Chronicles of Corum (31 page)

Sreng’s last yell frightened Corum more than any of the previous events had done. For Sreng’s last yell had been a shout of pleasure, a wavering, delighted sound as Sreng found the death he had longed for.

Ilbrec stepped back from the Fhoi Myore body. “Corum? Are you safe?”

“Safe enough, thanks to you, Ilbrec. I am bruised, that is all.”

“Thank yourself. What you did against Sreng was valiant. You have brains and great courage, Vadhagh. You saved yourself, for I should not have come in time otherwise.”

“Calatin,” said Corum. “Where is he?”

“Fled. There is nothing we can do at present, for it becomes urgent to leave this place.”

“Why did Calatin want my body from Sreng?”

“Is that what he asked?” Ilbrec drew Corum up in the crook of his huge arm while he sheathed the sword Retaliator. “I have no idea. I know nothing of Mabden needs.”

Ilbrec returned to the beach where the black horse Splendid Mane cropped at the grass of the cliff, its pearl harness sparkling in the light of the moon which had now risen in the sky.

Corum saw a dark shape lying upon the beach.

“Goffanon?” he said. “You were forced to slay him?”

“He showed every intention of slaying me,” said Ilbrec. “I remembered what he told me of Calatin’s enchantment. I suppose Calatin followed us and came close enough to Goffanon to re-exert his sorcerous influence. Poor Goffanon.”

“Should we bury him here?” said Corum. He was full of misery, only now realizing the strength of his affection for the Sidhi Smith.
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I would not like the Fhoi Myore to find him. Neither would I care for Calatin to—to make use of the body.”

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I agree that that would not be good,” said Ilbrec.
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But I think it unwise to bury him, you know.’ ‘ He placed Corum again upon the saddle of Splendid Mane and he crossed to where Goffanon’s body lay, heaving it up with some difficulty by placing Goffanon’s limp arms around his neck and carrying the dwarf upon his back.
^‘
‘He is a very heavy dwarf,” Ilbrec said.

Corum was distressed by Ilbrec’s lightness of tone. But perhaps the giant simply hid his melancholy well.

^‘
‘Then what shall we do?”

^‘
‘Take him with us, I think, to Caer Mahlod.” Ilbrec put his foot in his stirrup and prepared to mount. He grunted and cursed as he got into the saddle after several attempts. ‘
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Ach! The dwarf has bruised me all over. Damn him!” Then he smiled in his golden beard as he looked down and saw the expression upon Corum’s face. “Do not grieve, yet, for Goffanon the Smith. Sidhi dwarves are very hard to slay. This one, for instance, has merely had his silly senses knocked out for a while.” Ilbrec leaned back in his saddle, letting Splendid Mane take some of the weight of the dwarf. He held Goffanon’s war-axe in the same hand which held the reins, resting it behind Corum across his saddle. “Well, Splendid Mane, you carry three with you. I hope that you have lost none of your old skills.”

Corum’s face broke into a smile. “So he lives! Yet still we shall have to move swiftly to escape Calatin’s power. And our boat was abandoned out there. How shall we cross the water?”

“Splendid Mane knows certain paths,” said Ilbrec. “Paths not quite of this dimension, if you understand me. Now, horse of my father, gallop. And gallop straight. Find the pathways through the sea.”

And Splendid Mane snorted, lifted himself on his hind-legs for a moment, and plunged towards the sea.

Ilbrec laughed in delight, then, at Corum’s considerable astonishment as Splendid Mane’s hooves touched the sea but did not

sink.

Soon they were galloping out over the ocean, over the surface, beneath a huge moon which made the water shine, galloping for Caer Mahlod, galloping along the road across the water.

^‘
‘You understand much concerning the Fifteen Realms, Vadhagh,” said Ilbrec as they rode,
”so you will understand that it is Splendid Mane’s great talent to find certain veins, as it were, which do not belong exactly in this Realm, just as my sea-caverns do not belong. These veins can be found most particularly upon the surface of the sea and sometimes in the air itself. A Mabden would marvel and call such abilities sorcery, but we know otherwise. They make, however, a good spectacle when one wishes to impress the poor Mabden.”

