Knight of the Swords

  "An island," Rhalina said.

  Out of all this rose an island of dark blue rock. Upon the rock was a building, a great castle all colored scarlet. And the scarlet rippled as if water had somehow been molded into a permanent shape. A familiar, salty smell came from the scarlet castle. Jhary turned the ship to avoid it, but then the castle was ahead of them again. Again he turned. Again it was ahead of them. For several moments he altered the course of the sky ship and each time the castle reappeared before them.

  "It seeks to stop us." Jhary tried again to avoid it.

  "What is it?" Rhalina asked.

  Jhary shook his head. "I know not, but it is unlike the other things we have seen. We are being drawn toward it now. That stench! It clogs my nostrils!"

  Closer came the sky ship, until it hovered directly above the scarlet turrets of the castle. And then it had landed.

  Corum peered over the side. The substance of the castle still rippled like liquid. It did not look solid, yet it held the sky ship. He drew his sword and looked toward a black gap in the nearby tower. An entrance. And a figure was emerging from it.

  The figure was fat, about twice as broad as an ordinary man. It had a head which was essentially human but from which boarlike tusks sprouted. It moved over the rippling scarlet surface on bowed, thick legs, naked but for a tabard embroidered with a design not immediately recognizable.

  It was grinning at them. "I have been short of guests," it grunted. "Are you mine?"

  Corum said, "Your guests?"

  "No, no, no. Did I make you or did you come from elsewhere. Are you inventions of one of my brother dukes?"

  "I do not understand—" Corum began.

  Jhary interrupted him. "I know you. You are Duke Teer."

  "Of course I am Duke Teer. What of it? Why, I do not believe you are inventions at all—not of this realm at all.

  How satisfying. Welcome, mortals, to my castle. How remarkable! Welcome, welcome, welcome. How exquisite!

  Welcome!"

  "You are Duke Teer of Chaos and your liege lord is Mabelrode the Faceless. I was right, then. This is King Mabelrode's Realm."

  "How intelligent! How marvellous!" The boar face split in an ugly grin and rotting teeth were displayed. "Do you bring me some message, perhaps?"

  "We, too, serve King Mabelrode," Jhary said swiftly.

  "We fight in Arkyn's Realm to restore the rule of Chaos there."

  "How excellent! But do not say you come for aid, mortals, for all my aid already goes to that other realm where Law attempts to hold sway. Every Duke of Hell sends his resources to the fight. The time might yet arise when we can go personally to do battle with Law, but that is not yet. We lend our powers, our servants, everything but ourselves—for doubtless you have learned what became of Xiombarg when he—or she, I should say, of course—attempted to cross into Arkyn's Realm. How unpleasant!"

  "We had hoped for aid," Corum said, falling in with Jhary's attempted deception. "Law has thwarted us too often."

  "I, as you know, am only a minor Lord of Chaos. My powers have never been great. Most of my efforts have gone—and peers may laugh—into the creation of my beautiful castle. I love it so much."

  "What is it made of?" Rhalina asked him nervously. She plainly did not think they could remain undetected for long.

  "You have not heard of Teer's Castle? How strange!

  Why, my pretty mortal, it is built of blood—it is built all of blood. Many thousands have died to make my castle. I must slay many thousands more before it is properly completed. Blood, my dear—blood and blood and blood!

  Can you not sniff its delicious tang? What you sniff is blood. What you see—it is all blood. Mortal blood—immortal blood—it all mingles. All blood is equal when it goes to build Teer's Castle, eh? Why, you have blood enough for part of a small wall of a tower. I could make a room from all three of you. You would be astonished to learn how far blood can be made to stretch as a building material. And it is tasty, eh?" He shrugged and waved a thick hand. "Or perhaps not to you. I know mortals and their fads. But for me—ah, it is delightful!"

  "It was an honor to see the famous Castle Built of Blood," Jhary said as smoothly as he could, "but now the business of the moment presses and we must go to seek help in our fight against Law. Will you allow us to leave now, Duke Teer?"

