Duke Elric - Michael Moorcock [51]
Elric's expression was not without humour. “In Melnibone,” he said, “I'm told it's tainted blood.”
“Tainted with mercy, perhaps.”
“Perhaps.”
Prince Carolak saluted them. “I hope you find peace, Prince Elric, as I have found it.”
“I fear my peace will more resemble that which Saxif D'Aan found,” Elric said grimly. “Nonetheless, I thank you for your good words, Prince Carolak.”
Then Carolak, laughing, had ridden his horse for the rail, leaped it, and vanished.
There was a silence upon the ship. The remaining ruffians looked uncertainly from one to the other. Elric addressed them:
“Know you this—I have the key to the Crimson Gate—and only I have the knowledge to use it. Help me sail the ship, and you'll have freedom from this world! What say you?”
“Give us our orders, captain,” said a toothless individual, and he cackled with mirth. “It's the best offer we've had in a hundred years or more!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was Smiorgan who first saw the Crimson Gate. He held the great red gem in his hand and pointed ahead.
“There! There, Elric! Saxif D'Aan has not betrayed us!”
The sea had begun to heave with huge, turbulent waves, and with the mainsail still tangled upon the deck, it was all that the crew could do to control the ship, but the chance of escape from the world of the blue sun made them work with every ounce of energy and, slowly, the golden battle-barge neared the towering crimson pillars.
The pillars rose from the grey, roaring water, casting a peculiar light upon the crests of the waves. They appeared to have little substance, and yet stood firm against the battering of the tons of water lashing around them.
“Let us hope they are wider apart than they look,” said Elric. “It would be a hard enough task steering through them in calm waters, let alone this kind of sea.”
“I'd best take the wheel, I think,” said Count Smiorgan, handing Elric the gem, and he strode back up the tilting deck, climbing to the covered wheelhouse and relieving the frightened man who stood there.
There was nothing Elric could do but watch as Smiorgan turned the huge vessel into the waves, riding the tops as best he could, but sometimes descending with a rush which made Elric's heart rise to his mouth. All around them, then, the cliffs of water threatened, but the ship was taking another wave before the main force of water could crash onto her decks. For all this, Elric was quickly soaked through and, though sense told him he would be best below, he clung to the rail, watching as Smiorgan steered the ship with uncanny sureness towards the Crimson Gate.
And then the deck was flooded with red light and Elric was half blinded. Grey water flew everywhere; there came a dreadful scraping sound, then a snapping as oars broke against the pillars. The ship shuddered and began to turn, sideways to the wind, but Smiorgan forced her around and suddenly the quality of the light changed subtly, though the sea remained as turbulent as ever and Elric knew, deep within him, that overhead, beyond the heavy clouds, a yellow sun was burning again.
But now there came a creaking and a crashing from within the bowels of the battle-barge. The smell of mould, which Elric had noted earlier, became stronger, almost overpowering.
Smiorgan came hurrying back, having handed over the wheel. His face was pale again. “She's breaking up, Elric,” he called out, over the noise of the wind and the waves. He staggered as a huge wall of water struck the ship and snatched away several planks from the deck. “She's falling apart, man!”
“Saxif D'Aan tried to warn us of this!” Elric shouted back. “As he was kept alive by sorcery, so was his ship. She was old before he sailed her to that world. While there, the sorcery which sustained her remained strong—but on this plane it has no power at all. Look!” And he pulled at a piece of the rail, crumbling the rotten wood with his fingers. “We must find a length of timber which is still good.”
At that moment a yard came crashing