Chronicles of Corum

by Michael Moorcock

  "You planned to go there?" Corum asked.

  Ilbrec spread his hands. "I had thought ..."

  "I have been there," interrupted Goffanon. "That was my bad luck. My good luck was that I managed to escape. Evil druids used that island before the Mabden grew to power on this plane. It existed as a place before the rising of the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh, even—though it was not then on this plane."

  "Then how came it here?" asked Corum.

  Ilbrec cleared his throat. "An accident. For some reason there were those who grew powerful enough in its own plane to be able to destroy it. As fate would have it this was at the time when we Sidhi were coming through to help the Mabden against the Fhoi Myore.

  The inhabitants of Ynys Scaith were able to break through to this plane under cover of our own movements so, indirectly, the Sidhi are responsible for that place of horror existing here. Thus Ynys Scaith escaped the vengeance of the people of its own world, yet I heard that this world is inhospitable to them—they cannot leave their island without certain aids or they inevitably die. They seek a means of returning to their own plane or some other more hospitable to them. Thus far they have been unsuccessful. That is why I thought we might bargain with them to come to our aid—if we offered to help them."

  "They would betray us, no matter what bargain they made with us," Goffanon said. "It is as much in their nature to do so as it is in our nature to breathe air."

  "We should have to guard against such a happening," said Ilbrec.

  Goffanon gestured impatiently. "We could not. Listen to me, Ilbrec! Once I had the notion to visit Ynys Scaith, during the quiet times following the defeat of the Fhoi Myore. I knew what the Mabden said of Hy-Breasail, my own home—that it was inhabited by demons. I thought, therefore, that probably Ynys Scaith was a similar place—that while Mabden perished there, Sidhi would survive. I was wrong. What Hy-Breasail is to the Mabden, so Ynys Scaith is to the Sidhi. It belongs neither to this plane nor to ours. Moreover, the inhabitants use the properties of their land deliberately to torture and to slay all visitors not of their own kind."

  "Yet you escaped," put in Corum. "And Artek and a few others survived."

  "By luck in both cases. Artek told you that they found their ship by purest chance. Similarly, I stumbled into the sea. Once clear of Ynys Scaith I could not be followed by the inhabitants. I swam for more than a day before I reached an island little more than a crag of rock jutting from the sea. There I remained until sighted by a ship. They were wary of me, but they took me aboard and eventually I made my way back to Hy-Breasail and never left thereafter."

  "You mentioned nothing of this when first we met," said Corum.

  "For good reason," growled the Sidhi smith. "I would have mentioned nothing now, save that Artek spoke of it."

  "Yet you speak only of general terrors, not of specific dangers,'' said Ilbrec reasonably.

  "That," said Goffanon, "is because the specific dangers are indescribable." He got up. "We fight the Fhoi Myore without seeking such allies as the folk of Ynys Scaith. That way some of us might survive. The other way—we are all doomed. I speak the truth."

  "As you see it," Corum could not resist saying. At this, Goffanon's face hardened. He picked up his axe, flung it onto his shoulder and left the tent without another word.

  THE SEVENTH CHAPTER

  IN WHICH OLD FRIENDSHIPS APPEAR SUDDENLY DISCARDED

  Amergin came to Corum’s chambers that night while Medhbh was elsewhere, visiting her father. He entered without knocking and Corum, who had been staring through the window at the fires of the camp, turned when he detected a footfall.

  Amergin spread his thin hands. "I apologise for my rudeness, Prince Corum, but I wished to speak with you privately. I gather that you have angered Goffanon in some way."

  Corum nodded. "There was a dispute."

  "Concerning Ynys Scaith?"

  "Aye."

  "You had considered visiting the place?"

  ‘ ‘I am due to lead your army on the day after tomorrow. Clearly it would be impossible for me to do both.'' Corum indicated a carved chair. "Be seated, Archdruid."

  Corum sat down upon his bed as Amergin lowered himself into the chair.

  "Yet you would go, if you had no responsibilities here?" The High King spoke slowly, without looking at Corum.

  "I think so. Ilbrec is for the venture."

  "Your chances of survival would seem to be exceptionally slender."

  "Perhaps." Corum rubbed at his eye-patch. "But then if we cared considerably about our survival we would not be engaged in this war against the Fhoi Myore."

