But then a strange droning sound came to his ears. It made his brain itch. He wrinkled his scalp. He rubbed his face. The droning increased. His ears ached. His teeth were on edge. The volume grew.
He put his good hand to one ear and covered the other with his arm. Tears came into his eye. In the socket where the other eye had been a huge pain pulsed.
He stumbled from side to side of the rotting cabin and even attempted to break through the door.
But his senses were leaving him. The scene grew dim.
He stood in a dark hall with walls of fluted stone which curved over his head and touched to form the roof, high above. The workmanship of the hall was equal to anything the Vadhagh had created, but it was not beautiful. Rather, it was sinister.
His head ached.
The air before him shimmered with a pale blue light and then a tall youth stood there. The face was young, but the eyes were ancient. He was dressed in a simple flowing gown of yellow samite. He bowed, turned his back, walked a little way, and then sat down on a stone bench that had been built into the wall.
Corum frowned.
"You believe you dream, Master Corum?"
"I am Prince Corum in the Scarlet Robe, last of the Vadhagh race."
"There are no other princes here, but me," said the youth softly. "I will allow none. If you understand that, there will be no tension between us."
Corum shrugged. "I believe I dream, yes."
"In a sense you do, of course. As we all dream. For some while, Vadhagh, you have been trapped in a Mabden dream. The rules of the Mabden control your fate and you resent it."
"Where is the ship that brought me here. Where is Rhalina?"
"The ship cannot sail by day. It has returned to the depths."
"Rhalina?"
The youth smiled. "She has gone with it, of course. That was the bargain she made."
"Then she is dead?"
"No. She lives."
"How can she live when she is below the surface of the ocean!"
"She lives. She always will. She cheers the crew enormously."
"Who are you?"
"I believe you have guessed my name."
"Shool-an-Jyvan."
"Prince Shool-an-Jyvan, Lord of All That Is Dead in the Sea—one of my several titles."
"Give me back Rhalina."
"I intend to."
Corum looked suspiciously at the sorcerer. "What?"
"You do not think I would bother to answer such a feeble attempt at a Summoning as the one she made, do you, if I did not have other motives in mind?"
"Your motive is clear. You relished the horror of her predicament."
"Nonsense. Am I so childish? I have outgrown such things. I see you are beginning to argue in Mabden terms. It is just as well for you, if you wish to survive in this Mabden dream."
"It is a dream . . . ?"
"Of sorts. Real enough. It is what you might call the dream of a God. There again you might say that it is a dream that a God has allowed to become reality. I refer of course to the Knight of the Swords who rules the Five Planes."
"The Sword Rulers! They do not exist. It is a superstition once entertained by the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh."
"The Sword Rulers do exist, Master Corum. You have one of them, at least, to thank for your misfortunes. It was the Knight of the Swords who decided to let the Mabden grow strong and destroy the Old Races."
"Why?"
"Because he was bored by you. Who would not be? The world has become more interesting now, I'm sure you will agree."
"Chaos and destruction is 'interesting'?" Corum made an impatient gesture. "I thought you had outgrown such childish ideas."
Shool-an-Jyvan smiled. "Perhaps I have. But has the Knight of the Swords?"
"You do not speak plainly, Prince Shool."
"True. A vice I find impossible to give up. Still, it enlivens a dull conversation sometimes."
"If you are bored with this conversation, return Rhalina to me and I will leave."
Shool smiled again. "I have it in my power to bring Rhalina back to you and to set you free. That is why I let Master Moidel answer her Summoning. I wished to meet you, Master Corum."
"You did not know I would come."
"I thought it likely."
"Why did you wish to meet me?"
"I have something to offer you. In case you refused my gift, I thought it wise to have Mistress Rhalina on hand."
"And why should I refuse a gift?"
Shool shrugged. "My gifts are sometimes refused. Folk are suspicious of me. The nature of my calling disturbs them. Few have a kind word for a sorcerer, Master Corum."
