Elric held the object in his palm. It was a tiny ruby of a red so deep as to seem black at first, but when he turned it into the light he saw an image at the centre of the ruby and he recognized that image. He frowned, then he said, “I will agree to your proposal, Duke Avan. Will you let me keep this?”
“Do you know what it is?”
“No. But I should like to find out. There is a memory somewhere in my mind…”
“Very well, take it. I will keep the map.”
“When did you have it in mind to set off?”
“We’ll ride to the coast tomorrow. My ship awaits us. From there we sail round the southern coast to the Boiling Sea.”
“There are few who have returned from that ocean,” Elric murmured sardonically. He glanced across the table and saw that Moonglum was imploring with his eyes for Elric not to have any part of Duke Avan’s scheme. Elric smiled at his friend. “The adventure is to my taste.”
Miserably, Moonglum shrugged.
CHAPTER TWO
The coast of Lormyr disappeared in warm mist and the Vilmirian schooner dipped its graceful prow towards the west and the Boiling Sea.
Only once before had Elric ventured into this sea and then he had flown high above it on a bird of gold and silver and brass, seeking the bleak island on which stood the magical palace of Ashaneloon—Myshella’s palace. Standing on the poop deck Elric stared ahead into the writhing mist and tried not to think of Myshella and the dreams and emotions she had awakened within him. He wiped sweat from his face and turned to see Moonglum’s worried countenance.
“You still keep patience with me, Master Moonglum. Your warnings are always well-founded and yet I never heed them. I wonder why that is.”
Moonglum raised his gloomy eyes to regard the taut sails of the schooner. “Because you desire danger as other men desire love-making or drinking—for in danger you find forgetfulness.”
“Do I? Few of the dangers we have faced together have helped me forget. Rather they have strengthened my memories, improved the quality of my sorrow…” Elric drew a deep, melancholy breath. “I go where danger is because I think that an answer might lie there—some reason for all this tragedy and paradox. Yet I know I shall never find it.”
“Yet that is why you sail to R’lin K’ren A’a, is it not? You hope that your remote ancestors had the answer you want?”
“R’lin K’ren A’a is a myth. Even should the map prove genuine what shall we find but a few ruins? Imrryr has stood for ten thousand years and she was built at least two centuries after my people settled on Melniboné. Time will have taken R’lin K’ren A’a away.”
“And the Jade Man?”
“If the statue ever existed, it could have been looted at any time in the past hundred centuries.”
“And the Creature Doomed to Live?”
“A myth.”
“But you hope that it is all as Duke Avan says…?”
“No, Moonglum. I fear that it is all as he says.”
The wind blew whimsically and the schooner’s passage was slow as the heat grew greater and the crew sweated and murmured fearfully. And upon each face was a stricken look. Only Duke Avan seemed to retain his confidence. He called to his men to take heart, that they should all be rich soon and he gave orders for the oars to be unshipped and the men stripped down to man them, revealing skins as red as those of a cooked lobster. Duke Avan made a joke of that. The Vilmirians did not laugh.
Around the ship the sea bubbled and roared, and they navigated by their crude instruments alone, for the steam obscured everything. Once a green thing erupted from the sea and glared at them before disappearing.
They ate and slept little and Elric rarely left the poop deck. Moonglum bore the heat silently and Duke Avan went about the ship encouraging his men, seemingly oblivious of the discomfort.
“After all,” he pointed out to Moonglum, “we are only crossing the outer reaches of the sea. Think what it must be like at the middle.”
“I would rather not. I fear I’ll be boiled to death before another day has passed.”
“Nonsense, friend Moonglum, the steam is good for you. There is nothing healthier!” Duke Avan stretched seemingly with pleasure. “It cleans all the poisons from the system.”
Moonglum offered him a withering look and Avan laughed. “Be of better cheer, Master Moonglum. According to my charts—such as they are—a couple of days will see us nearing the coasts of the Western Continent.”
