Knight of the Swords

by Michael Moorcock

  The metal-shod spear turned the blade and, using both hands, Corum reversed the spear to smash the butt 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 brass 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.

  Then Corum learned cunning. Instead of attempting to rise, he lay where he had fallen until all the chariots had passed. 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 lust 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 crashing 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-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 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, pushing 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 space of the wagon had served to cut off the circulation of Wood to his legs—they 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.

  "Why have you destroyed all the Vadhagh?" said 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."

  "Aye," promised Corum. "And one that will avenge his people if he is given the opportunity."

  "No." Glandyth put his hands on his hips. "He will not be."

  "You say you hate our sorcery. But we have no sorcery. Just a little knowledge, a little second sight . . ."

  "Ha! We have seen your castles and the evil contraptions they contain. We saw that one, back there—the one we took a couple of nights ago. Full of sorcery!"

  Corum wetted his lips. "Yet even if we did have such sorcery, that would be no reason for destroying us. We have offered you no harm. We have let you come to our land without resisting you. I think you hate us because you hate something in yourselves. You are—unfinished—creatures."

  "I know. You call us half-beasts. I care not what you think: now, Vadhagh. Not now that your race is gone." Glandyth spat on the ground and waved his hand at the youth. "Let him go." The youth sprang back.

  Corum swayed, but did not fall. He continued to stare in contempt at Glandyth-a-Krae.

  "You and your race are insane, Earl. You are like a canker. You are a sickness suffered by this world."

  Earl Glandyth spat again. This time he spat straight into Corum's face. "I told you—I know what the Vadhagh think of us. I know what the Nhadragh thought before we made them our hunting dogs. It's your pride that has destroyed you, Vadhagh. The Nhadragh learned to do away with pride and so some of them were spared. They accepted us as their masters. But you Vadhagh could not. When we came to your castles, you ignored us. When we demanded tribute, you said nothing. When we told you that you served us now, you pretended you did not understand us. So we set out to punish you. And you would not resist. We tortured you and, in your pride, you would not give us an oath that you would be our slaves, as the Nhadragh did. We lost patience, Vadhagh. We decided that you were not fit to live in the same land as the great King Lyr-a-Brode, for you would not admit to being his subjects. That is why we set out to slay you all. You have earned this doom."

  Corum looked at the ground. So it was complacency that had brought down the Vadhagh race.

  He lifted his head again and stared back at Glandyth.

  "I hope, however," said Corum, "that I will be able to show you that the last of the Vadhagh can behave in a different way."

  Glandyth shrugged and turned to address his men.

  "He hardly knows what he will show us soon, will he, Lads?"

  The Mabden laughed.

  "Prepare the board!" Earl Glandyth ordered. "I think we shall begin."

  Corum saw them bring up a wide plank of wood. It was thick and pitted and stained. Near its four corners were fixed lengths of chain. Corum began to guess at the board's function.

  Two Mabden grasped his arms and pushed him toward the board. Another brought a chisel and an iron hammer. Corum was pushed with his back against the board, which now rested on the trunk of a tree. Using the chisel, a Mabden struck the chains from him, then his arms and legs were seized and he was spread-eagled on the board while new rivets were driven into the links of chain, securing him there. Corum could smell stale blood. He could see where the board was scored with the marks of knives, swords, and axes, where arrows had been shot into it.

  He was on a butcher's block.

  The Mabden bloodlust was rising. Their eyes gleamed in the firelight, their breath steamed and their nostrils dilated. Red tongues licked thick lips and small, anticipatory, smiles were on several faces.

  Earl Glandyth had been supervising the pinning of Corum to the board. Now he came up and stood in front of the Vadhagh and he drew a slim sharp blade from his belt.

  Corum watched as the blade came toward his chest. Then there was a ripping sound as the knife tore the samite shirt away from his body.

  Slowly, his grin spreading, Glandyth-a-Krae worked at the rest of Corum's clothing, the knife only occasionally drawing a thin line of blood from his body, until at last Corum was completely naked.

  Glandyth stepped back.

  "Now," he said, panting, "you are doubtless wondering what we intend to do with you."

  "I have seen others of my people whom you have slain," Corum said. "I think I know what you intend to do."

  Glandyth raised the little finger of his right hand while he tucked his dagger away with his left.

