The Sword and the Stallion

  ‘ 'No!" cried Corum.

  And clouds moved across the moon and the light dimmed and Corum stood upon Cremmsmound in the oak grove, the place of power, with a sword in his hand that was unlike any sword forged before this day; and Corum looked down the mound and saw that Goffanon now stood with Hisak Sunthief and Jhary-a-Conel and Medhbh the red-haired, Medhbh of the Long Arm, and all four stared at Corum as if they wished to help him and could not.

  Corum did not know why he replied to their expressions in the way he did when he raised the sword high over his head and said to them in a quiet, firm voice:

  "I am Corum. This is my sword. I am alone."

  Then the four walked up the mound and they took him back to Caer Mahlod where many still feasted, unaware of what had taken place in the oak grove when the moon had been at its fullest.

  THE FIFTH CHAPTER

  A COMPANY OF HORSEMEN

  Corum slept long into the following morning, but it was not a dreamless sleep. Voices spoke to him of untrustworthy heroes and noble traitors; he had visions of swords, both the one he had been given during the ceremony in the oak grove and others, in particular one other, a black blade which seemed, like the Dagdagh Harp, to have a complex personality, as if inhabited by the spirit of a particularly powerful demon. And between hearing these voices and seeing these visions he heard the words repeated over and over again:

  "You are the Champion. You are the Champion." And sometimes a chorus of voices would tell him: "You must follow the Champion's Way." And what, he would wonder, if that way were not the way of the Mabden whom he had sworn to help? And the chorus would repeat: "You must follow the Champion's Way." And Corum awoke, eventually, saying aloud: "I have no liking for this dream." He spoke of the dream into which he had awakened.

  Medhbh, dressed, fresh-faced and determined, was standing beside the bed. "What dream is that, my love?"

  He shrugged and tried to smile. "Nothing. Last night's events disturbed me, I suppose.'' He looked into her eyes and he felt a little fear creep into his mind. He reached out and took hold of her soft hands, her strong, cool hands. "Do you really love me, Medhbh ?''

  She was disconcerted. "I do," she said.

  He looked beyond her to the carved chest on the lid of which rested the sword Goffanon had given him. "How shall I name the sword?"

  She smiled.'' You will know. Is that not what Goffanon told you? You will know what to call it when the time comes and then the sword will be informed with all its powers."

  He sat up, the covers falling away from his broad, naked chest.

  She went to the far side of the chamber and signalled to someone in the next room. "Prince Corum's bath. Is it ready?"

  It is ready, my lady."

  "Come, Corum," said Medhbh.‘’Refresh yourself. Wash away your unpleasant dreams. In two days we shall be ready to march. There is little left for you to do until then. Let us spend those two days as enjoyably as we can. Let us ride, this morning, beyond the woods and over the moors."

  He drew a deep breath. Aye," he said lightly. "lama fool to brood. If my destiny is set, then it is set."

  Amergin met them as they mounted their horses an hour later. Amergin was tall, slender and youthful but had the dignity of a man much older than he looked. He wore the blue and gold robes of the Archdruid and there was a simple coronet of iron and raw gems set upon his head of long, fair hair.

  "Greetings," said the High King. "Did your business go well last night, Prince Corum?"

  "I think so," said Corum. 'Goffanon seemed satisfied."

  "But you do not carry the sword he gave you."

  "It is not a sword, I think, to be worn casually." Corum had his old, good sword at his side. "I shall carry Goffanon's gift into battle, however."

  Amergin nodded. He looked down at the cobbles of the courtyard, apparently in deep thought. "Goffanon told you no more of those allies Ilbrec mentioned."

  ' 'I took it that Goffanon did not regard them, whoever they are, as allies, necessarily,'' said Medhbh.

  "Just so," said Amergin. "However, it would seem to me it would be worth risking much if it meant that our chances of defeating the Fhoi Myore were improved."

  Corum was surprised by what he guessed to be the import of Amergin's words. "You do not think we shall be successful?"

