The Knight of the Swords

  "Is it the Brown Man, Prince Corum?"

  "It is."

  "The creature was so innocent. So kind. Could not its master save it? They must have tortured it to get the information concerning your whereabouts . . ."

  Corum straightened his back. His voice was soft and cold when he spoke next. "I once told your mistress that Glandyth was a disease that must be stopped. I should have sought him out sooner, Beldan."

  "He would have killed you."

  "But he would not have killed the Brown Man of Laahr. Serwde would still be serving his sad master. I think there is a doom upon me, Beldan, I think I am meant to be dead and that all those who help me to continue living are doomed, also. I will go out now and fight Glandyth alone. Then the castle will be saved."

  Beldan swallowed and spoke hoarsely. "We chose to help you. You did not ask for that help. Let us choose when we shall take back that help."

  “No. For if you do, the Margravine and all her people will surely perish."

  "They will perish anyway," Beldan told him.

  "Not if I let Glandyth take me."

  "Glandyth must have offered the Pony Tribes this castle as a prize if they would assist him," Beldan pointed out. "They do not care about you. They wish to destroy and loot something that they have bated for centuries. Certainly it is likely that Glandyth would be content with you—he would go away—but he would leave his thousand swords behind. We must all fight together, Prince Corum. There is nothing else for it now."

  The Eleventh Chapter

  The Summoning

  Corum returned to his apartments where his arms and his armor had been laid out for him. The armor was unfamiliar, consisting of breastplate, backplate, greaves, and a kilt, all made from the pearly blue shells of a sea creature called the anufec, which had once inhabited the waters of the West. The shell was stronger than the toughest iron and lighter than any byrnie. A great, spined helmet with a jutting peak had, like the helmets of the other warriors of Moidel's Castle, been manufactured from the shell of the giant murex. Servants helped Corum don his gear and they gave him a huge iron broadsword that was so well balanced that he could hold it in his one good hand. His shield, which he had them strap to his handless arm, was the shell of a massive crab which had once lived, the servants told him, in a place far beyond even Lywm-an-Esh and known as the Land of the Distant Sea. This armor had belonged to the dead Margrave, who had inherited it from his ancestors, who had owned it long before it had been considered necessary to establish a Margravate at all.

  Corum called to Rhalina as he was prepared for battle, but, although he could see her through the doors dividing the chambers, she did not look up from her papers. It was the last of the Margrave's manuscripts and it seemed to absorb her more than the others.

  Corum left to return to the battlements.

  Save for the fact that Glandyth's chariot was now on the approach to the causeway, the ranks of the warriors had not shifted. The little broken corpse of the Brown Man of Laahr still lay on the causeway.

  The drum had begun to beat again.

  "Why do they not advance?" Beldan said, his voice sharp with tension.

  "Perhaps for a twofold reason," Corum replied. "They are hoping to terrify us and banish the terror in themselves."

  "They are terrified of us?"

  "The Pony Tribesmen probably are. After all, they have, as you told me yourself, lived in superstitious fear of the folk of Lywm-an-Esh for centuries. They doubtless suspect we have supernatural means of defense."

  Beldan could not restrain an ironic grin. "You begin to understand the Mabden at last, Prince Corum. Better than I, it seems,"

  Corum gestured toward Glandyth-a-Krae. "There is the Mabden who gave me my first lesson."

  "He seems without fear, at least."

  "He does not fear swords, but he fears himself. Of all Mabden traits, I would say that that was the most destructive."

  Now Glandyth was raising a gauntletted hand.

  Again silence fell.

  "Vadhagh!" came the savage voice. "Can you see who it is who has come to call on you in this castle of vermin?"

  Corum did not reply. Hidden by a battlement, he watched as Glandyth scanned the ramparts, seeking him out.

  "Vadhagh! Are you there?"

  Beldan looked questioningly at Corum, who continued to remain silent.

  "Vadhagh! You see we have destroyed your demon familiar! Now we are going to destroy you—and those most despicable of Mabden who have given you shelter. Vadhagh! Speak!"

  Corum murmured to Beldan. "We must stretch this pause as far as it will go. Every second brings the tide back to cover our causeway."

