Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [162]
Pulling on his armour, Dyvim Mar said: “If they act as they did before, they’ll wait until we reach the city proper until there is little chance of escape to the river.” He turned to Elric. “Others beside me have noticed how well secured that blade is, cousin. It might be wise to have it more immediately to hand.”
Elric reached down and picked up the long bundle he had brought aboard. He raised his eyebrows. “You’d risk that?”
“No choice is palatable, but, having experienced what these savages are capable of, I’d take my chances with Stormbringer. Assuming you plan to remain on our side …”
This further stab at his conscience froze Elric’s face into a familiar expression of hauteur. “Why, cousin, would you trust my word, even if I gave it?”
Buckling and knotting, Dyvim Mar peered into the forest. “Cousin, I trust nothing. But at least I know you …” With Moonglum at the tiller, he took an oar and, in unison with his kinsman, began to row towards the overgrown quay, murmuring: “It was no idea of mine to bring women here. But I was allowed no say in the matter. I understand why they want to find their father, but he is a fool. Haste and stupidity led us to that doom. Some of my own men might somehow have survived. I hope to save them. But you, Elric, what do you really seek here?”
“I seek to free myself from the weakness which made Yyrkoon believe he could usurp my power and put his sister, my cousin, into a trance.”
Dyvim Mar nodded, adding: “Which led you to rely upon the stolen souls the Black Sword harvests.”
Elric sighed. “The noibuluscus is the five-fingered flower whose petals are the colour of jet. It grows only in Soom. They say Soom’s soldiers drank its distilled essence and thus imposed their authority upon the world.”
“And do you recall the rest of that story?” his cousin asked.
“There are many versions.”
“Most agree that the black flower poisoned the people of Soom, so that they relied upon it merely to survive.”
“I should fear that?” Elric smiled more broadly than he had done for many years. “I should fear reliance upon a potion rather than upon a sword?”
His cousin shrugged. He could think of no suitable answer.
CHAPTER FOUR
Soom
Slowly, the thick foliage parted to the careful blades of the seven oddly matched men and women, each of whom carried a small, brass-studded shield. Duke Orogino exclaimed at what they saw. He was still the only one of the company not apparently affected by the atmosphere of danger. Elric unwrapped the long, simple Jharkorian blade he had carried aboard. A thoroughly practical weapon. Dyvim Mar was disappointed. “I would have preferred a bow or two or perhaps a javelin.” If attacked from cover at a distance, they would be unable to reply.
“Gods! What minds designed such architecture?” Moonglum peered ahead.
Young Hored Mevza gasped. “Not human, whatever they say. Now I truly believe the stories are true and these buildings were raised even before fabled Melniboné thrived.” He looked to Elric as if for confirmation.
Elric’s expression had become sardonic at this reference to the fabulous nature of his homeland. Carrying slender scimitars like those of the Fookai pirates Elric had fought when employed by Ilmioran sea-lords, the women stepped onto a weed-grown pavement through which old trees now pushed up trunks, some grown almost as high as the great red ziggurats which stretched before them, carved with bizarre figures and shapes. Elric had some dim memory of this place. Perhaps he had visited it on one of his dream quests as a youth. But the association was in no way pleasant. On instinct, he turned suddenly to look backward. He saw nothing but the jungle through which, as silently as possible, they had trekked for the past few