Corum peered around him in the gloom. "Where is the door? I will seek Rhalina myself. I am very weary, Prince Shool."
"Of course you are. You have suffered much. You thought your own sweet dream a reality and you thought reality a dream. A shock. There is no door. I have no need of them. Will you not hear me out?"
"If you choose to speak in a less elliptical manner, aye."
"You are a poor guest, Vadhagh. I thought your race a courteous one."
"I am no longer typical."
"A shame that the last of a race should not typify its virtues. However, I am, I hope, a better host and I will comply with your request. I am an ancient being. I am not of the Mabden and I am not of the folk you call the Old Races. I came before you. I belonged to a race which began to degenerate, I did not wish to degenerate and so I concerned myself with the discovery of scientific ways in which I could preserve my mind in all its wisdom. I discovered the means to do such a thing, as you see. I am, essentially, pure mind. I can transfer myself from one body to another, with some effort, and thus am immortal. Efforts have been made to extinguish me, over the millenia, but they have never been successful. It would have involved the destruction of too much. Therefore I have, generally speaking, been allowed to continue my existence and my experiments. My wisdom has grown. I control both Life and Death. I can destroy and I can bring back to life. I can give other beings immortality, if I choose. By my own mind and my own skill I have become, in short, a God. Perhaps not the most powerful of the Gods—but that will come eventually. Now you will understand that the Gods who simply"—Shool spread his hands—"popped into existence—who exist only through some cosmic fluke—why, they resent me. They refuse to acknowledge my Godhood. They are jealous. They would like to have done with me for I disturb their self-esteem. The Knight of the Swords is my enemy. He wishes me dead. So, you see, we have much in common, Master Corum."
"I am no 'God,' Prince Shool. In fact, until recently, I had no belief in gods, either."
"The fact that you are not a God, Master Corum, is evident from your obtuseness. That is not what I meant. What I did mean was this—we are both the last representatives of races whom, for reasons of their own, the Sword Rulers decided to destroy. We are both, in their eyes, anachronisms which must be eradicated. As they replaced my folk with the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh, so they are replacing the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh with the Mabden. A similar degeneration is taking place in your people—forgive me if I associate you with the Nhadragh—as it did in mine. Like me, you have attempted to resist this, to fight against it. I chose science—you chose the sword. I will leave it to you to decide which was the wisest choice . . ."
"You seem somewhat petty for a God," Corum said, losing his patience. "Now . . ."
"I am a petty God at the moment. You will find me more lordly and benign when I achieve the position of a greater God. Will you let me continue, Master Corum? Can you not understand that I have acted, so far, out of fellow feeling for you?"
"Nothing you have done so far seems to indicate your friendship."
"I said fellow feeling, not friendship. I assure you, Master Corum, I could destroy you in an instant—and your lady, too."
"I would feel more patience if I knew you had released her from that dreadful bargain she made and brought her here so that I could see for myself that she stil
l lives and is capable of being saved."
"You will have to take my word."
"Then destroy me."
Prince Shool got up. His gestures were the testy gestures of a very old man. They did not match the youthful body at all and made the sight of him even more obscene. "You should have greater respect for me, Master Corum."
"Why is that? I have seen a few tricks and heard a great deal of pompous talk."
"I am offering you much, I warn you! Be more pleasant to me."
"What are you offering me?"
Prince Shool's eyes narrowed.
"I am offering you your life. I could take it."
"You have told me that."
"I am offering you a new hand and a new eye.”
Corum's interest evidently betrayed itself, for Prince Shool chuckled.
"I am offering you the return of this Mabden female you have such a perverse affection for." Prince Shool raised his hand. "Oh, very well. I apologize. Each to his own pleasures, I suppose. I am offering you the opportunity to take vengeance on the cause of your ills.”
"Glandyth-a-Krae?"
"No, no, no! The Knight of the Swords! The Knight of the Swords! The one who allowed the Mabden to take root in the first place in this plane!"
