The Chronicles of Corum (10 page)

"They will suspect such a ruse, surely," Beldan said.

Corum nodded and rubbed at his cheek with his stump. "True. But if we—if we lie to them, regarding our strength, perhaps we shall be able to disconcert them a little."

Beldan gave a wry smile, but he said nothing. His eyes began to shine with an odd light. Corum thought he recognized it as battle fever.

"I'll see what the Margravine has learned from her husband's texts," Corum said. "Stay here and watch, Beldan. Let me know if they begin to move."

"That damned drum!" Beldan pressed his hand to his temple. "It makes my brains shiver."

"Try to ignore it. It is meant to weaken our resolve."

Corum entered the tower and ran down the steps until he came to the floor where he and Rhalina had their apartments.

She was seated at a table with manuscripts spread out before her. She looked up as he entered and she tried to smile. "We are paying a price for the gift of love, it seems."

He looked at her in surprise. "That's a Mabden conception, I think. I do not understand it. . ."

"And I am a fool to make so shallow a statement. But I wish they had not chosen this time to come against us. They have had a hundred years to choose from ..."

"What have you learned from your husband's notes?"

"Where our weakest positions are. Where our ramparts are best defended. I have already stationed men there. Cauldrons of lead are being heated."

"For what purpose?"

"You really do know little of war!" she said. "Less than do I, The molten lead will be poured on the heads of the invaders when they try to storm our walls."

Corum shuddered. "Must we be so crude?"

"We are not Vadhagh. We are not fighting Nhadragh. I believe you can expect these Mabden to have certain crude battle practices of their own . . ."

"Of course. I had best cast an eye over the Margrave's manuscripts. He was evidently a man who understood the realities."

"Aye," she said softly, handing him a sheet, "certain kinds of reality, at any rate."

It was the first time he had heard her offer an opinion of her husband. He stared at her, wanting to ask more, but she waved a delicate hand. "You had best read swiftly. You will understand the writing easily enough. My husband chose to write in the old High Speech we learned from the Vadhagh."

Corum looked at the writing. It was well formed but without any individual character. It seemed to him that it was a somewhat soulless imitation of Vadhagh writing, but it was, as she had said, easy enough to understand.

There was a knock on the main door to their apartments. While Corum read, Rhalina went to answer it. A soldier stood there.

"Beldan sent me, Lady Margravine. He asked Prince Corum to join him on the battlements."

Corum put down the sheets of manuscript. "I will come immediately. Rhalina, will you see that my arms and armor are prepared?"

She nodded. He left.

The causeway was almost clear of water now. Beldan was yelling something across to the warriors on the bank, speaking of a parley.

The drum continued its slow but steady beat.

The warriors did not reply.

Beldan turned to Corum. "They might be dead men for all they'll respond. They seem singularly well ordered for barbarians. I think there is some extra element to this situation that has not revealed itself as yet."

Corum had the same feeling. "Why did you send for me, Beldan?"

"I saw something in the trees. A flash of gold. I am not sure. Vadhagh eyes are said to be sharper than Mabden eyes. Tell me, Prince, if you can make anything out. Over there." He pointed.

Corum's smile was bitter. "Two Mabden eyes are better than one Vadhagh . . ." But nonetheless he peered in the direction Beldan indicated. Sure enough there was something hidden by the trees. He altered the angle of his vision to see if he could make it out more clearly.

And then he realized what it was. It was a gold-decorated chariot wheel.

As he watched, the wheel began to turn. Horses emerged from the forest. Four shaggy horses, slightly larger than those ridden by the Pony Tribes, drawing a huge chariot ia which stood a tall warrior.

Corum recognized the driver of the chariot. The Mabden was dressed in fur and leather and iron and had a winged helmet and a great beard and held himself proudly.

"It is Earl Glandyth-a-Krae, my enemy," said Corum softly.

Beldan said, "Is that the one who took off your hand and put out your eye?"

Corum nodded.

"Then perhaps it is he who has united the Pony Tribes and given them those bright, new swords they carry, and drilled them to the order they now hold."

