The Chronicles of Corum (43 page)

And only a few Nhadragh had been spared—used like dogs to hunt down their fellows, to search for their ancient Vadhagh enemies, to see into other dimensions and tell their masters what they perceived. These had been the least brave of their race—those who preferred degenerate slavery to death.

The little cat saw some of their camps amongst the ruins of the towns. They had been returned here after the Battle of Halwyg, when their Mabden masters had been defeated.

They had made no attempt to rebuild their castles or cities, but lived like primitives, many of them unaware that the ruins had once been buildings created by their own kind.

They were dressed in iron and fur, after the manner of the Nhadragh. They had dark, flat features and the hair of their heads grew down to meet bushy eyebrows sprouting above deep sockets. They were thickset people, heavily muscled and strong. Once they had been as powerful and as civilized as the Vadhagh but the Vadhagh decline had not come so swiftly as theirs.

Now the broken towers of Os, once the capital of Maliful and the whole of the Nhadragh lands, came in sight. Os the Beautiful the city had been called by its inhabitants, but it was beautiful no longer. Broken walls were festooned with weeds, towers were stretched upon the ground, houses gave shelter to rats and weasels and other vermin, but not to Nhadragh.

The cat continued to follow the psychic scent. It circled over a squat building which was still intact. Upon the flat

-roof of the building a dome had been built. The dome was transparent and it glowed. Within two figures could be seen, black against the yellow light. One figure was burly, armored, and the other was shorter, dressed in furs, but wider than its companion. Muffled voices came from within the dome. The cat landed on the roof, stalked toward the dome, flattened its little head against the transparent material and, its eyes wide, watched and listened.

Glandyth-a-Krae frowned as he peered over Ertil's shoulder into the billowing smoke and the boiling liquid below. "Does the spell continue to work, Ertil?"

The Nhadragh nodded his head. "They still battle amongst themselves. Never has my sorcery worked so well."

"That is because the powers of Chaos aid you, fool! Or aid me, I should say, for it is I who am pledged, body and soul, to the Lords of Chaos." He glanced around the littered dome. It was full of dead animals, bunches of herbs, bottles of dust and liquids. Some rats and monkeys sat apathetically in cages along one wall, a shelf of scrolls below them. Once Ertil's father had been a wise scholar and he had taught Ertil much. But Ertil was devolving as the other Nhadragh devolved. He translated the wisdom into sorcery, superstition. But the wisdom itself was still powerful, as Earl Glandyth-a-Krae, picking now at his yellow fangs, had discovered.

Earl Glandyth's red, acned face was half hidden by his huge beard, which had been braided and laced with ribbons, just as his long, black hair was braided. His gray eyes hinted at an inner disease, just as his fat, red lips suggested corrupted offal. Earl Glandyth snarled. "What of Prince Corum? And the others who befriended him? What of all the Shefanhow who came from the magic city?"

"I cannot see what befalls individuals, my lord," whined the sorcerer. "I only know the spell is working."

"I hope you speak truly, sorcerer."

"I do, my lord. Was it not a spell given us by the powers of Chaos? The Cloud of Contention spreads, invisible upon the wind, turning each man against his companion, against his children, his wife." A tremulous grin appeared on the Nhadragh's dark face. "The Vadhagh fall upon each other.

They die. They all die."

"Aye—but does Corum die? That is what I must know.

That the others perish is well and good, but not so important. With Corum gone and disruption in the land, I can rally supporters in Lywm-an-Esh and, with my Denledhyssi, reconquer the lands King Lyr lost. Can you not concoct a special spell for Corum, sorcerer?"

Ertil trembled. "Corum is mortal—he must suffer as the others suffer."

"He is cunning—he has powerful help—he might escape. We sail for Lywm-an-Esh tomorrow. Is there no way of telling for certain that Corum is dead or seized by the madness which seizes the others?"

"No way that I know, master."

Glandyth scratched at his pitted face with his broken fingernails. "Are you sure you do not deceive me, Shefanhow?"

"I would not, master. I would not!"

Glandyth grinned into the terrified eyes of the Nhadragh sorcerer. "I believe you, Ertil." He laughed. "Still, a little more aid from Chaos would not go amiss. Summon that demon again—the one from Mabelrode's plane."

Ertil whimpered. "It takes a year off my life every time I perform such a summoning."

