Knight of the Swords

by Michael Moorcock

  ... Then they were galloping towards the walls of Halwyg-nan-Vake with the Mabden warriors howling behind them.

  The gates opened for them and closed instantly. Barbarian fists beat uselessly on the iron-shod timbers as they dismounted to find that King Onald and Rhalina were waiting for them.

  “Prince Gaynor?” said King Onald eagerly. “Does he still live?”

  “Aye,” Corum answered hollowly. “He still lives.”

  “Then you failed!”

  “No.” Corum walked away from them, leading his foe’s horse, walking into the darkness, unwilling to speak to anyone, not even Rhalina.

  King Onald followed him and then paused, looking up at Jhary who was lowering himself from his saddle. “He did not fail?”

  “Prince Gaynor’s power is gone,” Jhary said tiredly. “Corum defeated him. Now the barbarians have no brain - they have only their numbers, their brutality, their Dogs and their Bears.” He laughed without humour. “That is all, King Onald.”

  They all stared after Corum who, with bowed back and dragging feet, passed into the shadows.

  “I will prepare us for their attack,” Onald said. “They will come at us in the morning, I think.”

  “It is likely,” Rhalina agreed. She had an impulse to go to Corum then, but she restrained it. And at dawn the barbarian army of King Lyr-a-Brode joined with the army of Bro-an-Mabden and, still with the strength of the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear, began to close in on Halwyg-nan-Vake.

  Warriors were packed on all Halwyg’s low walls. The barbarians had no siege engines with them, since they had relied on Prince Gaynor’s strategy and his Host of Chaos in their taking of all other cities. But there were many of them - so many that it was almost impossible to see the last ranks of their legions. They rode on horses and in chariots or they marched.

  Corum had rested for a few hours but had not been able to sleep. He could not rid himself of the vision of Prince Gaynor’s face. He tried to remember his hatred of Glandyth-a-Krae and sought the Earl amongst the barbarian horde, but Glandyth was apparently nowhere present. Perhaps he searched for Corum still in the region of Moidel’s Mount?

  King Lyr sat on a big horse and clutched his own crude battle-banner. Beside him was the hump-backed shape of King Cronekyn-a-Drok, ruler of the tribes of Bro-an-Mabden. Half-idiot was King Cronekyn and well was he nicknamed the Little Toad.

  The barbarians marched raggedly, without much order and it seemed that the sunken-featured king looked about him nervously as if he were not sure he could control such a force now that Prince Gaynor was gone.

  King Lyr-a-Brode lifted his great iron sword and a sheet of flaming arrows suddenly leapt from behind his horsemen and whistled over the walls of Halwyg, setting light to shrubs which had dried from lack of watering. But King Onald had prepared for this and for some days the citizens had been preserving their urine to throw upon the flames. King Onald had heard of the fate of other besieged cities in his kingdom and he had learned what was necessary.

  Several of the defenders staggered about on the walls beating at the flaming arrows which stuck in them. One man ran by Corum with his face burning but Corum hardly noticed him.

  With a huge roar the barbarians rode right up to the walls and began to scale them.

  The attack on Halwyg had begun in earnest.

  But Corum watched for the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear, wondering when that would be brought against them. They seemed to be holding it in reserve and he could not quite see why.

  Now his attention was forced back to the immediate threat as a gasping barbarian, brand in one hand, sword in his teeth, hauled himself over the battlements. He gave a yell of surprise as Corum cut him down. But others were coming now.

  All through that morning Corum fought mechanically, though he fought well.

  Elsewhere on the walls Rhalina, Jhary and Beldan were commanding detachments of defenders. A thousand barbarians died, but a thousand more replaced them, for Lyr had had the sense at least to rest his men and bring them up in waves. There was no chance of such strategy amongst those who manned the walls. Every warrior who could carry a sword was being used.

  Corum’s ears rang with the roar and the clash of battle. He must have taken a score of lives, yet he was hardly aware of it. His mail was torn in a dozen places, he was bleeding from several minor wounds, but he did not notice that, either.