  "They will strike soon," Beldan said. "Well before the tide returns."

  "Vadhagh! Oh, you are the most cowardly of a cowardly race!"

  Corum now saw Glandyth begin to turn his head back toward his men, as if to give the order to attack. He emerged from his cover and raised his voice.

  His speech, even in cold anger, was liquid music compared with Glandyth's rasping tones.

  "Here I am, Glandyth-a-Krae, most wretched and pitiable of Mabden!"

  Disconcerted, Glandyth turned his bead back. Then he burst into raucous laughter. "I am not the wretch!" He reached inside his furs and drew something out that was on a string round his neck. "Would you come and fetch this back from me?"

  Corum felt bile come when he saw what Glandyth sported. It was Conun's own mummified hand, still bearing the ring that his sister had given him.

  "And look!" Glandyth took a small leather bag from his furs and waved it at Corum. “I have also saved your eye!"

  Corum controlled his hatred and his nausea and called, "You may have the rest, Glandyth, if you will turn back your horde and depart from Model's Castle in peace."

  Glandyth flung his chin toward the sky and roared with laughter. "Oh, no, Vadhagh! They would not let me rob them of a fight—let alone their prize. They have waited many months for this. They are going to slay all their ancient enemies. And I am going to slay you. I had planned to spend the winter in the comfort of Lyr-an-Brode's court. Instead I have had to camp in skin tents with our friends here. I intend to slay you quickly, Vadhagh, I promise you. I have no more time to spend on a crippled piece of offal, such as yourself." He laughed again. "Who is the 'half-thing' now?"

  "Then you would not be afraid to fight me alone," Corum called. "You could do battle on this causeway with me and doubtless kill me very quickly. Then you could leave the castle to your friends and return to your own land the faster."

  Glandyth frowned, debating this with himself.

  "Why should you sacrifice your life a little earlier than you need to?"

  "I am tired of living as a cripple. I am tired of fearing you and your men."

  Glandyth was not convinced. Corum was trying to buy time with his talk and his suggestion, but on the other hand it did not matter to Glandyth how much trouble the Pony Tribesmen would be forced to go to to take the castle after he had killed Corum.

  Eventually he nodded, shouting back, "Very well, Vadhagh, come down to the causeway. I will tell my men to stand off until we have had our fight. If you kill me, I will have my charioteers leave the battle to the others.”

  "I do not believe that part of your bargain," Corum replied. "I am not interested in it, either. I will come down."

  Corum took his time descending the steps. He did not want to die at Glandyth's hand and he knew that if Glandyth did, by some luck, fall to him, the Earl of Krae's men would swiftly leap to their master's assistance. All he hoped for was to gain a few hours for the defenders.

  Rhalina met him outside their apartments.

  "Where go you, Corum?"

  "I go to fight Glandyth and most probably to die," he said. "I shall die loving you, Rhalina."

  Her face was a mask of horror. "Corum! No!"

  "It is necessary, if this castie is to have a chance of withstanding those warriors."

  "No, Corum! There may b
e a way to get help. My husband speaks of it in his treatise. A last resort"

  "What help?"

  "He is vague on that score. It is something passed on to him by his forefathers. A summoning. Sorcery, Corum."

  Corum smiled sadly. "There is no such thing as sorcery, Rhalina. What you call sorcery is a handful of half-learned scraps of Vadhagh wisdom."

  "This is not Vadhagh wisdom—it is something else. A summoning."

  He made to move past her. She held his arm. "Corum, let me try the summoning!"

  He pulled his arm away and, sword in hand, continued down the steps. "Very well, try what you will, Rhalina. Even if you are right, you will need the time I can gain for you."

  He heard her shout wordlessly and he heard her sob, and then he had reached the hall and was walking toward the great main gates of the castle.

  A startled warrior let him through and he stood at last upon the causeway. At the other end, his chariot and horses led away, the body of the Brown Man kicked to one side, stood Earl Glandyth-a-Krae. And beside Glandyth-a-Krae, holding his war-axe for him, was the gawky figure of the youth, Rodlik.

