had killed. His black-haired
girl-wife had been abducted.
Shaking, he went to the door and flung it open, calling for
his guards, but none answered him.
His runesword Stonnbnnger hung in the city's armoury
STORMB RINGER 15
and would take time to get His throat tight with pain and
•nwf, he ran down the corridors and stairways, dazed with
anxiety, trying to grasp the implications of his wife's disap-
pearance.
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Above (he palace, thunder still crashed, eddying about in
the noisy night The palace seemed deserted and he had the
sodden feeling that he was completely alone, mat he had
been abandoned. But as be ran out into the main courtyard
and saw me insensible guards he realised at once that their
•lumber could not be natural. Realisation was coming even as
he ran through the gardens, through the gates and down to
tihe city, but mere was no sign of bis wife's abductors.
Where bad they gone?
He raised his eyes to the shouting sky, his white face stark
and twisted with frustrated anger. There was no sense to it
Why had they taken her? He had enemies, he knew, but none
who could summon such supernatural help. Who, apart from
himself, could work this mighty sorcery that made the skies
themselves shake and a city sleep?
To the house of Lord Voashoon. Chief Senator, of Kariaak.
•od father of Zarozinia, Eiric ran panting like a wolf. He
banged with his fists upon the door, yelling at the astonished
servants within.
"Opcnl It is Eiric. HurryF
The doors gaped back and he was through them. Lord
Voashoon came stumbling down the stair into the chamber,
his face heavy with sleep.
"What is if Eiric?**
"Summon your warriors. Zarozinia has been abducted.
Thoee who took her were demons and may be far from here
by now—but we must search in case they escaped by land."
Lord Voashoon's face became instantly alert and he
shouted terse orders to his servants between listening to El-
ite's explanation of what had happened.
"And I must have entrance into the armoury," Eiric con-
cluded. 'T must have Stonnbringeri"
"But you renounced the blade for fear of its evil power
over you!" Lord Voashoon reminded him quietly.
Eiric replied impatiently. "Aye—but I renounced the blade
tar Zarozinia's sake, too. I must have Stonnbringcr if I am to
bring her back. The logic is simple. Quickly, give me the
key."
In silence Lord Voashoon fetched the key and led Eiric to
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Michael Moorcock
the armoury where the weapons and armour of his ancestors
was held, unused for centuries. Through the dusty place
strode Eiric to a dark alcove that seemed to contain some-
thing which lived.
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He heard a soft moaning come from the great black battle
blade as he reached out a slim-fingered white hand to take it
It was heavy, yet perfectly balanced, a two-handed broad-
sword of prodigious size, with its wide crosspiece and its
blade smooth and broad, stretching for over five feet from
the hilt Near the hilt, mystic runes were engraved and even
Brie did not know what they fully signified.
"Again I must make use of you, Storrobringer," he said as
he buckled the sheath about his waist, "and I must conclude
(hat we are too closely linked now for less than death to sep-
arate us.**
With that he was striding from the armoury and back to
the courtyard where mounted guards were already sitting ner-
vous steeds, awaiting his instructions.
Standing before them, he drew Stonnbringer so that the
sword's strange, black radiance flickered around him, his
white face, as pallid as bleached bone, staring out of it at the
horsemen.
"You go to chase demons this night Search the country-
side, scour forest and plain for those who have done this
thing to our princess! Though it's likely that her -ibdnctors
used supernatural means to make their escape, we cannot be
sure. So search—and search well!'*
All through the raging night they searched but could find
no trace of either the creatures or Eiric's wife. And when
dawn came, a smear of blood in the morning sky, his men re-
turned to Karlaak where EIric awaited them. now filled with
the nigromantic vitality which his sword supplied.
"Lord EIric—shall we retrace our trail and see if daylight
yields a clue?" cried one.
"He does not hear you," another murmured as EIric gave
no sign.
But then EIric turned his pain-racked head and he said
bleakly, "Search no more. I have had time to mediate and
must seek my wife with the aid of sorcery. Disperse. You can
do nothing further."
Then he left them and went back towards his palace,
knowing that there was still ooc way of learning where Zaro-
STORMBRINGER 17
xfala had been taken. It was a method which he Ul-lflced. yet
jt would have to be employed.
Curtly, upon returning, EIric ordered everyone from his
dumber, barred the door and stared down at the dead thing.
to congealed blood was still on him, but the axe with which
be had stain it had been taken away by hs comrades.
