Sailor on the Seas of Fate - Michael Moorcock [65]
It seemed so unreal to Elric now, but he knew that it had not been a dream, for the Jade Man had gone. His tracks could be seen through the jungle. Whole clumps of trees had been flattened.
He reached the place and descended the stairs and laid Duke Avan down on the bed of dried grasses. Then he took the duke's dagger and, for want of anything else, dipped it in the duke's blood and wrote on the wall above the corpse:
This was Duke Avan Astran of Old Hrolmar. He explored the world and brought much knowledge and treasure back to Vilmir, his land. He dreamed and became lost in the dream of another and so died. He enriched the Young Kingdoms—and thus encouraged another dream. He died so that the Creature Doomed to Live might die, as he desired....
Elric paused. Then he threw down the dagger. He could not justify his own feelings of guilt by composing a high-sounding epitaph for the man he had slain.
He stood there, breathing heavily, then once again picked up the dagger.
He died because Elric of Melniboné desired a peace and a knowledge he could never find. He died by the Black Sword.
Outside in the middle of the square, at noon, still lay the lonely body of the last Vilmirian crewman. Nobody had known his name. Nobody felt grief for him or tried to compose an epitaph for him. The dead Vilmirian had died for no high purpose, followed no fabulous dream. Even in death his body would fulfill no function. On this island there was no carrion to feed. In the dust of the city there was no earth to fertilize.
Elric came back into the square and saw the body. For a moment, to Elric it symbolized everything that had transpired here and would transpire later.
"There is no purpose," he murmured.
Perhaps his remote ancestors had, after all, realized that, but had not cared. It had taken the Jade Man to make them care and then go mad in their anguish. The knowledge had caused them to close their minds to much.
"Elric!"
It was Smiorgan returning. Elric looked up.
"The Olab dealt with the crew and the ship before they came after us. They're all slain. The boat is destroyed."
Elric remembered something the Creature Doomed to Live had told him. "There is another boat," he said. "On the east side of the island."
It took them the rest of the day and all of that night to discover where J'osui C'reln Reyr had hidden his boat. They pulled it down to the water in the diffused light of the morning and they inspected it.
"It's a sturdy boat," said Count Smiorgan approvingly. "By the look of it, it's made of that same strange material we saw in the library of R'lin K'ren A'a." He climbed in and searched through the lockers.
Elric was staring back at the city, thinking of a man who might have become his friend, just as Count Smiorgan had become his friend. He had no friends, save Cymoril, in Melniboné. He sighed.
Smiorgan had opened several lockers and was grinning at what he saw there. "Pray the gods I return safe to the Purple Towns—we have what I sought! Look, Elric! Treasure! We have benefited from this venture, after all!"
"Aye. . . ." Elric's mind was on other things. He forced himself to think of more practical matters. "But the jewels will not feed us, Count Smiorgan," he said. "It will be a long journey home."
"Home?" Count Smiorgan straightened his great back, a bunch of necklaces in either fist. "Melniboné?"
"The Young Kingdoms. You offered to guest me in your house, as I recall."
"For the rest of your life, if you wish. You saved my life, friend Elric—now you have helped me save my honor."
"These past events have not disturbed you? You saw what my blade can do—to friends as well as enemies."
"We do not brood, we of the Purple Towns," said Count Smiorgan seriously. "And we are not fickle in our friendships. You know an anguish, Prince Elric, that I'll never feel—never understand—but I have already given you my trust. Why should I take it away again? That is not