“The thought fails to raise my spirits very greatly,” Moonglum said and went to find his cabin.
But shortly thereafter the sea grew slowly less frenetic and the steam began to disperse and the heat became more tolerable until at last they emerged into a calm ocean beneath a blue sky in which hung the golden sun. The spirits of the crew rose and they buried the three men who had succumbed on a little yellow island where they found fruit and a spring of fresh water. While they lay at anchor off the island Duke Avan called Elric to his cabin and showed him the ancient map.
“See! This island is marked there. The map’s scale seems reasonably accurate. Another three days and we shall be at the mouth of the river.”
Elric nodded. “But it would be wise to rest here for a while until our strength is fully restored and the morale of the crew is raised higher. There are reasons, after all, why men have avoided the jungles of the West over the centuries.”
“Certainly there are savages there—some say they are not even human—but I’m confident we can deal with those dangers. I have much experience of strange territories, Prince Elric.”
“But you said yourself you feared other dangers.”
“True. Very well, we’ll do as you suggest.”
On the fourth day a strong wind began to blow from the east and they raised anchor. The schooner leaped over the waves under only half her canvas and the crew saw this as a good omen.
“They are mindless fools,” Moonglum said as they stood clinging to the rigging in the prow. “The time will come when they will wish they were suffering the cleaner hardships of the Boiling Sea. This journey, Elric, will benefit none of us, even if the riches of R’lin K’ren A’a are still there.”
But Elric did not answer. He was lost in strange thoughts, unusual thoughts for him, for he was remembering his childhood, the mother he had never known and his father. They had been the last true rulers of the Bright Empire—proud, insouciant, cruel. They had expected him—perhaps because of his strange albinism—to restore the glories of Melniboné. Instead he had destroyed what was left of that glory. They, like himself, had had no real place in this new age of the Young Kingdoms, but had refused to acknowledge it. This journey to the Western Continent, to the land of his ancestors, had a peculiar attraction for him. Here no new nations had emerged. The continent had, as far as he knew, remained the same since R’lin K’ren A’a had been abandoned. The jungles would be the jungles his folk had known, the land would be the land that had given birth to his peculiar race, moulded the character of its people with their sombre pleasures, their melancholy arts and their dark delights. Had his ancestors felt this agony of knowledge, this impotence in the face of the understanding that existence had no point, no purpose, no hope? Was this why they had built their civilization in that particular pattern, why they had disdained the more placid, spiritual values of mankind’s philosophers? He knew that many of the intellectuals of the Young Kingdoms pitied the powerful folk of Melniboné as mad. But if they had been mad and if they had imposed a madness upon the world that had lasted a hundred centuries, what had made them so? Perhaps the secret did lie in R’lin K’ren A’a—not in any tangible form but in the ambiance created by the dark jungles and the deep, old rivers. Perhaps here, at last, he would be able to feel at one with himself.
He ran his fingers through his milk-white hair and there was a kind of innocent anguish in his crimson eyes. He was the last of his kind and yet he was unlike his kind. Moonglum had been wrong. Elric knew that everything that existed ha
d its opposite. In danger he might find peace. And yet, of course, in peace there was danger. Being an imperfect creature in an imperfect world he would always know paradox. And that was why in paradox there was always a kind of truth. That was why philosophers and soothsayers flourished. In a perfect world there would be no place for them. In an imperfect world the mysteries were always without solution and that was why there was always a great choice of solutions.
It was on the morning of the third day that the coast was sighted and the schooner steered her way through the sandbanks of the great delta and anchored, at last, at the mouth of the dark and nameless river.
