Desperately, Elric attempted to utilise the ancient sorcery of his emperor forefathers to contact the White Lords of Law; but he was unused to seeking such aid and, as well, the forces of Chaos were now so strong, that those of Law could no longer gain easy access to the Earth as they had contrived to do in earlier times.
As they prepared for the coming fight, Elric and his allies watt about the preparation with heavy Routs and a sense of the futility of such action. And, in the back of Elric's mind, was the constant knowledge that even if he won against Chaos, the very act of winning would destroy the world he knew and leave it ripe for the forces of Law to rule-and there would be no place in such a world for the wild albino sorcerer.
Beyond the earthly plane, in their bordering realms, the Lords of Chaos and of Law, watched the struggle and even they did not realise Elric's entire destiny.
Chaos triumphed. Chaos blocked the efforts of Law on each occasion they tried to pass through the domain of Chaos, now the only road to Earth. And the Lords of Law shared Elric’s frustration.
And, if Chaos and Law were observing the Earth and her struggle, who watched these? For Chaos and Law were but the twin weights in a balance and the hand that held the balance, though it rarely deigned to interfere in their struggle, still less in tile affairs of men, had reached the rare state of a decision to alter the status quo. Which weight would drop? Which rise? Could men decide? Could the Lords decide? Or could only the Cosmic Hand remould the pattern of the Earth, reforming her stuff, changing her spiritual constituents and placing her on a different path, a fresh course of destiny?
Perhaps all would play some part before the outcome was decided.
The great zodiac influencing the universe and its' Ages, had completed its twelve cycles and the cycles would soon begin again. The wheel would spin and, when it stopped its spinning, which symbol would dominate, how changed would it be?
Great movements, on the Earth and beyond it; great destinies were being shaped, great deeds were being planned and, marvellously, could it just be possible that in spite of the Lords of the Higher Worlds, in spite of the Cosmic Hand, in spite of the myriad supernatural denizens that swarmed the universe, that Man might decide the issue?
Even - one man?
One man, one sword, one destiny?
Elric of Melnibone sat hunched in his saddle, watching the warriors bustle to and fro around him in the city square of Bakshaan, here, years before he had conducted a siege against the city's leading merchant, tricked others and left rich. but such scores that they held against him were now forgotten, pushed from their minds by the threat of war and the knowledge that if Elric's command could not save them, nothing could. The walls of the city were being widened and heightened, warriors being trained in the use of unfamiliar war-engines. From being a lazy merchant city, Bakshaan had become a functional place, ready for battle when it came.
For a month, Elric had been riding the length and breadth of the eastern kingdoms of Ilmiora and Vilmir, overseeing preparations, building the strength of the two nations into an efficient war machine.
Now he studied parchments handed him by his lieutenants and, recalling all the old tactical skill of his ancestors, gave them his decisions.
The sun set and heavy black clouds hung against a sharp, metallic blue sky, stretching over the horizon. Elric loosened his cloak strings and allowed the folds of the garment to enclose him, for a chill had come. Then, as he silently regarded the sky to the west, he frowned as he noticed something like a flashing golden star appear, moving swiftly towards him.
Ever wary for signs of the coming of Chaos, he turned in his saddle shouting:
«Every man to his position! Ware the golden globe! »
The thing approached rapidly until soon, it was hanging over the city, all men looking up at it in astonishment, their hands on their weapons. As black night fell, the clouds admitting no moonlight, the globe began to fall towards the spires of Bakshaan, a strange luminescence pulsing from it. Elric tugged Stormbringer from its scabbard and black fire nickered along the blade as it gave out a low moaning sound. The globe touched the cobbles of the city-square-broke into a million fragments that glowed for a moment before vanishing.
Elric laughed in relief, resheathing Stormbringer as he saw who now stood in the place of the golden globe.
«Sepiriz, my friend. You choose strange means of transport to carry you from the Gorge of Nihrain.»
The tall, black-faced seer smiled, his white pointed steed pranced. «I have so few carriages of that type, that I must only use them when pressed. I come with news for you, much news.»
«I hope it is good, for we have enough had to last us forever.»
«It is mixed. Where can we converse in private?»
«My headquarters are in yonder mansion, » Elric pointed at a richly decorated house on the far side of the square.
Inside, Elric poured yellow wine for his guest Kelos the merchant, whose house this was, had not accepted the requisitioning altogether willingly and, partly because of this, Elric maliciously made free with all Kelos's best
Sepiriz took the goblet and sipped the strong wine.
«Have you succeeded in contacting the White Lords yet, Sepiriz?» Elric asked.
«We have.»
'Thank the gods. Are they willing to give their aid to us?»
«They have always been so willing-but they have not yet made a sufficient breach in the protection that Chaos has set up around the planet However, the fact that I have at last managed to contact them is a better sign than any we've had these past months.»
«So-the news is good.» Elric said cheerfully.
«Not altogether. Jagreen Lern's fleet has set sail again and they bead towards the eastern continent, with thousands of ships-and supernatural allies, too.»
«It was only what I expected, Sepiriz. My work's done here, anyway, I'll ride for the Isle of the Purple Towns at once, for I must lead the fleet against Jagreen Lern.»
«Your chances of winning will be all but non-existent. Elric.» Sepiriz warned him gravely. «Have you heard of the Shysof Hellr»
«I've heard of them-do they not sail the depths of the sea, taking on board dead mariners as crews?»
«They do-they're things of Chaos and far larger than even the largest mortal warship. You'd never withstand teem, even if you did not have the Theocrat fleet to fight as well.»
'Tm aware the fight will be hard, Sepiriz - but what else can we do? I have a weapon against Chaos in my blade here. «Not enough, not bodkin-you still have no protection against Chaos. That is what I have to tell you about-a personal armament for yourself to help you in your struggle, though you'll have to win it from its present possessor.»
«Who possesses it?»
«A giant who broods in eternal misery in a great castle on the edge of the world, beyond the Signing Desert. His name is Mordaga who was once a god but is now made mortal for sins he committed against his fellow gods long ages ago.»
«Mortal? Yet he has lived so long?»
«Aye. Mordaga is mortal-though his life-span is considerably longer than an ordinary man's. He is obsessed with the knowledge that he must one day die. This is what saddens him.»
«And the weapon?»
«Not a weapon exactly - but a shield. A shield with a purpose-one that Mordaga had made for himself when he raised a rebellion in the domain of the gods and sought to make himself greatest of the gods and even wrest the Eternal Balance from the One Who Holds It. For this he was banished to Earth and informed that he would one day die slain by a mortal blade. The shield, as you might guess, is proof against the workings of Chaos.»