Sailor on the Seas of Fate - Michael Moorcock [57]
"The statue's already been looted," Duke Avan continued. "Our damned journey's been in vain!"
Elric laughed. "Did you really think you would be able to prise the Jade Man's eyes from their sockets, my lord?"
The statue was as tall as any tower of the Dreaming City and the head alone must have been the size of a reasonably large building. Duke Avan pursed his lips and refused to listen to Elric's mocking voice. "We may yet find the journey worth our while," he said. "There were other treasures in R'lin K'ren A'a. Come...."
He led the way into the city.
Very few of the buildings were even partially standing, but they were nonetheless fascinating if only for the peculiar nature of their building materials, which were of a kind the travelers had never seen before.
The colors were many, but faded by time—soft reds and yellows and blues—and they flowed together to make almost infinite combinations.
Elric reached out to touch one wall and was surprised at the cool feel of the smooth material. It was neither stone nor wood nor metal. Perhaps it had been brought here from another plane?
He tried to visualize the city as it had been before it was deserted. The streets had been wide, there had been no surrounding wall, the houses had been low and built around large courtyards. If this was, indeed, the original home of his people, what had happened to change them from the peaceful citizens of R'lin K'ren A'a to the insane builders of Imrryr's bizarre and dreaming towers? Elric had thought he might find a solution to a mystery here, but instead he had found another mystery. It was his fate, he thought, shrugging to himself.
And then the first crystal disk hummed past his head and smashed against a collapsing wall.
The next disk split the skull of a crewman and a third nicked Smiorgan's ear before they had thrown themselves flat among the rubble.
"They're vengeful, those creatures," Avan said with a hard smile. "They'll risk much to pay us back for their comrades' deaths!"
Terror was on the face of each surviving crewman and fear had begun to creep into Avan's eyes.
More disks clattered nearby, but it was plain that the party was temporarily out of sight of the reptiles. Smiorgan coughed as white dust rose from the rubble and caught in his throat.
"You'd best summon those monstrous allies of yours again, Elric."
Elric shook his head. "I cannot. My ally said he would not serve me a second time." He looked to his left where the four walls of a small house still stood. There seemed to be no door, only a window.
"Then call something," Count Smiorgan said urgently. "Anything."
"I am not sure...."
Then Elric rolled over and sprang for the shelter, flinging himself through the window to land on a pile of masonry that grazed his hands and knees.
He staggered upright. In the distance he could see the huge blind statue of the god dominating the city. This was said to be an image of Arioch—though it resembled no image of Arioch Elric had ever seen manifested. Did that image protect R'lin K'ren A'a—or did it threaten it? Someone screamed. He glanced through the opening and saw that a disk had landed and chopped through a man's forearm.
He drew Stormbringer and raised it, facing the jade statue.
"Arioch!" he cried. "Arioch—aid me!"
Black light burst from the blade and it began to sing, as if joining in Elric's incantation.
"Arioch!"
Would the demon come? Often the patron of the kings of Melniboné refused to materialize, claiming that more urgent business called him—business concerning the eternal struggle between Law and Chaos.
"Arioch!"
Sword and man were now wreathed in a palpitating black mist and Elric's white face was flung back, seeming to writhe as the mist writhed.
"Arioch! I beg thee to aid me! It is Elric who calls thee!"
And then a voice reached his ears. It was a soft, purring, reasonable voice. It was a tender voice.
"Elric, I am fondest of thee. I love thee more than any other mortal—but aid thee I cannot—not yet."
Elric cried desperately: "Then we are doomed to