  More flame arrows crossed the walls and the women and children came with buckets to douse the fires that started.

  Behind the defenders was a thin haze of smoke. Before them was a mass of stinking barbarian warriors. And everywhere was the hysteria of battle. Blood splashed all surfaces. Human guts smeared the walls. Broken weapons littered the ground and corpses were piled several deep on the battlements in a vain attempt to raise the walls and stem the attack.

  Below them, at the gates, barbarians used tree-trunks to try to split the iron-shod wood, but so far they had held.

  Corum, only distantly aware of the noise and the sights of battle, knew that his fight with Prince Gaynor had been worthwhile. There was no doubt that Gaynor’s hell-creatures and Gaynor’s tactics would have taken the city by now.

  But how much time was there? When would Arkyn return with the substances needed by King Yurette? And did the City in the Pyramid still stand.

  Corum smiled grimly then. Xiombarg would know by now that he had slain her servant, Prince Gaynor. Her anger would be that much greater, her sense of impotence the stronger. Perhaps this would lessen the fury of her attack upon Gwlãs-cor-Gwrys?

  Or perhaps it would strengthen it?

  Corum strove to banish the speculations from his mind. There was no use in them. He picked up a spear, hurled by a barbarian, and flung it back so that it pierced the stomach of a Mabden attacker who clutched the shaft and swayed on the wall for a moment before toppling head over heels to join the other corpses on the ground below.

  Then, soon after noon, the barbarians began to retreat, dragging their dead with them.

  Corum saw King Lyr and King Cronekyn conferring. Perhaps they were wondering whether to bring up the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear. Were they considering a new strategy which would not waste so many of their men?

  Perhaps they did not care about the men they wasted?

  A boy found Corum on the wall. “Prince Corum, a message. Will you join Aleryon there?”

  On aching legs Corum left the battlements and got into a chariot, driving it slowly through the streets to the temple.

  And now the temple was packed with wounded both within and without. Corum met Aleryon at the entrance.

  “Is Arkyn returned?”

  “He is, prince.”

  Corum strode in, looking questioningly at the prone bodies on the floor.

  “They are dying,” said Aleryon quietly. “They are hardly aware of anything.

  There is no need for discretion with these poor lads.”

  Arkyn stepped again from the shadows. For all he was a god and the form he assumed was not his true form, he looked tired. “Here,” he said, handing Corum a small box of plain, dull metal. “Do not open it for the substances are very powerful and their radiance can kill you. Take it to the messenger from Gwlãs-cor-Gwrys and tell him to go back through the Wall Between the Realms in his Sky Ship...”

  “But he has not the power to return?” Corum argued.

  “I will manufacture an opening for him - or at least I hope I will, for I am close to exhaustion. Xiombarg is working against me in subtle ways. I am not sure I will be able to find an opening near to his city, but I will try. If it is far from his city he may be in danger trying to get back there, but it will be the best I can do.”

  Corum nodded and took the box. “Let us pray that Gwlãs-cor-Gwrys still stands.”

  Arkyn gave a sardonic smile. “Do not pray to me, then,” he said. “For I know no better than you.”

  Corum hurried from the temple with the box under his arm. It wa
s heavy and throbbed. He climbed into his chariot, whipped up the horses and raced through the miserable avenues until he came at last to King Onald’s palace.

  Up the steps he rushed until he came to the roof where the Sky Ship awaited him. He handed the box to the steersman and told him what Lord Arkyn had said. The steersman looked dubious but took the box and placed it carefully in a locker in the wheel-house.

  “Farewell, Bwydyth-a-Horn,” Corum said earnestly. “May you find your City in the Pyramid and may you bring it back to this Realm in time.”

  Bwydyth saluted him as he took the ship into the air. Suddenly a ragged gap appeared in the sky. It was unstable. It quivered and it sparked. Beyond it a vivid golden sky could be seen, scarred with purple and orange light which shouted.