EIric prepared the body, stretching out its limbs on the
floor. He drew the shutters of the windows so that no tight fil-
tered into the room, and lit a brazier in one corner. It swayed
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on its chains as me oil-soaked rushes flared. He went to a
email chest by the window and took out a pouch. From thia
he removed a bunch of dried herbs and with a hasty gesture
flung them on the brazier so that it gave off a sickly odour
and die room began to fill with smoke. Then he stood over
the corpse, his body rigid, and began to sing an incantation in
the old language of his forefathers, the sorcerer emperors of
Mdnibone. The song seemed scarcely akin to human speech,
riling and falling from a deep groan to a high-pitched shriek.
The brazier spread flaring red light over EIric's face and
grotesque shadows skipped about the room. On the floor the
dead corpse began to stir, its ruined head moving from side
to ride. EIric drew his runesword and placed it before him,
his two hands on the hilt "Arise, soulless one!" he com-
manded.
Slowly, with jerky movements, the creature raised itself
stiffly upright and pointed a clawed finger at EIric, its glazed
eyes staring as if beyond him.
"An mis,*' it whispered, "was pre-ordained. Think not that
you can escape your fate, EIric of Melnibone. You have tam-
pered with my corpse and 1 am a creature of Chaos. My
masters win avenge me.**
"How?"
"Your destiny is already laid down. You win know soon
enough."
"Tell me. dead one, why did you come to abduct my wife?
Who sent you hither? Where has my wife been taken?"
"Three questions. Lord EIric. Requiring three answers. You
know that the dead who have been raised by sorcery can an-
swer nothing directly.'*
"Aye—that I know. So answer as you can.**
"Then listen well for I may recite only once my reed and
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Michael'Moorcock
then must return to the nether-regions where my being may
peacefully rot to nothing. Listen;
"Beyond the ocean brews a baffle;
Beyond the battle blood shall faU.
If Elfins kinsman ventures with him
(Bearing a twin of that he bears)
To a place where, man-forsaken.
Dwells the one who should not live,
Then a bargain shall be entered^
Bine's wife shall be restored."
With this, die dung fell to die floor and did not stir
thereafter.
Eiric went to die window and opened the shutters. Used as
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be was to enigmatic verse-omens, this one was difficult to uo-
raveL As daylight entered the room, the rushes spluttered and
die smoke faded. Beyond the ocean . . . There were many
oceans.
He resheathed his runesword and climbed on to the disor-
dered bed to lie down and comtemplate die reed. At last, af-
ter long minutes of this contemplation, he remembered
something he had heard from a traveller who bad come to
Kariaak. from Tarkesh. a nation of me Western Continent,
beyond the Pale Sea.
The traveller had told him how diere was trouble brewing
between me land of Dharijor and me other nations of me
west Dharijor had contravened treaties she had signed with
her neighbouring kingdoms and had signed a new one with
me Theocrat of Pan Tang. Pan Tang was an unholy island
dominated by its dark aristocracy of warrior-wizards. It was
from here mat Bine's old enemy, Theleb K'aarna, had come.
Its capital of Hwamgaari was called the City of Screaming
Statues and until recently its residents had had little contact
with the folk of die outside world. Jagreen Lern was me new
Theocrat and an ambitious man. His alliance with Dharijor
could only mean mat be sought more power over the nations
of the Young Kingdoms. The traveller bad said dial strife
was sure to break out at any moment since diere was ample
evidence that Dharijor and Pan Tang had entered a war al-
liance.
Now. as his memory improved, Eiric related mis informa-
tion with me news he had had recently that Queen Yiabana
STORMBRINGER 19
of Ibarkor, a neighbouring kingdom to Dharijor, had recruit-
ed tfae aid of Dyvim Slorm and his Imrryrian mercenaries.
And Dyvim Slorm was Eiric's only kinsman. This meant that
Jharkor must be preparing for battle against Dharijor. The
two facts were too closely linked with die prophecy to be ig-
nored.
Even as he thought upon it, be was gathering his clothes
together and preparing for a journey. There was nothing for
ft but to go to Jharkor and speed ily, for diere he was sure to
meet his kinsman. Aod diere, also, diere would soon be a
battle if all die evidence were true.
Yet the prospect of die journey, which would take many
days, caused a cold ache to grow in his heart as be thought
of me weeks to come in which be would not know how his
wife fared.
"No time for that," he told himself as he laced up bis
black quilted jacket. "Action is all mat's required of me
now—and speedy action."
He held me sheathed runeblade before him, staring beyond
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it into space. "1 swear by Arioch diat tfiose who have done
mis, whedier diey be man or immortal, shall suffer from their
deed. Hear me, Arioch! That is my oadi!"
But his words found no answer and be sensed diat Arioch,
bis patron demon, had either not heard him or else heard bis
«ath and was unmoved.
Then he was striding from me death-heavy chamber, yell-
ing for bis horse.
