Chronicles of Corum (13 page)

“I wish to save this one,” said Corum quietly. “I would save what is left, at least. I am sworn to that. Sworn to help the Mabden. Now I quest for their lost treasures. It was rumored that you have one of those, something you made for the Mabden in their first fight with the Fhoi Myore, ages since.”

Goffanon nodded. ” You speak of the spear, Bryionak. I made it. Here it is only an ordinary spear, but in the Mabden dream and the Fhoi Myore dream, it has great power.”

“So I heard.”

“It will tame, among other things, the Bull of Crinanass, which we brought with us when we came.” “A Sidhi beast?”

“ Aye. One of a great herd. He is the last.”

“ Why did you seek the spear and carry it back to Hy-Breasail?”

“I have not left Hy-Breasail. That spear was brought by one of the mortals who came exploring. I tried to comfort him as he died raving, but he could not be comforted. When he died I took back my spear. That is all. He had thought, it seemed, that Bryionak would protect him from the dangers of my island.”

“ So you would not deny the Mabden its help again.”

Goffanon frowned. “I do not know. I am fond of that spear. I should not like to lose it again. And it will not help the Mabden much, cousin. They are doomed. It is best to accept that. They are doomed. Why not let them die swiftly. To send them Bryionak would be to offer them a false hope.”

“It is in my nature to put my faith in hopes, no matter how false they seem,” Corum said quietly.

Goffanon looked at him sympathetically. “ Aye. I was told of Corum. Now I recall the tale. You are a sad one. A noble one. But what happens, happens. There is nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I must try, you see, Goffanon.”

‘ ‘Aye.” Goffanon pulled his great bulk from a chair and went to one side of the cave which was in shadow. He returned bearing a spear of very ordinary appearance. It had a well-worn wooden shaft and was bound in iron. Only its head had something odd about its manufacture. Like the blade of Goffanon’s axe, it shone brighter than ordinary iron.

The Sidhi handled it with pride. “My tribe was always the smallest of the Sidhi, both in numbers and in stature, but we had our skills. We could work metals in a way which you might describe as philosophical. We understood that metals had qualities beyond their obvious properties. And so we made weapons for the Mabden. We made several. Of them all, only this survives. I made it. The spear, Bryionak.”

He held it out to Corum who, for some reason, accepted it with his left hand, the silver hand. It was beautifully weighted, a practical weapon of war, but, if Corum had expected to sense in it anything extraordinary, he was disappointed.

“A good, plain spear,” said Goffanon, “is Bryionak.”

Corum nodded. “Save for the head, that is.”

“ No more of that metal can be smelted,” Goffanon told him. ‘ ‘A little of it came with us when we left our own plane. A few axe-blades, a sword or two—and that spear—were all we could manufacture. Good, sharp metal. It does not dull or rust.”

“And it has magical properties?”

Goffanon laughed. “Not to the Sidhi. But the Fhoi Myore think so. As do the Mabden. Therefore, of course, it has magical properties. Spectacular properties. Yes, I am glad to have my spear back.”

“You would not part with it again?”

“I think not.”

“But the Bull of Crinanass will obey the one who wields it. And the Bull will aid the people of Caer Mahlod against the Fhoi Myore—perhaps help them destroy the Fhoi Myore.”

“Neither bull nor spear is powerful enough to do that,” said Goffanon gravely. “I know that you want the spear, Corum, but I repeat this—nothing can save the Mabden world. It is doomed to die, just as the Fhoi Myore are doomed, just as I am doomed—and you also, unless you have a means of returning to your own plane, for I take it you are not from this one.”

“I am doomed, too, I think,” said Corum quietly. “But I would carry the spear, Bryionak, back to Caer Mahlod, for that was my oath, that is my quest.”

Goffanon sighed and took the spear from Corum’s hand. “ ‘No,”

he said. ‘ ‘When the Hounds of Kerenos come again I shall need all my weapons to destroy them. The pack which attacked me today is doubtless still upon this island. If I kill that pack there will come another pack. My spear and my axe, they are my only security. You have yon horn, after all.’’

