And he was back in the blackness of the great cavern where things tittered at him and scampered away from beneath his feet.
And Corum knew that anyone who had not experienced the horrors that he had experienced would have been quite mad by now. He had gained something from Shool the sorcerer besides the Eye of Rhynn and the Hand of Kwll. He had gained an ability to face the most evil of apparitions and be virtually unmoved.
And, he thought, this meant that he had lost something, too . . .
He moved on another step.
He stood knee deep in slithering flesh that was without shape but which lived. It began to suck him down. He struck about him with his sword. Now he was waist deep. He gasped and forced bis body through the stuff.
He stood beneath a dome of ice and with him stood a million Corums. There he was, innocent and gay before the coming of the Mabden, there he was moody and grim, with his jeweled eye and his murderous hand, there he was dying . . .
Another step.
Blood flooded over him. He tried to regain his feet. The heads of foul reptilian creatures rose from the stuff and snapped at his face with their jaws.
His instinct was to draw back. But he swam toward them.
He stood in a tunnel of silver and gold. There was a door at the end and he could hear movement behind it.
Sword in hand, he stepped through.
Strange, desperate laughter filled the immense gallery in which he found himself.
He knew that he had reached the Court of the Knight of the Swords.
The Sixth Chapter
The God Feasters
Corum was dwarfed by the hugeness of the hall. Suddenly he saw his past adventures, his emotions, his desires, his guilts as utterly inconsequential and feeble. This mood was increased by the fact that he had expected to confront Arioch the moment he reached his court.
But Corum had entered the palace completely unnoticed. The laughter came from a gallery high above where two scaled demons with long horns and longer tails were fighting. As they fought, they laughed, though both seemed plainly near death.
It was on this fight that Arioch's attention seemed fixed.
The Knight of the Swords—the Duke of Chaos—lay in a heap of filth and quaffed some ill-smelling stuff from a dirty goblet. He was enormously fat and the flesh trembled on him as he laughed. He was completely naked and formed in all details like a Mabden. There seemed to be scabs and sores on his body, particularly near his pelvis. His face was flushed and it was ugly, and his teeth, I when he opened his mouth, seemed decayed.
Corum would not have known he was the God at all if it had not been for his size, for Arioch was as large as a castle and his sword, the symbol of his power, if it had been placed upright, would have stood as high as the tallest tower of Castle Erorn.
The sides of the hall were tiered. Uncountable tiers stretched high toward the distant dome of the ceiling, which, itself, was wreathed in greasy smoke. These tiers were occupied, mainly with Mabden of all ages. Corum saw that most were naked. In many of the tiers they were copulating, fighting, torturing each other. Elsewhere were other beings—mainly scaly Shefanhow somewhat smaller than the two who were fighting together. Arioch's sword was jet black and carved with many peculiar patterns. Mabden were at work on the sword. They knelt on the blade and polished part of a design, or they climbed the hilt and washed it, or they sat astride the handgrip and mended the gold wire which bound it.
And other beings were busy, too. Like lice, they scampered and crawled over the God's huge bulk, picking at his skin, feeding off his blood and his flesh. Of all these activities, Arioch seemed oblivious. His interest continued to be in the fight to the death in the gallery above.
Was this, then, the all-powerful Arioch, living like a drunken fanner in a pigsty? Was this the malevolent creature which had destroyed whole nations, which pursued a vendetta upon all the races to spring up on the Earth before his coming?
Arioch's laughter shook the floor. Some of the parasitic Mabden fell off his body. A few were unhurt, while others lay with their backs or their limbs broken, unable to move. Their comrades ignored their plight and patiently climbed again upon the God's body, tearing tiny pieces from him with their teeth.
Arioch's hair was long, lank, and oily. Here, too, Mabden searched for and fought over the bits of food that clung to the strands. Elsewhere in the God's body hair Mabden crept in and out, hunting for scraps and crumbs or tender portions of his flesh.
The two demons fell back. One of them was dead, the other almost dead but still laughing weakly. Then the laughter stopped.
