Chronicles of Corum

by Michael Moorcock

  Now Amergin's clear, strong voice rang out, calling to Corum:

  "Well, Corum of the Silver Hand, are you satisfied with the company you lead to war?"

  Corum answered gracefully. "My only doubt is that there are many here better able to lead such great warriors than I. It is my honor that I am elected to this task."

  "Well-spoken!" King Fiachadh lifted his mead-horn. "I toast Corum, the slayer of Sreng of the Seven Swords, the savior of our High King. I toast Corum, who brought back the Mabden pride!"

  And Corum blushed as they cheered and drank his health and when they had finished he stood up and raised his own horn and he spoke these words:

  "I toast that pride! I toast the Mabden folk!"

  And again the company roared its approval and all drank.

  Then Amergin said:

  "We are fortunate in having Sidhi allies who have chosen to aid us in our struggle against the Fhoi Myore. We are fortunate in that many of our great Treasures were restored to us and used to defeat the Fhoi Myore when they sought to destroy us. I toast the Sidhi and the gifts of the Sidhi."

  And again the whole company, save an embarrassed Ilbrec and a bemused Goffanon, drank and cheered.

  Ilbrec was the next to speak. He said:

  "If the Mabden were not courageous; if they were not a fine-spirited folk, the Sidhi would not help them. We fight for that which is noble in all living beings."

  Goffanon grunted his agreement with this sentiment. "By and large," he said, "the Mabden are not a selfish folk. They are not mean. They respect one another. They are not greedy. They are not, in the main, self-righteous. Aye, I’ve a liking for this people. I am glad that finally I chose to fight in their cause. It will be good to die in such a cause."

  Amergin smiled. "I hope you do not expect death, Sir Goffanon. You speak of it as if it were an inevitable consequence of this venture."

  And Goffanon lowered his eyes, shrugging.

  King Mannach put in quickly: "We shall defeat the Fhoi Myore. We must. But I'll admit we could make use of any further advantages that Fate cares to send us." He looked meaningly at Corum who nodded.

  "Magic is the best weapon against magic," he agreed, "if that is what you meant, King Mannach."

  "It is what I meant," said Medhbh's father.

  "Magic!" Goffanon laughed. "There's little of that left now, save the kind the Fhoi Myore and their friends can summon."

  "Yet I heard of something ..." Corum hardly realized he was speaking. He paused, reconsidering his impulse.

  "Heard what?" said Amergin, leaning forward.

  Corum looked at Ilbrec. "You spoke of a magical place, Ilbrec. Earlier today. You said you might know of somewhere where magical allies might be found."

  Ilbrec glanced at Goffanon, who frowned. "I said I might know of such a place. It was a dim memory ..."

  "It is too dangerous," said Goffanon. "As I told you before, Ilbrec, I wonder at you suggesting it. We are best engaged in using to fullest advantage the resources we have now."

  "Very well," said Hbrec. "You were ever cautious, Goffanon."

  "In this case rightly," grunted the Sidhi dwarf.

  But now there was a silence in the hall as everyone listened to the exchange between the two Sidhi. Ilbrec looked about him, addressing all. "I made a mistake," he said. "Magic and such stuff has a habit of recoiling on those who use it."

  "True," said Amergin. "We will respect your reserve, Sir Ilbrec."

  ‘ ‘ It is as well,'' said Ilbrec, but it was plain he did not really share Goffanon's caution. Caution was not part of the Sidhi youth's character, just as it had not been part of the great Manannan's nature.

  ‘‘Your folk fought the Fhoi Myore in nine great fights," said King Fiachadh, wiping his mouth clean of the sticky mead which clung to it. ‘ ‘You know them best, therefore. And therefore we respect any advice you give us."

  ‘‘And do you give us advice, Sir Sidhi?" Amergin asked.

  Goffanon looked up from where he had been staring broodingly into his drinking beaker. His eyes were hard and sharp; they burned with a fire none had previously seen there. ‘'Only that you should fear heroes," he said.

  And no one asked him what he meant, for all were profoundly disturbed and perplexed by his remark.

