The Sword and the Stallion - 06

by Michael Moorcock

  "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 a
t 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?"

  Corum could not imitate the devil-may-care smile of the Sidhi; his own smile was a little grimmer as he inclined his head slightly. "Let us ride on to Ynys Scaith," he said.

  So Ilbrec shook Splendid Mane's reins and the huge horse began to gallop again, the spray rising high into the air as they went faster and faster toward the isle of enchantments.

  Now Splendid Mane was almost upon the beach, yet it was still impossible to define any clear images in the general, shadowy appearance of the island. There was a suggestion of heavy, tangled forest, of half-ruined buildings, of beaches littered with a variety of flotsam, of swirling mist, of large-winged flapping birds, of burly beasts prowling through the wreckage and the trees, but every time the eye seemed about to focus on something it would shift again and become dim. Once Corum thought he saw a great face, larger than Ilbrec's, staring at him from over a rock, but then both face and rock seemed to become a tree, or a building, or a beast. There was something unclean and dolorous about Ynys Scaith; it had none of the beauty of Hy-Breasail. It was almost as if this particular magic isle were the reverse of the first Corum had visited. Soft, unpleasant sounds issued from the interior; sometimes it was as if voices whispered to him. A smell of corruption was carried to his nostrils by an unpleasant wind. Ynys Scaith's chief impression was one of decay—of a soul in decay—and in this it had something in common with the Fhoi Myore. Corum was filled with foreboding. Why should the folk of Ynys Scaith throw in their lot with the Mabden? They would seem likelier to wish to help the Cold Folk.

  Again Ilbrec reined in Splendid Mane, a foot or two from the shore, and he flung up his left hand, calling out:

  "Hail, Ynys Scaith! We are willing visitors to your land! Would you welcome us?"

  It was an old greeting, a traditional Mabden greeting, but Corum felt it would mean little to whomever dwelled in this place.

  "Hail, Ynys Scaith! We come in peace to discuss a bargain with you!" called the gigantic youth.

  There was a suggestion of an echo, but no other reply. Ilbrec shrugged. "Then we must visit the island uninvited. Poor courtesy . . ."

  ‘ 'Which could well be returned by the inhabitants,'' said Corum.

  Ilbrec urged Splendid Mane forward and the horse's hooves at last touched the gray beach of Ynys Scaith, whereupon the forest ahead of them turned suddenly to blazing scarlet fronds, agitated and whimpering, rustling and chuckling. Looking back, Corum could no longer see the sea. Instead he saw a wall of liquid lead.

  Deliberately, Ilbrec rode toward the fronds and, as he approached, they flattened themselves like supplicants hailing a conqueror. Splendid Mane, disturbed and unwilling to continue, snorted and set his ears back, but Ilbrec clapped his heels against the beast's flanks and on they went. No sooner had they crossed a few feet of these fronds than they sprang up again and the two heroes were surrounded by the plants which reached feathery fingers out and touched their flesh and sighed.

  And Corum felt that the fronds reached through his skin and stroked his bones and he was hard put not to lash out at the things with his sword. He could understand the terror of the Mabden when confronted with such monstrous foliage, but he had experienced much more in his time and knew how to control his panic. He attempted to speak casually to Ilbrec, who also pretended to ignore the plants.

  "Interesting flora, Ilbrec. I've seen nothing like it elsewhere upon this plane."

  "Indeed it is, friend Corum." Ilbrec's voice shook only a little. "It seems to have some kind of primitive intelligence."

  The whispering increased, the touch of the plants became more insistent, but the two rode steadfastly on through the forest, their eyes aching from the scarlet blaze.

  "Could this be an illusion, even?" Corum suggested.

  "Possibly, my friend. A clever one."