  "Leave?" The small eyes glinted. A fat, rough tongue licked the coarse lips. Teer fingered one of his tusks.

  "We are, after all, upon King Mabelrode's service," said Corum.

  "So you are! How superb!"

  "It is urgent, our quest."

  "It is rare for mortals to come directly to King Mabelrode's Realm," Duke Teer said.

  "These are rare times, with two of our realms in the hands of Law," Jhary pointed out.

  "How true! What is that running from the lips of the female?"

  Rhalina was vomiting. She had done all she could to contain her nausea, but the stink had become too much for her.

  Duke Teer's eyes narrowed. "I know mortals. I know them. She is distressed. By what? By what?"

  "By the thought of Law's return," said Jhary weakly.

  "She is distressed by me, eh? She is not wholly given up to serving Chaos, eh? Not a very good specimen for King Mabelrode to pick to serve him, eh?"

  "He picked us," Corum said. "She merely accompanies us."

  "Then she is of little use to King Mabelrode—or to you.

  Here, then, is what I want in return for my allowing you to see the splendor of my Castle Built of Blood ..."

  "No," said Corum, guessing what he meant. "We cannot do that. Let us go now, I beg you, Duke Teer. You know we must make haste! King Mabelrode will not be pleased if you delay us."

  "He will not be pleased with you if you delay. Simply give me the female. Keep the flesh and bones, if you desire. All I require is the blood."

  "No!" screamed Rhalina in terror.

  "How stupid!"

  "Let us go, Duke Teer!"

  "Let me have the female first!"

  "No!" said Jhary and Corum in unison. And they drew their swords, whereupon Duke Teer burst into grunting laughter that was at once mocking and incredulous.

  The Third Chapter

  The Rider on the Yellow Horse

  The Duke of Hell stretched as a man might stretch when awakening from a luxurious sleep. His arms grew longer, his body wider, and, within a space of seconds, he had doubled his size. He looked down on them, still laughing.

  "How badly you lie!"

  "We do not lie!" cried Corum. "We beg you—let us be on our way."

  Duke Teer frowned,. "I have no wish to earn King Mabelrode's displeasure. Yet if you truly served Chaos you would not show such silly emotions—you would give the female to me. She is useless to you, but she can be of great use to me. I exist only to build my castle, make it more elaborate, more beautiful." He began to stretch out one great hand. "Here, I will take her and then you may go your way and I'll—"

  "See," called Jhary suddenly. "Our enemies! They have followed us to this plain. How stupid of them—to cross Into the realm of their enemy King Mabelrode."

  "What?" Duke Teer looked up. He saw the score of black flying things with their long necks and their red, jaws, the men upon their backs. "Who are they?"

  "Their leader is called Corum Jhaelen Irsei," said Corum. "They are sworn enemies of Chaos and desire our deaths. Destroy them, Duke Teer, and Mabelrode will be mightily pleased with you."

  Duke Teer glared upward. "Is this truth?"

  "It is!" Jhary shouted.

  "I believe I have heard of this mortal, Corum. Was it not he who destroyed Arioch's heart? Is he the one who lured Xiombarg to her doom?"

  "He is the same!" Rhalina cried.

  "My nets," muttered Duke Teer, reducing his size and hurrying back into his tower. "I will help you."

  "There is enough blood in them to build a whole new hall!" Jhary yelled. He leaped for the controls and hastily passed his hands over them. They came to
life and the sky ship sprang into the air.

  Glandyth and his flying pack had seen them. The black beasts turned, wings sounding like thunder, and sped toward the sky ship.

  But they were free of the Castle Built of Blood now and Duke Teer was engaged with his nets. He had one in each hand and he grew larger and larger, casting toward the disconcerted Earl of Krae.

  Jhary's face was set. "I am going to try everything I can to hurl the sky ship from this foul dimension," he said. "It will be better to die than remain here. Duke Teer will learn soon enough that Glandyth serves Chaos and not Law.

  And Glandyth will tell him who we are. All the Dukes of Hell will seek us out." He removed a transparent cover and began to rearrange the crystals. "I know not what this will accomplish, but I am determined to try to find out!"