  "The attack on Caer Llud will cost us dear," said Amergin quietly. "I meditated on our plan last night. I believe I had a vision."

  "Of defeat?"

  "It was not a vision of victory. You know Caer Llud, Corum, as do I. You know how utterly cold it is now that the Fhoi Myore inhabit it. Cold of that order affects men often in ways they do not fully comprehend.’'

  ' 'That is true. ‘ ‘ Corum nodded.

  ‘ 'That is all that I thought," said Amergin. ' 'A simple thought. I cannot be more specific."

  "You do not need to be, High King. But I fear there is no better means of making war against our enemies. If there were ..."

  ' 'We should all know it." Amergin shrugged and patted the neck of Corum's horse. ' 'But if you have the opportunity to reason with Goffanon again, beg him at very least to tell us the nature of these allies."

  ' 'I promise you that I shall, Archdruid, but I do not anticipate any success."

  "No," said Amergin, his hand falling away from the horse. "Neither do I."

  They rode out from Caer Mahlod, leaving behind them a thoughtful Archdruid, and soon they were galloping through the oak woods and up into the high moorlands where curlews rose and sank above their heads and the smell of the bracken and the heather was sweet in their nostrils and it seemed that no power in the universe could change the simple beauties of the landscape. The sun was warm in a soft blue sky. It was a kindly day. And soon their spirits had risen higher than ever before and they dismounted from their horses and wandered through the knee-high bracken and then sank down into it so that all they could see was the sky and the cool, restful green of the ferns on all sides. And they held each other and they made gentle love then lay close together in silence, breathing the good air and listening to the quiet sounds of the moorlands.

  They were allowed an hour of this peace before Corum detected a faint pulsing from the ground beneath him and put his ear to the source, knowing what it must mean.

  "Horses," he said, "coming nearer."

  "Fhoi Myore riders?" She sat up, reaching for her sling and her pouch which she carried everywhere.

  "Perhaps. Gaynor, or the People of the Pines, or both. Yet we have outriders everywhere at present to warn us of an attack from the east and we know that all the Fhoi Myore gather in the east at present.'' Cautiously he began to raise his head. The horsemen were corning from the northwest, more or less from the direction of the coast. His view was blocked by the rise of a hill, but now, very faintly, he thought he could hear the jingle of harness. Looking behind him, Corum could see that their horses would be clearly visible to anyone approaching over that hill. He drew his sword and began to creep towards the horses. Medhbh followed him.

  Hastily, they clambered into their saddles, riding toward the hill, but at an angle to the approaching horsemen, so that, with luck, they would not immediately be seen if they crested the hill.

  An outcrop of white limestone offered them some cover and they drew rein behind this, waiting until the riders came in sight.

  Almost immediately the first three appeared. The ponies they rode were small and shaggy and dwarfed by the size of the broad-shouldered men on their backs. These men all had the same blazing pale red hair and sharp blue eyes. The hair of their beards was plaited into a dozen narrow braids and the hair of their heads hung in four or five very thick braids into which were bound strands of beads, glinting in the sunlight. They had long oval shields strapped to their left arms and these shields appeared to be of hide and wicker reinforced with rims and bands of brass hammered into bold, flowing designs. The shields appeared to have sheaths attached to their inner surfaces and into these were stuck two iron-headed spears
shod with brass. On their hips the men sported short, wide-bladed swords in leather, iron-studded sheaths. Some wore their helmets and others carried them over their saddle pommels and the helmets were all roughly of the same design: conical caps of leather ribbed by iron or brass and decorated with the long, curving horns of the mountain ox. In some cases the original horn had been completely obscured by the polished pebbles, bits of iron or brass or even gold, set into it. Thick plaid cloaks predominantly of red, blue or green were flung over their shoulders. They had kilts either of plaid or of leather and their legs were naked; only a few wore any kind of footgear and of these most wore a simple sandal strapped at the ankle. They were, without doubt, warriors, but Corum had seen none quite like these, though to a degree they resembled the folk of Tir-nam-Beo and the ponies reminded him of those ridden by his old enemies of the forests near Moidel's Mount. Eventually all the riders came into sight—about a score of them—and as they rode closer it was evident they had lately experienced hardship. Some had broken limbs, others had wounds bound up and two of the men were strapped tightly to their saddles so that they would not fall from their horses.

