Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [88]
He tasted salt and thought at first it was blood. But it was sea water. A wave had risen over the deck and momentarily revived him. He struggled to crawl from under the dead man and then he heard a voice he recognized. He twisted his head and looked up.
Prince Yyrkoon stood there. He was grinning. He was full of glee at Elric’s plight. Black, oily smoke still drifted everywhere, but the sounds of the fight had died.
“Are—are we victorious, cousin?” Elric spoke painfully.
“Aye. The barbarians are all dead now. We are about to sail for Imrryr.”
Elric was relieved. He would begin to die soon if he could not get to his store of potions.
His relief must have been evident, for Yyrkoon laughed. “It is as well the battle did not last longer, my lord, or we should have been without our leader.”
“Help me up, cousin.” Elric hated to ask Prince Yyrkoon any favour, but he had no choice. He stretched out his empty hand. “I am fit enough to inspect the ship.”
Yyrkoon came forward as if to take the hand, but then he hesitated, still grinning. “But, my lord, I disagree. You will be dead by the time this ship turns eastward again.”
“Nonsense. Even without the drugs I can live for a considerable time, though movement is difficult. Help me up, Yyrkoon, I command you.”
“You cannot command me, Elric. I am emperor now, you see.”
“Be wary, cousin. I can overlook such treachery, but others will not. I shall be forced to . . .”
Yyrkoon swung his legs over Elric’s body and went to the rail. Here were bolts which fixed one section of the rail in place when it was not used for the gangplank. Yyrkoon slowly released the bolts and kicked the section of rail into the water.
Now Elric’s efforts to free himself became more desperate. But he could hardly move at all.
Yyrkoon, on the other hand, seemed possessed of unnatural strength. He bent and easily flung the corpse away from Elric.
“Yyrkoon,” said Elric, “this is unwise of you.”
“I was never a cautious man, cousin, as well you know.” Yyrkoon placed a booted foot against Elric’s ribs and began to shove. Elric slid towards the gap in the rail. He could see the black sea heaving below. “Farewell, Elric. Now a true Melnibonéan shall sit upon the Ruby Throne. And, who knows, might even make Cymoril his queen? It has not been unheard of . . .”
And Elric felt himself rolling, felt himself fall, felt himself strike the water, felt his armour pulling him below the surface. And Yyrkoon’s last words drummed in Elric’s ears like the persistent booming of the waves against the sides of the golden battle-barge.
BOOK TWO
Less certain of himself or his destiny than ever, the albino king must perforce bring his powers of sorcery into play, conscious of embarking on actions which will make of his life something other than he might have wished it to be. And now matters must be settled. He must begin to rule. He must become cruel. But even in this he will find himself thwarted.
CHAPTER ONE
The Caverns of the Sea-King
ELRIC SANK RAPIDLY, desperately trying to keep the last of his breath in his body. He had no strength to swim and the weight of the armour denied any hope of his rising to the surface and being sighted by Magum Colim or one of the others still loyal to him.
The roaring in his ears gradually faded to a whisper so that it sounded as if little voices were speaking to him, the voices of the water elementals with whom, in his youth, he had had a kind of friendship, and the pain in his lungs faded; the red mist cleared from his eyes and he thought he saw the face of his father, Sadric, of Cymoril and, fleetingly, of Yyrkoon. Stupid Yyrkoon: for all that he prided himself that he was a Melnibonéan, he lacked the Melnibonéan subtlety. He was as brutal and direct as some of the Young Kingdom barbarians he so much despised. And now Elric began to feel almost grateful to his cousin. His life was over. The conflicts which tore his mind would no longer trouble him. His fears, his torments, his loves and his hatreds