  Through the gap went the Sky Ship. It was swallowed suddenly and the gap shrank behind it until there was no gap there at all.

  Corum stood watching the sky for a moment before he heard a great roar suddenly go up from the walls.

  A new attack must be beginning.

  He ran down the steps, back through the palace, out into the street. And then he saw the women. They were on their knees. They were weeping. A board was being borne on the shoulders of four tall warriors. On the board was something covered by a cloak.

  “What is it?” Corum asked one of the warriors. “Who is dead?”

  “They have slain our King Onald,” said the warrior sorrowfully. “And they have sent the Armies of the Dog and the Horned Bear against us. Destruction comes to Halwyg, Prince Corum. Now nothing can stop it!”

  The Fifth Chapter

  The Fury of Queen Xiombarg

  Savagely Corum whipped the horses back through the streets to the wall. A silence had fallen upon the citizens of Halwyg-nan-Vake and now, it seemed, they waited passively for the death which the victorious barbarians would bring them. Already two women had committed suicide as he passed, hurling themselves from the roofs of their houses. Perhaps they were wise, he thought.

  He jumped from the chariot and ran up the steps to the wall where Rhalina and Jhary-a-Conel stood together. He did not need to listen to what they told him, for he could see what was coming.

  The great dogs, eyes glaring, tongues lolling, were loping swiftly towards the city, towering over the barbarians who ran beside them. And behind the dogs came the gigantic bears with their clubs and their shields and with black horns curling from their heads, lumbering on their hind legs.

  Corum knew that the dogs could leap the walls and that the bears would batter down the gates with their clubs and he reached a decision.

  “To the palace!” he shouted. “All warriors to the palace. All civilians find what cover they can!”

  “You are abandoning the citizens?” Rhalina asked him, shivering when she saw that his single eye burned black and gold.

  “I am doing what I can for them, hoping that our retreat will bring us a little time. From the palace we shall be able to defend ourselves better.

  Hurry!” he shouted. “Hurry!”

  Some of the warriors moved swiftly, in relief, but others were reluctant.

  Corum stayed on the walls, watching as the soldiers straggled back towards the distant palace, herding the citizens with them, carrying the wounded.

  Soon only he, Rhalina and Jhary remained on the walls, watching the dogs lope nearer, watching the bears come closer.

  Then the three companions descended to the streets and began to run through the ruined, deserted avenues, past burned bushes and crushed flowers and corpses, until they arrived at the palace and supervised the barricading of windows and doors.

  The howls of the dogs and the bears, the yells of the triumphant barbarians could now be heard in the distance.

  A kind of peace fell over the waiting palace as the three companions climbed to the roof and stood watching.

  “How long!” Rhalina whispered. “How long, Corum, before they come?”

  “The beasts? Some minutes before they reach the walls.”

  “And then?”

  “A few more minutes while they nose about for a trap.”

  “And then?”

  “A minute or two before they attack the palace. And then - I do not know. We cannot stand for long against such powerful foes.”

  “Have you no other plan?”

  “I have one more plan. But against so many...” His voice trailed off. “I am not sure. I simply do not know the power...”

  The howling and grunting grew louder, then stopped.

  “They are at the walls,” said Jhary.

  Corum arranged his torn, scarlet robe about his shoulders. He kissed Rhalina.

  “Farewell, my Margravine,” he said.

  “Farewell? What ---?”

  “Farewell, Jhary - Companion to Champions. I think you may have to find another hero to befriend.”

  Jhary tried to smile. “Do you want me with you?”

  “No. “

  The first of the huge dogs leapt the wall and stood panting in the street, sniffing this way and that. They saw it in the distance.

  Corum left them as they watched, going back down the steps within the palace, squeezing through the barricade at the entrance and walking out down the broad path, past the gates of the palace, until he stood in the main avenue looking towards the walls.

  Some bushes were burning near-by. Gardens and lawns were littered with the dead and the near-dead. A small, winged cat circled over Corum’s head and then flew back towards the battlements.