  "That is reasonable," said Amergin.

  Corum tried to interpret the import of what Amergin was saying. "There are many reasons," he said, "why I should lead the Mabden. Morale must be kept as high as possible while we march through the cold lands."

  "True," said Amergin. "I have been debating all this in my mind, as no doubt have you. But you will remember that I asked you earlier to persuade Goffanon to reveal the nature of these potential allies?,,

  "You spoke of it this morning."

  "Exactly. Well, since then I have meditated on this whole matter further and my conclusions are the same—we shall fare badly at Caer Llud. We shall be defeated by the Fhoi Myore unless we have magical assistance. We require supernatural aid, Prince Corum, beyond anything I can summon, beyond anything the Sidhi have at their disposal. And it appears that the only place from whence such help can be got is Ynys Scaith. I tell you all this knowing that you are discreet. Needless to say, our armies must set forth with every confidence of defeating the Fhoi Myore. Their morale would be harmed if you did not lead them, yet I think even with your leadership we should still be beaten. Thus, reluctantly, I conclude that our only hope lies in your being able to bargain with the folk of Ynys Scaith to come to our assistance."

  "And what if I fail?"

  "Dying men will curse you for a traitor, but your name will not be dishonored for long, for there will be no Mabden left to hate you.''

  "Is there no other way. What of the lost treasures of the Mabden, the Sidhi gifts?"

  "Those that remain are in Fhoi Myore hands. The Healing Cauldron is at Caer Llud. So is the Collar of Power. There was one other, but we were never sure of its nature or why it was amongst our treasures. That is lost."

  "What was it?"

  "An old saddle of cracked leather. We kept it faithfully, as we kept our other treasures, but I think it came with them by mistake."

  "So you cannot recover this cauldron and collar until the Fhoi Myore are defeated." "Just so."

  "Do you know anything more of the folk of Ynys Scaith?" "Only that they would, if they could, leave this plane of ours forever."

  "So I have learned. Yet we are not, surely, powerful enough to help them to do this."

  "If I had the Collar of Power," said Amergin, "I might, with other knowledge, be able to achieve their end for them."

  "Goffanon thinks that any bargain with the folk of the Shadow Isle will cost us dear—too dear."

  "If some of us survive, the cost will not be too much," said Amergin, "and I think some of us would live on."

  "Perhaps life is not at stake. What other damage could they

  do?"

  "I do not know. If you think the risk too great ..."

  "I have my own reasons, as well as yours, for visiting Ynys Scaith," Corum said.

  "It would be best if you left without much ceremony," Amergin told him."I would inform our men that you have embarked upon a quest and that you will, if possible, rejoin us before the attack on Caer Llud. In the meantime, if Goffanon will not go to Ynys Scaith, let us hope he will lead the Mabden in your stead, for he knows Caer Llud."

  "But he has a weakness, remember that," said Corum. "The wizard Calatin has power over him which can only be broken if Calatin loses the bag of spittle he holds. When you attack Caer Llud and if I have perished, seek Calatin out and slay him at once. I think of all those who side with
the Fhoi Myore that Calatin is the most dangerous, for he is the most human."

  "I will remember what you say, ‘ ‘ answered the Archdruid. "But I do not think you will perish upon Ynys Scaith, Corum."

  "Perhaps not." Corum frowned. "Yet I sense that this world becomes increasingly inhospitable to me, as it does to the folk of the Isle of Shadows."

  "You could speak truly," Amergin agreed. "The specific conjunction of the planes might, in your case, be unlucky."

  Corum smiled. "That sounds like mysticism of doubtful veracity, High King."

  "Truth often sounds so." The Archdruid rose. "When would you set forth for Ynys Scaith?"

  "Soon. I must consult Ilbrec."

  "Leave all other things to me," said Amergin, "and, I beg you, do not discuss our plan too fully with anyone, even Medhbh."

  "Very well." Corum watched Amergin leave, wondering if the Archdruid were playing an even more complex game than he had guessed and that Corum was a piece he was preparing to sacrifice. He shrugged the thoughts away. Amergin's logic was good, particularly if his vision had been accurate and the Mabden army stood the chance of being totally defeated at Caer Llud. And soon after Amergin had gone, Corum followed him, making his way out of the fortress city, down the hill to Ilbrec's great tent.

