Swords & Dark Magic - By Jonathan Strahan Page 0,92
man’s chest so that instantly the pumping heart sent energy into the sword and from Stormbringer into Elric’s own glowing body. His white skin blazed like silver and his red eyes glared in triumph. He lifted his head, surrounded by its halo of milk-white hair, and laughed—a sound which filled the tower with anguished triumph and which keened and echoed through all the countless worlds of the multiverse.
When Elric had drawn a quick breath, he stepped through the door and saw the amphitheatre filled with startled faces. Addric Heed and his slavers stared up at him in baffled astonishment and Lady Fernrath ran like the wind towards him, shouting, “The slave quarters! Follow me!”
“The slave quarters? Would you free the slaves?”
“That, too, if we can. It might buy us time.”
Then, while Addric Heed and his baffled warriors began to absorb what had happened, the two albinos dashed down the outer steps of the tower. Panting, she led Elric into the bowels of the White Fort. She had armed herself with a massive, beautifully balanced battle-axe, which she handled with considerable expertise. Together they cut down any who sought to stop them while Stormbringer sang its bloodthirsty song.
Then, at last, they stood in long corridors stinking of human waste and putrifying flesh. There, shackled in every available space, were the choice men, women, and children whom Addric Heed had taken from all the cities and ships of the coast to be sold at the slave markets of Hizss in the coming days. These were the healthiest. The rest had failed to survive. Some corpses still hung in their shackles beside the living. Some slaves raised their heads, hopelessly curious. They were reconciled to their future.
Lady Fernrath did not listen to their questions or answer their hope. She was headed for a large marble enclosure at the far end of the corridor, whose bars were set further apart and were four times the thickness of any others. She dropped the axe, her eyes fixed on that great cage. But, while she ran on, Elric spared time to strike through chains wherever he could and release as many slaves as possible, especially the men. He anticipated rapid pursuit from Addric Heed and his slavers and wanted as many people fighting for their own interests as possible.
By the time he reached her, she had drawn back heavy bolts from the gigantic cage. Within, its empty sockets staring into space, its wings crumpled and awkwardly set, its claws clipped and bound with brass, sat a frail old Phoorn seemingly on the point of death.
Lady Fernrath approached the creature and placed gentle hands upon it, stroking its grey-white leathery scales and crooning to it in the ancient language of her people.
“Father, it is I, your daughter Fernrath. Here to free you.”
“Oh, child, you know I cannot be free. I cannot see to be gone from here. I cannot fly. Your brother will always keep me prisoner. There is no hope, daughter. You should not have risked Addric discovering the truth, of knowing what only we two know.”
“It is different now, Father.”
From the far end of the slave quarters, there came shouts and the noise of fighting. Clearly, now they were free, the slaves were not readily going to lose their liberty again. They understood that this was their last chance. This knowledge gave them the power to fight, even though few of them were professional soldiers. Clashing metal told Elric that some had already seized weapons. But he knew only a miracle would allow them to prevail for long against Addric Heed’s trained warriors.
With a deep, not-unhappy sigh, Elric prepared to do battle with an army.
The Advantages of Supernatural Compacts
The old Phoorn was called Hemric and he was, of course, Lady Fernrath’s father. “He has been here for over two centuries,” she told the albino, “dying to serve my brother’s despicable descent into trade.”
“Your brother is a poor specimen of our race,” said Elric in distaste. “And he has held his own father with human slaves?” Elric frowned. “Bad form at best, madam. If one would blind and imprison a relative, it should be with its own kind.”
She was too hurried to answer. “Quickly, the pearls. Give me the pearls!”
He slipped them from his shirt, already half-guessing what she meant to do. Stroking her father’s long snout, she persuaded the old Phoorn to lower his head, then, taking the glowing crimson pearls from Elric’s hands, she placed them one by one carefully and delicately into the