Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [103]
“Shall I wait here for the Ship Which Sails Over Land and Sea?”
“No . . .” the sea-king’s voice was fading as his form faded. Grey mist drifted back where the silhouette and the green lights had been. The sea again was still. “Wait. Wait in your tower . . . It will come . . .”
A few wavelets lapped the shore and then it was as if the king of the water elementals had never been there at all. Dyvim Tvar rubbed his eyes. Slowly at first he began to move to where Elric still sat. Gently he bent down and offered the albino his hand. Elric looked up in some surprise. “Ah, Dyvim Tvar. How much time has passed?”
“Some hours, Elric. It will soon be night. What little light there is begins to wane. We had best ride back for Imrryr.”
Stiffly Elric rose to his feet, with Dyvim Tvar’s assistance. “Aye . . .” he murmured absently. “The sea-king said . . .”
“I heard the sea-king, Elric. I heard his advice and I heard his warning. You must remember to heed both. I like too little the sound of this magic boat. Like most things of sorcerous origin, the ship appears to have vices as well as virtues, like a double-bladed knife which you raise to stab your enemy and which, instead, stabs you . . .”
“That must be expected where sorcery is concerned. It was you who urged me on, my friend.”
“Aye,” said Dyvim Tvar almost to himself as he led the way up the cliff-path towards the horses. “Aye. I have not forgotten that, my lord king.”
Elric smiled wanly and touched Dyvim Tvar’s arm. “Worry not. The Summoning is over and now we have the vessel we need to take us swiftly to Prince Yyrkoon and the lands of Oin and Yu.”
“Let us hope so.” Dyvim Tvar was privately skeptical about the benefits they would gain from the Ship Which Sails Over Land and Sea. They reached the horses and he began to wipe the water off the flanks of his own roan. “I regret,” he said, “that we have once again allowed the dragons to expend their energy on a useless endeavour. With a squadron of my beasts, we could do much against Prince Yyrkoon. And it would be fine and wild, my friend, to ride the skies again, side by side, as we used to.”
“When all this is done and Princess Cymoril brought home, we shall do that,” said Elric, hauling himself wearily into the saddle of his white stallion. “You shall blow the Dragon Horn and our dragon brothers will hear it and you and I shall sing the Song of the Dragon Masters and our goads shall flash as we straddle Flamefang and his mate Sweetclaw. Ah, that will be like the days of old Melniboné, when we no longer equate freedom with power, but let the Young Kingdoms go their own way and be certain that they let us go ours!”
Dyvim Tvar pulled on his horse’s reins. His brow was clouded. “Let us pray that day will come, my lord. But I cannot help this nagging thought which tells me that Imrryr’s days are numbered and that my own life nears its close . . .”
“Nonsense, Dyvim Tvar. You’ll survive me. There’s little doubt of that, though you be my elder.”
Dyvim Tvar said, as they galloped back through the closing day: “I have two sons. Did you know that, Elric?”
“You have never mentioned them.”
“They are by old mistresses.”
“I am happy for you.”
“They are fine Melnibonéans.”
“Why do you mention this, Dyvim Tvar?” Elric tried to read his friend’s expression.
“It is that I love them and would have them enjoy the pleasures of the Dragon Isle.”
“And why should they not?”
“I do not know.” Dyvim Tvar looked hard at Elric. “I could suggest that it is your responsibility, the fate of my sons, Elric.”
“Mine?”
“It seems to me, from what I gathered from the water elemental’s words, that your decisions could decide the fate of the Dragon Isle. I ask you to remember my sons, Elric.”
“I shall, Dyvim Tvar. I am certain they shall grow into superb Dragon Masters and that one of them shall succeed you as Lord of the Dragon Caves.”
“I think you miss