  Corum had returned to his chambers and was arming himself when Medhbh came in. She had expected to find him asleep and instead saw him dressed for war. "What's this? Do we march tomorrow?"

  Corum shook his head. "I go to Ynys Scaith," he told her.

  "You embark upon a private quest when you are due to lead us against Caer Llud?'' She laughed, wishing to believe that he joked.

  Corum remembered Amergin's wish that he should say as little as possible about his reasons for the journey. "It is not a private quest," he replied. "Not wholly, at any rate."

  "No?'' Her voice was shaking. She paced the room several times before continuing. "We should never have trusted one not of our own race. Why should we expect you to feel loyalty to our cause?''

  "You know that I feel that loyalty, Medhbh.'' He walked toward her, arms outstretched, but she shook his hand away, turning to glare at him.

  "You go to madness and death if you go to Ynys Scaith. You heard what Artek told us!" She tried to control her emotion. "If you go to Caer Llud with us, the worst that can happen to you is that your death will be a noble one."

  "I will rejoin you at Caer Llud if that is possible. The army will travel much slower than shall I. There is every chance of my rejoining it even before the assault on Caer Llud."

  "There is every chance of your never returning from Ynys Scaith," she said grimly.

  He shrugged.

  This gesture angered her further. Some word came half-formed from her lips, then she had walked to the door opened it and shut it with a crash behind her.

  Corum began to follow her, then thought better of it, knowing that further argument would lead to further misunderstanding. He hoped that Amergin might explain his predicament to Medhbh at some time, or at least convince her that his need to visit Ynys Scaith was not wholly the result of a private obsession.

  But it was with a heavy heart indeed that he left the castle and returned to the camp where Ilbrec awaited him.

  The golden giant was caparisoned for war, his great sword Retaliator sheathed at his hip, his huge horse Splendid Mane prepared for riding. He was smiling, plainly excited by the prospect of their adventure; but Corum could feel nothing but pain as he tried to return the Sidhi’s smile.

  "There is no time to waste," said Ilbrec. "As we agreed, we shall both ride Splendid Mane. He gallops faster than any mortal horse and will have us to Ynys Scaith and back in no time. I got the chart from Kawanh. There is naught else to keep us here."

  "No," said Corum. "Naught else."

  "You are irresponsible fools!"

  Corum wheeled round to confront a Goffanon whose face was dark with rage. The Sidhi dwarf shook the fist which held his double-bladed war-axe and he snarled at them. "If you come back from Ynys Scaith alive then you will not be sane. You will be good for nothing. We need you on this march. The Mabden are expecting the three of us to lead them. Our presence gives them confidence. Do not go to Ynys Scaith. Do not go!"

  "Goffanon," said Ilbrec reasonably, "in most things I respect your wisdom. In this matter, however, we must follow our own instincts."

  "Your instincts are false if they lead you to destruction, to the betrayal of those you have sworn to serve! Do not go!"

  "We go," said Corum in a quiet voice. "We must."

  "Then an evil demon drives you and you are no longer my friends," said Goffanon. "You are no longer my friends."

  "You should respect our motives, Goffanon..." began Corum, but he was cut off by the dwarf's cursing.

  "Even if you return sane from Ynys Scaith—and I doubt that you will—you will bring your own doom with you. That is unquestionable. I have seen it. There has been a hint of it in my dreams of late."

  With a certain defiance, Corum said:"The Vadhagh had a theory that dreams tell more about the man who dreams than about the world he dwells in. Could you have other motives for not wishing us to visit Ynys Scaith ...?’'

  Goffanon glared at him contemptuously. "I go with the Mabden to Caer Llud," he said.

  "Be careful of Calatin," said Corum earnestly.

  "I think that Calatin was a better friend than are you two." Goffanon's back was bowed as he made to leave the camp.

  "Well, must I decide?" The voice was light and ironic. It belonged to Jhary-a-Conel, who had emerged from the shadows and stood with his hand on his hip, his other hand to his chin, staring at the three of them from under tightly-drawn brows. "Must I decide between traveling to Ynys Scaith or Caer Llud? Are my loyalties divided?"