Arioch slapped his body, killing a dozen or so Mabden, and scratched his stomach. He inspected the bloody remains in his palm and absently wiped them on his hair. Living Mabden seized the scraps and devoured them.
Then a huge sigh issued from the God's mouth and he began to pick his nose with a dirty finger that was the size of a tall poplar.
Corum saw that there were openings beneath the galleries and stairways twisting upward, but he had no notion where the highest tower of the palace might be. He began to move, soft-footed, around the hall.
Arioch's ears caught the sound and the God became alert. He bent his head and peered about the floor. The huge eyes fixed on Corum and a monstrously large hand reached out to grasp him.
Corum raised his sword and hacked at the hand, but Arioch laughed and drew the Vadhagh prince toward him.
"What's this?" the voice boomed, "Not one of mine. Not one of mine."
Corum continued to strike at the hand and Arioch continued to seem unaware of the blows, though the sword raised deep cuts in the flesh. From over his shoulders, from behind his ears, and from within his filthy hair, Mabden eyes regarded Corum with terrified curiosity.
"Not one of mine," Arioch boomed again. "One of his. Aye. One of his."
"Whose?" Corum shouted, still struggling.
"The one whose castle I recently inherited. The dour fellow. Arkyn. Arkyn of Law. One of his. I thought they were all gone by now. I cannot keep an eye on little beings not of my own manufacture. I do not understand their ways."
"Arioch! You have destroyed all my kin!"
"Ah, good. All of them, you say? Good. Is that the message you bring to me? Why did I not hear before, from one of my own little creatures?"
"Let me go!" Corum screamed.
Arioch opened his hand and Corum staggered free, gasping. He had not expected Arioch to comply.
And then the full injustice of his fate struck him. Arioch bore no malice toward the Vadhagh. He cared for them no more nor less than he cared for the Mabden parasites feeding off his body. He was merely wiping his palette clean of old colors as a painter will before he begins a fresh canvas. All the agony and the misery he and his had suffered was on behalf of the whim of a careless God who only occasionally turned his attention to the world that he had been given to rule.
Then Arioch vanished.
Another figure stood in his place. All the Mabden were gone.
The other figure was beautiful and looked upon Corum with a kind of haughty affection. He was dressed all in black and silver, with a miniature version of the black sword at his side. His expression was quizzical. He smiled. He was the quintessence of evil.
"Who are you?" Corum gasped.
"I am Duke Arioch, your master. I am the Lord of Hell, a Noble of the Realm of Chaos, the Knight of the Swords. I am your enemy."
"So you are my enemy. The other form was not your true form!"
"I am anything you please, Prince Corum. What does 'true' mean in this context? I can be anything I choose—or anything you choose, if you prefer. Consider me evil and I will don the appearance of evil. Consider me good—and I will take on a form that fits the part. I care not. My only wish is to exist in peace, you see. To while away my time. And if you wish to play a drama, some game of your own devising, I will play it until it begins to bore me,"
"Were your ambitions ever thus?"
"What? What?
Ever? No, I think not. Not when I was embattled with those Lords of Law who ruled this plane before. But now I have won, why, I deserve what I fought for. Do not all beings require the same?"
Corum nodded. "I suppose they do."
"Well," Arioch smiled. "What now, Little Corum of the Vadhagh? You must be destroyed soon, you know. For my peace of mind, you understand, that is all. You have done well to reach my Court. I will give you hospitality as a reward and then, at some stage, I will flick you away. You know why now."
Corum glowered. "I will not be flicked' away, Duke Arioch. Why should I be?"
Arioch raised a hand to his beautiful face and he yawned. "Why should you not be? Now. What can I do to entertain you?"
Corum hesitated. Then he said, "Will you show me all your castle? I have never seen anything so huge."
Arioch raised an eyebrow. "If that is all. . . ?"
"All for the moment."
Arioch smiled. "Very well. Besides, I have not seen all of it myself. Come." He placed a soft hand on Corum's shoulder and led him through a doorway.
