The Queen of Swords Page 5

  The villagers glanced suspiciously at Corum and then bestowed the same suspicious looks upon Verenak. One of them stepped forward. “We have no particular interest in either Law or Chaos,” he said. “We wish only to live our lives as we have always lived them. Until recently, Verenak, you did not interfere with us, save to offer us a little magical advice from time to time and receive payment in return. Now you speak of great causes and of struggles and terror. You say that we must arm ourselves and march against our liege the duke. Now this stranger, this Vadhagh, says we must ally ourselves with Law—also to save ourselves. And yet there is no threat that we can see. There have been no portents, Verenak…”

  Verenak raged. “There have been signs. They have come to me in dreams. We must become warriors on the side of Chaos, attack Llarak, show that we are loyal to Urleh!”

  Corum shrugged. “You must not side with Chaos,” he said. “If you would side with no-one, then Chaos will devour you, however. You call our little band an army—and that means you have no conception of what an army can be. Unless we prepare against your enemies your flowery hills will one day be black with riders who will trample you as easily as they trample the blossoms. I have suffered at their hands and I know that they torture and they rape before slaying. Nothing will be left of your village unless you come with us to Llarak and learn how to defend your lovely land.”

  “How came this dispute to begin?” Jhary asked, taking a different tack. “Why are you trying to arouse these people against the duke, Sir Verenak?”

  Verenak glowered. “Because the duke has gone mad. Not a month since he banished all the priests of Urleh from his city but allowed the priests of that milk-and-water godling Ilah to remain. Thus he put himself upon the side of Law and ceased to tolerate the adherents of Chaos. He will therefore bring Urleh’s vengeance—aye, even Arioch’s vengeance—upon himself. And that is why I seek to warn these poor, simple people and get them to take action.”

  “The people seem considerably more intelligent than you, my friend,” laughed Jhary.

  Verenak raised his arms to the skies. “Oh, Urleh, destroy this grinning fool!”

  He lost his footing on the water trough’s sides. His arms began to wave. He fell backwards into the water. The villagers laughed. The one who had spoken came up to Corum. “Worry not, my friend—we’ll do no marching here. We’ve our crops to harvest, for one thing.”

  “You’ll harvest no crops if the Mabden of the east come this way,” Corum warned him. “But I’ll debate no longer with you save to warn you that we Vadhagh could not believe in the bloodlust of those Mabden and we ignored the warnings. That is why I saw my father and my mother and my sisters all slain. That is why I am the last of my race.”

  The man drew his hand over his brow and scratched his head. “I will think on what you have said, friend Vadhagh.”

  “And what of him?” Corum pointed at Verenak who was hauling himself from the trough.

  “He’ll bother us no more. He has many villages to visit with his gloomy news. I doubt if many will even take the trouble to listen to him as we have done.”

  Corum nodded. “Very well, but please remember that these minor disputes, these little arguments, these apparently meaningless decisions like that of the duke in banishing the priests of Urleh, they are all indications that a greater struggle is to come between Law and Chaos. Verenak senses it just as much as does the duke. Verenak seeks to gather strength for Chaos while the duke puts himself in the Camp of Law. Neither knows that a threat is coming, but both have sensed something. And I bring news to Lywm-an-Esh that a struggle is about to begin. Take heed of that warning, my friend. Think of what I have said, no matter how you choose to act upon it…”

  The villager sucked at a tooth. “I will think on it,” he agreed at last.

  The rest of the villagers were going about their business. Verenak was making for his tethered horse, casting many a glowering glance back at Corum.

  “Would you and your company take the hospitality of our village?” the man asked Corum.

  Corum shook his head. “I thank you, but what I have seen and heard here confirms that we must make speed to Llarak-an-Fol and release our news. Farewell!”

  “Farewell, friend.” The villager still looked thoughtful.

  As they rode back up the hill Jhary was laughing. “As good a comic scene as any I’ve written for the stage in my time,” he said.

  “Yet it has tragedy beneath it,” Corum told him.

  “As does all good comedy.”

  * * *

  And now the company galloped where before it had trotted, riding across the Duchy of Bedwilral-nan-Rywm as if the warriors of Lyr-a-Brode were already pursuing them.

  And there was tension in the air. In every village they passed through there were apparently meaningless disputes between neighbours as one side supported Urleh and the other Ilah, but both refused to listen to what Corum told them—that the instruments of Chaos would soon be upon their land and they would cease to exist unless they prepared to resist King Lyr and his armies.