"I think it likely. I have brought this upon Mould's Castle, Beldan."

Beldan shrugged. "It would have come. You made our Margravine happy. I have never known her happy, before, Prince."

"You Mabden seem to think that happiness must be bought with misery."

"I suppose we do."

"It is not easy for a Vadhagh to understand that. We believe—believed—that happiness was a natural condition of reasoning beings."

Now from the forest emerged another twenty chariots. They arranged themselves behind Glandyth so that the Earl of Krae was between the silent, masked warriors and his own followers, the Denledhyssi.

The drum stopped its beating.

Corum listened to the tide drawing back. Now the causeway was completely exposed.

"He must have followed me, learned where I was, and spent the winter recruiting and training those warriors," Corum said.

"But how did he discover your hiding place?" Beldan said.

For answer, the ranks of the Pony Tribes opened and Glandyth drove his chariot down toward the causeway. He bent and picked something from the floor of his chariot, raised it above his head, and Bung it over the backs of his horses to fall upon the causeway.

Corum shuddered when he recognized it.

Beldan stiffened and stretched out his hand to grasp the stone of the battlement, lowering his head.

"Is it the Brown Man, Prince Corum?"

"It is."

"The creature was so innocent. So kind. Could not its master save it? They must have tortured it to get the information concerning your whereabouts . . ."

Corum straightened his back. His voice was soft and cold when he spoke next. "I once told your mistress that Glandyth was a disease that must be stopped. I should have sought him out sooner, Beldan."

"He would have killed you."

"But he would not have killed the Brown Man of Laahr. Serwde would still be serving his sad master. I think there is a doom upon me, Beldan, I think I am meant to be dead and that all those who help me to continue living are doomed, also. I will go out now and fight Glandyth alone. Then the castle will be saved."

Beldan swallowed and spoke hoarsely. "We chose to help you. You did not ask for that help. Let us choose when we shall take back that help."

“No. For if you do, the Margravine and all her people will surely perish."

"They will perish anyway," Beldan told him.

"Not if I let Glandyth take me."

"Glandyth must have offered the Pony Tribes this castle as a prize if they would assist him," Beldan pointed out. "They do not care about you. They wish to destroy and loot something that they have bated for centuries. Certainly it is likely that Glandyth would be content with you—he would go away—but he would leave his thousand swords behind. We must all fight together, Prince Corum. There is nothing else for it now."

The Eleventh Chapter
 The Summoning

Corum returned to his apartments where his arms and his armor had been laid out for him. The armor was unfamiliar, consisting of breastplate, backplate, greaves, and a kilt, all made from the pearly blue shells of a sea creature called the anufec, which had once inhabited the waters of the West. The shell was stronger than the toughest iron and lighter than any byrnie. A great, spined helmet with a jutting peak had, like the helmets of the other warriors of Moidel's Castle, been manufactured from the shell of the giant murex. Servants helped Corum don his gear and they gave him a huge iron broadsword that was so well balanced that he could hold it in his one good hand. His shield, which he had them strap to his handless arm, was the shell of a massive crab which had once lived, the servants told him, in a place far beyond even Lywm-an-Esh and known as the Land of the DistantSea. This armor had belonged to the dead Margrave, who had inherited it from his ancestors, who had owned it long before it had been considered necessary to establish a Margravate at all.

Corum called to Rhalina as he was prepared for battle, but, although he could see her through the doors dividing the chambers, she did not look up from her papers. It was the last of the Margrave's manuscripts and it seemed to absorb her more than the others.

Corum left to return to the battlements.

Save for the fact that Glandyth's chariot was now on the approach to the causeway, the ranks of the warriors had not shifted. The little broken corpse of the Brown Man of Laahr still lay on the causeway.

The drum had begun to beat again.

"Why do they not advance?" Beldan said, his voice sharp with tension.

"Perhaps for a twofold reason," Corum replied. "They are hoping to terrify us and banish the terror in themselves."

"They are terrified of us?"

"The Pony Tribesmen probably are. After all, they have, as you told me yourself, lived in superstitious fear of the folk of Lywm-an-Esh for centuries. They doubtless suspect we have supernatural means of defense."

