“Aye. Once.”
“This ship journeys nowhere near those nations?” Elric asked.
“I believe it does not,” said Brut. “It is not so long, I think, since I myself came aboard. I was seeking Tanelorn, but found this craft instead.”
“Tanelorn?” Elric smiled. “How many must seek that mythical place? Do you know of one called Rackhir, once a Warrior Priest of Phum? We adventured together quite recently. He left to look for Tanelorn.”
“I do not know him,” said Brut of Lashmar.
“And these waters,” said Elric, “do they lie far from the Young Kingdoms?”
“Very far,” said the man in the shadows.
“Are you from Elwher, perhaps?” asked Elric. “Or from any other of what we in the west call the Unmapped Kingdoms?”
“Most of our lands are not on your maps,” said the man in the shadows. And he laughed. Again Elric found that he was not offended. And he was not particularly troubled by the mysteries hinted at by the man in the shadows. Soldiers of fortune (as he deemed these men to be) were fond of their private jokes and references; it was usually all that united them save a common willingness to hire their swords to whomever could pay.
Outside the anchor was rattling and the ship rolled. Elric heard the yard being lowered and he heard the smack of the sail as it was unfurled. He wondered how they hoped to leave the bay with so little wind available. He noticed that the faces of the other warriors (where their faces were visible) had taken on a rather set look as the ship began to move. He looked from one grim, haunted face to another and he wondered if his own features bore the same cast.
“For where do we sail?” he asked.
Brut shrugged. “I know only that we had to stop to wait for you, Elric of Melnibone.”
“You knew I would be there?”
The man in the shadows stirred and helped himself to more hot wine from the jug set into a hole in the centre of the table. “You are the last one we need,” he said. “I was the first taken aboard. So far I have not regretted my decision to make the voyage.”
“Your name, sir?” Elric decided he would no longer be at that particular disadvantage.
“Oh, names? Names? I have so many. The one I favour is Erekose. But I have been called Urlik Skarsol and John Daker and Ilian of Garathorm to my certain knowledge. Some would have me believe that I have been Elric Womanslayer...”
“Womanslayer? An unpleasant nickname. Who is this other Elric?”
“That I cannot completely answer,” said Erekose. “But I share a name, it seems, with more than one aboard this ship. I, like Brut, sought Tanelorn and found myself here instead.”
“We have that in common,” said another. He was a black-skinned warrior, the tallest of the company, his features oddly enhanced by a scar running like an inverted V from his forehead and over both eyes, down his cheeks to his jawbones. “I was in a land called Ghaja-Ki, a most unpleasant, swampy place, filled with perverse and diseased life. I had heard of a city said to exist there and I thought it might be Tanelorn. It was not. And it was inhabited by a blue-skinned, hermaphroditic race who determined to cure me of what they considered my malformations of hue and sexuality. This scar you see was their work. The pain of their operation gave me strength to escape them and I ran naked into the swamps, floundering for many a mile until the swamp became a lake feeding a broad river over which hung black clouds of insects which set upon me hungrily. This ship appeared and I was more than glad to seek its sanctuary. I am Otto Blendker, once a scholar of Brunse, now a hireling sword, for my sins.”
“This Brunse. Does it lie near Elwher?” said Elric. He had never heard of such a place, nor such an outlandish name, in the Young Kingdoms.
The black man shook his head. “I know nought of Elwher.”
“Then the world is a considerably larger place than I imagined,” said Elric.
“Indeed it is,” said Erekose. “What would you say if I offered you the theory that the sea on which we sail spans more than one world?”
“I would be inclined to believe you.” Elric smiled. “I have studied such theories. More, I have experienced adventures in other worlds than my own.”
“It is a relief to hear it,” said Erekose. “Not all on board this ship are willing to accept my theory.”
“I come closer to accepting it,” said Otto Blendker, “though I find it terrifying.”
“It is that,” agreed Erekose. “More terrifying than you can imagine, friend Otto.”
