Duke Elric - Michael Moorcock [9]
Instead he withdrew behind the rock, peering into the mist towards the sea. And at last he discerned a shadow which had not been there the previous night. A black, angular shadow which could only be a ship. He made out the suggestion of ropes, he heard men grunting, he heard the creak and the rasp of a yard as it traveled up a mast. The sail was being furled.
Elric waited at least an hour, expecting the crew of the ship to disembark. They could have no other reason for entering this treacherous bay. But a silence had descended, as if the whole ship slept.
Cautiously Elric emerged from behind the rock and walked down to the edge of the sea. Now he could see the ship a little more clearly. Red sunlight was behind it, thin and watery, diffused by the mist. It was a good-sized ship and fashioned throughout of the same dark wood. Its design was baroque and unfamiliar, with high decks fore and aft and no evidence of rowing ports. This was unusual in a ship either of Melnibonean or Young Kingdoms design and it tended to prove his theory that he had stumbled upon a civilization for some reason cut off from the rest of the world, just as Elwher and the Unmapped East were cut off by the vast stretches of the Sighing Desert and the Weeping Waste. He saw no movement aboard, heard none of the sounds one might usually expect to hear on a sea-going ship, even if the larger part of the crew was resting. The mist eddied and more of the red light poured through to illuminate the vessel, revealing the large wheels on both the foredeck and the rear-deck, the slender mast with its furled sail, the complicated geometrical carvings of its rails and its figurehead, the great, curving prow which gave the ship its main impression of power and strength and made Elric think it must be a warship rather than a trading vessel. But who was there to fight in such waters as these?
He cast aside his wariness and cupped his hands about his mouth, calling out:
“Hail, the ship!”
The answering silence seemed to him to take on a peculiar hesitancy as if those on board heard him and wondered if they should answer.
“Hail, the ship!”
Then a figure appeared on the port rail and, leaning over, looked casually towards him. The figure had on armour as dark and as strange as the design of his ship; he had a helmet obscuring most of his face and the main feature that Elric could distinguish was a thick, golden beard and sharp blue eyes.
“Hail, the shore,” said the armoured man. His accent was unknown to Elric, his tone was as casual as his manner. Elric thought he smiled. “What do you seek with us?”
“Aid,” said Elric. “I am stranded here. My horse is dead. I am lost.”
“Lost? Aha!” The man's voice echoed in the mist. “Lost. And you wish to come aboard?”
“I can pay a little. I can give my services in return for a passage, either to your next port of call or to some land close to the Young Kingdoms where maps are available so that I could make my own way thereafter …”
“Well,” said the other slowly, “there's work for a swordsman.”
“I have a sword,” said Elric.
“I see it. A good, big battle-blade.”
“Then I can come aboard?”
“We must confer first. If you would be good enough to wait awhile …”
“Of course,” said Elric. He was nonplused by the man's manner, but the prospect of warmth and food on board the ship was cheering. He waited patiently until the blond-bearded warrior came back to the rail.
“Your name, sir?” said the warrior.
“I am Elric of Melnibone.”
The warrior seemed to be consulting a parchment, running his finger down a list until he nodded, satisfied, and put the list into his large-buckled belt.
“Well,” he said, “there was some point in waiting here, after all. I found it difficult to believe.”
“What was the dispute and why did you wait?”
“For you,” said the warrior,