Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [119]
“I like it not. To stop Yyrkoon is one thing, to assume his ambitions and take the swords myself—that is another thing.”
“It is your destiny.”
“Cannot I change my destiny?”
Arioch shook his head. “No more than can I.”
Elric stroked sleeping Cymoril’s hair. “I love her. She is all I desire.”
“You shall not wake her if Yyrkoon finds the blades before you do.”
“And how shall I find the blades?”
“Enter the Shade Gate—I have kept it open, though Yyrkoon thinks it closed—then you must seek the Tunnel Under the Marsh which leads to the Pulsing Cavern. In that chamber the runeswords are kept. They have been kept there ever since your ancestors relinquished them . . .”
“Why were they relinquished?”
“Your ancestors lacked courage.”
“Courage to face what?”
“Themselves.”
“You are cryptic, my lord Arioch.”
“That is the way of the Lords of the Higher Worlds. Hurry. Even I cannot keep the Shade Gate open long.”
“Very well. I will go.”
And Arioch vanished immediately.
Elric called in a hoarse, cracking voice for Dyvim Tvar who entered at once.
“Elric? What has happened in here? Is it Cymoril? You look . . .”
“I am going to follow Yyrkoon—alone, Dyvim Tvar. You must make your way back to Melniboné with those of our men who remain. Take Cymoril with you. If I do not return in reasonable time, you must declare her empress. If she still sleeps, then you must rule as regent until she wakes.”
Dyvim Tvar said softly, “Do you know what you do, Elric?”
Elric shook his head.
“No, Dyvim Tvar, I do not.”
He got to his feet and staggered towards the other room where the Shade Gate waited for him.
BOOK THREE
And now there is no turning back at all. Elric’s destiny has been forged and fixed as surely as the hellswords were forged and fixed aeons before. Was there ever a point where he might have turned off this road to despair, damnation and destruction? Or has he been doomed since before his birth? Doomed through a thousand incarnations to know little else but sadness and struggle, loneliness and remorse—eternally the champion of some unknown cause?
CHAPTER ONE
Through the Shade Gate
AND ELRIC STEPPED into a shadow and found himself in a world of shadows. He turned, but the shadow through which he had entered now faded and was gone. Old Aubec’s sword was in Elric’s hand, the black helm and the black armour were upon his body and only these were familiar, for the land was dark and gloomy as if contained in a vast cave whose walls, though invisible, were oppressive and tangible. And Elric regretted the hysteria, the weariness of brain, which had given him the impulse to obey his patron demon Arioch and plunge through the Shade Gate. But regret was useless now, so he forgot it.
Yyrkoon was nowhere to be seen. Either Elric’s cousin had had a steed awaiting him or else, more likely, he had entered this world at a slightly different angle (for all the planes were said to turn about each other) and was thus either nearer or farther from their mutual goal. The air was rich with brine—so rich that Elric’s nostrils felt as if they had been packed with salt—it was almost like walking under water and just being able to breathe the water itself. Perhaps this explained why it was so difficult to see any great distance in any direction, why there were so many shadows, why the sky was like a veil which hid the roof of a cavern. Elric sheathed his sword, there being no evident danger present at that moment, and turned slowly, trying to get some kind of bearing.
It was possible that there were jagged mountains in what he judged the east, and perhaps a forest to the west. Without sun, or stars, or moon, it was hard to gauge distance or direction. He stood on a rocky plain over which whistled a cold and sluggish wind, which tugged at his cloak as if it wished to possess it. There were a few stunted, leafless trees standing in a clump about a hundred paces away. It was all that relieved the bleak plain, save for a large, shapeless slab of rock which stood a fair way