The Chronicles of Corum (56 page)

"What mundane imaginations these Lords of Chaos have," said Kwll in his many-toned voice. "What modest ambitions they entertain! What petty dreams they dream."

He laughed. "They are hardly men, let alone gods."

The Dukes of Hell fell silent and turned their heads to watch their king.

Mabelrode held his golden sword in his two hands and from it burst a thousand shadows, all twisting and dancing in the air, all suggesting shapes to Corum, but shapes which he could not name.

"My power is not mundane, creature! What are you that you can mock the most powerful of the Sword Rulers, Mabelrode the Faceless?"

"I do not mock," said Kwll. "I am Kwll." He reached into the air and took a several-bladed sword from it. "I state that which is evident."

"Kwll is dead," said Mabelrode, "as Rhynn is dead.

Dead. You are a charlatan. Your conjuring is not entertaining."

"I am Kwll."

"Kwll is dead."

"I am Kwll."

Three of the Dukes of Hell rushed at the being then, their swords raised.

"Slay him," said Mabelrode, "so that I may begin to have the pleasure of my vengeance."

Kwll plucked two more many-bladed swords from the air. He let the swords of the Dukes of Hell fall upon his jeweled body before casually skewering each one of them and tossing them away so that they vanished.

"Kwll," he said. "The power of the multiverse is mine."

"No single being can have such power!" Mabelrode shouted. "The Cosmic Balance denies it."

"I do not obey the Cosmic Balance, however," said Kwll reasonably. He turned to Corum and Jhary and he handed Corum the Eye of Rhynn. "I will dispense with these. Take my brother's eye to your own plane and cast it into the sea.

There'll be no need for you to do else."

"And Glandyth?"

"Surely you can deal with a fellow mortal without my aid. You grow lazy, mortal."

"But—Rhalina . . ."

"Ah."

Kwll's hand seemed to extend through the gathered ranks of the Dukes of Hell, past King Mabelrode the Faceless, and pluck Rhalina from the Sword Ruler's side.

"There."

Rhalina sobbed in Corum's arms.

Corum heard Mabelrode cry, "Summon all my strength!

Summon all the creatures of all the planes who are pledged to me. Ready yourselves, my Dukes of Hell! Chaos must be defended!"

Jhary shouted back at him, "Do you fear one being, King of the Swords? Just one?"

Mabelrode's golden sword flickered in his hand. His back seemed bowed, his voice was low. "I fear Kwll," he said.

"You are wise to do so," said Kwll. He waved one of his hands. "Now, let us dismiss all these silly trappings and concern ourselves with the fight."

The castle shaped like Rhalina began to melt around them. The Dukes of Hell cried out in terror, their shapes changing as they sought to find the one which would serve them best. Mabelrode the Faceless began to increase in size until his huge, faceless head loomed over them.

Fierce colors slashed the skies. Pools of darkness appeared. Screams were heard and grunts and sucking sounds. From all points came things which hopped and things which slithered and things which galloped and things which flew and things which walked—all things of Chaos come to aid King Mabelrode.

Kwll tapped Jhary on the shoulder and the dandy disappeared.

Corum gasped. "Even you cannot go against the entire strength of Chaos! I regret my bargain. I release you from it!"

"I made no bargain." Two hands came out and tapped Corum and Rhalina. Corum felt himself being drawn away from the realm of Chaos.

"They will destroy you, Kwll!"

"I admit I have not fought for some time, but doubtless I will remember my old skills."

Corum glimpsed the roaring terror that was Chaos hurling itself upon the Lost God. "No . . ."

He struggled to draw his own sword, but he was falling now. Falling as he had fallen once before when the sky ship had been wrecked. But this time he held tightly to Rhalina.

Even as his senses clouded he kept his grip upon her arm until he heard her calling his name.

"Corum! Corum! You pain me!"

His eyes were closed. He opened them. She and he were standing on blackened stone and the sea was all around them. He did not recognize the place at first, for the castle was no longer there. And then he remembered that Glandyth had burned it.

They stood on Moidel's Mount.

The tide was beginning to go out and they glimpsed the causeway as it was slowly uncovered.

"Look," said Rhalina, pointing toward the forest.

