Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [61]
“If I went back and found Cymoril and brought her here, we could live in harmony with these people, I think,” he said to Oone. The dreamthief was almost contemptuous.
“This is called the Land of Old Desires—not the Land of Fulfilled Desire! There is a difference. The emotions you feel are easy and easily maintained—while the reality remains out of your reach, while you merely long for the unattainable. When you set out to discover fulfillment, Elric of Melniboné, then you achieved stature in the world. Turn your back on that determination—your own determination to help build a world where justice reigns—and you’ll lose my respect. You’ll lose respect for yourself. You’ll prove yourself a liar and you’ll prove me a fool for believing you could help me save the Holy Girl!”
Elric was shocked by her outburst, which seemed offensive in that pleasant mood of serenity surrounding them. “But I think it is impossible to build such a world. Better to have the prospect, surely, than the knowledge of failure?”
“That is what all in this realm believe. Remain here, if you will, and believe what they believe for ever. But I think one must always make an attempt at justice, no matter how poor the prospect of success!”
Elric felt tired and wished to settle down and rest. He yawned and stretched. “These people seem to have a secret I would learn. I think I will talk to them for a while before continuing.”
“Do so and Anigh dies. The Holy Girl dies. And everything of yourself that you value, that dies, also.” Oone did not raise her voice. She spoke almost in a matter-of-fact tone. But her words had an urgency which broke Elric’s mood. It was not for the first time that he had considered retreating into dreams. Had he done so, his people would now be ruled by him and Yyrkoon would be dead or exiled.
Thought of his cousin and his cousin’s ambition, of Cymoril waiting for him to return so that they might be married, helped remind Elric of his purpose here and he shook off the mood of reconciliation, of retreat. He bowed to the people of the cavern. “I thank you for your generosity, but my own path lies forward, through the Paranor Gate.”
Oone drew a deep breath, perhaps in relief. “Time’s not measured in any familiar way here, Prince Elric, but be assured it’s passing more rapidly than I would like …”
It was with a sense of deep regret that Elric left the melancholy people behind him and followed her further into the glowing caverns.
Oone added: “These lands are well-called. Be wary of the familiar.”
“Perhaps we could have rested there? Restored our energies?” said Elric.
“Aye. And died full of sweet melancholy.”
He looked at her in surprise and saw that she had not been unaffected by the atmosphere. “Is that what befell Alnac Kreb?”
“Of course not!” She recovered herself. “He was fully able to resist so obvious a trap.”
Elric now felt ashamed. “I almost failed the first real test of my determination and my discipline.”
“We dreamthieves have the advantage of having been tested thus many times,” she told him. “It gets easier to confront, though the lure remains as strong.”
“For you, too.”
“Why not? You think I have no forgotten desires, nothing I would not wish to dream of? No childhood which had its sweet moments?” “Forgive me, madam.”
She shrugged. “There’s an attraction to that aspect of the past. To the past in general, I suppose. But we forget the other aspects—those things which forced us into fantasy in the first place.”
“You’re a believer in the future, then, madam?” Elric tried to joke. The rock beneath their feet became slippery and they were forced to make the gentle descent with more caution. Ahead Elric thought he heard again the sound of the river, perhaps where it now raced underground.
“The future holds as many traps as the past,” she said with a smile. “I am a believer in the present, my lord. In the eternal present.” And there was an edge to her voice, as if she had not always held this