"But what of Glandyth? I have sworn his destruction."
"You accuse me of pettiness. Your ambitions are tiny. With the powers I offer you, you can destroy any number of Mabden earls!"
"Continue . . .”
"Continue? Continue? Have I not offered you enough?"
"You do not say how you propose to make these offers into something more than so much breath."
"Oh, you are insulting! The Mabden fear me! The Mabden gibber when I materialize myself. Some of them die of terror when I make my powers manifest!"
"I have seen too much horror of late," Prince Corum said.
"That should make no difference. Your trouble is, Vadhagh, that these horrors I employ are Mabden horrors. You associate with Mabden, but you are still a Vadhagh. The dark dreams of the Mabden frighten you less than they frighten the Mabden themselves. If you had been a Mabden, I should have had an easier task of convincing you . . .”
"But you could not use a Mabden for the task you have in mind," Coruni said grimly. "Am I right?"
"Your brains are sharpening. That is exactly the truth. No Mabden could survive what you must survive. And I am not sure that even a Vadhagh . .."
"What is the task?"
"To steal something I need if I am to develop my ambitions further."
"Could you not steal it yourself?"
"Of course not How could I leave my island? They would destroy me then, of a certainty."
"Who would destroy you?"
"My rivals, of course—the Sword Rulers and the rest! I only survive because I protect myself with all manner of devices and spells which, though they have, at this moment, the power to break, they dare not do so for fear of the consequences. To break my spells might lead to the very dissolution of the Fifteen Planes—and the extinction of the Sword Rulers themselves. No, you must do the thieving for me. No other, in this whole plane, would have the courage—or the motivation. For if you do this thing, I will restore Rhalina to you. And, if you still wish it, you will have the power to take your vengeance on Glandyth-a-Krae. But, I assure you, the real one to blame for the very existence of Glandyth is the Knight of the Swords, and by stealing this thing from him, you will be thoroughly avenged."
Corum said, "What must I steal?"
Shool chuckled. "His heart, Master Corum."
"You wish me to kill a God and take his heart. . ."
"Plainly you know nothing of Gods. If you killed the Knight, the consequences would be unimaginable. He does not keep his heart in his breast It is better guarded than that. His heart is kept on this plane. His brain is kept on another—and so on. This protects him, do you see?"
Corum sighed. "You must explain more later. Now. Release Rhalina from that ship and I will try to do what you ask of me."
"You are excessively obstinate, Master Corum!"
"If I am the only one who can help you further your ambitions, Prince Shool, then I can surely afford to be."
The young lips curled in a growl that was almost Mabden. "I am glad you are not immortal, Master Corum. Your arrogance will only plague me for a few hundred years at most Very well, I will show you Rhalina. I will show that she is safe. But I will not release her. I will keep her here and deliver her to you when the heart of the Knight of the Swords is brought to me."
"What use is the heart to you?"
"With it, I can bargain very well."
"You may have the ambitions of a God, Master Shool, but you have the methods of a peddler."
"Prince Shool. Your insults do not touch me. Now…”
Shool disappeared behind a cloud of milky green smoke that came from nowhere. A scene formed in the smoke. Corum saw the ship of the dead and he saw the cabin. He saw the corpse of the Margrave embracing the living flesh of his wife, Rhalina, the Margravine. And Corum saw that Rhalina was shouting with horror but unable to resist.
"You said she would be unharmed! Shool! You said she would be safe!"
"So she is—in the arms of a loving husband," came an offended voice from nowhere.
"Release her, Shool!"
The scene dissolved. Rhalina stood panting and terrified in the chamber that had no door. "Corum?"
Corum ran forward and held her, but she drew away with a shudder. "Is it Corum? Are you some phantom? I made a bargain to save Corum . . .”
"I am Corum. In turn, I have made a bargain to save you, Rhalina."
"I had not realized it would be so foul I did not understand the terms.... He was going to . .."
