Stormbringer - Michael Moorcock [26]
He had planned to sail across the Straits of Chaos, but unnatural tides had taken control of the boat in the night and now it was obvious that they were, in fact, north of the Straits and being driven further north all the time—towards Pan Tang itself!
There was a chance of heading for Melniboné, the nearest land other than Pan Tang. But he wondered if the Isle of the Dragon had even survived the monstrous upheavals.
The ocean was calmer now, but the water had almost reached boiling point so that every drop that fell on his skin seemed to scald him. Bubbles formed on the surface and it was as if they sailed in a gigantic witch's cauldron. Dead fish and half-reptilian forms drifted about, as thick as seaweed, threatening to clog the boat's passage. But the wind, though strong, had begun to blow in one direction and Moonglum grinned in relief as it filled the sail.
Slowly, through the death-thick waters, they managed to steer a north-westerly course towards the Isle of Melniboné as clouds of steam formed on the ocean and obscured their view.
Hours later, they had left the heated waters behind and were sailing beneath clear skies on a calm sea. They allowed themselves to doze. In less than a day, they would reach Melniboné, but now they were overcome by the reaction to their experience and wondered, dazedly, how they had lived through the awful storm.
Elric jerked his eyes open with shock. He was certain he had not slept long, yet the sky was dark and a cold drizzle was falling. As the drops touched his head and face, they oozed down it like viscous jelly. Some of it entered his mouth and he hastily spat out the bitter-tasting stuff.
"Moonglum," he called through the blue gloom, "what's the hour, do you know?"
The Eastlander's sleep-heavy voice answered dazedly. "I know not. I'd swear it is not night already."
Elric gave the tiller a tentative push. The boat did not respond. He looked over the side.
It seemed they were sailing through the sky itself. A dully luminous gas seemed to swirl about the hull, but he could see no water. He shuddered. Had they left the plane of earth? Were they sailing through some frightful, supernatural sea? He cursed himself for sleeping, feeling helpless; more helpless than when he had fought the storm. The heavy, gelatinous rain beat down strongly and he pulled the hood of his cloak over his white hair. From his belt pouch he took flint and tinder and the tiny light was just sufficient to show him Moonglum's half-mad eyes. The little Eastlander's face was taut with fear. Elric had never seen such fear on his friend's face, and knew that with a little less self-control, his own face would assume a similar expression.
"Our time has ended," Moonglum trembled. "I think that we're dead, at last, Elric!"
"Don't prattle such emptiness, Moonglum. I have heard of no after-life such as this." But secretly, Elric wondered if Moonglum's words were true. The ship seemed to be moving rapidly through the gaseous sea, being driven or drawn to some unknown destination, as if the gods were directing its course, but Elric could swear that the Lords of Chaos had no knowledge of his boat or his mission.
Faster and faster the little craft moved and then, with relief, they heard the familiar splash of water about its keel and it was surging through the salt-sea again. For a short while longer the viscous rain continued to fall and then even that was gone.
Moonglum sighed as the blackness slowly gave way to light and they saw again a normal ocean about them.
"What was it, then?" he ventured, finally.
"Another manifestation of ruptured nature," Elric attempted to keep his voice calm. "Some warp in the barrier between the realm of men and the realm of Chaos, perhaps? Don't question our luck in surviving it. We are again off-course, and," he pointed to the horizon, "a natural storm seems to be brewing yonder. It could