“It is only loaned to me.”

“By whom?’’

“By a wizard. Calatin’s his name.”

‘ ‘Aha. I tried to turn three of his sons away from this shore. But they died, as the others died.’‘

“I know that many of his sons came here.”

“What did they seek?’’

Corum laughed. “They wanted you to spit upon them.’’ He recalled the little watertight bag Calatin had given him. He drew it from his pouch.

Goffanon frowned. Then his brow cleared and he shook his head, puffing at the little bowl of herbs which still burned near his mouth. Corum wondered where he had witnessed a similar custom, but his memory had become very hazy, of late, concerning his previous adventures. That was the price one paid, he guessed, for entering another dream, another plane.

Goffanon sniffed. “Another of their superstitions, no doubt. What do they do with these things? Animals’ blood drawn at midnight. Bones. Roots. How debased has Mabden knowledge become!”

“Would you grant the wizard his wish?” Corum asked. “I am pledged to ask you. He loaned me the horn on that understanding. ‘ ‘

Goffanon stroked his heavy beard. “It has come to something when the Vadhagh must beg the Mabden for their help.”

“This is a Mabden world,” Corum said. “You made that point yourself, Goffanon.”

‘ ‘A Fhoi Myore world soon. And then no world at all. Ah, well, if it will help you, I will do what you want. I can lose nothing by it and I doubt if your wizard will gain anything, either. Hand me the bag.’’

Corum passed the bag to Goffanon who grunted, laughed again, shook his head again, and spat into the bag, handing it back to Corum who, somewhat fastidiously, replaced it in his pouch.

“But it was the spear I really sought,” said Corum quietly. He regretted his insistence, after Goffanon had taken his other request with such good humor and, as well, had offered him good hospitality.

“I know.” Goffanon lowered his head and stared at the floor. “But if I help you save a few Mabden lives, I stand the chance of losing my own.”

“Have you forgotten the generosity which led you and your people to come here in the first place?”

“I was more generous in those days. Besides, it was our kin, the Vadhagh, who asked for that help.”

“I am your kin, then,” Corum pointed out. He felt a pang of guilt at playing on the Sidhi dwarf’s better feelings. “And I ask.”

“One Sidhi, one Vadhagh, seven Fhoi Myore and still a fair horde of the ever-breeding Mabden. Yet it is not much compared with what I saw when first I came to this world. And the land was lovely. It bloomed. Now it is harsh and nothing will grow. Let it die, Corum. Stay with me here in the fair island, in Hy-Breasail.”

“I made a bargain,” said Corum simply. “Everything in me would force me to agree with you and to accept your offer, Goffanon—save for that one thing. I made a bargain.”

‘ ‘But my bargain—the bargain the Sidhi made—that is over. And I owe you nothing, Corum.”

“I helped you when the devil dogs attacked you.”

“I helped you keep your bargain with the Mabden wizard. Have I not paid that debt?”

“Must all things be discussed in terms of bargains, of debts?”

“Yes,” said Goffanon seriously, “for it is nearly the end of the world and there are only a few things left. They must be bartered and a balance kept. I believe that, Corum. It is not an attitude inspired by venality—we Sidhi were rarely considered venal—but by a necessary conception of order. What have you to offer me more useful to me in so many ways than the spear, Bryionak?”

“Nothing, I think.”

“Only the horn. The horn that will dismiss the dogs when they attack me. That horn is more valuable to me than the spear. And the spear—is that not more valuable to you than the horn?”

“I agree,” said Corum. “But the horn is not mine, Goffanon. The horn is only lent to me—by Calatin.”

“I will not give you Bryionak,” Goffanon said heavily, almost reluctantly,’ ‘unless you give me the horn. That is the only bargain I will strike with you, Vadhagh.”

“And it is the only one I have no right to make.”

“Is there nothing Calatin wants from you?”

“I have already made my bargain with Calatin.”

“You cannot make another.”