Two
Where the Sighing Desert gave way to the borders of Ilmiora,
between the coasts of the Eastern continent and the lands of
Tarkesh, Dharijor and Shazar, there lay the Pale Sea.
It was a cold sea, a morose and chilling sea, but ships pre-
ferred to cross from Ilmiora to Dharijor by means of it,
rather than chance the weirder dangers of the Straits of
Chaos which were lashed by eternal storms and inhabited by
malevolent sea-creatures.
On the deck of an Umioran schooner, Eiric of Melnibone
stood wrapped in his cloak, shivering and staring gloomily at
the cloud-covered sky.
The captain, a stocky man with blue, humorous eyes, came
struggling along the deck towards him. He had a cup of hot
wine in his hands. He steadied himself by clinging to a piece
of rigging and gave the cup to Eiric.
"Thanks,** said the albino gratefully. He sipped the wine.
"How soon before we make the port of Banarva, captain?"
The captain pulled the collar of his leather jerkin about his
unshaven face. **We're sailing slow, but we should sight the
Tarkesh peninsula well before sunset" Banarva was in
Tarkesh* one of its chief trading posts. The captain leaned on
the rail. "I wonder how long these waters wffl be free for
ships now that war's broken out between the kingdoms of the
west. Both Dharijor and Pan Tang have been notorious in the
past for their piratical activities. They'll soon extend them un-
der the guise of war, ITl warrant.**
Eiric nodded vaguely, his mind on other things than the
prospect of piracy.
Disembarking in me chilly evening at the port of Banarva,
Eiric soon saw ample evidence that war darkened the lands
of the Young Kingdoms. There were rumours rife, talk of
nothing but battles gained and warriors lost From the con-
20
STORMBRINGER 21
fined gossip, he could get no dear impression of how the war
went, save that the decisive battle was yet to be fought
Loquacious Banarvans told him that all over the Western
Continent men were marching. From Myyrrhn, he heard, the
winged men were flying. From Jharkor, the White Leopards,
Queen Yishana's personal guard, ran towards Dharijor, while
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Dyvim Slonn and his mercenaries pressed northwards to meet
them.
Dharijor was the strongest nation of me west and Pan
Tang was a formidable ally, more for her people's occult
knowledge man for her numbers. Next in power to Dharijor
came Jharkor, who, with her allies Tarkesh, Myyrrhn and
Shazar, was still not as strong as those who threatened the se-
curity of the Young Kingdoms.
For some years Dharijor had sought an opportunity for
conquest and the hasty alliance against her had been made in
an effort to stop her before she had fully prepared for con-
quest Whether this effort would succeed, Eiric did not know,
and those who spoketo him were equally uncertain.
The streets of Banarva were packed with soldiers and sup-
ply trains of horses and oxen. The harbour was filled with
warships and it was difficult to find lodgings since most inns
and many private houses had been requisitioned by the army.
And it was the same all over the Western Continent Every-
where, men strapped metal about them, bestrode heavy charg-
ers, sharpened their arms, and rode beneath bright silken
banners to slay and to despoiL
Here, without doubt, Eiric reflected, he would find the
battle of uie prophecy. He tried to forget his tormented long-
ing for news of Zarozinia and turned bis moody eyes towards
the west Stormbringer hung like an anchor at his side and ho
fingered it constantly, hating it even as it fed him his vitality.
He spent the night in Banarva and by morning had hired a
good horse and was riding through the sparse grassland
towards Jharkor.
Across a war-torn world rode Eiric, his crimson eyes burn-
ing with a fierce anger at the sights of wanton destruction he
witnessed. Although be had himself lived by his sword for
many years and had committed acts of murder, robbery and
urbicide, he disliked the senselessness of wars such as this, of
men who killed one another for only the vaguest of reasons.
It was not that he pitied the slain or hated the slayers; he was
too remote from ordinary men to care greatly about what
22
Michael Moorcock
they did. Yet, in bis own tortured way, he was an idea&t
who, because be lacked peace and security himself, resulted
- the sights of strife which this war brought to him. His ances-
tors, he knew, had also been remote, yet they had delighted
in the conflicts of the men of the Young Kingdoms, observing
mem from a distance and judging themselves above nidi ac-
tivities; above the morass of sentiment and emotion in which
these new men struggled. For ten thousand years me sor-
cerer-emperors of Memibone had ruled this world, a race
without conscience or moral creed, unneedful of reasons for
their acts of conquest, seeking no excuses for their natural
malicious tendencies. But Hric, the last in the direct line of
emperors, was not like them. He was capable of cruelty and
malevolent sorcery, had little pity, yet could love and hate
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