And Ilbrec laughed again as Splendid Mane galloped on. “We shall be in Caer Mahlod before morning!”

The folk of the Tuha-na-Cremm Croich looked with awe upon the three as they approached the conical mound on which Caer Mahlod was built.

Goffanon was awake now and striding beside Splendid Mane. He grumbled much of the bruises Ilbrec had inflicted, but his tone was good-humored for he knew that Ilbrec had in reality saved both his life and his pride.

“So this is Caer Mahlod,” said the golden-haired son of Manan-nan as he brought Splendid Mane to a halt beside the water-ditch which now protected the citadel. “It has changed little.”

“You have been here before?” asked Corum curiously.

“Indeed. In the old days there was a place near here where the Sidhi would gather. I remember being brought here by my father shortly before he went off to fight in the battle which took his life.” Ilbrec dismounted and gently lifted Corum from the saddle to place him upon the ground. Corum was weary, for they had ridden all night over those strange, other-realm pathways across the sea; but he still kept the casket, the gift of King Daffyn and his daughter-in-law, tightly under his arm. His mail coat was torn and his helmet was much-dented. The sword at his side was notched and blunted; he bore the signs of many small wounds, and when he walked it was painfully and slowly. But there was pride, too, in his bearing as he called for the drawbridge to be lowered:

“It is Corum come back to Caer Mahlod,” he cried, “bringing two friends, allies to the Mabden.” He lifted the casket in his two hands, the one of flesh and the other of silver. “And, see, here are the Oak of Gold and the Ram of Silver which will give you back your High King!”

The bridge was lowered and on the other side waited Medhbh of the Long Arm and Jhary-a-Conel with his cat upon his shoulder and his hat upon his head. Medhbh ran forward to embrace Corum, kissing his bruised face, taking off his helmet and stroking his hair. “My love,” she said. “My elfin love, come home.” And she was weeping.

Jhary-a-Conel said soberly: “Amergin is close to death. A few more hours and he will bleat his last, J fear.”

Grave-faced Mannach appeared. With dignity he welcomed the two Sidhi.
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We are much honored. Corum brings fine, good friends to Caer Mahlod.”

Looking about the morning streets at the people who were beginning to gather, Corum saw none of King Fiachadh’s people.

“Has King Fiachadh gone?”

“He had to leave, for there were rumors that the Fhoi Myore marched over an ice-bridge to attack his land.”

“The Fhoi Myore marched,” said Corum, “and they made an ice-bridge over the sea right enough, but it was not King Fiachadh’s folk they attacked. They went to Caer Garanhir and there we fought them, Goffanon, Ilbrec and I.” And he told King Mannach of all that had befallen him since he and Goffanon had parted from Jhary-a-Conel.

“But now,” he ended, “I would eat, for I am famished, and doubtless my friends are hungry, too. And I would rest for an hour or two, since we have ridden through the whole night to be here.”

^“
You slew a Fhoi Myore!” said Medhbh.
”So they can be slain by others than the Black Bull?”

“I helped slay one—a very minor one, a very ill one,” smiled Corum. “But if it had not been for Ilbrec here, I should now be crushed beneath the monster.”

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owe you much, great Ilbrec,” said Medhbh, bowing her head to the Sidhi. Her thick red hair fell down over her face and she brushed it back as she tilted back her head to look up into the smiling eyes of the giant Sidhi.
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I should be mourning now if it were not for you.”

“He’s brave, this little Vadhagh.” The golden-bearded youth laughed, seating himself casually upon the flat roof of a nearby house.

“He is brave,” agreed Medhbh.

^‘
‘But come,” King Mannach said urgently, taking Corum’s arm, “you must see Amergin and tell me what you think of his condition.” King Mannach looked up at Ilbrec.
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‘I fear you could not enter our low doors, Lord Sidhi.”

‘ ‘I’ll wait here cheerfully until I’m needed,” said Ilbrec. “But you go, Goffanon, if that is fitting.”

