Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [105]
“Are you well this morning, my lord?” asked the Dragon Master.
“In excellent spirits, thank you, Dyvim Tvar.” Elric grinned. “Though I’d feel even better if the Ship Which Sails Over Land and Sea were here now.” He went to the balustrade and leaned upon it, peering over the towers and beyond the city walls, looking first to the sea and then to the land. “Where can it be? I wish that King Straasha had been able to be more specific.”
“I’ll agree with that.” Dyvim Tvar, who had not breakfasted, helped himself from the variety of succulent foods laid upon the table. It was evident that Elric had eaten nothing.
Dyvim Tvar began to wonder if the volume of potions had not affected his old friend’s brain; perhaps madness, brought about by his involvement with complicated sorcery, his anxiety for Cymoril, his hatred of Yyrkoon, had begun to overwhelm Elric.
“Would it not be better to rest and to wait until the ship is sighted?” he suggested quietly as he wiped his lips.
“Aye—there’s reason in that,” Elric agreed. “But I cannot. I have an urge to be off, Dyvim Tvar, to come face to face with Yyrkoon, to have my revenge on him, to be united with Cymoril again.”
“I understand that. Yet, still . . .”
Elric’s laugh was loud and ragged. “You fret like Tanglebones over my well-being. I do not need two nursemaids, Lord of the Dragon Caves.”
With an effort Dyvim Tvar smiled. “You are right. Well, I pray that this magical vessel—what is that?” He pointed out across the island. “A movement in yonder forest. As if the wind passes through it. But there is no sign of wind elsewhere.”
Elric followed his gaze. “You are right. I wonder . . .”
And then they saw something emerge from the forest and the land itself seemed to ripple. It was something which glinted white and blue and black. It came closer.
“A sail,” said Dyvim Tvar. “It is your ship, I think, my lord.”
“Aye,” Elric whispered, craning forward. “My ship. Make yourself ready, Dyvim Tvar. By midday we shall be gone from Imrryr.”
CHAPTER SIX
What the Earth God Desired
The ship was tall and slender and she was delicate. Her rails, masts and bulwarks were exquisitely carved and obviously not the work of a mortal craftsman. Though built of wood, the wood was not painted but naturally shone blue and black and green and a kind of deep smoky red; and her rigging was the colour of sea-weed and there were veins in the planks of her polished deck, like the roots of trees, and the sails on her three tapering masts were as fat and white and light as clouds on a fine summer day. The ship was everything that was lovely in nature; few could look upon her and not feel a delight like that which comes from sighting a perfect view. In a word, the ship radiated harmony, and Elric could think of no finer vessel in which to sail against Prince Yyrkoon and the dangers of the lands of Oin and Yu.
The ship sailed gently in the ground as if upon the surface of a river and the earth beneath the keel rippled as if turned momentarily to water. Wherever the keel of the ship touched, and a few feet around it, this effect became evident, though, after the ship had passed, the ground would return to its usual stable state. This was why the trees of the forest had swayed as the ship passed through them, parting before the keel as the ship sailed towards Imrryr.
The Ship Which Sails Over Land and Sea was not particularly large. Certainly she was considerably smaller than a Melnibonéan battle-barge and only a little bigger than a southern galley. But the grace of her; the curve of her line; the pride of her bearing—in these, she had no rival at all.
Already her gangplanks had been lowered to the ground and she was being made ready for her journey. Elric, hands on his slim hips, stood looking up at King Straasha