  "Ah, you see. You do not know. Those other Vadhagh died swiftly—or relatively so—because we had so many to find and to kill. But you are the last. We can take our time with you. We think, in fact, that we will give you a chance to live. If you can survive with your eyes gone, your tongue put out, your hands and feet removed, and your genitals taken away, then we will let you so survive."

  Corum stared at him in horror.

  Glandyth burst into laughter. "I see you appreciate our joke!"

  He signaled to his men.

  "Bring the tools! Let's begin."

  A great brazier was brought forward. It was full of red-hot charcoal and from it poked irons of various sorts. These were instruments especially designed for torture, thought Corum. What sort of race could conceive such things and call itself sane?

  Glandyth-a-Krae selected a long iron from the brazier and turned it this way and that, inspecting the glowing tip.

  "We will begin with an eye and end with an eye," he said. "The right eye, I think."

  If Corum had eaten anything in the last few days, he would have vomited then. As it was, bile came into his mouth and his stomach trembled and ached.

  There were no further preliminaries.

  Glandyth began to advance with the heated iron. It smoked in the cold night air.

  Now Corum tried to forget the threat of torture and concentrate on his second sight, trying to see into the next plane. He sweated with a mixture of terror and the effort of his thought. But his mind was confused. Alternately, he saw glimpses of the next plane and the ever-advancing tip of the iron coming closer and closer to his face.

  The scene before him shivered, but still Glandyth came on, the gray eyes burning with an unnatural lust.

  Corum twisted in the chains, trying to avert his head. Then Glandyth's left hand shot out and tangled itself in his hair, forcing the head back, bringing the iron down.

  Corum screamed as the red-hot tip touched the lid of his closed eye. Pain filled his face and then his whole body. He heard a mixture of laughter, his own shouts, Glandyth's rasping breathing . . .

  . . . and Corum fainted.

  Corum wandered through the streets of a strange city. The buildings were high and seemed but recently built, though already they were grimed and smeared with slime.

  There was still pain, but it was remote, dull. He was blind in one eye. From a balcony a woman's voice called him. He looked around. It was his sister, Pholhinra. When she saw his face, she cried out in horror.

  Corum tried to put his hand to his injured eye, but he could not.

  Something held him. He tried to wrench his left hand free from whatever gripped it. He pulled harder and harder. Now the wrist began to pulse with pain as he tugged.

  Pholhinra had disappeared, but Corum was now absorbed in trying to free his hand. For some reason, he could not turn to see what it was that held him. Some kind of beast, perhaps, holding on to his hand with its jaws.

  Corum gave one last, huge tug and his wrist came free.

  He put up the hand to touch the blind eye, but still felt nothing.

  He looked at the hand.

  There was no hand. Just a wrist. Just a stump.

>   Then he screamed again ...

  . . . and he opened his eyes and saw the Mabden holding the arm and bringing down white-hot swords on the stump to seal it.

  They had cut off his hand.

  And Glandyth was still laughing, holding Corum's severed hand up to show his men, with Corum's blood still dripping from the knife he had used.

  Now Corum saw the other plane distinctly, superimposed, as it were, over the scene before him. Summoning all the energy born of his fear and agony, he shifted himself into that plane.

  He saw the Mabden clearly, but their voices had become faint. He heard them cry out in astonishment and point at him. He saw Glandyth wheel, his eyes widening. He heard the Earl of Krae call out to his men to search the woods for Corum.

  The board was abandoned as Glandyth and his men lumbered off into the darkness seeking their Vadhagh captive.

  But their captive was still chained to the board, for it, like him, existed on several planes. And he still felt the pain they had caused him and he was still without his right eye and his left hand.

  He could stay away from further mutilation for a little while, but eventually his energy would give out completely and he would return to their plane and they would continue their work.

  He struggled in the chains, waving the stump of his left wrist in a futile attempt to free himself of those manacles still holding his other limbs.

  But he knew it was hopeless. He had only averted his doom for a short while. He would never be free—never be able to exercise his vengeance on the murderer of his kin.

  The Seventh Chapter

  The Brown Man

  Corum sweated as he forced himself to remain in the other plane, and he watched nervously for the return of Glandyth and his men,

  It was then that he saw a shape move cautiously out of the forest and approach the board.

  At first Corum thought it was a Mabden warrior, without a helmet and dressed in a huge fur jerkin. Then he realized that this was some other creature.