  Glandyth reached out and tousled his page's hair and bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. He took the axe from the youth's hand and began to advance along the causeway.

  Corum walked to meet him.

  The sea slapped against the rocks of the causeway. Sometimes a seabird cried out. There was no sound from the warriors of either side. Both defenders and attackers watched tensely as the two approached each other and then, in the middle, stopped. About ten feet separated them.

  Corum saw that Glandyth had grown a little thinner. But the pale, gray eyes still contained that strange, unnatural glint and the face was just as red and unhealthy as the last time Corum had seen it. He held his war-axe down in front of him, in his two hands, his helmetted head on one side.

  "By the Dog," he said, "you have become hugely ugly, Vadhagh."

  "We make a fine pair, then, Mabden, for you have changed not at all."

  Glandyth sneered. "And you are hung all about with pretty shells, I see, like some sea god's daughter going to be wed to her fishy husband. Well, you may become their nuptial feast when I throw your body into the sea." Corum wearied of these heavy insults. He leapt forward and swung his great broadsword at Glandyth, who brought his metal-shod axe haft up swiftly and blocked the blow, staggering a little. He kept his axe in bis right hand and drew his long knife, dropped to a crouch, and aimed the axe at Corum's knees.

  Corum jumped high and the axe blade whistled under his feet. He stabbed out at Glandyth and the blade scraped the Mabden's shoulder plate but did not harm him.

  Nonetheless Glandyth cursed and tried the same trick again. Again Corum jumped and the axe missed him. Glandyth sprang back and brought the axe down on the crab-shell shield, which creaked with the strain of the blow, but did not shatter, though Corum's arm was numb from wrist to shoulder. He retaliated with an overarm blow which Glandyth blocked.

  Corum kicked out at Glandyth's legs, hoping to knock him off balance, but the Mabden ran backward several paces before standing his ground again. Corum advanced cautiously toward him. Then Glandyth cried out, "I'm tired of this. We have him BOW. Archers—shoot!"

  And then Corum saw the charioteers, who had moved quietly down to the forefront of the ranks and were aiming their bows at him. He raised his shield to protect himself against their arrows.

  Glandyth was running back down the causeway.

  Corum had been betrayed. There was still an hour before the tide came in. It seemed he was going to die for nothing.

  Now another shout, this time from the castle's battlements, and a wave of arrows swept down. Beldan's archers had shot first.

  The Denledhyssi arrows rattled on Corum's shield and against his greaves. He felt something bite into his leg just above the knee, where he had scant protection. He looked down. It was an arrow. It had passed completely through his leg, and now half of it stuck out behind his knee. He tried to stumble backward, but it was hard to run with the arrow in him. To pull it out with his only hand would mean he would have to drop his sword. He glanced toward the shore.

  As he had known they would, the first of the horsemen were beginning to cross.

  He began to drag himself back along the causeway for a few more yards and then knew he would never reach the gates in time. Quickly he knelt on his good leg, put his sword on the ground, snapped off part of the arrow at the front, and drew the rest through his leg, flinging it to one side.

  He picked up his sword again and prepared to stand his ground.

  The warriors in the brass war masks were galloping along the causeway two abreast, their new swords in their hands.

  Corum struck at the first rider and his blow was a iucfcy one, for it hurled trie man from his saddle. The other rider had tried to strike at Corum but had missed and overshot.

  Corum swung himself up into the pony's primitive saddle. For stirrups there were just two leather loops hanging from the girth strap. Painfully, Corum managed to get his feet into these and block the sword blow from the returning rider. Another rider came up now and his sword clanged on Corum's shield. The horses were snorting and trying to rear, but the causeway was so narrow there was little room for maneuver and neither Corum nor the other two could use their swords effectively as they tried to control their half-panicked horses.

  The rest of the masked riders were forced to rein in their beasts for fear of toppling off the causeway into the sea and this gave Beldan's archers the opportunity they required. Dark sheets of arrows sped from the battlements and into the ranks of the Pony Tribesmen. More ponies went down than men, but it added further to the confusion.