Corum drew his brows together and with his right hand he fingered his embroidered eye-patch, as he was wont to do when faced with a difficult problem. He owed Calatin his life. Calatin would owe Corum nothing until Corum returned from the island with the little bag of the Sidhi’s spittle. Then neither would be in the other’s debt. Yet the spear was important. Even now Caer Mahlod might be under attack from the Fhoi Myore and the only thing which might save them was the spear, Bryionak, and the Bull of Crinanass. And Corum had sworn that he would return with the spear. He plucked the horn from where it hung at his hip by the long thong looped over his shoulder. He looked at the fine, mottled bone, the ornamental bands, the silver mouthpiece. It was a hero’s horn. Who had bome it before Calatin found it? Kerenos himself?

‘ ‘I could blow this horn now and bring the dogs upon us both,” Corum said musingly. “I could threaten you, Goffanon, and make you give me Bryionak in return for your life.”

“Would you do that, cousin?”

“No.” Corum let the horn fall. Then, without realizing that he had made a decision before he spoke, he said:

‘ ‘Very well, Goffanon. I will give you the horn for the spear and try to make some other bargain with Calatin when I return to the mainland.”

“It is a sad bargain that we make,” said Goffanon, handing him the spear. “Has it harmed our friendship?”

“I think that it has,” said Corum. “I shall leave now, Goffanon.”

“You think me ungenerous?”

‘ ‘No. I feel no rancor. I feel merely sad that we are all brought to this, that our nobility is somehow warped by our circumstances. You lose more than a spear, Goffanon. And I, too, lose something.”

Goffanon let out a mighty sigh. Corum gave him the horn that was not Corum’s to give.’ ‘I fear the consequences of this,” Corum said. ‘ ‘I suspect that I shall face more than a Mabden wizard’s wrath by giving you the horn.”

“Shadows fall across the world,” said Goffanon. “And many strange things can hide in those shadows. Many things can be born, unseen and unsuspected. These are days for fearing shadows, Corum Jhaelen Irsei, and we should be fools if we did not fear them. Yes, we are brought low. Our pride diminishes. May I walk with you to the shore?”

“To the borders of your sanctuary? Why not come with me, Goffanon, to fight—to wield that great axe of yours against our foes? Would such an action not restore your pride?”

“I think not,” said Goffanon sadly.

“A little of the cold has come to Hy-Breasail too, you see.”

More bargains made while the Fhoi Myore march.

As Corum beached the boat in the small bay of MoideFs Mount he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, reaching for his sword. The transition from the peace and beauty of Hy-Breasail to the outside world had brought with it depression and a certain amount of fear. Moidels Mount, which had seemed such a welcome sight when he had first seen it again, now looked faded and sinister and he wondered if the Fhoi Myore dream had begun to touch the tor at last, or whether the place had merely seemed pleasanter in comparison with the dark and frozen forest in which he had originally met the wizard.

Calatin stood there, tall in his blue robe, white-haired and handsome. There was a hint of anxiety in his eyes. “Did you find the Glamorous Isle?” “I found it.” “And the Sidhi Smith?”

Corum picked the spear, Bryionak, from out of the boat. He showed it to Calatin.

“But what of my request?” Calatin seemed hardly interested at all in a spear which was one of the treasures of Caer Llud, a mystic weapon of legend.

Corum found it faintly amusing that Calatin should care so little for Bryionak and so much about a little sack of saliva. He drew the pouch out and handed it to the wizard who sighed with relief and grinned with pleasure. ‘ ‘I am grateful to you, Corum. And I am glad that I was able to serve you. Did you encounter the hounds?”

“Once,” said Corum.

“The horn aided you?”

‘ ‘It aided me. Aye. ‘ ‘ Corum began to walk up the beach, Calatin following.

They reached the brow of the hill and looked towards the mainland where the world was cold and white and brooding gray cloud filled the sky.

‘ ‘Will you stay the night with me,” Calatin said,’ ‘and tell me of Hy-Breasail and what you discovered there?”

“No,” said Corum. “Time grows short and I must ride back for Caer Mahlod, for I feel that the Fhoi Myore will attack it. They must know, by now, that I aid their enemies.”