The Knight of the Swords Part 2

The wounded Mabden called out. Corum paused. It was not the usual Mabden accent.

"Help me, Master!"

This was the liquid tongue of the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh.

Was this a Vadhagh who had disguised himself as a Mabden to escape death? Corum began to walk back, leading his horse through the billowing smoke.

He looked down at the Mabden. He wore a bulky wolfskin coat covered by a half-byrnie of iron links and a helmet that covered most of his face, which had slipped to blind him. Corum tugged at the helmet until it was free, tossed it aside, and then gasped.

This was no Mabden. Nor was it a Vadhagh. It was die bloodied face of a Nhadragh, dark with flat features and hair growing down to the ridge of the eye sockets.

"Help me, Master," said the Nhadragh again. "I am not too badly hurt I can still be of service."

"To whom, Nhadragh?" said Corum softly. He tore off a piece of the man's sleeve and wiped the blood free of the eyes. The Nhadragh blinked, focusing on him.

"Who would you serve, Nhadragh? Would you serve me?"

The Nhadragh's dazed eyes cleared and then filled with an emotion Corum could only surmise was hatred.

"VadhaghT' snarled the being. "A Vadhagh UvesI"

"Aye. I live. Why do you hate me?"

"All Nhadragh hate the Vadhagh. They have hated them through eternity! Why are you not dead? Have you been hiding?"

"I am not from Castle Gal."

"So I was right. This was not the last Vadhagh castle." The being tried to stir, tried to draw his knife, but he was too weak. He fell back.

"Hatred was not what the Nhadragh had once," Corum said. "You wanted our lands, yes. But you fought us 34.without this hatred, and we fought you without it. You have learned hatred from the Mabden, Nhadragh, not from your ancestors. They knew honor. You did not. How could one of the older races make himself a Mabden slave?"

The Nhadragh's lips smiled slightly. "All the Nhadragh that remain are Mabden slaves and have been for two hundred years. They only suffer us to live in order to use us like dogs, to sniff out those beings they call Shefanhow. We swore oaths of loyalty to them hi order to continue living."

"But could you not escape? There are other planes."

"The other planes were denied to us. Our historians held that the last great battle of the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh so disrupted the equilibrium of those planes that they were closed to us by the G.o.ds . . ."

"So you have relearnt superst.i.tion, too," mused Corum. "Ah, what do these Mabden do to us?"

The Nhadragh began to laugh and the laugh turned into a cough and blood came out of his mouth and poured down his chin. As Corum wiped away the blood, he said, "They supersede us, Vadhagh. They bring the darkness and they bring the terror. They are the bane of beauty and the doom of truth. The world is Mabden now. We have no right to continue existing. Nature abhors us. We should not be here!"

Corum sighed. "Is that your thinking, or theirs?"

"It is a fact."

Corum shrugged. "Perhaps."

"It is a fact, Vadhagh. You would be mad if you denied it"

"You said you thought this the last of our castles )> "Not I. I sensed there was another one. I told them." "And they have gone to seek it?" "Yes."

Corum gripped the being's shoulder. "Where?" The Nhadragh smiled. "Where? Where else but in the West?"

35.Coniin ran to his horse.

"Stay!" croaked the Nhadragh. "Slay me, I pray you, Vadhagh! Do not let me linger!"

"I do not know how to kill," Corum replied as he mounted the horse.

"Then you must learn, Vadhagh. You must learn!" cackled the dying being as Corum frantically forced his horse to gallop down the hill.

The Fifth Chapter

A LESSON LEARNED.

And here was Castle Erora, her tinted towers entwined with greedy fires. And still the surf boomed in the great black caverns within the headland on which Erora was raised and it seemed that the sea protested, that the wind wailed its anger, that the las.h.i.+ng foam sought desperately to drench the victorious flame.

Castle Erora shuddered as she perished and the bearded Mabden laughed at her downfall, shaking the bra.s.s and gold trappings of their chariots, casting triumphant glances at the little row of corpses lying in a semicircle before them.

They were Vadhagh corpses.

Four women and eight men.

In the shadows on the far side of the natural bridge of rock that led to the headland, Corum saw glimpses of the b.l.o.o.d.y faces and he knew them all: Prince Khlonskey, his father. Colatalarna, his mother. His twin sisters, Hastru and Pholhinra. His uncle, Prince Rhanan. Sertreda, his cousin. And the five retainers, all second and third cousins.

Three times Corum counted the corpses as the cold 36.grief transformed itself to fury and he heard the butchers yell to one another in their coa.r.s.e dialect.

Three times he counted, and then he looked at them and his face really was the face of a Shefanfww.

Prince Corum had discovered sorrow and he had discovered fear. Now he discovered rage.

