Stormbringer - Michael Moorcock [44]
Now the dark stuff was closer and had met with the Theocrat's fleet. Elric could just make out the sails of the first vessels, spread out one behind the other. Then, as they came even closer, he at last recognised the shapes emerging from the general blackness. They were great glinting shapes that dwarfed even the huge battlecraft of Jagreen Lern.
The Chaos Ships.
Elric recognised them, now, from his own knowledge of occult lore. They were the ships said normally to sail the deeps of the oceans, taking on drowned sailors as crews, captained by creatures that had never been human. It was a fleet from the deepest, gloomiest parts of the vast underwater domain which had, since the beginning of time, been disputed territory—disputed between the Water Elementals under their king Straasha, and the Lords of Chaos, who claimed the sea-depths as their main territory on earth, by right. Legends said that at one time Chaos had ruled the sea and Law the land. This, perhaps, explained the fear of the sea that many human beings had to this day, and the pull the sea had for others.
But the fact was that, although the Elementals had succeeded in winning the shallower portions of the sea, the Chaos Lords had retained the deeper parts by means of this, their fleet of the dead. The ships themselves were not of earthly manufacture, neither were their captains originally from earth, but their crews had once been human, and were now indestructible in any ordinary sense.
As they approached, Elric was soon in no doubt that they were, indeed, those ships. The Sign of Chaos flashed on their sails, eight amber arrows radiating from a central hub—signifying the boast of Chaos that it contained all possibilities whereas Law was supposed, in time, to destroy possibility and result in eternal stagnation. The sign of Law was a single arrow point upwards, symbolising dynamic growth.
Elric knew that in reality Chaos was the harbinger of stagnation, for though it changed constantly, it never progressed.
But, in his heart, he still felt a yearning for this state, for his past loyalties to the Lords of Chaos had suited him better to wild destruction than to stable progress.
But now Chaos must make war on Chaos; Elric must turn against those he had once been loyal to, using weapons formed by chaotic forces to defeat those selfsame forces in these ironic times.
He clambered from the cradle and began to shin down the mast, leaping the last few feet to land on the deck as Dyvim Slorm came up. Quickly he told his cousin what he had seen.
Dyvim Slorm was astounded. "But the fleet of the dead never comes to the surface—save for..." his eyes widened.
Elric shrugged. "That's the legend—the fleet of the dead will rise from the depths when the final struggle comes, when Chaos shall be divided against itself, when Law shall be weak and mankind shall choose sides in the battle that will result in a new earth dominated either by total Chaos or by almost-total Law."
"Is this, then, to be the final battle?"
"It might be," Elric answered. "It is certain to be one of the last when it will be decided for all time whether Law or Chaos shall rule here."
"If we're defeated, then Chaos will undoubtedly rule."
"Perhaps, but remember that the struggle need not be decided by battles alone."
"So Sepiriz said, but if we're defeated this day, we'll have little chance to discover the truth of that." Dyvim Slorm gripped Mournblade's hilt. "Someone must wield these blades—these destiny-swords—when the time comes for the deciding duel. Our allies diminish, Elric."
"Aye."
Thirteen
The fleet of Jagreen Lern bore towards them and, in its wake, the boiling stuff of Chaos hovered.
Elric gave the command and the rowers hauled at their oars, sending the flagship rushing towards the enemy.
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