Elric leaned across the table and helped himself to a further mug of wine. His clothes were already drying and physically he had a sense of well being. “I'll be glad to leave this misty shore behind.”
“The shore has been left already,” said Brut, “but as for the mist, it is ever with us. Mist appears to follow the ship—or else the ship creates the mist wherever it travels. It is rare that we see land at all and when we do see it, as we saw it today, it is usually obscured, like a reflection in a dull and buckled shield.”
“We sail on a supernatural sea,” said another, holding out a gloved hand for the jug. Elric passed it to him. “In Hasghan, where I come from, we have a legend of a Bewitched Sea. If a mariner finds himself sailing in those waters he may never return and will be lost for eternity.”
“Your legend contains at least some truth, I fear, Terndrik of Hasghan,” Brut said.
“How many warriors are on board?” Elric asked.
“Sixteen other than the Four,” said Erekose. “Twenty in all. Here is the Steersman—and then there is the Captain. You will see him soon, doubtless.”
“The Four? Who are they?”
Erekose laughed. “You and I are two of them. The other two occupy the aft cabin. And if you wish to know why we are called the Four, you must ask the Captain, though I warn you his answers are rarely satisfying.”
Elric realized that he was being pressed slightly to one side. “The ship makes good speed,” he said laconically, “considering how poor the wind was.”
“Excellent speed,” agreed Erekose. He rose from his corner, a broad-shouldered man with an ageless face bearing the evidence of considerable experience. He was handsome and he had plainly seen much conflict, for both his hands and his face were heavily scarred, though not disfigured. His eyes, though deep-set and dark, seemed of no particular colour and yet were familiar to Elric. He felt that he might have seen those eyes in a dream once.
“Have we met before?” Elric asked him.
“Oh, possibly—or shall meet. What does it matter? Our fates are the same. We share an identical doom. And possibly we share more than that.”
“More? I hardly comprehend the first part of your statement.”
“Then it is for the best,” said Erekose, inching past his comrades and emerging on the other side of the table. He laid a surprisingly gentle hand on Elric's shoulder. “Come, we must seek audience with the Captain. He expressed a wish to see you shortly after you came aboard.”
Elric nodded and rose. “This captain—what is his name?”
“He has none he will reveal to us,” said Erekose. Together they emerged onto the deck. The mist was if anything thicker and of the same deathly whiteness, no longer tinted by the sun's rays. It was hard to see to the far ends of the ship and for all that they were evidently moving rapidly, there was no hint of a wind. Yet it was warmer than Elric might have expected. He followed Erekose forward to the cabin set under the deck on which one of the ship's twin wheels stood, tended by a tall man in sea-coat and leggings of quilted deerskin who was so still as to resemble a statue. The red-haired Steersman did not look round or down as they advanced towards the cabin, but Elric caught a glimpse of his face.
The door seemed built of some kind of smooth metal possessing a sheen almost like the healthy coat of an animal. It was reddish-brown and the most colourful thing Elric had so far seen on the ship. Erekose knocked softly upon the door. “Captain,” he said. “Elric is here.”
“Enter,”
said a voice at once melodious and distant.
The door opened. Rosy light flooded out, half-blinding Elric as he walked in. As his eyes adapted, he could see a very tall, pale-clad man standing upon a richly hued carpet in the middle of the cabin. Elric heard the door close and realized that Erekose had not accompanied him inside.
“Are you refreshed Elric?” said the Captain.
“I am, sir, thanks to your wine.”
The Captain's features were no more human than were Elric's. They were at once finer and more powerful than those of the Melnibonean, yet bore a slight resemblance in that the eyes were inclined to taper, as did the face towards the chin. The Captain's long hair fell to his shoulders in red-gold waves and was kept back from his brow by a circlet of blue jade. His body was clad in buff-coloured tunic and hose and there were sandals of silver and silver-thread laced to his calves. Apart from his clothing, he was twin to the steersman Elric had recently seen.