He looked and he saw several corpses.

"So the strife continues," he said. He was about to help her to climb down when he looked at the thing he had clutched even as he had clutched Rhalina with his single hand. It was the Eye of Rhynn.

He drew back his arm and flung it far out into the sea. It flashed in the air and then disappeared beneath the waves.

"I am not sorry to see that dismissed at last," he said.

The Fifth Chapter
 The Last of Glandyth

When they had crossed the causeway and reached the mainland, they could better distinguish the corpses sprawled near the edge of the forest. They were of their old enemies, the Pony Tribesmen. They had fought each other savagely and for some time, by all the signs. They lay in their furs and their necklets and bracelets of copper and bronze with their crude swords and axes in their hands, each man bearing at least a dozen wounds. They had plainly been gripped by the Cloud of Contention, which the Nhadragh's sorcery had brought to the land. Corum bent down and inspected the nearest corpse.

"Not dead long," he said. "It means the sickness is still strong. And yet it does not touch us. Perhaps it takes time to enter our brains. Ah, the poor folk of Lywm-an-Esh—my poor Vadhagh . . ."

A movement in the trees.

Corum drew his sword, feeling for the first time the lack of his left hand and right eye. He felt off-balance. Then he grinned in relief.

It was Jhary-a-Conel leading three of the dead Tribesmen's ponies by their bridle ropes.

"Not the most comfortable beasts to ride, but better than walking. Where do you head for, Corum. For Halwyg?"

Corum shook his head. "I have been thinking of the only positive deed we can try to perform. There's little to be done in Halwyg. I doubt if Glandyth has yet set up his court there, for, doubtless, he still hunts for us on other planes. We'll go to Erorn, I think. There is a boat there we can use and it will take us to the Nhadragh Isles."

"Where the sorcerer dwells who has put this spell upon the world."

"Just so."

Jhary-a-Conel stroked his cat under its chin. "Your idea is sound, Corum Jhaelen Irsei. Let us make speed,"

Soon they were mounted on the shaggy ponies and were driving them as hard as they could go through the woods of Bro-an-Vadhagh. Twice they were forced to hide while small groups of Vadhagh hunted each other. Once they witnessed a massacre, but there was nothing they could do to save the victims.

Corum was relieved to sight the towers of Castle Erorn at long last, for he had wondered if Glandyth or some other had destroyed it again. The castle was as they had left it.

The snow had all melted and a mild spring was beginning to touch the trees and shrubs. Gratefully they entered the castle.

But they had forgotten the retainers.

The retainers had not resisted the sickness long. They found two corpses just inside the doorway, horribly butchered. Others were elsewhere in the castle and all had been murdered save one—the last survivor, his aggression had turned to self-hatred and he had hanged himself in one of the rooms of music. His presence caused the fountains and the crystals to make a sour, dreadful sound which almost drove Corum, Rhalina, and Jhary back out of the castle.

The work of disposing of the corpses done, Corum took the passage down to the large sea-cave below the castle.

Here was the little boat in which he and Rhalina had sailed for pleasure in the short-lived days of peace. It was ready for immediate use.

Rhalina and Jhary brought down the provisions while Corum checked the rigging and the sail. They waited for the tide to turn and then sailed beneath the great, rugged arch of the sea cave and out into open water. It would be two days before they sighted the first of the Nhadragh Isles.

With only the sea surrounding him, Corum thought about his adventures upon the different planes. He had entered so many worlds he had lost count of them. Were there really a million spheres, each sphere containing a number of planes? It was hard to conceive of so many worlds. And on each world a struggle was taking place.

"Are there no worlds which know permanent peace?" he asked Jhary as he took over the rudder of the boat while the dandy adjusted the sail. "Are there none, Jhary?"

The dandy shrugged. "Perhaps there are, though I have never seen one. Perhaps it is not my fate to see one. But it is basic to Nature to know struggle of some kind, surely?"

"Some creatures live in peace all their lives."

"Aye, some do. There is a legend that once there was only one world—one planet like ours—which was tranquil and perfect. But something evil invaded it and it learned strife and in learning strife created other examples of itself where strife could flourish the better. But there are many legends which say the past was perfect or that the future will be perfect. I have seen many pasts and many futures. None of them were perfect, my friend."

