Duke Elric - Michael Moorcock [16]
“No. It is possible that they resemble creatures of our own worlds; it is possible that they do not. Few have seen them. It is only recently that they have been able to materialize at all.”
“And how may they best be overwhelmed?” asked Hawkmoon.
“By courage and ingenuity,” said the captain.
“You are not very explicit, sir,” said Elric.
“I am as explicit as I can be. Now, my friends, I suggest you rest and prepare your arms.”
As they returned to their cabins, Erekose sighed.
“We are fated,” he said. “We have little free will, for all we deceive ourselves otherwise. If we perish or live through this venture, it will not count for much in the overall scheme of things.”
“I think you are of a gloomy turn of mind, friend,” said Hawk-moon.
The mist snaked through the branches of the mast, writhing in the rigging, flooding the deck. It swirled across the faces of the other three men as Elric looked at them.
“A realistic turn of mind,” said Corum.
The mist massed more thickly upon the deck, mantling each man like a shroud. The timbers of the ship creaked and to Elric's ears took on the sound of a raven's croak. It was colder now. In silence they went to their cabins to test the hooks and buckles of their armour, to polish and to sharpen their weapons and to pretend to sleep.
“Oh, I've no liking for sorcery,” said Brut of Lashmar, tugging at his golden beard, “for sorcery it was resulted in my shame.” Elric had told him all that the captain had said and had asked Brut to be one of the four who fought with him when they landed.
“It is all sorcery here,” Otto Blendker said. And he smiled wanly as he gave Elric his hand. “I'll fight beside you, Elric.”
His sea-green armour shimmering faintly in the lantern light, another rose, his casque pushed back from his face. It was a face almost as white as Elric's, though the eyes were deep and near-black. “And I,” said Hown Serpent-tamer, “though I fear I'm little use on still land.”
The last to rise, at Elric's glance, was a warrior who had said little during their earlier conversations. His voice was deep and hesitant. He wore a plain iron battle-cap and the red hair beneath it was braided. At the end of each braid was a small finger-bone which rattled on the shoulders of his byrnie as he moved. This was Ashnar the Lynx, whose eyes were rarely less than fierce. “I lack the eloquence or the breeding of you other gentlemen,” said Ashnar. “And I've no familiarity with sorcery or those other things of which you speak, but I'm a good soldier and my joy is in fighting. I'll take your orders, Elric, if you'll have me.”
“Willingly,” said Elric.
“There is no dispute, it seems,” said Erekose to the remaining four who had elected to join him. “All this is doubtless pre-ordained. Our destinies have been linked from the first.”
“Such philosophy can lead to unhealthy fatalism,” said Terndrik of Hasghan. “Best believe our fates are our own, even if the evidence denies it.”
“You must think as you wish,” said Erekose. “I have led many lives, though all, save one, are remembered but faintly.” He shrugged. “Yet I deceive myself, I suppose, in that I work for a time when I shall find this Tanelorn and perhaps be reunited with the one I seek. That ambition is what gives me energy, Terndrik.”
Elric smiled. “I fight, I think, because I relish the comradeship of battle. That, in itself, is a melancholy condition in which to find oneself, is it not?”
“Aye.” Erekose glanced at the floor. “Well, we must try to rest now.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The outlines of the coast were dim. They waded through white water and white mist, their swords held above their heads. Swords were their only weapons. Each of the Four possessed a blade of unusual size and design, but none bore a sword which occasionally murmured to itself as did Elric's Stormbringer. Glancing back, Elric saw the captain standing at the rail, his blind face turned towards the island, his pale lips moving as if he spoke to himself. Now the water was waist-deep and the sand beneath