Knight of the Swords

by Michael Moorcock

  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."

  "What mean you?"

  "He comes, Corum. His beasts still bear him."

  Corum sheathed his sword and jumped from the table.

  "I'll join you below. I can't get back that way."

  He stepped over what was left of Ertil the Nhadragh and he pulled open the door. As he went down the stairs he heard the voices of the caged animals chattering and crying, begging him to release them.

  Outside Jhary was already waiting for him with Rhalina, Corum took Rhalina and made her enter the building.

  "Stay there, Rhalina. It is a foul place but it offers greater safety. Please stay there."

  Black wings beat in the sky. Glandyth was near.

  Corum and Jhary ran out until they stood in what had once been a square. Now piles of rubble filled it.

  The Denledhyssi were fewer in number. Doubtless some had died in the encounter with Duke Teer. But there were still a dozen black monsters in the air above Os.

  A blood-curdling yell of triumph suddenly sounded from the sky and it echoed through the ruined city.

  "Corum!"

  It was Glandyth-a-Krae and he had seen his enemy.

  "Where are your sorcerous hand and eye, Shefanhow?

  Gone back to the netherworld you conjured them from, eh?"

  Glandyth began to laugh.

  "So, after all, we are to die at the hands of the Mabden,"

  Corum said quietly as he watched the black beasts land on the far side of the square. "Prepare to perish, Jhary."

  They waited with their swords ready as Glandyth dismounted from his Chaos monster and began to tramp across the ruins, his Denledhyssi at his back.

  Thinking that he might save Jhary and Rhalina, Corum called to the huge man, "Will you fight me fairly, Earl Glandyth? Will you tell your men to stand back while we battle?"

  Glandyth-a-Krae adjusted his bulky furs on his back and he tilted his helm further over his red face. Laughter exploded from his thick lips. "If you think it is fair for me to fight a wretch with but one hand and one eye, yes, I'll fight you, Corum." He winked at his men. "Stand back as he says. I'll let you have his other hand and his other eye in a little while."

  The barbarians yelled with mirth at their leader's jest.

  The Mabden earl came closer until only a few yards separated them. He glowered at the Vadhagh.

  "You have caused me much discomfort of late, Shefanhow. But now my pleasure makes me forget it all. I am most glad to see you." He drew his great war-axe from his belt and slid his sword from its scabbard. "We shall complete what was begun in the woods at Castle Erorn."

  He took a step forward but then a frightened yell from his men made him stop and glance back.

  The black beasts were rising into the air and flying eastward. And as they flew they vanished.

  "Going back to Chaos," Corum told Glandyth. "Their master needs them, for he is hard pressed. If I kill you, Glandyth, will your men set me free?"

  Glandyth grinned his wolf grin, "They love me greatly, do my Denledhyssi."

  "So I have little to gain," Corum said. "One moment."

  He murmured to Jhary, "Take Rhalina now. Get to the boat. Even if I am killed the Denledhyssi have no transportation now and will not be able to follow you. It is the wisest thing, Jhary, do not deny that."

  Jhary sighed. "I do not deny it. I will do as you say. I go."

  "You will let him leave Os, will you not?" Corum said.

  Glandyth shrugged. "Very well. If we become bored we can always hunt him down later. And do not think that I miss the loss of a few Chaos beasts. I have my own sorcerer to conjure up something new if I need it."

  "Ertil?"

  Glandyth's unhealthy eyes narrowed. "What of Ertil?"

  "He has killed himself. The Cloud of Contention reached even him."

  "No matter. I will—haaiii!" The Earl of Krae flung himself suddenly at Corum, the battle-axe and the sword slashing from two sides.

  Corum jumped back, caught his foot, fell as the axe whistled over his head. He rolled as the sword clashed down on the block of masonry where he had lain. He supported himself on the stump of his left hand and got to his feet, blocking a wild blow from the axe.

  The barbarian was as strong and as swift as ever, for all his girth. His presence alone made Corum feel as weak as a child in comparison. He strove to take the offensive, but Glandyth allowed him no respite, forcing him further and further back over the rubble. Corum's only hope was that Jhary had managed to get Rhalina to the boat and that, by the time Glandyth slew him, they would be sailing back for Castle Erorn.

  Both axe and sword came down on Corum's upraised blade and his arm went numb beneath the force of the blow. He slid his sword down the haft of the axe, trying to cut Glandyth's fingers, but the Earl of Krae withdrew the axe and aimed it at Corum's head.

  Corum dodged and the axe sheared off the links of the byrnie on his left shoulder but only grazed the flesh.

  Glandyth grinned. His foul breath was in Corum's face, his mad eyes were full of death-lust. He stabbed with his sword and Corum felt the steel slide into his thigh. He backed off and saw that there was blood running down the silver mail.

  Panting, Glandyth paused, readying himself for the kill.

  And Corum dashed in, struck with his blade at Glandyth's face and gashed his cheek before the barbarian's sword came up and pushed away his weapon.

  Blood continued to pour from the wound in his thigh.

  Corum hobbled backward over the ruins, trying to put a little distance between himself and his enemy. Glandyth did not follow but stood there, relishing Corum's pain.

  "I think I can still have the pleasure of making your de
ath a slow one. Would you care to run a little way, Prince Corum, to purchase a few extra seconds of life?"

  Corum straightened his back. He was almost fainting.

  He could say nothing. He stared at Glandyth through his single eye and then he took a step forward.

  Glandyth chuckled. "I slew all your race, save you.

  Now, after much patient waiting, I can slay the last of your filthy kind."

  Corum took another step forward.

  Glandyth readied his weapons. "You want to die, eh?"

  Corum swayed. He could hardly see the Earl of Krae.

  He raised his sword with difficulty and tried to take a further step.

  "Come," said Glandyth, "come."

  A shadow passed over the ruins. At first Corum thought he imagined it. He shook his head to try to clear it.

  Glandyth had seen the shadow, too. His red mouth fell open in astonishment, his bloodshot eyes widened.

  And while he stared up at the thing which cast the shadow, Corum fell forward behind his sword and plunged the steel into Glandyth's throat.

  Glandyth made a hollow, gurgling sound and blood welled from his mouth.

  "For my family," said Corum.

  The shadow moved on. It was a giant who cast it. A giant with a great net, which he cast down over the terrified men of the Denledhyssi and dragged them upward and hurled their bodies far out over the city. It was a giant with two glittering, jeweled eyes.

  Corum fell down beside the corpse of Glandyth-a-Krae, looking up at the giant. "The Wading God," he said.

  Jhary appeared beside him, staunching the blood from his thigh. "The Wading God," he said to Corum. "But he no longer fishes the seas of the world for he found what he sought."

  "His soul?"

  "His eye. The Wading God is Rhynn."

  Corum's vision was even more blurred. But through a pink mist he saw Kwll come, a grin upon his jeweled face.

  "Your Chaos gods are gone," said Kwll. "With my brother's help I slew them all and all their minions."

  "I thank you," Corum said thickly. "And Lord Arkyn will thank you, too."

  Kwll chuckled. "I think not."