  ' 'I do not think they mean harm to Caer Mahlod," said Medhbh. "These are Mabden. But what Mabden? I thought all warriors had been summoned by now."

  "They have traveled far and hard by the look of them,’' murmured Corum. "And over the sea, too. Look, their cloaks bear the stains of sea-water. Perhaps they have left a boat near here. Come, let us hail them." He urged his horse from its cover behind the limestone crag, calling out to the newcomers:

  "I bid you good afternoon, strangers. Where are you bound?"

  The burly warrior in the vanguard reined in his pony suddenly, his red brows corning together in a suspicious scowl, his heavy, gnarled hand reaching toward the handle of his sword, and when he spoke his tone was deep and coarse.

  "I bid you a good afternoon, also," he said, "if you mean us no harm. As for where we are bound, well, that is our business."

  "It is also the business of those whose land this is," Corum answered reasonably.

  ‘ 'That could be," the warrior answered.' 'But if it be not Mabden land, then you have conquered it and if you have conquered it, then you are our enemy and we must slay you. We can see that you are not Mabden."

  "True. But I serve the Mabden cause. And this lady, she is Mabden."

  "She resembles a Mabden, certainly," said the warrior, dropping none of his caution. "But we have seen too many illusions on our journey here to be deceived by what is apparently so."

  "I am Medhbh," said Medhbh fiercely, offended. "I am Medhbh of the Long Arm, famous in my own right as a warrior. And I am the daughter of King Mannach, who rules this land from Caer Mahlod."

  The warrior became a trifle less suspicious, but he kept his hand upon the hilt of his sword and the others spread out as if they prepared to attack Medhbh and Corum.

  "And I am Corum," said Corum, "once called the Prince in the Scarlet Robe, but I traded that robe to a wizard and now I am called Corum of the Silver Hand ."He held up his metal hand which, up to that point, he had concealed.' 'Have you not heard of me? I fight for the Mabden against the Fhoi Myore."

  "That is he!" One of the young warriors behind the leader shouted and pointed at Corum. ‘ 'The scarlet robe—he does not wear it now—but the features are the same—the eye-patch is the same. That is he!"

  "You have followed us, then, Sir Demon," said the leading warrior. He sighed, turned in his saddle and looked back at his men.

  ' 'These are all that are left, but perhaps we can defeat you and your she-demon consort.''

  "He is no demon and neither am I!" cried Medhbh angrily. "Why do you accuse us of this? Where have you seen us before?"

  ' 'We have not seen you before,'' said the leader. He steadied his nervous pony with a movement of the reins. His harness clattered and his metal stirrup struck the rim of his long shield. "We have seen only this one." He nodded at Corum. "In those foul and sorcerous islands back there.'' He jerked his head in the direction of the sea.' 'The island where we beached eight good longships and ten rafts of provisions and livestock, going ashore for fresh water and meat. You will recall,' ‘ he continued, staring with hatred at Corum, "that when we left it was with but a single ship, no women or children, no livestock save our ponies, and few provisions."

  Corum said: "I assure you that you have not seen me until this moment. I am Corum. I fight the Fhoi Myore. These last weeks I have spent at Caer Mahlod. I have not left at any time. This is the first journey I have taken beyond the immediate confines of the city in a month!"

  "You are the one who came against us on the island," said the youth who had first accused Corum. "In your red cloak, with your helmet of mock-silver, with your face all pale like that of a dead thing, with your eye-patch and your laughter ..."

  "A Shefanhow," said the leader. "We know you."

