Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [109]
DYVIM TVAR: “Prince Yyrkoon will never have help. My loyalty’s to you, my dragons and to our traditions.”
They are out on a long, straight staircase which leads upwards from the Dragon Caves. They are briefly in an underground passage. Then on a spiral staircase. Then they are entering a chamber at the base of the Imperial Tower.
But these chambers are spare. A craftsman’s rooms. Various heavy, ornate bits of dragon bridle hang on the walls. The furniture is sturdy but not ornate. Dyvim Tvar provides food, which they do not eat, and wine, which they drink. Elric tilts his chair back, enjoying this simple pleasure.
ELRIC: “What I would not give, dear friend, to be a simple Dragon Master…”
DYVIM TVAR (smiles at this): “Well, I must say I don’t envy you your sorcerous learning … nor the means by which it’s gathered. I am content. The dragons sleep. Only a few need tending.”
He looks almost dreamy as he adds:
DYVIM TVAR: “Perhaps one day the Phoorn will again fly in a phalanx blotting out the sun—a final, mighty flight…”
He claps his hand on Elric’s shoulder.
DYVIM TVAR: “And you’ll be with me. Riding side by side on twin dragons. Flying above our empire.”
Elric embraces Cymoril.
ELRIC: “Where shall we go now?”
CYMORIL: “To our beds. And tomorrow, my lord, to your studies. I shall not see you until you begin the first of your most important dreams …”
A montage of Elric studying, being taught by old Tanglebones—to fence, learn an incantation, summoning a small demon, sleep in exhausted slumber. Until Doctor Tanglebones wakes him before dawn and, carrying a lantern, leads the way. Washed by slaves, Elric next ascends the dream couch with its hard, marble head-rest, its decorated stonework and woodwork.
And so begins the first long dream: the Dream of Earth …
CHAPTER THREE
Talking in Silence
Observed by the raven Sepiriz, which flies from Tanglebones’s shoulder into the dream sequence, Elric’s astral body leaves the couch and becomes this very good physical body—his own in its best possible condition. His hair is braided. He is stripped to the waist, wearing only a short jacket. He has a quiver of arrows, an unstrung bow, a long knife, leggings, breach-clout, deerskin boots. And he is entering what seems to be an amphitheatre—Pueblo-style dwellings, with ladders and cave entrances at every level. Some short, squat, sturdy dwarfish Mayan types (Puk Wa D’Jee, Pukwadji) stare out at Elric. Elric is now White Crow. Throughout this sequence the huge black raven is evident. White Crow greets the Pukwadji cheerfully.
WHITE CROW/ELRIC: “Hey, little allies. Have the Pukwadji no welcome for White Crow?”
Suddenly Elric has more friends than he needs. They are jumping on him, hitting him with clubs, holding him wherever they can. He attempts to fight them and sends several flying, but eventually they overwhelm him.
ELRIC: “I gather we’re no longer allies. The last I knew, our peoples neared agreement…”
He is trussed in rawhide.
PUKWADJI LEADER: “Your folk betray us. We’ll never return their ships now. They have no right to keep the black blade when it threatens our very existence.”
PUKWADJI SHAMAN: “King Grome will destroy us if we do not return the black blade. But your folk will not trade it back. So Grome keeps your ships. and we feed him the few of your folk we catch—to placate him in his terrible distress.”
ELRIC: “You attacked us, dragging our ships underground, stranding us, making our journey impossible to finish.”
SHAMAN: “We used our last great pact with Grome to take those ships. We have little left to fight with. We’ll keep the ships until we get the blade.”
SHAMAN: “Meanwhile—we sacrifice you to King Grome, the earth-lord …”
Shaman holds up a skull with a crown of metal feathers stuck on it.
They carry the tied Elric deep, deep underground, down tunnels, passages, through chambers, through natural caverns, down and down until they come to where Grome awaits them, far below. Grome is gnarled and