Glandyth drew his long knife. He placed the tip on Ertil's flat nose. "Summon it, Ertil!"

"I will summon it."

Ertil shuffled to the other side of the dome and took one of the monkeys from its cage. The creature whimpered in echo of Ertil's own whimperings. Although it looked at the Nhadragh in fear it clung to him as if for safety, finding security nowhere else in the room. Next Ertil took an X-shaped frame from a corner and he stood this in a specially made indentation in the scarred surface of the table. All the while he shuddered. All the while he moaned. And Glandyth paced impatiently, refusing to see or hear the signs of the Nhadragh sorcerer's distress.

Now Ertil gave the monkey something to sniff and the beast became quiescent. Ertil positioned it against the frame and took nails and a hammer from his pouch.

Methodically, he began to crucify the monkey while it gibbered and squawked and blood ran out of the holes in its little hands and feet.

Ertil was pale and he looked as if he might vomit.

The cat's eyes widened further as it watched this barbaric ritual and it became just a trifle nervous, the hairs stiffening on the back of its neck and its tail jerking back and forth, but it continued to observe the scene in the dome.

"Hurry, you Shefanhow filth!" Glandyth growled.

"Hurry, lest I seek another sorcerer!"

"You know there are no others left who would aid you or Chaos," Ertil mumbled.

"Be silent! Continue with your damned business."

Glandyth scowled. It was plain that Ertil spoke the truth. None feared the Mabden now—none save the Nhadragh, who had developed the habit of fearing them.

The monkey's teeth were chattering. Its eyes rolled. Ertil heated an iron in the brazier. While the iron got hot, he traced a complicated figure around the crucified beast.

Then he placed bowls in each of the ten comers and he lit what was in the bowls. He took a scroll in one hand and the white-hot iron in the other. The dome began to fill with green and yellow smoke. Glandyth coughed and took a kerchief from inside his iron-studded jerkin. He looked nervous and backed into a corner.

"Yrkoon, Yrkoon, Esel Asan. Yrkoon, Yrkoon, Nasha Fasal..." The chant went on and on and with every verse Ertil plunged the hot iron into the writhing body of the monkey. The monkey did not die, for the iron missed its vitals, but it was plainly in dreadful agony. "Yrkoon, Yrkoon, Meshel Feran. Yrkoon, Yrkoon, Palaps OH."

The smoke thickened and the cat could see only shadow in the room.

"Yrkoon, Yrkoon, Cenil Pordit . . ."

A distant noise. It mingled with the shrieks of the tortured monkey.

A wind blowing.

The smoke cleared suddenly. The scene in the dome was as sharp as before. No longer was the monkey crucified upon the frame. Something else hung there. It had a human form but was no larger than the monkey. Its features were closer to those of the Vadhagh than the Mabden, though there was evil and malice in the tiny face.

"You summoned me again, Ertil." The voice was of the pitch and loudness of an ordinary voice. It seemed strange that it issued from such a small mouth.

"Aye—I summoned you, Yrkoon. We need help from your master Mabelrode . . ."

"More help?" The voice was bantering. Yrkoon smiled.

"More?"

"You know that we work for him. Without us you would have no means of reaching this realm at all."

"What of it? Why should my master Lord Mabelrode be interested in your realm?"

"You know why! He wants both the old Sword Realms back for Chaos—and he wants vengeance on Corum, who was instrumental in destroying the power of his brother Arioch and his sister Xiombarg, the Knight and the Queen of the Swords!"

Hanging comfortably on the frame the demon shrugged.

"And so? What is it you want?"

Glandyth stepped forward, bunching his fist.

"It is what I want, not what this sorcerer wants! I want power, demon! I want the means of destroying Corum—of destroying the power of Law on this plane! Give me that power, demon!"

"I have given you much power already," the demon said reasonably. "I gave you the means of creating the Cloud of Contention. Your enemies fight each other to the death.

And you are still not satisfied!"

"Tell me if Corum lives!"

"I can tell you nothing. We have no means of reaching this plane unless you summon us, and, as you well know, we cannot remain here for long—we can only take the place of another creature for a short while. Thus is the Balance deceived—or, if not deceived, mollified."

"Give me more power, Sir Demon!"

"I cannot give you power. I can only tell you how to acquire it. And know this, Glandyth-a-Krae, and be warned—if you take more of the gifts of Chaos, then you will assume the attributes of all those who accept those gifts. Are you ready to become what you most profess to loath?"