  Slowly Corum retreated down the causeway until he was almost at the gate. His shield arm was completely paralyzed and his sword arm aching dreadfully, but he still managed to continue defending himself against the riders.

  Glandyth was screaming at the pony barbarians, trying to force them to retreat and regroup. Evidently his plans of attack had not been followed. Corum managed to grin. At least that was something he had gained.

  Now the gates of the castle suddenly opened behind him, Beldan stood there with fifty archers poised to shoot.

  "In, Corum, quickly!" Beldan cried.

  Understanding Beldan's intention, Corum flung himself from the back of the pony and bent double, running toward the gate as the first flight of arrows rushed over his head. Then he was through the gates and they had closed.

  Corum leaned panting against a pillar. He felt he had failed in his intention. But now Beldan was slapping his shoulder.

  "The tide's coming to, Corum! We succeeded!" The slap was enough to topple Corum. He saw Beldan's surprised expression as he fell to the flagstones and for a moment he was amused by the situation before he passed out completely.

  As he awoke, in his own bed with Rhalina sitting at the table nearby, still reading from the manuscripts, Corum realized that no matter how well he trained himself to fight, no matter how well he had survived during the battle of the causeway, he would not survive long in the Mabden world with both a hand and an eye gone.

  "I must have a new hand," he said, sitting upright "I must have a new eye, Rhalina."

  Rhalina did not appear to hear him at first. Then she looked up. Her face was tired and drawn in lines of heavy concentration. Absently, she said, "Rest," and returned to her reading.

  There was a knock. Beldan came in quickly. Corum began to get out of bed. He winced as he moved. His wounded leg was stiff and his whole body was bruised.

  "They lost some thirty men in that encounter," Beldan said. "The tide goes out again just before sunset. I'm not sure if they'll try another attack then. I would say they will wait until morning."

  Corum frowned. "It depends on Glandyth, I'd say. He would judge that we wouldn't expect an evening attack and would therefore try to make one. But if those Pony Tribesmen are as superstitious as we think, they might be reluctant to
fight at night. We had best prepare for an attack on the next tide. And guard all sides of the castle. How does that match with the Margrave's treatise, Rhalina?"

  She looked up vaguely, nodding. "Well enough." Corum began painfully to buckle on his armor. Beldan helped him. They left for the battlements.

  The Denledhyssi had regrouped on the shore. The dead men and their ponies, as well as the corpse of the Brown Man of Laahr, had been washed away by the sea. A few corpses bobbed among the rocks below the castle.

  They had formed the same ranks as earlier. The mounted masked riders were massed some ten ranks deep with Glandyth behind them and the charioteers behind Glandyth.

  Cauldrons of lead bubbled on fires built on the battlements; small catapults had been erected, with piles of stone balls beside them, for ammunition; extra arrows and javelins were heaped by the far wall.

  Again the tide was retreating.

  The metallic drum began to beat again. There was the distant jingle of harness. Glandyth was speaking to some of the horsemen.

  "I think he will attack," said Corum.

  The sun was low and all the world seemed turned to a dark, chill gray. They watched as the causeway gradually became exposed until only a foot or two of water covered it.

  Then the beat of the drum became more rapid. There was a howl from the riders. They began to move forward and splash onto the causeway.

  The real battle for Moidel's Castle had begun.

  Not all the horsemen rode along the causeway. About two thirds of the force remained on the shore. Corum guessed what this meant.

  "Are all points of the castle guarded now, Beldan?"

  "They are, Prince Corum."

  "Good. I think they'll try to swim their horses round and get a hold on the rocks so that they can attack from all sides. When darkness falls, have flare arrows shot regularly from all quarters."

  Then the horsemen were storming the castle. The cauldrons of lead were upended and beasts and riders screamed in pain as the white-hot metal flooded over them. The sea hissed and steamed as the lead hit it Some of the riders had brought up battering rams, slung between their mounts. They began to charge at the gates. Riders were shot from their saddles, but the horses ran wildly on. One of the rams struck the gates and smashed into them and through them, becoming jammed. The riders strove to extricate it, but could not. They were struck by a wave of boiling lead, but the ram remained.