The Oak and the Ram - 04 (16 page)

Again the strained, booming noise came from the ragged mouth. The red warts pulsed on the vast expanse of pale flesh. Corum noted that one of the giant's legs was shorter than the other so that his gait was rolling as he moved. He saw that Sreng had only three teeth in his mouth and that the little finger of his right hand was covered in a yellow mold speckled with white and black. Then Corum saw that other parts of the giant's body, particularly about the thighs covered by the swords, also had patches of this mold growing upon them. And from Sreng of the Seven Swords there escaped a foulness of stench reminding Corum of long-dead fish and the excrement of cats.

From the dark below came the grunts of the fighting Sidhi. Calatin was barely visible, chuckling from the night. Only Sreng, framed against the mist he must carry always with him, was clearly seen.

Corum felt that he did not wish to die at the hands of this decrepit god, this Sreng. Sreng himself was already dying, as were the other Fhoi Myore, of diseases which might take a hundred years to kill him.

"Sreng," said Corum, "would you return to Limbo, return to your own Realm where you would not perish? I could help you go back to your world, the plane where your disease will not flourish. Leave this Realm to enjoy its natural state. Take back your coldness and your death!"

"He deceives you, Lord Sreng," said the Wizard Calatin from the darkness. "Believe me. He deceives you."

And then a word, a booming word escaped the torn lips. And that word echoed the last word Corum had spoken, as if it were the only word in human speech which the lips could form.

The word was: "Death."

"Your own Realm awaits you—there is a way through."

A diseased arm began to raise a crude sword of roughly-cast iron. Corum knew that he could not block any blow from that sword. It whistled down at his head and then struck the ground near his feet with horrible force. He realized that Sreng had not deliberately missed him but that the Fhoi Myore was hard put to control his limbs. Knowing this Corum stooped, picked up the casket containing the Oak and the Ram, and ran inside Sreng's guard, driving his sword deep into the giant's shin.

The Fhoi Myore's voice boomed in pain. Corum ran under his legs and hacked at him behind his knee where grew more of the disgusting mildew. Sreng began to turn, but then the leg buckled and he fell, searching for Corum while Calatin yelled:

"There Lord Sreng! There! Behind you!"

Now Corum shuddered as the chilling mist began to eat at his bones. All his instincts made him wish to run clear of the mist and into the night, but he held his ground as a gigantic hand came hunting for him. He hacked at the sinews of the hand and then another huge sword whistled over his head forcing him to duck, almost striking him.

And Sreng fell backward upon Corum, his neck pressing the Vadhagh prince to the ground, his hand still searching for the mortal who fought him with such temerity.

Corum sweated to pull himself free, not knowing if any of his bones were broken, while the diseased fingers brushed his shoulder, sought to pluck him up, missed and began to search again. The stench of the Fhoi Myore's rotting flesh almost robbed Corum of his consciousness; the texture of that flesh made him shudder; the chilling mist robbed him of the last of his strength, but at least, he assured himself, he would be dying valiantly against one of the great enemies of those whose cause he championed.

Was the voice he now heard Calatin's?

"Sreng! I know you, Sreng!"

No, the voice was Ilbrec's. So Ilbrec had won the fight and doubtless Goffanon now lay dead upon the beach. Corum had the impression of a huge hand coming down upon him, but then it seized Sreng by what was left of the Fhoi Myore's hair and pulled the head up so that Corum was able to scramble free. Then as Corum staggered back, still keeping his hold upon the casket containing the Oak and the Ram, he saw the golden Ilbrec draw the great sword Retaliator, the sword of his father, from his belt and place the point against Sreng's breast and drive that point deep into the Fhoi Myore's corrupting heart so that Sreng let forth a yell.

Sreng's last yell frightened Corum more than any of the previous events had done. For Sreng's last yell had been a shout of pleasure, a wavering, delighted sound as Sreng found the death he had longed for.

Ilbrec stepped back from the Fhoi Myore body. "Corum? Are you safe?"

"Safe enough, thanks to you, Ilbrec. I am bruised, that is all."

"Thank yourself. What you did against Sreng was valiant. You have brains and great courage, Vadhagh. You saved yourself, for I should not have come in time otherwise."

"Calatin," said Corum. "Where is he?"

"Fled. There is nothing we can do at present, for it becomes urgent to leave this place."

"Why did Calatin want my body from Sreng?"

"Is that what he asked?" Ilbrec drew Corum up in the crook of his huge arm while he sheathed the sword Retaliator. "I have no idea. I know nothing of Mabden needs."

Ilbrec returned to the beach where the black horse Splendid Mane cropped at the grass of the cliff, its pearl harness sparkling in the light of the moon which had now risen in the sky.

Corum saw a dark shape lying upon the beach.

"Goffanon?" he said. "You were forced to slay him?"

"He showed every intention of slaying me," said Ilbrec. "I remembered what he told me of Calatin's enchantment. I suppose Calatin followed us and came close enough to Goffanon to re-exert his sorcerous influence. Poor Goffanon."

"Should we bury him here?" said Corum. He was full of misery, only now realizing the strength of his affection for the Sidhi Smith.
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I would not like the Fhoi Myore to find him. Neither would I care for Calatin to—to make use of the body."

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I agree that that would not be good,'' said Ilbrec.
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But I think it unwise to bury him, you know.' ‘ He placed Corum again upon the saddle of Splendid Mane and he crossed to where Goffanon's body lay, heaving it up with some difficulty by placing Goffanon's limp arms around his neck and carrying the dwarf upon his back.
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‘He is a very heavy dwarf," Ilbrec said.

