Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [75]
“We know,” said Oone, and laid a comforting hand on Lady Sough’s arm as the veiled woman guided the boat out on to the open lake.
Elric said: “Do you speak of the Holy Girl and the Sorcerer Adventurers? What imprisons her, Lady Sough? How can we release her? Bring her back to her father and her people?”
“Oh, it is a lie!” Lady Sough almost shouted, pointing to where, swimming directly towards them, came a child. But the boy’s skin was metallic, of glaring silver, and his silver eyes were begging them for help. Then the child grinned, reached to pull off its own head, and submerged.
“We near the Falador Gate,” said Oone grimly.
“Those who would possess her also guard her,” said Lady Sough suddenly. “But she is not theirs.”
“I know,” said Oone. Her gaze was fixed on what lay ahead of them. There was a mist on the lake. It was like the finest haze which forms on water in an autumn morning. There was an air of tranquility which clearly she mistrusted. Elric looked back at Lady Sough but the navigator’s eyes were expressionless, offering no clue to what dangers they might soon be facing.
The boat turned a little and there was land just visible through the mist. Elric saw tall trees rising above a tumble of rocks. There were white pillars of limestone, shimmering faintly in that lovely light. He saw hummocks of grass and below them little coves. He wondered if Lady Sough had, after all, brought them to the island she had mentioned and was about to question her when he saw what appeared to be a massive door of carved stone and intricate mosaic bearing an air of considerable age.
“The Falador Gate,” said Lady Sough, not without a hint of trepidation.
Then the gate had opened and a horrible wind rushed out of it, tearing at their hair and clothing, clawing at their skins, shrieking and wailing in their ears. The boat rocked and Elric feared it must capsize. He ran to the stern to help Lady Sough with the tiller. Her veil had been ripped from her face. She was not a young woman, but she bore an astonishing resemblance to the little girl they had left in the Bronze Tent, the Holy Child of the Bauradim. And Elric, taking the tiller while Lady Sough replaced her veil, remembered that no mention had ever been made of Varadia’s mother.
Oone was lowering the sail. The wind’s initial strength had died and it was possible to tack gradually towards the dark, strangely-smelling entrance which had been revealed as the mosaic door had blown down.
Three horses appeared there. Hoofs flailed at the air. Tails lashed. Then they were galloping across the water in the direction of the boat. Then they had passed it and vanished into the mist. Not one of the beasts had possessed a head.
Now Elric knew terror. But it was a familiar terror and within seconds he had regained control of himself. He knew that, whatever its name, he was about to enter a land where Chaos ruled.
It was only as the boat sailed under the carved rocks and into the grotto beyond that he recalled he had none of his familiar spells and enchantments; not one of his allies, nor his patron Duke of Hell, were available to him here. He had only experience and courage and his ordinary sensibilities. And at that moment he doubted if they were enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Sadness of a Queen Who Cannot Rule
The mighty barrier of obsidian rock suddenly started to flow. A mass of glassy green flooded down into the water which hissed and began to stink and mountains of steam rose ahead of them. As the steam gradually dissipated another river was revealed. This one, flowing through the narrow walls of a deep canyon, appeared of natural origin and Elric, his mind now keyed to interpretation, wondered if it were not the same river they had crossed earlier, when he had fought the Pearl Warrior on the bridge.
Then the barge, which had seemed so sturdy, appeared all at once fragile as the waters tossed it, roaring steadily downwards until Elric thought they must eventually reach the very core of the