Sailor on the Seas of Fate - Michael Moorcock [59]
"Come," Avan said. "We've no time to debate on legends." He strode across the floor and entered another doorway, beginning to descend steps. As he reached the bottom they heard him gasp.
The others joined him and saw that he stood on the threshold of another hall. But this one was ankle-deep in fragments of stuff that had been thin leaves of a metallic material which had the flexibility of parchment. Around the walls were thousands of small holes, rank upon rank, each with a character painted over it.
"What is it?" Smiorgan asked.
Elric stooped and picked up one of the fragments. This had half a Melnibonéan character engraved on it. There had even been an attempt to obliterate this.
"It was a library," he said softly. "The library of my ancestors. Someone has tried to destroy it. These scrolls must have been virtually indestructible, yet a great deal of effort has gone into making them indecipherable." He kicked at the fragments. "Plainly our friend—or friends—is a consistent hater of learning."
"Plainly," Avan said bitterly. "Oh, the value of those scrolls to the scholar! All destroyed!"
Elric shrugged. "To Limbo with the scholar—their value to me was quite considerable!"
Smiorgan put a hand on his friend's arm and Elric shrugged it off. "I had hoped..."
Smiorgan cocked his bald head. "Those reptiles have followed us into the building, by the sound of it."
They heard the distant sound of strange footsteps in the passages behind them.
The little band of men moved as silently as they could through the ruined scrolls and crossed the hall until they entered another corridor which led sharply upward.
Then, suddenly, daylight was visible.
Elric peered ahead. "The corridor has collapsed ahead of us and is blocked, by the look of it. The roof has caved in and we may be able to escape through the hole."
They clambered upward over the fallen stones, glancing warily behind them for signs of their pursuers.
At last they emerged in the central square of the city. On the far sides of this square were placed the feet of the great statue, which now towered high above their heads.
Directly before them were two peculiar constructions which, unlike the rest of the buildings, were completely whole. They were domed and faceted and were made of some glasslike substance which defracted the rays of the sun.
From below they heard the reptile men advancing down the corridor.
"We'll seek shelter in the nearest of those domes," Elric said. He broke into a trot, leading the way.
The others followed him through the irregularly shaped opening at the base of the dome.
Once inside, however, they hesitated, shielding their eyes and blinking heavily as they tried to discern their way.
"It's like a maze of mirrors!" Smiorgan gasped. "By the gods, I've never seen a better. Was that its function, I wonder."
Corridors seemed to go off in all directions—yet they might be nothing more than reflections of the passage they were in. Cautiously Elric began to continue farther into the maze, the five others following him.
"This smells of sorcery to me," Smiorgan muttered as they advanced. "Have we been forced into a trap, I wonder."
Elric drew his sword. It murmured softly—almost querulously.
Everything shifted suddenly and the shapes of his companions grew dim.
"Smiorgan! Duke Avan!"
He heard voices murmuring, but they were not the voices of his friends.
"Count Smiorgan!"
But then the burly sea-lord faded away altogether and Elric was alone.
VI
* * *
He turned and a wall of red brilliance struck his eyes and blinded him.
He called out and his voice was turned into a dismal wail which mocked him.
He tried to move, but he could not tell whether he remained in the same spot or walked a dozen miles.
Now there was someone standing a few yards away, seemingly obscured by a screen of multicolored transparent gems. He stepped forward and made to dash away the screen, but it vanished and he stopped suddenly.
He looked on a face of infinite sorrow.
And the face was his own face, save