  More dogs had leapt the walls and, heads down, tongues panting, eyes wary, came slowly along the avenue to where the single small figure of Corum waited for them.

  Behind the dogs the main gates of the city suddenly splintered, cracked and were forced down. The first of the horned bears waddled through, nostrils dilating, club ready.

  Corum was seen to raise his hand to his jewelled eye then. He was seen to blanch and stagger slightly, he was seen to stretch out his sorcerous Hand of Kwll and it vanished so that it seemed he had only a stump on his wrist.

  And then, all around him, frightful things suddenly appeared. Ghastly, ruined, misshapen things - the things which had been the followers of Prince Gaynor the Damned and were now loyal to Corum only because he promised them release if they would find new victims to imprison in the Cavern of Limbo.

  Corum pointed with the Hand of Kwll which had now reappeared.

  Rhalina turned her horrified gaze to Jhary-a-Conel who viewed the scene with a certain equanimity. “How can such - such maimed things hope to beat those dogs and those bears and the thousands of barbarians who follow behind them?”

  Jhary said. “I do not know. I think Corum is testing their power. If they are beaten completely, then it means that the Hand of Kwll. and the Eye of Rhynn are all but useless to him and will not be able to save us if we try to escape.”

  “And that is what he knew and did not speak of,” said Rhalina, nodding her beautiful head.

  The creatures of Chaos began to race up the avenue towards the gigantic dogs and bears. The animals were puzzled, growling a little, but not sure whether these were friends or foes.

  Scampering, malformed things they were, many with limbs missing, many with huge gaping wounds, some with no heads, some with no legs at all, so that they clung to their fellows or, where they could, propelled themselves on their hands. A wretched mob with but one advantage - and that was that they were already dead.

  Down the long, desolated avenue they poured and the dogs barked, their voices reverberating among the roofs of ruined Halwyg, warning the creatures to go back.

  But the creatures came on. They could not stop. To slay the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear was to assure their release from terrifying Limbo -

  to assure that their souls might die completely - and true death was all they sought now.

  Corum remained where he was at the end of the avenue and he could not believe that such wounded creatures could possibly overcome the fierce a
nd agile beasts. He saw that all the bears had entered the gates and that the barbarians were crowding in behind them, led by King Lyr and King Cronekyn.

  He hoped that even if the Chaos things were not successful a part of an hour might be granted Halwyg before the attack on the palace began.

  He looked back, behind the palace, to where the roof of the Temple of Law could just be seen. Was Arkyn there? Was Arkyn waiting to see what would happen?

  The dogs began to snap at the first of the Chaos creatures to reach them. One of the huge beasts flung its head back with an armless, struggling living-dead thing in its jaws. It shook it and flung it aside, but it began to crawl towards the dog again, the moment it had fallen. The dog flattened its ears and its tail drooped when it saw this.

  Large as they were, thought Corum, fierce as they were, they were still dogs.

  It was one of the things he had counted upon.

  The bears moved forward, red mouths glistening with white fangs, clubs and shields raised, striking about them with their bludgeons so that Chaos creatures were flung in all directions. But they did not die. They picked themselves up and they attacked again.

  Chaos creatures clung to the fur of the dogs and the bears. One dog went down at last, threshing on its back as Corum’s maimed corpses tore out its throat.

  Corum smiled an unpleasant smile.

  But now he saw that what he feared might happen was happening. Lyr-a-Brode was leading his riders around the fighting beasts. They moved warily, but they were beginning to fill the approach to the long avenue.

  Corum turned and ran back towards the palace.

  Before he had reached the roof the barbarians were pouring down the avenue towards the palace, while behind them the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear still struggled with the living-dead Chaos creatures.

  Arrows whirred from the windows of the palace and Corum saw that King Cronekyn was one of the first to fall with an arrow in each eye. King Lyr-a-Brode was better armoured than his brother monarch and the arrows merely bounced off his helmet and breastplate. He waved his sword in mockery of the archers and flung his barbarians against the palace. They began to batter down the barricades.