  "You go to Caer Llud,'‘ said Corum. "Your wisdom and knowledge are required here. They are greater than mine ..."

  "Whose would not be?" burst out Goffanon, still with his back to Corum.

  "Go with Goffanon, Jhary," said Corum softly to the Companion to Champions. "Help guard him against Calatin's sorcery."

  Jhary nodded. He touched Corum on the shoulder. "Goodbye, treacherous friend," he murmured. And the little smile on his lips was melancholy.

  As they spoke, Ilbrec mounted Splendid Mane, his harness clattering. "Corum?"

  Corum spoke sharply. "Goffanon. I am sure that I do what is most necessary to serve our cause best."

  "You will pay a price," said Goffanon. "You will pay, Corum. Heed my warning."

  Corum tapped a silver finger against the sword he now wore at his side. "My danger is lessened, however, thanks to your gift. I have faith in this blade you made. Do you say it will not protect me at all?"

  Shaking his huge head from side to side as if in pain, Goffanon groaned. "That depends upon the uses to which it is put. But, by the souls of all the Sidhi heroes, great and dead, I wish that I had not forged it."

  BOOK TWO

  On Ynys Scaith many terrors are experienced, many deceptions revealed, and several reversals brought about.

  THE FIRST CHAPTER

  THE ENCHANTMENTS OF YNYS SCAITH

  Splendid Mane had not forgotten the old roads between the planes and now the Sidhi horse galloped apparently upon the very waters of the sea as dawn found Ilbrec and Corum, both mounted on the same steed, out of sight of any land at all. The cool ocean rolled, blue, veined with white, on all sides of them, turning to pink, to gold and back to blue again as the sun climbed the sky.

  "Amergin said that Shadow Isle existed even before the coming of the Sidhi.'' Corum sat behind Ilbrec, clinging to the giant's great belt. "Yet you told me it only came to this plane when the Sidhi came."

  "There were always adepts in certain arts who could travel between the planes, as you well know," explained Ilbrec, delighting in the feel of the spray upon his face,"and doubtless there were Mabden druids who visited Ynys Scaith before it properly arrived here."

  "And who, originally, were
the folk who dwell now upon Ynys Scaith? Were they Mabden?"

  "Never. An older race, like the Vadhagh, who were gradually superseded by Mabden. Living in virtual exile upon their island they became inbred and cruel—and they had already been inbred and cruel before the island became their only home."

  "And what was this race called?"

  "That I do not know." Ilbrec drew Kawanh's chart from inside his armor, inspecting the parchment closely and then leaning forward to murmur something in the ear of Splendid Mane.

  Almost at once the horse began to alter its direction slightly, making for the northwest.

  Gray clouds began to appear, bringing with them a light rain which was not particularly uncomfortable, and soon they had passed into the sunshine again. Corum found himself half-asleep as he clung to Ilbrec's belt, and he deliberately took the opportunity to rest his body and his mind as much as possible, knowing that he would need all his resources when they came to Ynys Scaith.

  And now it was that the two heroes rode across the sea and came at length to Ynys Scaith: a small island, shaped like the peak of a mountain and shrouded by dark cloud where all about it the sky was blue and clear. They could hear the breakers booming on its bleak beaches, they could see the hill at the island's very center, and soon they saw the single tall pine standing upon the top of the hill; but of the rest of the island, though they rode still closer, they could make out little. With a soft word and a light movement of his hand Ilbrec reined in Splendid Mane, and the horse and its riders came to a halt while the sea swirled everywhere around them.

  Corum adjusted his silvered, conical helm upon his head and leaned to tighten the straps of his greaves of gilded brass, at the same time shrugging his silver byrnie into a more comfortable fit upon his body. Over his shoulder went his quiver of arrows and his unstrung bow. Onto his left arm went his shield of white hide, and now he clenched a long-hafted war-axe in his silver hand, leaving his right hand free to clutch Ilbrec's belt or to draw his strange sword when the occasion demanded. In front of him Ilbrec threw back his heavy cloak so that the sun glanced off his golden, braided hair, his bronze armor and shield, and his bracelets of gold. He turned to look back at Corum, and his green-grey eyes were identical in color to the sea. And Ilbrec smiled. "Are you ready, friend Corum?"