CHAPTER THREE
Evening came and the sun began to set over the black outlines of the massive trees. A rich, ancient smell came from the jungle and through the twilight echoed the cries of strange birds and beasts. Elric was impatient to begin the quest up the river. Sleep—never welcome—was now impossible to achieve. He stood unmoving on the deck, his eyes hardly blinking, his brain barely active, as if expecting something to happen to him. The rays of the sun stained his face and threw black shadows over the deck and then it was dark and still under the moon and the stars. He wanted the jungle to absorb him. He wanted to be one with the trees and the shrubs and the creeping beasts. He wanted thought to disappear. He drew the heavily scented air into his lungs as if that alone would make him become what at that moment he desired to be. The drone of insects became a murmuring voice that called him into the heart of the old, old forest. And yet he could not move—could not answer. And at length Moonglum came up on deck and touched his shoulder and said something and passively he went below to his bunk and wrapped himself in his cloak and lay there, still listening to the voice of the jungle.
Even Duke Avan seemed in a more introspective mood than usual when they upped anchor the next morning and began to row against the sluggish current. There were few gaps in the foliage above their heads and they had the impression that they were entering a huge, gloomy tunnel, leaving the sunlight behind with the sea. Bright plants twined among the vines that hung from the leafy canopy and caught in the ship’s masts as they moved. Ratlike animals with long arms swung through the branches and peered at them with bright, knowing eyes. The river turned and the sea was no longer in sight. Shafts of sunlight filtered down to the deck and the light had a greenish tinge to it. Elric became more alert than he had ever been since he agreed to accompany Duke Avan. He took a keen interest in every detail of the jungle and the black river over which moved schools of insects like agitated clouds of mist and in which blossoms drifted like drops of blood in ink. Everywhere were rustlings, sudden squawks, barks and wet noises made by fish or river animals as they hunted the prey disturbed by the ship’s oars which cut into the great clumps of weed and sent the things that hid there scurrying. The others began to complain of insect bites, but Elric was not troubled by them, perhaps because no insect could desire his deficient blood.
Duke Avan passed him on the deck. The Vilmirian slapped at his forehead. “You seem more cheerful, Prince Elric.”
Elric smiled absently. “Perhaps I am.”
“I must admit I personally find all this a bit oppressive. I’ll be glad when we reach the city.”
“You are still convinced you’ll find it?”
“I’ll be convinced otherwise when I’ve explored every inch of the island we’re bound for.”
So absorbed had he become in the atmosphere of the jungle that Elric was hardly aware of the ship or his companions. The ship beat very slowly up the river, moving at little more than walking speed.
A few days passed, but Elric scarcely noticed, for the jungle did not change—and then the river widened and the canopy parted and the wide, hot sky was suddenly full of huge birds crowding upwards as the ship disturbed them. All but Elric were pleased to be under the open sky again and spirits rose. Elric went below.
The attack on the ship came almost immediately. There was a whistling noise and a scream and a sailor writhed and fell over clutching at a grey, thin semi-circle of something which had buried itself in his stomach. An upper yard came crashing to the deck, bringing sail and rigging with it. A headless body took four paces towards the poop deck before collapsing, the blood pumping from the obscene hole that was its neck. And everywhere was the thin whistling noise. Elric heard the sounds from below and came back instantly, buckling on his sword. The first face he saw was Moonglum’s. The red-haired man looked terrified and was crouching against a rail on the starboard side. Elric had the impression of grey blurs whistling past, slashing into flesh and rigging, wood and canvas. Some fell on the deck and he saw that they were thin discs of crystalline rock, about a foot in diameter. They were being hurled from both banks of the river and there was no protection against them.
He tried to see who was throwing the discs and glimpsed something moving in the trees along the right bank. Then the discs ceased suddenly and there was a pause before some of the sailors dashed across the deck to seek better cover. Duke Avan suddenly appeared in the stern. He had unsheathed his sword.
“Get below. Get your bucklers and any armour you can find. Bring bows. Arm yourselves, men, or you’re finished.”
And as he spoke their attackers broke from the trees and began to wade into the water. No more discs came and it seemed likely they had exhausted their supply.
“By Chardros!” Avan gasped. “Are these real creatures or some sorcerer’s conjurings?”