Corum was distressed by Ilbrec's lightness of tone. But perhaps the giant simply hid his melancholy well.

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'Then what shall we do?"

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'Take him with us, I think, to Caer Mahlod.'' Ilbrec put his foot in his stirrup and prepared to mount. He grunted and cursed as he got into the saddle after several attempts. '
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Ach! The dwarf has bruised me all over. Damn him!'' Then he smiled in his golden beard as he looked down and saw the expression upon Corum's face. "Do not grieve, yet, for Goffanon the Smith. Sidhi dwarves are very hard to slay. This one, for instance, has merely had his silly senses knocked out for a while." Ilbrec leaned back in his saddle, letting Splendid Mane take some of the weight of the dwarf. He held Goffanon's war-axe in the same hand which held the reins, resting it behind Corum across his saddle. "Well, Splendid Mane, you carry three with you. I hope that you have lost none of your old skills."

Corum's face broke into a smile. "So he lives! Yet still we shall have to move swiftly to escape Calatin's power. And our boat was abandoned out there. How shall we cross the water?"

"Splendid Mane knows certain paths," said Ilbrec. "Paths not quite of this dimension, if you understand me. Now, horse of my father, gallop. And gallop straight. Find the pathways through the sea."

And Splendid Mane snorted, lifted himself on his hind-legs for a moment, and plunged towards the sea.

Ilbrec laughed in delight, then, at Corum's considerable astonishment as Splendid Mane's hooves touched the sea but did not

sink.

Soon they were galloping out over the ocean, over the surface, beneath a huge moon which made the water shine, galloping for Caer Mahlod, galloping along the road across the water.

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'You understand much concerning the Fifteen Realms, Vadhagh," said Ilbrec as they rode,
”so you will understand that it is Splendid Mane's great talent to find certain veins, as it were, which do not belong exactly in this Realm, just as my sea-caverns do not belong. These veins can be found most particularly upon the surface of the sea and sometimes in the air itself. A Mabden would marvel and call such abilities sorcery, but we know otherwise. They make, however, a good spectacle when one wishes to impress the poor Mabden."

And Ilbrec laughed again as Splendid Mane galloped on. "We shall be in Caer Mahlod before morning!"

THE SECOND CHAPTER

THE PLACE OF POWER

The folk of the Tuha-na-Cremm Croich looked with awe upon the three as they approached the conical mound on which Caer Mahlod was built.

Goffanon was awake now and striding beside Splendid Mane. He grumbled much of the bruises Ilbrec had inflicted, but his tone was good-humored for he knew that Ilbrec had in reality saved both his life and his pride.

"So this is Caer Mahlod," said the golden-haired son of Manan-nan as he brought Splendid Mane to a halt beside the water-ditch which now protected the citadel. "It has changed little."

"You have been here before?" asked Corum curiously.

"Indeed. In the old days there was a place near here where the Sidhi would gather. I remember being brought here by my father shortly before he went off to fight in the battle which took his life.'' Ilbrec dismounted and gently lifted Corum from the saddle to place him upon the ground. Corum was weary, for they had ridden all night over those strange, other-realm pathways across the sea; but he still kept the casket, the gift of King Daffyn and his daughter-in-law, tightly under his arm. His mail coat was torn and his helmet was much-dented. The sword at his side was notched and blunted; he bore the signs of many small wounds, and when he walked it was painfully and slowly. But there was pride, too, in his bearing as he called for the drawbridge to be lowered:

"It is Corum come back to Caer Mahlod," he cried, "bringing two friends, allies to the Mabden." He lifted the casket in his two hands, the one of flesh and the other of silver. "And, see, here are the Oak of Gold and the Ram of Silver which will give you back your High King!"

The bridge was lowered and on the other side waited Medhbh of the Long Arm and Jhary-a-Conel with his cat upon his shoulder and his hat upon his head. Medhbh ran forward to embrace Corum, kissing his bruised face, taking off his helmet and stroking his hair. "My love," she said. "My elfin love, come home." And she was weeping.

Jhary-a-Conel said soberly: "Amergin is close to death. A few more hours and he will bleat his last, J fear."

Grave-faced Mannach appeared. With dignity he welcomed the two Sidhi.
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We are much honored. Corum brings fine, good friends to Caer Mahlod."

Looking about the morning streets at the people who were beginning to gather, Corum saw none of King Fiachadh's people.

"Has King Fiachadh gone?"

"He had to leave, for there were rumors that the Fhoi Myore marched over an ice-bridge to attack his land."

"The Fhoi Myore marched," said Corum, "and they made an ice-bridge over the sea right enough, but it was not King Fiachadh's folk they attacked. They went to Caer Garanhir and there we fought them, Goffanon, Ilbrec and I." And he told King Mannach of all that had befallen him since he and Goffanon had parted from Jhary-a-Conel.

"But now," he ended, "I would eat, for I am famished, and doubtless my friends are hungry, too. And I would rest for an hour or two, since we have ridden through the whole night to be here.''

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You slew a Fhoi Myore!" said Medhbh.
”So they can be slain by others than the Black Bull?"

"I helped slay one—a very minor one, a very ill one," smiled Corum. "But if it had not been for Ilbrec here, I should now be crushed beneath the monster."

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owe you much, great Ilbrec,'' said Medhbh, bowing her head to the Sidhi. Her thick red hair fell down over her face and she brushed it back as she tilted back her head to look up into the smiling eyes of the giant Sidhi.
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I should be mourning now if it were not for you."

"He's brave, this little Vadhagh." The golden-bearded youth laughed, seating himself casually upon the flat roof of a nearby house.