By Michael Moorcock
“The tales listed below are the uncooked center of Michael Moorcock. they're the spells that first drew me and the entire quite a few admirers of his paintings with whom i'm familiar into Moorcock’s luminous and pleasing web.”–from the Foreword via Alan Moore, author of V for VendettaWhen Michael Moorcock started chronicling the adventures of the albino sorcerer Elric, final king of decadent Melnibon?, and his sentient vampiric sword, Stormbringer, he got down to create a brand new form of delusion event, person who broke with culture and mirrored a extra up to date sophistication of subject matter and elegance. the end result used to be a daring and specific hero–weak in physique, sophisticated in brain, depending on medicinal drugs for the power to maintain himself–with nice crimes in the back of him and a better future forward: a rock-and-roll antihero who may channel all of the violent excesses of the sixties into one enduring archetype.Now, with an immense movie in improvement, here's the 1st quantity of a stunning number of tales containing the seminal appearances of Elric and lavishly illustrated by means of award-winning artist John Picacio–plus essays, letters, maps, and different fabric. Adventures contain “The Dreaming City,” “While the Gods Laugh,” “Kings in Darkness,” “Dead God’s Homecoming,” “Black Sword’s Brothers,” and “Sad Giant’s Shield.” An essential addition to any delusion assortment, Elric: The Stealer of Souls is an unequalled advent to a super author and his so much famous–or infamous–creation.“The most vital united kingdom writer of sword and sorcery, a kind he has either borrowed from and transformed.”–The Encyclopedia of fable
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Additional info for Elric: The Stealer of Souls (Chronicles of the Last Emperor of Melnibone, Vol. 1)
Elric’s own small craft, sturdy, oddly wrought and far stronger, far older, than it appeared. The brooding sea flung surf around its timbers as the tide withdrew, and Elric realized that he had little time in which to work his helpful sorcery. His body tensed and he blanked his conscious mind, summoning secrets from the dark depths of his dreaming soul. Swaying, his eyes staring unseeingly, his arms jerking out ahead of him and making unholy signs in the air, he began to speak in a sibilant monotone.
The black-bearded man wrenched off his gilded helmet and flung it from him, careless of where it fell. He drew off his leathern gauntlets and moved closer to the roaring fire, letting the heat soak into his frozen bones. “Midnight is long past,” growled one of the other armoured men who gathered around the blaze. ” It was a tall, pale-faced youth who spoke. His thin lips formed the words and spat them out maliciously. He grinned a wolf-grin and stared the new arrival in the eyes, mocking him.
You’re getting old—all of you. ” Dharmit’s voice rumbled around the fire-flooded hall. He laughed wearily. “I spoke thus in my youth—and lost a fine fleet soon after. Cunning and Elric’s knowledge will win us Imrryr—that and the mightiest fleet to sail the Dragon Sea since Melniboné’s banners fluttered over all the nations of the Earth. Here we are—the most powerful sealords in the world, masters, every one of us, of more than a hundred swift vessels. Our names are feared and famous—our fleets ravage the coasts of a score of lesser nations.