For two weeks he had ridden almost without pause, hoping to get ahead of the Denledhyssi and warn his family of the barbarians' coming. And he had arrived a few hours too late.

The Mabden had ridden out in their arrogance bora of ignorance and destroyed those whose arrogance was bora of wisdom. It was the way of things. Doubtless Corum's father, Prince Khlonskey, had thought as much as he was hacked down with a stolen Vadhagh war-axe. But now Corum could find no such philosophy within his own heart.

His eyes turned black with anger, save for the irises, which turned bright gold, and he drew his tall spear and urged his weary horse over the causeway, through the flame-lit night, toward the Denledhyssi.

They were lounging in their chariots and pouring sweet Vadhagh wine down their faces and into their gullets. The sounds of the sea and the blaze hid the sound of Corum's approach until his spear pierced the face of a Denledhyssi warrior and the man shrieked, Corum had learned how to kill.

He slid the spear's point free and struck the dead man's companion through the back of the neck as he began to pull himself upright He twisted the spear.

Corum had learned how to be cruel.

Another Denledhyssi raised a bow and pulled back an arrow on the string, but Corum hurled the spear now and it struck through the man's bronze breastplate, entered his heart, and knocked him over the side of the chariot, Corum drew his second spear.

But his horse was failing him. He had ridden it to the 37.point of exhaustion and now it could barely respond to his signals. Already the more distant charioteers were whipping their ponies to life, turning their great, groaning chariots around to bear down on the Prince in the Scarlet Robe, An arrow pa.s.sed close and Corum sought the archer and urged his tired horse forward to get close enough to drive his spear through the archer's unprotected right eye and slip it out in time to block a blow from his comrade's sword.

The metal-shod spear turned the blade and, using both hands, Corum reversed the spear to smash the b.u.t.t into the swordsman's face and knock him out of the chariot But now the other chariots were bearing down on him through the rumbling shadows cast by the roaring fires that ate at Castle Erorn.

They were led by one whom Corum recognized. He was laughing and yelling and whirling his huge war-axe about his head.

"By the Dog! Is this a Vadhagh who knows how to fight like a Mabden? You have learned too late, my friend. You are the last of your race!"

It was Glandyth-a-Krae, his gray eyes gleaming, his cruel mouth snarling back over yellow fangs. Corum flung his spear.

The whirling axe knocked it aside and Glandyth's chariot did not falter.

Corum unslung his own war-axe and waited and, as he waited, the legs of his horse buckled and the beast collapsed to the ground.

Desperately Corum untangled his feet from the stirrups, gripped his axe in both hands, and leapt backward and aside as the chariot came at him. He aimed a blow at Glandyth-a-Krae, but struck the bra.s.s edge of the chariot. The shock of the blow numbed his hands so that he almost dropped the axe. He was breathing harshly now and he staggered. Other chariots raced by on both sides and a sword struck his helmet. Dazed, he fell to one knee. A spear hit his shoulder and he fell in the churned mud.

38.Then Corum learned cunning. Instead of attempting to rise, he lay where he had fallen until all the chariots had pa.s.sed. Before they could begin to turn, he pulled himself to his feet. His shoulder was bruised, but the spear had not pierced it. He stumbled through the darkness, seeking to escape the barbarians.

Then his feet struck something soft and he glanced down and saw the body of his mother and he saw what had been done to her before she died and a great moan escaped him and tears blinded him and he took a firmer grip on the axe in his left hand and painfully drew his sword, screaming, "Glandyth-a-Krae!"

And Corum bad learned the l.u.s.t for revenge.

The ground shook as the hooves of the horses beat upon it, hauling the returning chariots toward him. The tall tower of the castle suddenly cracked and crumbled into the flames, which leapt higher and brightened the night to show Earl Glandyth whipping the horses as he bore down on Corum once again.

Corum stood over the corpse of his mother, the gentle Princess Colatalarna. His first blow split the forehead of the leading horse and it fell, dragging the others down with it.

Earl Glandyth was flung forward, almost over the edge of the chariot, and he cursed. Behind him two other charioteers hastily tried to rein in their horses to stop from cras.h.i.+ng into their leader. The others, not understanding why they were stopping, also hauled at their reins.

Corum clambered over the bodies of the horses and swung his sword at Glandyth's neck, but the blow was blocked by a gorget and the huge, hairy head turned and the pale gray eyes glared at Corum. Then Glandyth leapt from the chariot and Corum leapt too, to come face to face with the destroyer of his family.

They confronted each other in the firelight, panting like foxes, crouching and ready to spring.

Corum moved first, lunging with his sword at Glandyth- 39.a-Krae and swinging his axe at the same time.

Glandyth jumped away from the sword and used Ms own axe to parry the blow, kicking out at Corum's groin, but missing.

