The Karach had a Vadhagh face. It had a single eye and another covered by a patch. It had a hand which shone like silver and another made of flesh. It wore ornate armor almost exactly the same as Corum's own. It had a conical cap with a peak and engraved over the peak in Vadhagh lettering was a name: "Corum Jhaelen Irsei" which means Corum, the Prince in the Scarlet Robe.
And the Scarlet Robe, Corum's name-robe, flapped on the Karach's body as it strode toward Sactric.
And the Karachi's face was alike in every major detail to Corum's.
And Corum knew now why Artek and his followers had accused him of attacking them on Ynys Scaith. And he knew why the Mabden had been deceived into thinking that he fought with the Fhoi Myore against them. And he knew, too, why Calatin had made that bargain with him, long ago, for his name-robe. Calatin had been planning all this for some time.
And looking upon that face that was not his own face Corum shuddered and his veins became cold,
Now Sactric disdained to use his magic against the Karach, the doppelganger (or perhaps his magic was useless against a creature which was already, itself, an illusion), and he cried to his new servant:
''Goffanon! Defend me!"
And obediently the massive dwarf leapt forward to block the Karachi's path, his giant axe swinging.
And, fascinated and full of fear, Corum watched the fight, believing that he at last looked upon the 'brother’ of the old woman's prophecy, the one whom he had to fear.
Calatin was screaming at Corum: "There! There is the Karach, Corum! There is the one destined to kill you and to take your place. There is my son! There is my heir! There is the immortal Karach!"
But Corum ignored Calatin and watched the battle as the Karach, its face expressionless, its body apparently tireless, aimed blow after blow at Goffanon, who parried with his double-bladed war-axe, the war-axe of the Sidhi. And Corum could see that Goffanon was tiring, that he had been exhausted before he ever reached the island, and that soon the dwarf would fall to the Karach's sword, and it was then that Corum drew his own sword and ran toward his double, while Sactric laughed:
"You hurry to defend me, too, Prince Corum?"
And Corum darted a look of hatred at the corrupt form of the Malibann before he brought his sword, the cross-forged sword which Goffanon had made for him, down upon the shoulder of the Karach and made the thing mm.
"Fight me, changeling!" Corum growled. "It was what you were created to do, was it not?"
And he drove his sword at the Karach's heart, but the creature stepped aside and Corum could not stop his own momentum and the blade went past the Karachi's body and then buried itself in flesh, but it was not the Karach's flesh.
It was Goffanon's flesh that the sword found and Goffanon groaned as the blade pierced his shoulder, while Corum gasped in horror at what, inadvertently, he had done. And Goffanon fell back and it must have been that the sword-blade had lodged itself in a bone for the movement of the dwarf's falling wrenched the sword from Corum's hand and left him without weapons so that the
Karach, with a terrible fixed grin on its face, a glitter in its single, soulless eye, advanced to slay him.
Ilbrec now drew his own bright blade Retaliator and came striding to Corum’s assistance, but before he could cross the space Calatin rushed past him and began to flee down the hill, having given up any notion of defeating Sactric and plainly hoping to reach his boat before the Malibann realized he had gone.
But Goffanon saw Calatin and he raised his hand to grasp the sword he had made and which now stuck in his shoulder (and still he was careful not to touch the handle) and he wrenched it from the wound and he turned it, poised it, then flung it with great force after the retreating wizard.
The moon-colored sword whistled across the distance between Goffanon and Calatin and the point found the wizard between the shoulder blades.
Calatin continued to run for some moments, apparently unaware that the sword pierced his body. Then he faltered. Then he fell, croaking:
"Karach! Karach! Avenge me. Avenge me, my only heir! My son!'‘
The Karach turned, its expression softening, searching for the source of those words, its sword falling to its side. At last its eyes found Calatin (who was still not dead but was attempting to get to his knees and crawl on toward the shore and the boat in which, such a short time before, he had sailed in triumph) and Corum felt sure he detected genuine misery in the Karach’s expression as it realized the plight of its dying master.