As they walked along a magnificent gallery with walls of coruscating marble, Arioch spoke reasonably to Corum in a low, hypnotic voice. "You see, Friend Corum, these Fifteen Planes were stagnating. What did you Vadhagh and the rest do? Nothing. You hardly moved from your cities and your castles. Nature gave birth to poppies and daisies. The Lords of Law made sure that all was properly ordered. Nothing was happening at all. We have brought so much more to your world, my brother Mabelode and my sister Xiombarg."
"Who are the others?"
"You know them, I think, as the Queen of the Swords and the King of the Swords. They each rule five of the other ten planes. We won them from the Lords of Law a little while ago."
"And began your destruction of all that is truthful and wise."
"If you say so, Mortal."
Corum paused. His understanding was weakening to Arioch's persuasive voice. He turned. "I think you are lying to me, Duke Arioch. There must be more to your ambition than this."
"It is a matter of perspective, Corum. We follow our whims. We are powerful now and nothing can harm us. Why should we be vindictive?"
"Then you will be destroyed as the Vadhagh were destroyed. For the same reasons."
Arioch shrugged. "Perhaps."
"You have a powerful enemy in Shool of Svi-an-Fanla-Brool! You should fear him, I think."
"You know of Shool, then?" Arioch laughed musically. "Poor Shool. He schemes and plots and maligns us. He is amusing, is he not?"
"He is merely amusing?" Corum was disbelieving.
"Aye—merely amusing."
"He says you hate him because he is almost as powerful as yourself."
"We hate no one."
"I mistrust you, Arioch."
"What mortal does not mistrust a God?"
Now they were walking up a spiral ramp that seemed comprised entirely of light.
Arioch paused. "I think we will explore some other part of the palace. This leads only to a tower." Ahead Corum saw a doorway on which pulsed a sign—eight arrows arranged around a circle.
"What is that sign, Arioch?"
"Nothing at all. The arms of Chaos."
"Then what lies beyond the door?"
"Just a tower." Arioch became impatient. "Come. There are more interesting sights elsewhere."
Reluctantly, Corum followed him back down the ramp. He thought he had seen the place where Arioch kept his heart.
For several more hours they wandered through the palace, observing its wonders. Here all was light and beauty, and there were no sinister sights. This fact disturbed Corum. He was sure that Arioch was deceiving him.
They returned to the hall.
The Mabden lice had vanished. The filth had disappeared. In its place was a table laden with food and wine. Arioch gestured toward it.
"Will you dine with me, Prince Corum?"
Comm's grin was sardonic. "Before you destroy me?"
Arioch laughed. "If you wish to continue your existence a while longer, I have no objection. You cannot leave my palace, you see. And while your naivete continues to entertain me, why should I destroy you?"
"Do you not fear me at all?"
"I fear you not at all."
"Do you not fear what I represent?"
"What do you represent?"
"Justice."
Again Arioch laughed. "Oh, you think so narrowly. There is no such thing!"
"It existed when the Lords of Law ruled here."
"Everything may exist for a short while—even justice. But the true state of the universe is anarchy. It is the mortal's tragedy that he can never accept this."
Comm could not reply. He seated himself at the table and began to eat. Arioch did not eat with him, but sat on the other side of the table and poured himself some wine. Corum stopped eating. Arioch smiled.
"Do not fear, Corum. It is not poisoned. Why should I resort to such things as poisons?"
Corum resumed eating. When he had finished he said, "Now I would rest, if I am to be your guest."
"Ah," Arioch seemed perplexed. "Yes—well, sleep, then." He waved his hand and Corum fell face forward upon the table.
And slept.
The Seventh Chapter
The Bane Of The Sword Rulers
Corum stirred and forced his eyes open. The table had gone. Gone, too, was Arioch. The vast hall was in darkness, illuminated only by faint light issuing from a few of the doorways and galleries.
He stood up. Was he dreaming? Or had he dreamed everything that had happened earlier. Certainly all the events had had the quality of dreams become reality. But that was true of the entire world now, since he had left the sanity of Castle Erorn so long ago.
