Elric of Melnibone - Michael Moorcock [31]
And a fly buzzed for a moment upon the wall before vanishing.
Elric rushed from the room, shouting for his slaves.
5
The Ship Which Sails Over Land and Sea
* * *
‘AND HOW MANY dragons still sleep in the caverns?’ Elric paced the gallery overlooking the city. It was morning, but no sun came through the dull clouds which hung low upon the towers of the Dreaming City. Imrryr’s life continued unchanged in the streets below, save for the absence of the majority of her soldiers who had not yet returned home from their fruitless quests and would not be home for many months to come.
Dyvim Tvar leaned on the parapet of the gallery and stared unseeingly into the streets. His face was tired and his arms were folded on his chest as if he sought to contain what was left of his strength.
‘Two perhaps. It would take a great deal to wake them and even then I doubt if they’d be useful to us. What is this “Ship Which Sails Over Land and Sea” which Arioch spoke of?’
‘I’ve read of it before—in the Silver Grimoire and in other tomes. A magic ship. Used by a Melnibonéan hero even before there was Melniboné and the empire. But where it exists, and if it exists, I do not know.’
‘Who would know?’ Dyvim Tvar straightened his back and turned it on the scene below.
‘Arioch?’ Elric shrugged. ‘But he would not tell me.’
‘What of your friends the Water Elementals. Have they not promised you aid? And would they not be knowledgeable in the matter of ships?’
Elric frowned, deepening the lines which now marked his face. ‘Aye—Straasha might know. But I’m loath to call on his aid again. The Water Elementals are not the powerful creatures that the Lords of Chaos are. Their strength is limited and, moreover, they are inclined to be capricious, in the manner of the elements. What is more, Dyvim Tvar, I hesitate to use sorcery, save where absolutely imperative...’
‘You are a sorcerer, Elric. You have but lately proved your greatness in that respect, involving the most powerful of all sorceries, the summoning of a Chaos Lord—and you still hold back? I would suggest, my lord king, that you consider such logic and that you judge it unsound. You decided to use sorcery in your pursuit of Prince Yyrkoon. The die is already cast. It would be wise to use sorcery now.’
‘You cannot conceive of the mental and physical effort involved...’
‘I can conceive of it, my lord. I am your friend. I do not wish to see you pained—and yet...’
‘There is also the difficulty, Dyvim Tvar, of my physical weakness,’ Elric reminded his friend. ‘How long can I continue in the use of these overstrong potions that now sustain me? They supply me with energy, aye—but they do so by using up my few resources. I might die before I find Cymoril.’
‘I stand rebuked.’
But Elric came forward and put his white hand on Dyvim Tvar’s butter-coloured cloak. ‘But what have I to lose, eh? No. You are right. I am a coward to hesitate when Cymoril’s life is at stake. I repeat my stupidities—the stupidities which first brought this pass upon us all. I’ll do it. Will you come with me to the ocean?’
‘Aye.’
Dyvim Tvar began to feel the burden of Elric’s conscience settling upon him also. It was a peculiar feeling to come to a Melnibonéan and Dyvim Tvar knew very well that he liked it not at all.
Elric had last ridden these paths when he and Cymoril were happy. It seemed a long age ago. He had been a fool to trust that happiness. He turned his white stallion’s head towards the cliffs and the sea