  At length King Mannach spoke. "It is agreed that we march directly for Caer Llud and make our first attack there. There are disadvantages to this plan—we go into the coldest of the Fhoi Myore territories—yet we have the chance of surprising them."

  "Then we retreat again," said Corum. ‘'Making the best speed we can for Craig Don, where we shall have left extra weapons, riding beasts, and food. From Craig Don we can make forays against the Fhoi Myore knowing that they will be unwilling to follow us through the seven circles. Our only danger will be if the Fhoi Myore are strong enough to hold Craig Don in siege until our food is gone."

  "And that is why we must strike hard and strike swiftly at Caer Llud, taking as many of them as we can and conserving our own strength," said Morkyan of the Two Smiles, fingering his pointed beard. ''There must be no displays of courage—no glory-deeds at Caer Llud."

  His words were not particularly well-received by many in the company. "War-making is an art," said Kernyn the Ragged, his long face seeming to grow still longer, "though a terrible and immoral art. And most of us gathered here are artists, priding ourselves upon our skills—aye, and our style, too. If we cannot express ourselves in our individual ways, then is there any point to fighting at all?"

  "Mabden fights are one thing," said Corum quietly, "but a war of Mabden against Fhoi Myore is another. There is more to lose than pride in the battles we contemplate tonight."

  ‘ T understand you,'' said Kernyn the Ragged, "but I am not sure I entirely agree with you, Sir Sidhi."

  "We could give up too much in order to save our lives," said Sheonan the Axe-maiden, disengaging herself from Grynion’s embrace.

  "You spoke of what you admired in the Mabden." The Branch Hero, Phadrac, addressed Goffanon. "Yet there is a danger that we should sacrifice all the virtues of our folk merely in order to continue to exist."

  "You must sacrifice nothing of that," Goffanon told him. "We merely counsel prudence during the assault on Caer Llud. One of the reasons that the Mabden lost so badly to the Fhoi Myore was because the Mabden warriors fight as individuals whereas the Fhoi Myore organize their forces as a single unit. At Caer Llud, if nowhere else, we must emulate these methods, using cavalry for fast-striking, using chariots as moving platforms from which to cast missiles. It would be pointless to stand and fight against Rhannon's horrible breath, would it not?"

  "The Sidhi speak wisely," agreed Amergin, "and I beg all my folk to listen to them. That is why we are gathered here tonight, after all. I saw Caer Llud fall. I saw fine, brave war-knights fall before they could strike a single blow against their enemies. In the old times, in the times of the Nine Fights, Sidhi fought Fhoi Myore, one to one, tout we are not Sidhi. We are Mabden. We must, in this instance, fight as a single folk."

  The Branch Hero leant his great body backwards on the bench, nodding. "If Amergin decrees this, then I will fight as the Sidhi suggest. It is enough," he said.

  And the others murmured their assent.

  Now Ilbrec reached into his jerkin and drew out a rolled sheet of vellum."Here, ‘ ‘ he said, "is a map of Caer Llud.'' He unrolled the sheet and turned, displaying it. "We attack simultaneously from four sides. Each force will be led by its king. This wall is considered the weakest and so two kings and their people will attack it. Ideally, we could move in to crush the Fhoi Myore and their slaves at the center of the city, but in actuality we shall probably not be successful in this and, having struck as hard as we can, will be forced to retreat, saving as many of our lives as possible for the second fight, at Craig Don ..." And Ilbrec went on to explain the details of the plan.

  Although one of those mainly responsible for the plan, Corum privately considered it over-optimistic, yet th
ere was no better plan and so it would have to stand. He poured himself more mead from the pitcher at his elbow, passing the pitcher to Goffanon. Corum still wished that Goffanon had allowed Ilbrec to speak of the mysterious magical allies he considered top dangerous to enlist. As he accepted the pitcher, Goffanon said quietly: "We must leave here soon, for midnight approaches. The sword will be ready."

  ‘ "there is little more to discuss," Corum agreed. "Let me know when you wish to go and I will make our excuses."

  Now Ilbrec was answering the close questioning of some of the number who wished to hear how such and such a wall would be breached, and how long ordinary mortals might be expected to survive in the Fhoi Myore mist, and what kind of clothing would offer the best protection, and so on.