Corum felt the boat rock and he tightened his grip on the rudder. The waves became larger and the sea was choppy.

Rhalina pointed into the distance. "The Wading God—see! He goes toward our coast, still fishing."

"Perhaps the Wading God knows peace," said Corum when the sea settled and the giant had gone.

Jhary stroked the head of his cat. The little creature looked nervously at the water. "I think not," said Jhary quietly.

Another day went by before they saw the outer islands of the group. They were predominantly dark green and brown and as they sailed by them they saw the black ruins of the towns and the castles which the Mabden had fired when they had come reaving to the Nhadragh Isles. Once or twice a shambling figure would wave to them from a beach but they ignored him, for doubtless the Cloud of Contention had touched those who were left of the Nhadragh.

"There," said Corum. "That large island. It is Maliful, where lies the city of Os and the Nhadragh sorcerer Ertil. I think I feel the Cloud of Contention begin to gnaw again at my brain . . ."

"Then we had best hurry and do our work, if we can,"

Jhary said.

They landed the small boat on a stony, deserted beach quite close to Os, whose walls they could already see.

"Go, Whiskers," murmured Jhary to his cat, "show us the way to the sorcerer's keep."

The cat spread its wings and flew high into the air, hovering to keep pace with them as they moved cautiously toward the city. Then, as they climbed over the rubble of what had once been a gateway and began to make their way through piles of weed-grown masonry, the cat flew to the squat building with the yellow dome upon its roof. It flew twice around the dome and then came back to settle on Jhary's shoulder.

Corum felt a twinge of annoyance at the cat. It was reasonless anger and he knew what caused it. He began to run toward the squat building.

There was only one entrance and it was filled with a hard, wooden door.

"To break that," whispered Jhary, "would be to make our presence known. Look, here—steps lead up the side."

A flight of stone steps led to the roof and up these the three went, Rhalina following in the wake of the men.

Together, they crept up to the dome and peered inside.

At first it was hard to make out what was in there. They saw the clutter of parchments and animal cages and cauldrons. But there was a form moving about in one corner. It could only be the sorcerer.

"I'm tired of this caution!" Corum shouted. "Let's end it now!" With a yell he reversed his sword hilt and struck heavily at the dome. It groaned and a crack appeared. He struck again and the stuff shattered, falling into the room.

But Corum had released a stink which drove them back for a few yards until it had dispersed in the cleaner outer air. Corum, feeling the unreasoning fury rising in him again, dashed to the edge of the broken dome and leaped through the hole he had made, landing with a crash upon the scored table below.

Sword ready, he glared around him.

And what he saw drove the fury from his head. It was the Nhadragh, Ertil.

The corrupt sorcerer had plainly succumbed to his own spell. There was foam on his lips. His dark eyes rolled.

"I killed them," he said, "as I will kill you. They would not obey me—so I killed them."

With his one remaining arm he held up his severed leg.

Another leg and an arm bled nearby.

"I killed them!"

Corum turned away, kicking out at the bubbling cauldron, the vials of herbs and chemicals, scattering them about the room.

"I killed them!" babbled the sorcerer. His voice rose to a shriek and then subsided. The blood was pouring from his body. He would only live a few seconds more.

"How made you the Cloud of Contention?" Corum asked him.

Weakly Ertil grinned and gestured with the severed leg.

"There—the censer. Only a little censer—but it has destroyed you all!"

"Not all." Corum grabbed the censer by its chains and immersed it in one of the cauldrons. Green steam boiled from its sides and evil faces flickered in that steam for a moment before fading away.

"I have destroyed that which destroyed so many of my folk, sorcerer," Corum said.

Ertil looked up at him through glazed eyes. "Then destroy me, too, Vadhagh. I deserve it"

Corum shook his head. "I'll let you continue to die in the manner you chose."

From above came Jhary's voice.

"Corum!"

The Prince in the Scarlet Robe looked up and saw Jhary's face framed in the hole of the dome. Jhary looked daunted.

"What is it, Jhary?"

"Glandyth must have sensed the decline in the sorcerer's sanity."