"What's that?"

Yrkoon chuckled. "A Shefanhow. A demon. I was human once . . ."

Glandyth's mouth twisted and he clenched his fists. "I'll make any bargain to have my revenge on Corum and his kind!"

"And thus we shall be mutually served. Very well.

Power you shall have."

"And power for my men—power for the Denledhyssi!"

"Very well. Power for them, too."

"Great, fierce power!" Glandyth's eyes were afire.

"Massive power! Invincible power!"

"There is no such thing while the Balance rules. You shall have what you can carry."

"Good. I can carry much. I shall sail for the mainland, take their cities and their castles once again, while they fight amongst themselves. I will rule this whole world. Lyr and the rest were weak. But I shall be strong, with the Power of Chaos at my command!"

"Lyr, too, had aid from Chaos," Yrkoon reminded him sardonically.

"But he knew not how to use it. I begged him to give me more men to destroy Corum, but he would not give me enough. If Corum were dead, Lyr would be alive today.

That is my proof."

"It must give you satisfaction," said the demon. "Now listen. I will tell you what you must do."

The Fifth Chapter
 The Deserted City

Th

e sky ship flew over the hill in the sea where Castle Moidel had once stood. There was no castle there now.

Corum looked down on it with a sense of regret which was quickly gone, for the euphoria of the potion was still upon him. And soon they had reached the coast of Lywm-an-Esh. At first the land seemed normal, but after a while they saw small groups of riders, rarely more than three or four, rushing wildly through fields and forests, attacking any other group they came upon. Women fought women and children fought children. There were many corpses.

Corum's apathy slowly changed to horror and he was glad that Rhalina slept, that Jhary had time to look down only occasionally.

"Make haste for Halwyg-nan-Vake," Corum told his friend when Jhary glanced questioningly at him. "There is nothing we can do for them until we discover what causes their madness."

Jhary took the bottle from his pouch and held it up, but Corum shook his head. "No. There is not enough. Besides, how could we persuade them to take it? If we are to save any lives at all, we must attack that which attacks us."

Jhary sighed. "How do you attack a madness, Corum?"

"That we must discover. I pray that the Temple of Law still stands and that Arkyn will come to it if we attempt to summon him."

Jhary jerked his thumb downward. "This is like the madness which touched them before."

"Only it is stronger. Before it merely nibbled at their brains. Now it eats them entirely."

"They destroy all that they rebuilt. Is there any point in—?"

"They can rebuild again. There is a point."

Jhary shrugged. "I wonder where my cat has gone," he said.

When the sky ship circled over Halwyg-nan-Vake and began to land near the Temple of Law Rhalina woke up.

She smiled at Corum as if she had forgotten all that had recently passed. But then she frowned as if remembering a nightmare. "Corum?"

"It is true," he said softly. "And we are at Halwyg now.

The Floral City seems deserted. I do not know the explanation."

He had half expected to see the beautiful city in flames.

Instead, save for one or two damaged buildings and gardens, it was intact. Yet none walked its streets or patrolled its walls. The palace was unoccupied as far as he could tell.

Jhary brought the sky ship down as he had learned to do when, in gentler times, Bwydyth-a-Horn had taught him its secrets.

They landed in a wide, white street. Nearby stood the Temple of Law, of but one story and without ostentatious decoration. A simple building with a sign over its portal—a single straight arrow—the Arrow of Law.

They climbed from the sky ship on trembling legs. The combination of the flight and the potion had weakened them somewhat. They began, unsteadily, to advance up the path toward the temple.

It was then that a figure appeared in the doorway. His clothes were torn and bloody and one eye had been gouged from his old face. He was sobbing, but his hands clawed out at them like the talons of a wounded, ferocious animal.

"It is Aleryon!" Rhalina gasped. "The priest—Aleryon-a-Nyvish! The sickness is upon him, too!"

The old man was weak and he could not resist when Corum and Jhary stepped swiftly forward and grasped him, pinning his arms to his sides while Jhary removed the stopper of his bottle with his teeth, dabbed a little of his potion on his finger and let Corum force the old man's jaw open. Jhary smeared the stuff on Aleryon's tongue. The priest tried to spit it out, his eyes rolling, his nostrils dilating like those of a horse in fever. But almost immediately he was quiet. His body went limp and he began to slide to the ground.