  The fronds thinned, giving way to pavements of green marble which lay beneath an inch or two of yellowish liquid smelling several times worse than a stagnant pond. All kinds of small insect life existed in the liquid and occasionally clouds of flying things would rise out of it and hover around their heads as if inspecting them. To their right were several ruins: colonnades covered in festering ivy, partially collapsed galleries, walls of rotting granite and eroded quartz on which grew vines whose livid blooms emitted a sickly stench; while ahead of them they could see two-legged animals bending to drink the liquid, looking at them through glazed, white eyes before stooping to drink again. Something wriggled across Splendid Mane's path. Corum thought at first he had seen a pale snake, but then he wondered if the thing had not had the shape of a human being. He looked for it, but it had disappeared. An ordinary black rat swam steadily through the deeper reaches of the liquid; it ignored Ilbrec and Corum. Then it dived and disappeared through a narrow crack in the surface of the marble.

  By the time they had reached the far side of this expanse the two-legged creatures had gone and Splendid Mane walked on a lawn of spongy grass which gave off disgusting sucking noises whenever the horse pulled its hooves free. So far nothing had menaced them directly and Corum began to think that the Mabden who had landed here had been victims of their own terrors instilled in them by such ghastly sights as these. Now his nose detected a stench not unlike that of cow dung, but rather stronger. It was a nauseating stench and he drew a scarf from under his byrnie and tied it around his mouth, though it made only the slightest difference. Ilbrec cleared his throat and spat upon the turf, guiding Splendid Mane toward a pathway of cracked lapis lazuli leading into a dark corridor of trees which were like and yet unlike ordinary rhododendrons. Large, dark, sticky leaves brushed their faces and soon the corridor had become pitch black, save for a few yellow lights which flickered in the recesses of the foliage on both sides of them. Once or twice it seemed to Corum that the lights revealed grinning faces whose features had been partially eaten away, but he guessed that his imagination, fed by the obscene visions of the recent past, was responsible for these sights.

  "Let us hope this path leads us somewhere," murmured Ilbrec. "The stench gets worse, if anything. Could it be, I wonder, the distinctive odor of Ynys Scaith's inhabitants?"

  ' 'Let us hope not, Ilbrec. It will make communication with them that much more difficult. Do you know in what dire
ction we head now?"

  "I fear not," replied the Sidhi youth. "I am not sure if we go south, north, east, or west. All I know is that the branches above us are getting damnedably low and it would be wise if I, at least, dismounted. Will you take a grip on the saddle, Corum, while I get

  off?"

  Corum did so and felt Ilbrec get down from his saddle, heard the creak of harness and a jingle as Ilbrec took Splendid Mane's reins and began to plod on. Without the bulk of the giant to reassure him, Corum felt much more exposed to the dangers—imaginary, or otherwise—of this reeking arbor. Did he hear laughter from the depths on either side? Did he hear bodies moving menacingly, keeping pace with him, ready to pounce? Was that a hand which reached out and pinched his leg?

  More lights flickered, but this time they were directly ahead.

  Something coughed in the forest.

  Corum took a firmer grip on his sword. "Do you feel we are watched, Ilbrec?"

  "It is possible." The young giant's voice was firm, but tense.

  "Everything we have seen speaks of a great civilization which died a thousand years ago. Perhaps there are no longer any intelligent inhabitants on Ynys Scaith?"

  "Perhaps ..."

  ' 'Perhaps we have only animals to fear—and diseases. Could the air affect the brain and infest it with unpleasant thoughts, terrifying visions?"

  "Who knows?"

  And the voice which replied to Corum was not Ilbrec's voice. "Ilbrec?" whispered Corum, afraid that his friend had suddenly vanished. There was a pause. "Ilbrec?"

  ''I heard it also," said Ilbrec and Corum heard him move back a pace and reach out a huge hand to touch Corum's arm and squeeze it gently. Then Ilbrec raised his voice: "Were are you? Who was it that spoke to us?"

  But there came no further reply and so they pressed on, corning at length to a place where thin sunlight broke through the branches and the tunnel divided into three separate paths. The shortest was the middle one for, though it was gloomy, the sky could be seen at its far end.