Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [100]
THE SINGING CITADEL
THE SINGING CITADEL
(1967)
CHAPTER ONE
THE TURQUOISE SEA was peaceful in the golden light of early evening, and the two men at the rail of the ship stood in silence, looking north to the misty horizon. One was tall and slim, wrapped in a heavy black cloak, its cowl flung back to reveal his long, milk-white hair; the other was short and red-headed.
“She was a fine woman and she loved you,” said the short man at length. “Why did you leave her so abruptly?”
“She was a fine woman,” the tall one replied, “but she would have loved me to her cost. Let her seek her own land and stay there. I have already slain one woman whom I loved, Moonglum. I would not slay another.”
Moonglum shrugged. “I sometimes wonder, Elric, if this grim destiny of yours is the figment of your own guilt-ridden mood.”
“Perhaps,” Elric replied carelessly. “But I do not care to test the theory. Let’s speak no more of this.”
The sea foamed and rushed by as the oars disrupted the surface, driving the ship swiftly towards the port of Dhakos, capital of Jharkor, one of the most powerful of the Young Kingdoms. Less than two years previously Jharkor’s king, Dharmit, had died in the ill-fated raid on Imrryr, and Elric had heard that the men of Jharkor blamed him for the king’s death, though this was not the case. He cared little whether they blamed him or not, for he was still disdainful of the greater part of mankind.
“Another hour will see nightfall, and it’s unlikely we’ll sail at night,” Moonglum said. “I’ll to bed, I think.”
Elric was about to reply when he was interrupted by a high-pitched shout from the crow’s nest.
“Sail on larboard stern!”
The lookout must have been half asleep, for the ship bearing down on them could easily be made out from the deck. Elric stepped aside as the captain, a dark-faced Tarkeshite, came running along the deck.
“What’s the ship, captain?” called Moonglum.
“A Pan Tang trireme—a warship. They’re on ramming course.” The captain ran on, yelling orders to the helm to turn the ship aside.
Elric and Moonglum crossed the deck to see the trireme better. She was a black-sailed ship, painted black and heavily gilded, with three rowers to an oar as against their two. She was big and yet elegant, with a high curving stern and a low prow. Now they could see the waters broken by her big, brass-sheathed ram. She had two lateen-rigged sails, and the wind was in her favour.
The rowers were in a panic as they sweated to turn the ship according to the helmsman’s orders. Oars rose and fell in confusion and Moonglum turned to Elric with a half-smile.
“They’ll never do it. Best ready your blade, friend.”
Pan Tang was an isle of sorcerers, fully human, who sought to emulate the old power of Melniboné. Their fleets were among the best in the Young Kingdoms and raided with little discrimination. The Theocrat of Pan Tang, chief of the priest-aristocracy, was Jagreen Lern, who was reputed to have a pact with the powers of Chaos and a plan to rule the world.
Elric regarded the men of Pan Tang as upstarts who could never hope to mirror the glory of his ancestors, but even he had to admit that this ship was impressive and would easily win a fight with the Tarkeshite galley.
Soon the great trireme was bearing down on them and captain and helmsman fell silent as they realized they could not evade the ram. With a harsh sound of crushed timbers, the ram connected with the stern, holing the galley beneath the waterline.
Elric stood immobile, watching as the trireme’s grappling irons hurtled towards their galley’s deck. Somewhat half-heartedly, knowing they were no match for the well-trained and well-armoured Pan Tang crew, the Tarkeshites ran towards the stern, preparing to resist the boarders.
Moonglum cried urgently: “Elric—we must help!”
Reluctantly Elric nodded. He was loath to draw the runesword from its scabbard at his side. Of late