Beldan could not restrain an ironic grin. "You begin to understand the Mabden at last, Prince Corum. Better than I, it seems,"

Corum gestured toward Glandyth-a-Krae. "There is the Mabden who gave me my first lesson."

"He seems without fear, at least."

"He does not fear swords, but he fears himself. Of all Mabden traits, I would say that that was the most destructive."

Now Glandyth was raising a gauntletted hand.

Again silence fell.

"Vadhagh!" came the savage voice. "Can you see who it is who has come to call on you in this castle of vermin?"

Corum did not reply. Hidden by a battlement, he watched as Glandyth scanned the ramparts, seeking him out.

"Vadhagh! Are you there?"

Beldan looked questioningly at Corum, who continued to remain silent.

"Vadhagh! You see we have destroyed your demon familiar! Now we are going to destroy you—and those most despicable of Mabden who have given you shelter. Vadhagh! Speak!"

Corum murmured to Beldan. "We must stretch this pause as far as it will go. Every second brings the tide back to cover our causeway."

"They will strike soon," Beldan said. "Well before the tide returns."

"Vadhagh! Oh, you are the most cowardly of a cowardly race!"

Corum now saw Glandyth begin to turn his head back toward his men, as if to give the order to attack. He emerged from his cover and raised his voice.

His speech, even in cold anger, was liquid music compared with Glandyth's rasping tones.

"Here I am, Glandyth-a-Krae, most wretched and pitiable of Mabden!"

Disconcerted, Glandyth turned his bead back. Then he burst into raucous laughter. "I am not the wretch!" He reached inside his furs and drew something out that was on a string round his neck. "Would you come and fetch this back from me?"

Corum felt bile come when he saw what Glandyth sported. It was Conun's own mummified hand, still bearing the ring that his sister had given him.

"And look!" Glandyth took a small leather bag from his furs and waved it at Corum. “I have also saved your eye!"

Corum controlled his hatred and his nausea and called, "You may have the rest, Glandyth, if you will turn back your horde and depart from Model's Castle in peace."

Glandyth flung his chin toward the sky and roared with laughter. "Oh, no, Vadhagh! They would not let me rob them of a fight—let alone their prize. They have waited many months for this. They are going to slay all their ancient enemies. And I am going to slay you. I had planned to spend the winter in the comfort of Lyr-an-Brode's court. Instead I have had to camp in skin tents with our friends here. I intend to slay you quickly, Vadhagh, I promise you. I have no more time to spend on a crippled piece of offal, such as yourself." He laughed again. "Who is the 'half-thing' now?"

"Then you would not be afraid to fight me alone," Corum called. "You could do battle on this causeway with me and doubtless kill me very quickly. Then you could leave the castle to your friends and return to your own land the faster."

Glandyth frowned, debating this with himself.

"Why should you sacrifice your life a little earlier than you need to?"

"I am tired of living as a cripple. I am tired of fearing you and your men."

Glandyth was not convinced. Corum was trying to buy time with his talk and his suggestion, but on the other hand it did not matter to Glandyth how much trouble the Pony Tribesmen would be forced to go to to take the castle after he had killed Corum.

Eventually he nodded, shouting back, "Very well, Vadhagh, come down to the causeway. I will tell my men to stand off until we have had our fight. If you kill me, I will have my charioteers leave the battle to the others.”

"I do not believe that part of your bargain," Corum replied. "I am not interested in it, either. I will come down."

Corum took his time descending the steps. He did not want to die at Glandyth's hand and he knew that if Glandyth did, by some luck, fall to him, the Earl of Krae's men would swiftly leap to their master's assistance. All he hoped for was to gain a few hours for the defenders.

Rhalina met him outside their apartments.

"Where go you, Corum?"

"I go to fight Glandyth and most probably to die," he said. "I shall die loving you, Rhalina."

Her face was a mask of horror. "Corum! No!"

"It is necessary, if this castie is to have a chance of withstanding those warriors."

"No, Corum! There may be a way to get help. My husband speaks of it in his treatise. A last resort"

"What help?"