"Karach! Avenge me!"
And the Karach began stiffly to walk down the hill in the wake of its master until it reached the enfeebled Calatin, whose fine, occult robes were now all smeared with his own blood. And from this distance it seemed to Corum that he, himself, paused beside the wizard and sheathed his sword. It was as if he watched a tableau from the past or the future in which he was the main actor; it was as if he dreamed, for he could not bring himself to move as he watched his double, the Karach, the changeling, stoop and look at Calatin’s face in puzzlement, wondering why its master groaned and writhed in this way. It reached out to touch the sword which jutted from Calatin’s shoulder blades but then it withdrew its hand as if the sword had been hot. Again it seemed puzzled. Calatin was panting out more words to the Karach, words which the onlookers could not hear, and the Karach put its head on one side and listened carefully.
Calatin's dying hands found a rock. Painfully the wizard pulled his body onto the rock and the moon-colored sword was pushed free, falling to the ground. Then the Karach sheathed its own sword and bent to lift its master, its creator, in its arms.
Sactric spoke now, from behind the three who stood on the hill watching this scene. He said:
"Goffanon, I am still your master. Go after the changeling and destroy it."
But Goffanon spoke in a new voice, a voice full of its old, gruff assurance. And Goffanon said:
"It is not yet time to slay the Karach. Besides, it is not my destiny to slay it."
"Goffanon! I command this!" shouted Sactric, holding up the little leathern bag which contained his power over the Sidhi smith.
But Goffanon merely smiled and began to inspect the wound which the sword he had forged himself had made in his shoulder. "You have no right to command Goffanon," he said.
There was a deep bitterness in Sactric's dry, dead voice when he spoke next:
"So I have been fully deceived by that mortal wizard. I shall not allow my judgement to be clouded so again."
Now the changeling Corum was carrying its master to the beach, but it did not walk toward the boat; instead it began to walk directly into the sea so that soon its scarlet robe was lifted on the surface of the water and surrounded both the creature and the dying wizard like so much thick blood.
"The wizard did not deceive you willingly," said Goffanon. "You must know that truth, Sactric. I was no more in his power when I came here than I was in yours. I let him think he commanded me, for I wished to discover if my friends were still alive and if I could help them ..."
"They'll not live for long," swore Sactric, "and neither will you, for I hate you most deeply, Goffanon."
"I came of my free will, as I said,'' the dwarf continued, ignoring Sactric's threats, "for I would make the bargain with you that Calatin hoped to make ..."
‘ 'Then you do know where you hid that which you stole?" Hope had returned to Sactric's tone.
"Of course I know. It is not something I could easily forget."
"And you will tell me?"
"If you agree to my conditions."
"If they are reasonable, I will agree."
"You will gain everything you hoped to gain from Calatin, and you will gain it more honorably ..." said Goffanon. There was a renewed dignity in the dwarf's bearing, for all his wound evidently caused him pain.
"Honor? That's a Mabden conception ..." began Sactric. Goffanon cut him off, turning to Corum: "You have much to do now, Vadhagh, if you are to make amends for your stupidities. Go, fetch y
our sword."
And Corum obeyed, his eyes still fixed on his double. The body of the wizard had sunk completely beneath the waves but the head and shoulders of the changeling could still be seen, and Corum saw that head turning to look at him. Corum felt a shock run through him as single eye met single eye. Then the changeling's face twisted and its mouth opened and it let out such a sudden, dreadful howling that Corum was stopped in his tracks just by the stone where his sword lay.
And then the Karach continued on until its head had disappeared under the surface of the sea. For a second or two Corum saw the scarlet surcoat, his name-robe, drifting on the water before it was pulled down and the Karach was gone.
Corum bent and picked up his sword, Goffanon's gift, and he looked at its strange, silvery whiteness, and it was now smeared with his old enemy's blood; but he was glad, for the first time, that he held the sword, and now he knew that he had a name for it, though it was not a noble name, not the name he would have expected to have given it. But it was the right name. He knew it, just as Goffanon had said he would know it when the moment came.