The things were essentially reptilian but with feathery crests and neck wattles, though their faces were almost human. Their forelegs were like the arms and hands of men, but their hindlegs were incredibly long and storklike. Balanced on these legs, their bodies towered over the water. They carried great clubs in which slits had been cut and doubtless these were what they used to hurl the crystalline discs. Staring at their faces, Elric was horrified. In some subtle way they reminded him of the characteristic faces of his own folk—the folk of Melniboné. Were these creatures his cousins? Or were they a species from which his people had evolved? He stopped asking the questions as an intense hatred for the creatures filled him. They were obscene: sight of them brought bile into his throat. Without thinking, he drew Stormbringer from its sheath.
The Black Sword began to howl and the familiar black radiance spilled from it. The runes carved into its blade pulsed a vivid scarlet which turned slowly to a deep purple and then to black once more.
The creatures were wading through the water on their stiltlike legs and they paused when they saw the sword, glancing at one another. And they were not the only ones unnerved by the sight, for Duke Avan and his men paled, too.
“Gods!” Avan yelled. “I know not which I prefer the look of—those who attack us or that which defends us!”
“Stay well away from that sword,” Moonglum warned. “It has the habit of killing those its master likes best.”
And now the reptilian savages were upon them, clutching at the ship’s rails as the armed sailors rushed back on deck to meet the attack.
Clubs came at Elric from all sides, but Stormbringer shrieked and parried each blow. He held the sword in both hands, whirling it this way and that, ploughing great gashes in the scaly bodies.
The creatures hissed and opened red mouths in agony and rage while their thick, black blood sank into the waters of the river. Although from the legs upward they were only slightly larger than a tall, well-built man, they had more vitality than any human and the deepest cuts hardly seemed to affect them, even when administered by Stormbringer. Elric was astonished at this resistance to the sword’s power. Often a nick was enough for the sword to draw a man’s soul from him. These things seemed immune. Perhaps they had no souls…
He fought on, his hatred giving him strength.
But elsewhere on the ship the sailors were being routed. Rails were torn off and the great clubs crushed planks and brought down more rigging. The savages were intent on destroying the ship as well as the crew. And there was little doubt, now,
that they would be successful.
Avan shouted to Elric, “By the names of all the gods, Prince Elric, can you not summon some further sorcery? We are doomed else!”
Elric knew Avan spoke truth. All around him the ship was being gradually pulled apart by the hissing reptilian creatures. Most of them had sustained horrible wounds from the defenders, but only one or two had collapsed. Elric began to suspect that they did, in fact, fight supernatural enemies.
He backed away and sought shelter beneath a half-crushed doorway as he tried to concentrate on a method of calling upon supernatural aid.
He was panting with exhaustion and he clung to a beam as the ship rocked back and forth in the water. He fought to clear his head.
And then the incantation came to him. He was not sure if it was appropriate, but it was the only one he could recall. His ancestors had made pacts, thousands of years before, with all the elementals who controlled the animal world. In the past he had summoned help from various of these spirits but never from the one he now sought to call. From his mouth began to issue the ancient, beautiful and convoluted words of Melniboné’s High Speech.
“King with Wings! Lord of all that work and are not seen, upon whose labours all else depends! Nnuuurrrr’c’c of the Insect Folk, I summon thee!”
Save for the motion of the ship, Elric ceased to be aware of all else happening around him. The sounds of the fight dimmed and were heard no more as he sent his voice out beyond his plane of the Earth into another—the plane dominated by King Nnuuurrrr’c’c of the Insects, paramount lord of his people.
In his ears now Elric heard a buzzing and gradually the buzzing formed itself in words.
“Who art thou, mortal? What right hast thee to summon me?”
“I am Elric, last ruler of Melniboné. My ancestors aided thee, Nnuuurrrr’c’c.”
“Aye—but long ago.”
“And it is long ago that they last called on thee for thine aid!”
The Jade Man's Eyes Page 2