“Will you have more wine?”
The Captain moved towards a chest on the far side of the cabin, near the porthole, which was closed.
“Thank you,” said Elric. And now he realized why the eyes had not focused on him. The captain was blind. For all that his movements were deft and assured, it was obvious that he could not see at all. He poured the wine from a silver jug into a silver cup and began to cross towards Elric, holding the cup out before him. Elric stepped forward and accepted it.
“I am grateful for your decision to join us,” said the Captain. “I am much relieved, sir.”
“You are courteous,” said Elric, “though I must add that my decision was not difficult to make. I had nowhere else to go.”
“I understand that. It is why we put in to shore when and where we did. You will find that all your companions were in a similar position before they too came aboard.”
“You appear to have considerable knowledge of the movements of many men,” said Elric. He held the wine untasted in his left hand.
“Many,” agreed the Captain, “on many worlds. I understand that you are a person of culture, sir, so you will be aware of something of the nature of the sea upon which my ship sails.”
“I think so.”
“She sails between the worlds, for the most part between the planes of a variety of aspects of the same world, to be a little more exact.” The Captain hesitated, turning his blind face away from Elric. “Please know that I do not deliberately mystify you. There are some things I do not understand and other things which I may not completely reveal. It is a trust I have and I hope you feel you can respect it.”
“I have no reason as yet to do otherwise,” replied the albino. And he took a sip of the wine.
“I find myself with a fine company,” said the Captain. “I hope that you continue to think it worthwhile honouring my trust when we reach our destination.”
“And what is that, Captain?”
“An island indigenous to these waters.”
“That must be a rarity.”
“Indeed, it is, and once undiscovered, uninhabited by those we must count our enemies. Now they have found it and realize its power, we are in great danger.”
“We? You mean your race or those aboard your ship?”
The Captain smiled. “I have no race save myself. I speak, I suppose, of all humanity.”
“These enemies are not human, then?”
“No. They are inextricably involved in human affairs, but this fact has not instilled in them any loyalty to us. I use ‘humanity’, of course, in its broader sense, to include yourself and myself.”
“I understand,” said Elric. “What is this folk called?”
“Many things,” said the Captain. “Forgive me, but I cannot continue longer now. If you will ready yourself for battle I assure you that I will reveal more to you as soon as the time is right.”
Only when Elric stood again outside the reddish-brown door, watching Erekose advancing up the deck through the mist, did the albino wonder if the Captain had charmed him to the point where he had forgotten all common sense. Yet the blind man had impressed him and he had, after all, nothing better to do than to sail on to the island. He shrugged. He could always alter his decision if he discovered that those upon the island were not, in his opinion, enemies.
“Are you more mystified or less, Elric?” said Erekose smiling.
“More mystified in some ways, less in others,” Elric told him. “And, for some reason, I do not care.”
“Then you share the feeling of the whole company,” Erekose said.
It was only when Erekose led him to the cabin aft of the mast that Elric realized he had not asked the Captain what the significance of the Four might be.
Chapter 3
Save that it faced in the opposite direction, the other cabin resembled the first in almost every detail. Here, too, were seated some dozen men, all experienced soldiers of fortune by their features and their clothing. Two sat together at the centre of the table's starboard side. One was bare-headed, fair and care-worn, the other had features resembling Elric's own and he seemed to be wearing a silver gauntlet on his left hand while the right hand was naked; his armour was delicate and outlandish. He looked up as Elric entered and there was recognition in his single eye (the other was covered by a brocade-work patch).
“Elric of Melnibone!” he exclaimed. “My theories become more meaningful!” He turned to his companion. “See, Hawkmoon, this is the one of whom I spoke.”
“You know me, sir?” Elric was nonplussed.
“You recognize me, Elric. You must! At the Tower of Voilodion Ghagnasdiak? With Erekose—though a different Erekose.”
