Revenge of the Rose Read Online Free PDF
Author: Michael Moorcock
father. Few such opportunities had
existed while Sadric lived.
“The
dead know truth from lies. They are privy to that understanding, at least. And
I know the truth of it. We did not stem from R’lin K’ren A’a. Such questings
and speculations are unnecessary. We are assured of our origins. Thou wouldst
be a fool, my son, to question our histories, to dispute their truth. I had
thee taught this.”
Elric
kept his own counsel.
“My
magic called the jill-dragon from her cave. The one I had the strength to
summon. But she came and I sent her to thee. This is the only sorcery I have
left. It is the first significant sorcery of our race and the purest, the
dragon-sorcery. But I could not instruct her. I sent her to thee knowing she
would recognize thee or she would kill thee. Both actions would have brought us
together, eventually, no doubt.” The shade permitted itself a crooked smile.
“You
cared no more than that, Father?”
“I
could do no more than that. I long
for thy mother. We were meant to be united for ever. Thou must help me reach
her, Elric, and help me swiftly for my own energies and spells weaken—soon
Arioch or Mashabak shall claim me. Or destroy me entirely in their struggle!”
“You
have no further means of escaping them?” Elric felt his left leg shake
uncontrollably for a few seconds before he forced it to obey his will. He
realized it had been too long since he had last taken the infusion of herbs and
drugs which allowed him the energy of a normal creature.
“In
a way. If I remain attached to thee, my son, the object of my unjust hate, then
my soul could hide with thine, occupying thy flesh and mine, disguised by blood
that is my blood. They would never sniff
me out! ”
Again
Elric was seized by a sensation of profound cold, as if death already claimed
him; his head was a maelstrom of ungoverned emotions as he sought desperately
to take a grip on himself, praying that with the sun’s rising his father’s
ghost would vanish.
“The
sun will not rise here, Elric. Not here. Not until the moment of our release or
our destruction. That is why we are
here.”
“But
does Arioch not object to this? He is my patron, still!” Elric looked for a new
madness in his father’s face but could find none.
“He
is otherwise engaged and could not come to thee now, whether to aid or to
punish. His dispute with Count Mashabak absorbs him. That is why thou canst
serve me, to perform the task I did not know to perform when alive. Wouldst
thou do this thing for me, my son? For a father who always hated thee but did
his duty by thee?”
“If
I performed this task for you, Father, would I be free of you?”
His
father lowered his head in assent.
Elric
put a trembling hand upon the pommel of his sword and flung back his head so
that the long white hair filled the air like a halo in the moonlight and his
uneasy eyes rose to stare into the face of the dead king.
He
let out a sigh. In spite of all his horrors, there was some part of him which
would be fulfilled if he achieved his father’s desire. He wished, however, that
he had been permitted the choice. But it was not the Melnibonéan way to permit
choice. Even relatives had to be bonded by more than blood.
“Explain
my task, Father.”
“Thou
must find my soul, Elric.”
“Your soul —?”
“My
soul is not with me.” The shade itself seemed to make an effort to remain
standing. “What animates me now is my will and old sorcery. My soul was hidden
so that it might rejoin thy mother, but in
existed while Sadric lived.
“The
dead know truth from lies. They are privy to that understanding, at least. And
I know the truth of it. We did not stem from R’lin K’ren A’a. Such questings
and speculations are unnecessary. We are assured of our origins. Thou wouldst
be a fool, my son, to question our histories, to dispute their truth. I had
thee taught this.”
Elric
kept his own counsel.
“My
magic called the jill-dragon from her cave. The one I had the strength to
summon. But she came and I sent her to thee. This is the only sorcery I have
left. It is the first significant sorcery of our race and the purest, the
dragon-sorcery. But I could not instruct her. I sent her to thee knowing she
would recognize thee or she would kill thee. Both actions would have brought us
together, eventually, no doubt.” The shade permitted itself a crooked smile.
“You
cared no more than that, Father?”
“I
could do no more than that. I long
for thy mother. We were meant to be united for ever. Thou must help me reach
her, Elric, and help me swiftly for my own energies and spells weaken—soon
Arioch or Mashabak shall claim me. Or destroy me entirely in their struggle!”
“You
have no further means of escaping them?” Elric felt his left leg shake
uncontrollably for a few seconds before he forced it to obey his will. He
realized it had been too long since he had last taken the infusion of herbs and
drugs which allowed him the energy of a normal creature.
“In
a way. If I remain attached to thee, my son, the object of my unjust hate, then
my soul could hide with thine, occupying thy flesh and mine, disguised by blood
that is my blood. They would never sniff
me out! ”
Again
Elric was seized by a sensation of profound cold, as if death already claimed
him; his head was a maelstrom of ungoverned emotions as he sought desperately
to take a grip on himself, praying that with the sun’s rising his father’s
ghost would vanish.
“The
sun will not rise here, Elric. Not here. Not until the moment of our release or
our destruction. That is why we are
here.”
“But
does Arioch not object to this? He is my patron, still!” Elric looked for a new
madness in his father’s face but could find none.
“He
is otherwise engaged and could not come to thee now, whether to aid or to
punish. His dispute with Count Mashabak absorbs him. That is why thou canst
serve me, to perform the task I did not know to perform when alive. Wouldst
thou do this thing for me, my son? For a father who always hated thee but did
his duty by thee?”
“If
I performed this task for you, Father, would I be free of you?”
His
father lowered his head in assent.
Elric
put a trembling hand upon the pommel of his sword and flung back his head so
that the long white hair filled the air like a halo in the moonlight and his
uneasy eyes rose to stare into the face of the dead king.
He
let out a sigh. In spite of all his horrors, there was some part of him which
would be fulfilled if he achieved his father’s desire. He wished, however, that
he had been permitted the choice. But it was not the Melnibonéan way to permit
choice. Even relatives had to be bonded by more than blood.
“Explain
my task, Father.”
“Thou
must find my soul, Elric.”
“Your soul —?”
“My
soul is not with me.” The shade itself seemed to make an effort to remain
standing. “What animates me now is my will and old sorcery. My soul was hidden
so that it might rejoin thy mother, but in