He carried the sword back to the top of the hill where the single pine grew and he lifted the sword toward the sky and he said in a grim, quiet voice:
"I have a name for the sword, Goffanon."
"I know that you have," said the dwarf, his own tone echoing Corum's.
"I call the sword Traitor," said Corum, "for the first blood it drew was from he who forged it and the second blood it drew was from the one who thought he was that man's master. I call my sword Traitor."
And the sword seemed to burn more brightly and Corum felt renewed energy flow through him (had there been another time, another sword like this? Why did the sensation seem familiar?) and he looked at Goffanon and saw that Goffanon was nodding, that Goffanon "was satisfied.
"Traitor," said Goffanon, and he laid a large hand against the wound in his shoulder.
Then Ilbrec said, apparently inconsequentially: "Now that you have a named sword, you will need a good horse. They are the first requisites of a war-knight."
"Aye, I suppose they are," said Corum. He sheathed the sword.
Sactric gestured impatiently. "What is the bargain you seek to make with the Malibann, Goffanon?"
Goffanon was still staring at Corum. "An apt name," he said, "but you give it a dark power now, not a light one."
"That must be," said Corum.
Goffanon shrugged and gave his attention to Sactric, speaking practically."I have what you want and it shall be yours, but you, in turn, must agree to help us against the Fhoi Myore. If we are successful and if our great Archdruid Amergin is still alive, and if we can recover the last of the Mabden treasures which still reside at Caer Llud, then we promise that we shall let you leave this plane and find another better suited to you."
Sactric nodded his mummified head. "If you can keep your bargain, we shall keep ours."
"Then," said Goffanon, "we must work speedily to accomplish the first part of our task, for time runs out for the beleaguered remnants of the Mabden army."
"Calatin spoke the truth?" said Corum.
"He spoke the truth."
Ilbrec said: "But Goffanon, we knew you to be wholly in the wizard's power while he held that bag of spittle. How could it be that you were at no time in his power on your journey here?"
Goffanon smiled. "Because the bag did not contain my spittle. . ."He was about to explain further when Sactric interrupted.
"Do you expect me to accompany you back to the mainland?"
"Aye," said Goffanon. "That will be necessary."
"You know it is hard for us to leave this island."
''But it is necessary," said Goffanon. "At least one of you must come with us and it should be the one in whom all the power of the Malibann is invested—namely yourself."
Sactric thought for a moment. "Then I will need a body," he said. "This one will not do for such a journey." He added:"Best if you are not trying to deceive the Malibann, Goffanon, as you deceived them once before . . ." His tone had become haughty again.
"It is not, this time, in my interest," said the dwarf. "But know you this, Sactric, I have no relish for making bargains with you and, if it were only my decision, I would perish rather than give you back what I stole from you. However the die has been cast so thoroughly that the only way to save the situation now is to continue with what my friends here started. But I think it will go ill for some of us, at least, when your full power is restored to you."
Sactric shrugged his flaking, leathery shoulders. "I would not deny that, Sidhi," he said.
"The question remains," said Ilbrec, "how is Sactric to travel beyond Ynys Scaith if the world outside is inhospitable to him?"
"I need a body." Sactric looked speculatively at the three and caused Corum, at least, to shudder.
"Few human bodies could contain that which is Sactric," said Goffanon. "It is a problem which, for a solution, might require an act of considerable self-sacrifice on the part of one of us . . ."
"Then let that one be me, gentlemen."
The voice was a new one in the company, but it was familiar. Corum turned and saw to his great relief that it was Jhary-a-Conel, as cocky as ever, leaning against a rock with his wide-brimmed hat over one eye and the small, winged, black and white cat on his shoulder.
"Jhary!" Corum rushed forward to embrace his friend. "How long have you been upon the island?"
"I have witnessed most of what has taken place today. Very satisfactory." Jhary winked at Goffanon. "You deceived Calatin perfectly . . ."