“I know of no such tower, no name which resembles that, and this is the first I have seen of Erekose. You know me and you know my name, but I do not know you. I find this disconcerting, sir.”
“I, too, had never met Prince Corum before he came aboard,” said Erekose, “yet he insists we fought together once. I am inclined to believe him. Time on the different planes does not always run concurrently. Prince Corum might well exist in what we would term the future.”
“I had thought to find some relief from such paradoxes here,” said Hawkmoon, passing his hand over his face. He smiled bleakly. “But it seems there is none at this present moment in the history of the planes. Everything is in flux and even our identities, it seems, are prone to alter at any moment.”
“We were Three,” said Corum. “Do you recall it, Elric? The three Who are One?”
Elric shook his head.
Corum shrugged, saying softly to himself: “Well, now we are Four. Did the Captain say anything of an island we are supposed to invade?”
“He did,” said Elric. “Do you know who these enemies might be?”
“We know no more or less than do you, Elric,” said Hawkmoon. “I seek a place called Tanelorn and two children. Perhaps I seek the Runestaff, too. I am not entirely sure.”
“We found it once,” said Corum. “We three. In the Tower of Voilodion Ghagnasdiak. It was of considerable help to us.”
“As it might be to me,” Hawkmoon told him. “I served it once. I gave it a great deal.”
“We have much in common,” Erekose put in, “as I told you, Elric. Perhaps we share masters in common, too?”
Elric shrugged. “I serve no master but myself.”
And he wondered why they all smiled in the same strange way.
Erekose said quietly: “On such ventures as these one is inclined to forget much, as one forgets a dream.”
“This is a dream,” said Hawkmoon. “Of late I've dreamt many such.”
“It is all dreaming, if you like,” said Corum. “All existence.”
Elric was not interested in such philosophizing. “Dream or reality, the experience amounts to the same, does it not?”
“Quite right,” said Erekose with a wan smile.
They talked on for another hour or two until Corum stretched and yawned and commented that he was feeling sleepy. The others ag
reed that they were all tired and so they left the cabin and went aft and below where there were bunks for all the warriors. As he stretched himself out in one of the bunks, Elric said to Brut of Lashmar, who had climbed into the bunk above:
“It would help to know when this fight begins.”
Brut looked over the edge, down at the prone albino. “I think it will be soon,” he said.
Elric stood alone upon the deck, leaning upon the rail and trying to make out the sea; but the sea, like the rest of the world, was hidden by white, curling mist. Elric wondered if there were waters flowing under the ship's keel at all. He looked up to where the sail was tight and swollen at the mast, filled with a warm and powerful wind. It was light, but again it was not possible to tell the hour of the day. Puzzled by Corum's comments concerning an earlier meeting, Elric wondered if there had been other dreams in his life such as this might be—dreams he had forgotten completely upon awakening. But the uselessness of such speculation became quickly evident and he turned his attention to more immediate matters, wondering at the origin of the Captain and his strange ship sailing on a stranger ocean.
“The Captain,” said Hawkmoon's voice, and Elric turned to bid good morning to the tall, fair-haired man who bore a strange, regular scar in the centre of his forehead, “has requested that we four visit him in his cabin.”
The other two emerged from the mist and together they made their way to the prow, knocking on the reddish-brown door and being at once admitted into the presence of the blind Captain who had four silver wine-cups already poured for them. He gestured them towards the great chest on which the wine stood. “Please help yourselves, my friends.”
They did so, standing there with the cups in their hands, four tall, doom-haunted swordsmen, each of a strikingly different cast of features, yet all bearing a certain stamp which marked them as being of a like kind. Elric noticed it, for all that he was one of them, and he tried to recall the details of what Corum had told him on the previous evening.
“We are nearing our destination,” said the Captain. “It will not be too long before we disembark. I do not believe our enemies expect us, yet it will be a hard fight against those two.”
The Sailor on the Seas of Fate Page 2