  "It has been literally a lifetime since I heard that word used," said Corum somberly. "You are close to angering me, stranger. I speak the truth. You must have come to blows with an enemy who resembled me in some way."

  '' Aye! ‘ ‘ the youth laughed bitterly.' 'To the extent of being your twin! We feared you would follow us. But we are ready to defend ourselves against you. Where do your men hide?" He looked about him, his braids swinging with the movement of his head.

  "I have no men," said Corum impatiently.

  The leader laughed harshly. "Then you are foolish."

  "I will not fight you," Corum told him. "Why are you here?"

  "To join those who gather at Caer Mahlod."

  "It is as I thought." All Corum's earlier forebodings had returned and he fought to hold them off.' 'If we give you our weapons and take you to Caer Mahlod, will you believe that we mean you no harm? At Caer Mahlod you will learn that we speak the truth, that we have never seen you before and that we are not your enemies.''

  The loud-voiced youth called:' 'It could be a trick, to lure us into a trap."

  "Ride with your swords at our throats if you like," said Corum carelessly. "If you are attacked, you may kill us."

  The leader frowned.' 'You have none of the manner of that other we met on the island/' he said. ‘ 'And if you lead us to Caer Mahlod at least we shall have reached our destination and thus gained something from this meeting."

  ''Artek!' ‘ shouted the youth. "Be wary!''

  The leader turned. "Silence, Kawanh. We can always slay the Shefanhow later!"

  "I would ask you, in courtesy," said Corum evenly, "not to employ that term when you refer to me. It is not one I like and it does not make me sympathetic to you."

  Artek made to answer, a hard smile half-forming on his lips. Then he looked into Corum's single eye and thought better of his reply. He grunted and ordered two of his men forward.' 'Take their weapons. Hold your swords at them as we ride. Very well— Corum—lead us to Caer Mahlod."

  Corum derived some pleasure from the looks of shock on the strangers' faces as they rode to the outskirts of the camp and saw the expressions of concern and anger in the eyes of every Mabden who became aware that Corum and Medhbh were prisoners. Now it was Corum's turn to smile and his smile was broad as the crowd around the twenty riders became thicker and thicker until they were no longer able to advance and came to a halt in the middle of the camp, still some distance from the hill on which Caer Mahlod was built. A war-chief of the Tir-nam-Beo glared at Artek, whose sword pressed upon Corum's chest.

  "What mean you by this, man! Why do you hold hostage our princess? Why threaten the life of our friend, Prince Corum?"

  Artek's embarrassment was so complete that he blushed a deeper red than his hair and beard. "So you spoke the truth . . ."he muttered. But he did not lower his sword. "Unless this is some monstrous illusion and all these are your demon followers."

  Corum shrugged. "If they are demons, Sir Artek, then you are doomed, anyway, are you not?"

  Miserably Artek sheathed his sword. "You are right. I must believe you
. Yet your resemblance to the one who attacked us on that hateful and haunted isle is so close—you would not blame me, Prince Corum, if you saw him."

  Corum answered so that only Artek could hear. "I think that I have seen him—in a dream. Later, Sir Artek, you and I must talk about this, for I believe the evil which was worked against you will soon be directed against me—and the results could be even more tragic."

  Artek darted him a puzzled glance but, respecting the tone of Corum's words, said nothing further.

  "You must rest and you must eat," said Corum. He had taken a liking to the barbarian in spite of the poor circumstances of their meeting. "Then you must tell us all your tale in the great hall of Caer Mahlod."

  Artek bowed. "You are generous, Prince Corum, and you are courteous. Now I see why the Mabden respect you."

  THE SIXTH CHAPTER

  CONCERNING THE VOYAGE OF THE PEOPLE OF FYEAN

  ‘ We are an island folk,’ ‘ said Artek, ‘ 'living mainly off the sea. We fish—" he paused—"well, in the past, until recently, we—well, we were sea-raiders, in short. It is a hard life on our islands. Little grows there. Sometimes we raided nearby coasts, at other times we attacked ships and took what we needed to survive . . ."