Goffanon said: “I should like to see what has happened to the Archdruid, we took so much trouble saving him.” He left his axe standing near Ilbrec’s right foot and followed after King Mannach, Medhbh, Jhary-a-Conel and Corum as they entered the King’s hall and crossed it, waiting while King Mannach opened a door and led them inside.

The room was lit brightly with brands. No attempt had been made to remove Amergin’s sheepskin clothing, but it had been cleaned. The High King lay beside a number of plates on which various kinds of grasses had been laid.

“We sought desperately to discover which would sustain him best, but none of them have done more than prolong his life by a few hours,” King Mannach said. He opened the casket Corum had handed him. He frowned as he inspected the two beautifully made images. “How are these to be used?”

Corum shook his head. “I know not.”

“He did not tell us,” Jhary-a-Conel said.

“Then has your quest been fruitless?” Medhbh asked.

“I think not,” said Goffanon, stepping forward. “I know something of the properties of the Oak and the Ram. There was a legend amongst our folk that they had been fashioned for a particular purpose, when the Mabden race would be in great danger and few Sidhi to help them in their struggles. I recall that there was a Sidhi called Oak Woman who gave a pledge to the Mabden, but the nature of that pledge I do not know. We must take the Oak and the Ram to a place of power, perhaps to Craig Don …”

“It would be too far to journey,” Corum said reasonably. “Look—life flees Amergin even as we speak.”

“It is true,” said Medhbh. The High King’s breath was shallow and his flesh as pale as his woolen garments. His face looked old and lined whereas previously, perhaps because he was untroubled in his guise of a sheep, it had seemed young.

“Cremmsmound,” said Jhary-a-Conel. “That is a place of power.”

“Aye,” said King Mannach with a faint smile. “It is. At Cremmsmound we summoned you, Prince Corum, to come to our aid.”

‘ ‘Then perhaps there we can release the magic of the Oak and the Ram,” Goffanon said, frowning and tugging at his matted black beard. “Could you ask Amergin, Jhary-a-Conel, if Cremmsmound is a good place?”

But Jhary shook his head. “My cat reports that the Archdruid is too weak. To speak with him now would be to shock what remains of his life from him.’’

‘ ‘This is an irony I do not like—’ ‘ said King Mannach,—’ ‘to be defeated now, after so many deeds of courage have been performed.”

And, as if in agreement with the king, there came from the figure on the floor a faint, melancholy bleat.

His body trembling with sudden emotion, King Mannach turned away. He groaned. “Our High King! Our High King!”

Goffanon laid a huge, gnarled hand upon Mannach’s shoulder. “Let us take him, anyway, to Cremmsmound, to that place of power. Who knows what will happen? Tonight the moon will be at its fullest and will shine upon the mistletoe and the oaks. It is an excellent night for the working of incantations and charms, I am told; for the fullness of the moon indicates when the Fifteen Planes intersect most closely

“Is that why folk regard the full moon as having particular properties?” Medhbh had been told something of the Realms beyond the Earth by Corum. “It is not simply superstition?”

“The moon itself has no power,” said Goffanon. “It is merely, in this case, a measuring instrument. It tells us roughly how the different planes of the Earth move in relation to each other.”

“Strange,” said King Mannach, “how we are inclined to reject such knowledge simply because it becomes corrupted by primitive minds. A year ago I should not have believed in the legends of the Sidhi, in the legends of Cremm Croich, in the folk tales of our people or in any of our old superstitions. And in a way I would have been right, for there are those who have an interest in using legends and superstitions for their own ends. They cherish such notions not for their own sake but for the use to which they can be put. Poor wretched people who cannot love life seek for something beyond life, something they prefer to regard as better than life. And as a result they corrupt the knowledge they discover and, in turn, associate their own weaknesses with this knowledge—at least, in the minds of others like myself. But the knowledge you have brought us, Corum—that extends our appreciation of life. You speak of a variety of worlds where mankind flourishes. You offer us information which brings light to our understanding, where the corrupt and the lost speak only of mysteries and dark superiorities and seek to elevate themselves in their own eyes and the eyes of their fellows.”