They began to circle, Corum's black-and-gold eyes locked on the pale gray ones of the Mabden earl.

For several minutes they circled, while the other Mabden looked on. Glandyth's lips moved and began to voice a word, but Corum sprang in again, and this time the alien metal of his slender sword pierced Glandyth's armor at the shoulder join and slid in. Glandyth hissed and his axe swung round to strike the sword with such a blow that it was wrenched from Corum's aching hand and fell to the ground.

"Now," murmured Glandyth, as if speaking to himself. "Now, Vadhagh. It is not my fate to be slain by a Shefanhow."

Corum swung his axe.

Again Glandyth dodged the blow.

Again his axe came down.

And this time Corum's weapon was struck from his hand and he stood defenseless before the grinning Mabden, "But it is my fate to slay Shefanhow!" He twisted his mouth in a snarling grin.

Corum flung himself at Glandyth, trying to wrest the axe from him. But Corum had spent the last of his strength. He was too weak.

Glandyth cried out to his men. "By the Dog, Lads, get this demon off me. Do not slay him. We'll take our time with him. After all, he is the last Vadhagh we shall ever have the chance to sport with!'*

Corum heard them laugh and he struck out at them as they seized him. He was shouting as a man shouts in a fever and he could not hear his own words.

Then one Mabden plucked off his silver helm and another hit him on the back of the head with a sword pommel, and Corum's body went suddenly limp and he sank down into welcome darkness.

The Sixth Chapter

THE MAIMING OF CORUM.

The sun had risen and set twice before Corum awoke to find himself trussed in chains in the back of a Mabden wagon. He tried to raise his head and see through the gap in the awning, but he saw nothing, save that it was daytime.

Why had they not killed him? he wondered. And then he shuddered as he understood that they were waiting for him to awake so that they could make his death both long and painful.

Before he had set off on his quest, before he had witnessed what had happened to the Vadhagh castles, before he had seen the blight that had come to Bro-an-Vadhagh, he might have accepted his fate and prepared himself to die as his kinfolk had died, but the lessons he had learned remained with him. He hated the Mabden. He mourned for his relatives. He would avenge them if he could. And this meant that he would have to live.

He closed his eyes, conserving his strength. There was one way to escape the Mabden and that was to ease his body into another plane where they could not see him. But to do this would demand much energy and there was little point in doing it while he remained in the wagon.

The guttural Mabden voices drifted back to the wagon from time to time, but he could not hear what they said. He slept.

He stirred. Something cold was striking his face. He blinked. It was water. He opened his eyes and saw the Mabden standing over him. He had been removed from 41.the wagon and was lying on the ground. Cooking fires burned nearby. It was night.

"The Shefanhow is with us again, Master," called the Mabden who bad thrown the water. "He is ready for us, I think."

Corum winced as he moved his bruised body, trying to stand upright in the chains. Even if he could escape to another plane, the chains would come with him. He would be little better off. Experimentally, he tried to see into the next plane, but his eyes began to ache and he gave up.

Earl Glandyth-a-Krae appeared now, pus.h.i.+ng his way through his men. His pale eyes regarded Corum triumphantly. He put a hand to his beard, which had been plaited into several strands and strung with rings of stolen gold, and he smiled. Almost tenderly, he reached down and pulled Corum upright. The chains and the cramped s.p.a.ce of the wagon had served to cut off the circulation of Wood to his legsthey began to buckle.

"Rodlik! Here, Lad!" Earl Glandyth called behind him.

"Coming, Master!" A red-headed boy of about fourteen trotted forward. He was dressed in soft Vadhagh samite, both green and white, and there was an ermine cap on his head, soft deerskin boots on his feet. He had a pale face, spotted with acne, but was otherwise handsome for a Mabden. He knelt before Earl Glandyth. "Aye, Lord?"

"Help the Shefanhow to stand, Lad." Glandyth's low, harsh voice contained something like a note of affection as he addressed the boy. "Help him stand, Rodlik."

Rodlik sprang up and took Corum's elbow, steadying him. The boy's touch was cold and nervous.

All the Mabden warriors looked expectantly at Glandyth. Casually, he took off his heavy helmet and shook out his hair, which was curled and heavy with grease.

Corum, too, watched Glandyth. He studied the man's red face, decided that the gray eyes showed little real intelligence, but much malice and pride.

"WhyhaveyoudestroyedalltheVadhagh?"said 42.Corum quietly. His mouth moved painfully. "Why, Earl of Krae?"

Glandyth looked at him as if in surprise, and he was slow to reply. "You should know. We hate your sorcery. We loathe your superior airs. We desire your lands and those goods of yours which are of use to us. So we kill you." He grinned. "Besides, we have not destroyed all the Vadhagh. Not yet. One left."