But where had Duke Arioch gone? Had he left on some mission in the world? Doubtless he had thought his influence over Corum would last longer. After all, that was why he wished the Vadhagh all destroyed, because he could not understand them, could not predict everything they would do, could not control their minds as he controlled those of the Mabden.
Corum realized suddenly that he now had an opportunity, perhaps his only opportunity, to try to reach the place where Arioch kept his heart. Then he might escape while Arioch was still away, get back to Shool and reclaim Rhaliaa. Vengeance now no longer motivated him. All he sought was an end to his adventure, peace with the woman he loved, security in the old castle by the sea.
He ran across the floor of the hall and up the stairway to the gallery with the walls of coruscating marble until he came to the ramp that seemed made of nothing but light. The light had dimmed to a glow now, but high above was the doorway with the pulsating orange sign—the eight arrows radiating from a central hub—the Sign of Chaos.
Breathing heavily, he ran up the spiral ramp. Up and up he ran, until the rest of the palace lay far below him, until he reached the door which dwarfed him, until he stopped and looked and wondered, until he knew he'd reached his goal.
The huge sign pulsed regularly, like a living heart itself, and it bathed Corum's face and body and armor in its red-gold light. Corum pushed at the door, but it was like a mouse pushing at the door of a sarcophagus. He could not move it.
He needed aid. He contemplated his left hand—the Hand of Kwll. Could he summon help from the dark world? Not without a "prize" to offer them.
But then the Hand of Kwll bunched itself into a fist and began to glow with a light that bunded Corum and made him stretch his arm away as far as it would go, flinging his other arm over his eyes. He felt the Hand of Kwll rise into the air and then strike at the mighty door. He heard a sound like the tolling of bells. He heard a crack as if the Earth herself had split And then the Hand of Kwll was limp by his side and he opened his eyes and saw that a crack had appeared in the door. It was a small crack in the bottom of the right corner, but it was large enough for Corum to wriggle through.
"Now you are aiding me as I would wish to be aided," he murmured to the hand. He got down on his knee
s and crawled through the crack.
Another ramp stretched upward over a gulf of sparkling emptiness. Strange sounds filled the air, rising and dying, coming close and then falling away. There were hints of menace here, hints of beauty, hints of death, hints of everlasting life, hints of terror, hints of tranquillity. Corum made to draw his sword and then realized the uselessness of such an action. He set foot on the ramp and began to climb again,
A wind seemed to spring up and his scarlet robe flew out behind him. Cool breezes wafted him and hot winds scoured his skin. He saw faces all around him and many of the faces he thought he recognized. Some of the faces were huge and some were infinitely tiny. Eyes watched him. Lips grinned. A sorrowful moaning came and went. A dark cloud engulfed him. A tinkling as of glass bells ringing filled his ears. A voice called his name and it echoed and echoed and echoed away forever, A rainbow surrounded him, entered him, and made his whole body flash with color. Steadily he continued his walk up the long ramp.
And now he saw he was coming to a platform that was at the end of the ramp but which hung over the gulf. There was nothing beyond it.
On the platform was a dais. On the dais was a plinth and on the plinth was something that throbbed and gave forth rays.
Transfixed by these rays were several Mabden warriors. Their bodies were frozen in attitudes of reaching for the source of the rays, but their eyes moved as they saw Corum approach the dais. Pain was in those eyes, and curiosity, and a warning. Corum stopped.
The thing on the plinth was a deep, soft blue and it was quite small and it shone and it looked like a jewel that had been fashioned into the shape of a heart. At every pulse, tubes of light shot forth from it. This could only be the heart of Arioch.
But it protected itself, as was evident from the frozen warriors surrounding it.
Conim took a pace nearer. A beam of light struck his cheek and it tingled.
Another pace nearer and two more beams of light hit his body and made it shiver, but he was not frozen. And now he was past the Mabden warriors. Two more paces and the beams bombarded his whole head and body, but the sensation was only pleasant. He stretched out his right hand to seize the heart, but his left hand moved first and the Hand of Kwll gripped the heart of Arioch.