"Even the dead have their pleasures, Mistress Rhalina." An anthropoid creature in a green coat and breeks stood behind them. It noted Corum's astonishment with pleasure. "I have several bodies I can utilize. This was an ancestor of the Nhadragh, I think. One of those races."
"Who is it, Corum?" Rhalina asked. She drew closer to him and he held her comfortingly now. Her whole body shook. Her skin was oddly damp.
"This is ShooL-an-Jyvan. He claims to be a God. It was he who saw that your Summoning was answered. He has suggested that I perform an errand for him and in return he will allow you to live safely here until I return. Then we will leave together."
"But why did he ... ?"
"It was not you I wanted but your lover," Shool said impatiently. "Now that I have broken my promise to your husband I have lost my power over him! It is irritating."
"You have lost your power over Moidel, the Margrave?" Rhalina asked.
"Yes, yes. He is completely dead. It would be far too much effort to revive him again."
"I thank you for releasing him," Rhalina said.
"It was no wish of mine. Master Corum made me do it." Prince Shool sighed. "However, there are plenty more corpses in the sea. I shall have to find another ship, I suppose."
Rhalina fainted. Corum supported her with his good hand.
"You see," Shool said, with a trace of triumph, "the Mabden fear me excellently."
"We will need food, fresh clothing, beds, and the like," Corum said, "before I will discuss anything further with you, Shool."
Shool vanished.
A moment later the large room was full of furniture and everything else Corum had desired.
Corum could not doubt ShooPs powers, but he did doubt the being's sanity. He undressed Rhalina and washed her and put her into bed. She awoke then and her eyes were still full of fear, but she smiled at Corum. "You are safe now," he said. "Sleep."
And she slept.
Now Corum bathed himself and inspected the clothes that had been laid out for him. He pursed his lips as he picked up the folded garments and looked at the armor and weapons that had also been provided. They were Vadhagh clothes. There was even a scarlet robe that was almost certainly his own.
He began to consider the impl
ications of his alliance with the strange and amoral sorcerer of Svi-an-Fanla-Brool.
The Second Chapter
The Eye Of Rhynn And
The Hand Of Kwll
Corum had been asleep.
Now, suddenly, he was standing upright. He opened his eyes.
"Welcome to my little shop." Shool’s voice came from behind him. He turned. This time he confronted a beautiful girl of about fifteen. The chuckle that came from the young throat was obscene.
Corum looked around the large room. It was dark and it was cluttered. All manner of plants and stuffed animals filled it. Books and manuscripts teetered on crazily leaning shelves. There were crystals of a peculiar color and cut, bits of armor, jeweled swords, rotting sacks from which treasure, as well as other, nameless, substances, spilled. There were paintings and figurines, an assortment of instruments and gauges, including balances, and what appeared to be clocks with eccentric divisions marked in languages Corum did not know. Living creatures scuffled amongst the piles or chittered in comers. The place stank of dust and mold and death.
"You do not, I think, attract many customers," Corum said.
Shool sniffed. "Tliere are not many I should desire to serve. Now ..." In his young girl's form, he went to a chest that was partially covered by the shining skins of a beast that must have been large and fierce in life. He pushed away the skins and muttered something over the chest Of its own accord, the lid flew back. A cloud of black stuff rose from within and Shool staggered away a pace or two, waving his hands and screaming in a strange speech. The black cloud vanished. Cautiously, Shool approached the chest and peered in. He smacked his lips in satisfaction. ".. . here we are!"
He drew out two sacks, one smaller than the other. He held them up, grinning at Corum. "Your gifts."
"I thought you were going to restore my hand and my eye."
"Not 'restore,' exactly. I am going to give you a much more useful gift than that. Have you heard of the Lost Gods?"
"I have not."
"The Lost Gods who were brothers? Their names were Lord Rhynn and Lord Kwll. They existed even before I came to grace the universe. They became involved in a struggle of some kind, the nature of which is now obscured. They vanished, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, I do not know. But they left a little of themselves behind." He held up the sacks again. "These."
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