"I should not have had the opportunity if it had not been for you, Jhary-a-Conel," said Goffanon. He turned to speak to the others. ‘ 'It was Jhary who, as soon as it was obvious that the day was going badly for the Mabden, pretended to be a turncoat and offered his services to Calatin who (appreciating his own deviousness and thinking all men like him in that respect) accepted. Thus, by sleight of hand, was Jhary able to substitute the bag containing the spittle for one like it which contained nothing but a little melted snow. Then, to find out what Calatin planned against the Mabden, I had only to pretend to be still in his power, while Jhary lost himself in the general confusion after the retreat from Caer Llud, following discreetly until we came to Ynys Scaith ..."
"So I did see a smaller sail on the horizon earlier!" said Corum. "It was your skiff, Jhary?"
"Doubtless," said the self-styled Companion to Champions. "And now, as to the other matter, I know that cats have a certain resilience men lack when it comes to containing the souls of other creatures. I remember a time once when my name was different and my circumstances were different, when a cat was used to great effect to contain (and in this case imprison) the soul of a very great sorcerer—but no more of that. My cat will carry you, Sactric, and I think you'll experience little discomfort ..."
"A beast?" Sactric began to shake his mummified head. "As Emperor of Malibann I could not . . ."
"Sactric," said Goffanon sharply, "you know very well that soon, unless you get free of this plane, you and yours will have perished completely. Would you risk that because of a small point of pride?"
Sactric said savagely: "You speak too familiarly, dwarf. Why, if I were not bound by my word ..."
"But you are," said Goffanon. "Now, sir, will you enter the cat so that we can leave, or do you not require back that which I took from you?"
"I want it more than life."
"Then, Sactric, you must do as Jhary suggests."
There seemed to be no reaction from Sactric, save that he stared at the black and white cat in some disdain for a moment, then there came a yowling from the cat, its fur stood on end and it clawed at the air before subsiding. And suddenly Sactric's mummy fell heavily to the ground and lay there in a tangled heap.
The cat said:
"Let us go quickly. And remember, I have lost none of my powers merely because I inhabit this body."
"We shall remember," said Ilbrec, picking up the old sa
ddle he had found and dusting it off.
The Sidhi youth, the wounded smith, Goffanon, Corum of the Silver Hand, and Jhary-a-Conel, with that which was now Sactric balancing on his shoulder, began to make their way to the beach and the boat which waited for them.
BOOK THREE
In which Mabden, Vadhagh, Sidhi and Malibann and the Fhoi Myore struggle for possession of the Earth herself and in which enemies become allies and allies enemies. The Last Battle against the Cold Folk, against the Frost Eternal.
THE FIRST CHAPTER
THAT WHICH GOFFANON STOLE FROM SACTRIC
The journey had been uneventful, with Ilbrec riding on Splendid Mane and guiding the ship on the shortest course to the mainland. And now they all stood upon a cliff at the foot of which a white, angry sea thundered, and Goffanon raised his double-bladed war-axe high above his head, using his one good arm, and then he drove the axe down into the turf which had, until a few minutes earlier, been marked by a small cairn of stones.
The extraordinarily intelligent eyes of the black and white cat watched Goffanon intensely and sometimes those eyes seemed to burn ruby red.
"Be careful you do not harm it," said the cat in Sactric of Malibann's voice.
"I have still to remove the charm I laid," said Goffanon. Having cut away the turf to expose a patch of earth measuring some eighteen inches across, the Sidhi dwarf knelt over this and ran some of the earth through his fingers, muttering what seemed to be a series of simple, rhymed couplets. When this was done he grunted, took out his knife and began to dig carefully in the soft ground.
"Ugh!" Goffanon found what he sought and his face was screwed up in an expression of considerable disgust. "Here it is, Sactric."
And he withdrew from the ground, by its thin strands of hair, a human head, as mummified as Sactric's own had been, yet having an air not of undeniable femininity but also, strangely, of beauty, though there was nothing evidently beautiful about the severed head.
"Terhali!" sighed the little black and white cat, and now there was plainly adoration in its eyes.' 'Has he harmed you, my love, my sweet sister?"