Kargan let out his breath and rose from the table. There's no more to discuss, » he said. «All to bed. We must be ready to sail with the noon tide tomorrow.»
They all gave signs of assent and chairs scraped as they pushed them back and left the chamber.
Bereft of human occupants, the chamber was silent save for the sputtering of the lamps and the rustle of the maps and, papers as they were stirred by a warm wind.
It was late in the morning when Elric arose and found Zarozinia already up and dressed in a skirt and bodice of doth-of-gold with a long black-trimmed cloak of silver flowing from her shoulders and spreading to the floor.
He washed, shaved and ate the dish of herb-flavoured fruit she handed him.
«Why have you arrayed yourself in such finery?» he asked.
«To bid you goodbye from the harbour, » she said.
«If you spoke truth last night, then you'd best be dressed in funeral red.» he smiled and then, relenting, clasped her to him. He gripped her tightly, desperately, before standing back from her and taking her chin in his hand raised her face to stare down into it «In these tragic times, » he said, «there's little room for love-play and kind words. Love must be deep and strong, manifesting itself in our actions. Seek no courtly words from me, Zarozinia, but remember earlier nights when the only turbulence was our pulse-beats blending.»
He was clad, himself, in Melnibonean war regalia, with a breastplate of shiny black metal, a high-collared jerkin of black velvet, black feather breeks covered to the knee by his boots, also of black leather. Over his back was pushed a cloak of deep red, and on one thin, white finger, was the Ring of Kings, the single rare actorious stone set in silver.
His long white hair hung loose down to his shoulders, kept from his eyes by a bronze circlet in which were set other precious charm stones of peryx, mio and golden otredos. Stormbringer was sheathed at his left hip and an ebony handled poignard dangled at his right. Upon the table, among the open books, a tapering black helm, engraved with old runes, lay, its crown gradually rising into a spike, standing almost two feet from the base. At this base, dominating the eye-slits, was a tiny replica of a spread-winged dragon, with a gaping snout, a reminder that, as when as being Emperors of the Bright Empire, Elric's ancestors were Dragon Masters over all that remained of the dragon kind. Brie, himself, was chief master-though now only his cousin Dyvim Slorm knew the dragon speech and spells, the rest having perished in various ways since the Sack of Imrryr years before when Elric, turned renegade, had led the attack upon the Dreaming City.
Now he picked up the helm and fitted it over his head so that it covered the top half of his face, only his red eyes gleaming from its shadows. He refrained from pulling the side wings about his lower face but for the meantime, left them sweeping back from the bottom of the helmet.
Noting her silence, he said, with a heart already heavy, «Come, my love, let's to the harbour to astound these undercivillised allies of ours with our elegance. Have no fear not I shall live to survive this day's battle-for Fate has not finished with me yet and protects me as a mother would her cub-so that I might witness further misery until such a day when ifs over for all time.»
Together, they left the Fort of Evening, riding on magical Nihrain horses, down to the harbour where the other Sealords and captains were already assembled beneath the bright sun.
All were dressed in their finest martial glory, though none could notch Elric. Old racial memories were awakened in many when they saw him and they were troubled, fearing him without knowing why, for their ancestors had had great cause to fear the Bright Emperors in the days when Melnibone ruled the world and a man accoutred as Elric commanded a Imrryrian eldritch warriors. Now a bare handful of Imrryrians greeted him as he rode along the quayside, noting the ships riding at anchor with their coloured banners and heraldic devices lifting proudly in the breeze.
Dyvim Slonn was equipped in a close-fitting dragon helm, its protecting pieces fashioned to represent the entire bead of a dragon, scaled in red and green and silver. His armour was lacquered yellow, though the rest of his dress was black, like Elric’s. At his side was Stormbringer's sister-sword Mournblade.
As Elric rode up to the group, Dyvim Slonn turned his heavily armoured head towards the open sea. There was little inkling of encroaching Chaos on the calm water or in the dear sky.
«At least well have good weather on our way to meet Jagreen Lern, » Dyvim Slorm said.
«A small mercy.» Elric smiled faintly. «Is there any more news of their numbers?»
«Before the spy who returned yesterday died he said there 'were at least four thousand warships, ten thousand transports-and perhaps twenty of the Chaos ships. They'll be the ones to watch since we've no idea what powers they have.»
Elric nodded. Their own fleet comprised some five thousand warships, many equipped with catapults and other heavy war-engines. The transports, though they turned the odds, in numbers, to a far superior figure, would be slow, unwieldy. and of not much use in a pitched sea-battle. Also, if the battle were won, they could be dealt with later, for they would obviously follow in the rear of Jagreen Lern's warned So, for all Jagreen Lern's numerical strength, there would be a good chance of winning a sea-fight under ordinary conditions. The disturbing factor was the presence of the supernatural ships. The spy's description had been vague. Elric needed more objective information-information he would be unlikely to receive now, until the fleets joined in battle.
In his shirt was tucked the beast-hide manuscript of an extraordinarily strong invocation used in summoning the Sea King. He had already attempted to use it, without success, but hoped that on open sea his chances would be better, particularly since the Sea King would be angered at the disruption Jagreen Lern and his occult allies were causing in the balance of nature. Once before, long ago, the Sea King had aided him and had, Elric recalled, predicted that Elric would ammonium again.
Kargan, in the thick, but light sea-armour of his people which gave him the appearance of it hairy-faced armadillo, pointed as several small boats detached themselves' from the fleet and sailed towards the quay.
«Here come the boats to take us to our ships, my lords! »
The gathered captains stirred, all of them with serious expressions, seeming, each and every one, to be pondering some personal problem, staring into the depths of their own hearts-perhaps trying to reach the fear which lay there; trying to reach it and tear it out and fling it from them. They all had more than the usual trepidation experienced when facing a fight-for, like Brie, they could not guess what the Chaos ships were capable of.
They were a desperate company, understanding that something less palatable than death might await them beyond the horizon.
Eric squeezed Zarozinia's arm.
«Goodbye.»
«Farewell, Brie-may whatever benevolent gods Acre are left on the Earth protect you.»
«Save your prayers for my companions, » he said quietly, «for they will be less able than I to face what lies out there.»
Moonglum called to him and Zarozinia: «Give her a kiss, Eric, and come to the boat. Tell her we’ll be back with victory tidings.»
Elric would never have admitted such familiarity, not even with his kinsman Dyvun Slonn, from anyone but Moonglum. But he took it in good part saying softly to her: «There, you see, little Moonglum is confident-and he’s usually is one with warnings of ominous portent! »