  Seeing that he had no more to add to the discussion Corum stood up, courteously taking his leave of the High King and the rest of the gathering and, with Medhbh, Goffanon and Hisak Sunthief beside him, strolled from the crowded hall into narrow streets and a cool night.

  The sky was almost as light as day and the heavy buildings of the fortress-city were outlined blackly against it. A few pale, blue-tinted clouds flowed over the moon and onto the horizon, in the direction of the sea. They walked to the gate and crossed the bridge which spanned the moat, making their way round the edge of the camp and going toward the trees beyond. Somewhere a great owl hooted and there was the crack of wings) the squeal of a young rabbit. Insects chittered in the tall grass as they waded through it and entered the forest.

  While the trees were still thin, Corum looked up into the clear sky, noting that once again, as it had been the last time he had entered this wood, the moon was full.

  ''Now," said Goffanon,"we go to the place of power where the sword awaits us."

  And Corum found that he paused, reluctant to visit that mound where he had first entered this strange Mabden dream.

  There came a sound from behind. Corum turned nervously, seeing, to his relief, that Jhary-a-Conel came to join them, his winged cat on his shoulder. Jhary grinned."The hall was becoming too stuffy for Whiskers here ."He stroked the cat's head.' 'I thought I might join you."

  Goffanon seemed a trifle suspicious, but he nodded. "You are a welcome witness to what will transpire tonight, Jhary-a-Conel."

  Jhary gave a bow. "I thank you."

  Corum said:"Is there no other place we can go, Goffanon? Must it be Cremmsmound?"

  "Cremmsmound is the nearest place of power," said Goffanon simply. "It would be too far to travel elsewhere."

  Corum still did not move. He listened carefully to the sounds of the forest. "Do you hear the strains of a harp?" he asked.

  "We are not close enough to the hall to hear the musicians,'' said Hisak Sunthief.

  "You hear no harp in the wood?"

  "I hear nothing," said Goffanon.

  "Then I do not hear it," said Corum. "I thought for a moment it was the Dagdagh harp. The harp we heard when we summoned Oak Woman."

  "An animal cry," said Medhbh.

  "I fear that harp." Corum's voice was almost a whisper.

  "There would be no need,'' Medhbh told him. "Tor the Dagdagh harp is wise. It is our friend."

  Corum reached out and took her warm hand, "It is your friend, Medhbh of the Long Arm, but it is not mine. The old seeress told me to fear a harp, and that is the harp of which she spoke."

  "Forget that prophecy. The old woman was plainly deranged. It was not a true prophecy." Medhbh stepped closer to him, her grip tightening. "You, of all of us, should not give in to superstition now, Corum,"

  Corum made a great effort and pushed the fear into the back of his mind. Then, momentarily, he met Jhary's eye. Jhary was troubled. He turned away, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat on his head.

  "Now we must go quickly," growled Goffanon. "The time is near."

  And, fighting off that morbid sense of doom, Corum followed the Sidhi dwarf deeper into the forest.

  THE FOURTH CHAPTER

  THE SWORD SONG OF THE SIDHI

  It was as Corum had seen it before, Cremmsmound, with the white rays of the moon striking it, with the leaves of the oak trees shining like dark silver, all still. Corum studied the mound and wondered what lay beneath it. Did the mound really hide the bones of one who had been called Corum of the Silver Hand? And could those bones indeed be his own? The thought barely disturbed him at that moment. He watched Goffanon and Hisak Sunthief digging in the soft earth at the base of the mound, eventually drawing out a finished sword, a heavy, finely-tempered sword whose hilt was of plaited ribbons of iron. The sword seemed to attract the light of the moon and reflect it with increased brightness.

  Careful not to touch the handle, holding the sword below the hilt, Goffanon inspected it, showing it to Hisak who nodded his approval.

  "It will take much to dull the edge of this," said Goffanon. "Save for Ilbrec's sword Retaliator, there is no blade like it now in all the world.''

  "Is it steel?" Jhary-a-Conel stepped closer, peering at the sword. "It does not shine like steel”