  The sky ship began to oscillate throughout its length.

  Clinging to the rail Corum felt his entire body vibrate until he was sure he would shake to pieces. He clung to Rhalina.

  The ship began to dive toward a sea of violet and orange.

  They were flung forward, upon Jhary. The ship struck something. They passed into a liquid which stifled them.

  Another mighty wrench and Corum lost his grasp on Rhalina. Through the darkness he tried to find her, but she had gone. He felt his feet leave the deck of the ship.

  He began to drift.

  He tried to call her name, but the stuff blocked his mouth. He tried to peer through it, but it stuck to his eyes.

  He drifted languidly, sinking deeper and deeper. His heart began to bang against, his chest. No air entered his lungs. He knew he was dying.

  And he knew Rhalina and Jhary were dying, somewhere nearby in the viscous stuff.

  He was almost relieved that his quest had ended so, that his responsibility to the Cause of Law was over. He grieved for Rhalina and he grieved for Jhary, but he could not grieve for himself.

  Suddenly he was falling. He saw a piece of the sky ship—a twisted rail—fall with him. He was falling through clear air but the speed of his descent still made it impossible for him to breathe.

  He began to glide. He looked about him. There was blue sky on all sides—below him, above him. He spread his arms. The piece of twisted rail was still gliding with him.

  He looked for Rhalina. He looked for Jhary. They were nowhere in sight in all the blue vastness. There was just the piece of rail.

  He called out, "Rhalina?"

  There was no reply.

  He was alone in a universe of blue light.

  He began to feel drowsy. His eyes closed. He fought to open them but he could not. It was as if his brain refused any longer to experience further terrors.

  When he awoke he was lying on something soft and very comfortable. He felt warm and he realized he was naked.

  He opened his eyes and saw the beams of a roof above him.

  He turned his head. He was in a room. Sunlight came through a window.

  Was this a further illusion? The room was plainly at the top of a house, for its walls sloped. It was simply furnished.

  The home of a well-to-do peasant farmer, Corum thought.

  He looked at the varnished door with its simple metal latch. He heard a voice singing behind it.

  How had he come here? It was possible that it was a trick. Jhary had warned him to beware of such visions. He drew his hands from beneath the bedsheets. On his left wrist there still remained the Hand of Kwll, six-fingered and bejeweled. He touched his face. The Eye of Rhynn, useless though it now was, still filled the socket of his right eye. On a chest in one corner all his clothes had been laid and his weapons ware stacked nearby.

  Had he somehow returned to his own plane and had sanity been restored to it. Could Duke Teer have slain Glandyth and thus lifted Glandyth's spell from the land?

  The room was not familiar, neither were the designs on the chest and the bedposts. This was not, he was sure, Lywm-an-Esh and it was most certainly not Bro-an-Vadhagh.

  The door opened and a fat man entered. He looked amused and said something which Corum could not understand.

  "Do you speak the language of Vadhagh or Mabden?"

  Corum asked him politely.

  The fat man—not a farmer by his embroidered shirt and silk breeks—shook his head and spread his hands, speaking again in the strange language.

  "Where is this place?" Corum asked him.

  The fat man pointed out of the window, pointed to the floor, spoke at some length, laughed, and indicated with further gestures that Corum might like to eat. Corum nodded. He was very hungry.

  Before the man left, he said, "Rhalina? Jhary?" hoping that he would recognize the names and know where the two were. The man shook his head, laughed again and closed the door behind him.

  Corum got up. He felt weak but not totally weary. He pulled on his clothes, picked up the byrnie, and then laid it down again with the helm and the greaves. He went to the door and peered out. He saw a landing, varnished with the same brown varnish, a staircase leading downward. He stepped onto the landing and tried to peer below, but saw only another landing. He heard voices—a woman's voice, the laughter of the fat man. He went back into the room and looked out of the window.

  The house lay on the outskirts of a town. But it was not a town like any he had seen before. All the houses had red, sloping roofs and were built of a mixture of timber and gray brick. The streets were cobbled and carts passed this way and that along them. Most of the people wore drabber clothes than those he had seen on the fat man, but they looked cheerful enough, often calling out greetings to each other, stopping to pass the time of day.

  The town seemed quite large and, in the distance Corum could see a wall, the spires of taller buildings plainly more expensively built than the ordinary houses. Sometimes carriages passed by, or well-dressed men on horseback made their way through the throng—nobles or possibly merchants.

  Corum rubbed his head and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He tried to think clearly. The evidence was that he was on another plane. And there seemed to be no battle between Law or Chaos here. Everyone was, as far as he could tell, leading ordinary, sedate lives. Yet he had it both from Lord Arkyn and from Duke Teer that every one of the Fifteen Planes was in conflict as Law fought Chaos.

  Was this some plane ruled by Arkyn or his brother which had not yet succumbed? It was unlikely. And he could not speak the language while they could not understand him.

  That had never happened to him before. Jhary's rearrangement of the crystals before the sky ship had been destroyed had evidently produced a drastic result. He was cut off from anything he knew. He might never learn where he was. And all this suggested that Rhalina and Jhary, if they lived, were similarly abandoned on some unfamiliar plane.

  The fat man opened the door and an equally fat woman in voluminous white skirts entered the room with a tray on which was arranged meat, vegetables, fruit, and a steaming bowl of soup. She smiled at him and offered him the tray rather as if she were offering food to a caged wild animal.

  He bowed and smiled and took the tray. She was careful to avoid touching his six-fingered hand.

  "You are land," said Corum, knowing she would not understand, but wishing her to know that he was grateful.

  While they watched, he began to eat. The food was not particularly well-cooked or flavored, but he was hungry.

  He ate it all as gracefully as he could and eventually, with another bow, returned the tray to the silent pair.

  He had eaten too much too swiftly and his stomach felt heavy. He had never been much attracted to Mabden food at any time and this was coarser than most. But he made a great pretense of being satisfied, for he had become unused to kindness of late.

  Now the fat man asked another question. It sounded like a single word. "Fenk?"

  "Fenk?" said Corum and shook his head.

  "Fenk?"

  Again Corum shook his head.

  "Pannis?"

  Another shake of the head. There were several
more questions of the same sort—just a single word—and each time Corum indicated that he did not understand. Now it was his turn. He tried several words in the Mabden dialect, a language derived from Vadhagh. The man did not understand. He pointed at Corum's six-fingered hand, frowning, pulling at one of his own hands, chopping at it, until Corum realized that he was asking if the hand had been lost in battle and this was an artificial one. Corum nodded rapidly and smiled, tapping at his eye also. The man seemed satisfied but extremely curious. He inspected the hand, marveling. Doubtless he believed it to be mortal work and Corum could not explain that it had been grafted to him by means of sorcery. The man indicated that Corum should come with him through the door. Corum willingly consented and was led down the stairs and into what was plainly a workshop.

  And now he understood. The man was a maker of artificial limbs. He was plainly experimenting with many different lands. There were wooden, bone, and metal legs, some of them of very complicated manufacture. There were hands carved from ivory or made of jointed steel. There were arms, feet, even something which seemed to be a steel rib cage. There were also many anatomical drawings in a peculiar, alien style and Corum was fascinated by them. He saw a pile of scrolls bound into single sheets between leather covers and he opened one. It seemed to be a book concerning medicine. Although cruder in design and although the strange, angular letters were not at all beautiful in themselves, the book seemed as sophisticated as many which the Vadhagh had created before the coming of the Mabden. He tapped the book and made an approving noise.

  "It is good," he said.

  The man smiled and tapped again at Corum's hand.

  Corum wondered what the doctor would say if he could explain how he came by it. The poor man would probably be horrified or, perhaps more likely, convinced that Corum was mad, as Corum would have been before he began to encounter sorcery.

  Corum let the doctor inspect the eyepatch and the peculiar eye beneath it.

  This puzzled the fat man even more. He shook his head, frowning. Corum lowered the patch back over the eye. He half wished that he could demonstrate to the doctor exactly what the eye and the hand were used for.