  And when they came at last to Llarak-an-Fol, they found that there was fighting in the streets.

  Very few of the cities of Lywm-an-Esh were walled and Llarak was no exception. She had long, low houses of stone and carved timber, all brightly painted. The house of the Duke of Bedwilral was not immediately evident for it was little different from the other larger houses in the city, but Rhalina pointed it out. The fighting was quite close to the duke’s residence and near it a building was burning.

  The company of Allomglyl began to ride down towards the city, leaving the women in the hills.

  “It seems some of those Chaos priests were more persuasive than Verenak,” Prince Corum shouted to Rhalina as she prepared her spear.

  They galloped into the outskirts of the town. The streets were empty and silent. From the centre came a great noise of battle.

  “You had best lead us,” he said to her, “for you’ll know who are the duke’s men and who are not.”

  She increased her speed without a word and they followed her into the middle of Llarak-an-Fol.

  There they were. Men in blue livery with helmets and shields similar to those borne by Rhalina’s men were fighting a mixed force of peasants and what were evidently professional soldiers.

  “The men in blue are the duke’s,” she called. “Those in brown and purple are the city guard. There was always, I gather, a certain rivalry between the two.”

  Corum felt reluctance to engage them, not because he was afraid but because he bore no malice towards them.

  The peasants, in particular, hardly knew why they fought and doubtless the city guard was barely conscious of the fact that Chaos was working through them to create conflict. They had been filled with a vague sense of unrest and, with the pushing of the priests of Urleh, had resorted to anger and to arms.

  But Rhalina was already leading her horsemen through in a lance charge. The spears dipped and the cavalry drove into the mass of men, cutting a wide path through their ranks. Most of the enemy was unmounted and Corum’s axe flew up and down as he chopped at the heads of those who, still with astonishment on their faces, sought to stop his advance. His horse reared and whinnied and its hoofs flailed and at least a dozen peasants and guards had died before they had joined with the duke’s men and had turned to drive back the way they had come.

  Already, to Corum’s relief, many of the peasants had dropped their weapons and were running. The few guards fought on and now Corum could see armed priests fighting with them. A small man—almost a dwarf—on a big yellow charger, a massive broadsword in his left hand, was shouting encouragement to the newcomers. By his dress Corum decided that this must be the duke himself.

  “Lay down your arms!” the small man yelled to the guards. “You will have mercy! You will be spared!”

  Corum saw a guard look about him and then drop his sword. Instantly the man was cut down by the Chaos priest nearest to him.

>   “Fight to the death!” screamed the priest. “If you betray Chaos now your souls will suffer more than your bodies could!”

  But the surviving guards had plainly lost heart and one of them turned with resentment on the priest who had slain his comrade. His sword slashed at the man who went down trying to staunch the blood that suddenly erupted from his severed jugular.

  Corum sheathed his war-axe. The pathetic little battle was virtually over. Rhalina’s men and the warriors in blue livery closed on the few who still fought and disarmed them.

  The small man on the large horse rode up to where Rhalina had joined Corum and Jhary-a-Conel. The little black-and-white cat still clung to Jhary’s shoulder and it looked more puzzled than frightened by what it had witnessed.

  “I am Duke Gwelhen of Bedwilral,” announced the small man. “I thank thee mightily for thine aid. But I recognize thee not. Thou art not from Nyvish or Adwyn and, if ye be from farther afield, then ye could not have heard of my plight in time to save me!”

  Rhalina removed her helm. She spoke as formally as the duke. “Dost thou not recognize me, Duke Gwelhen?”

  “I fear not. My memory for faces…”

  She laughed. “It was many years past. I am Rhalina who married your cousin’s son…”

  “Whose responsibility was the Margravate of Allomglyl. But I learned that he died in a shipwreck.”

  “It is so,” she said gravely.

  “But I thought Castle Moidel taken by the sea these many years. Where have you been in the meantime, my child?”

  “Until recently I ruled at Moidel, but now the barbarians of the east have driven us out and we ride to warn you that what you have experienced here today is only a trifle of what Chaos will do if unchecked.”

  Duke Gwelhen rubbed at his beard. He returned his attention to the prisoners for a moment and issued some orders, then he smiled slowly. “Well, well. And who is this brave fellow with the eye-patch—and this one, who has a pretty cat on his shoulder, and…”

  She laughed. “I will explain, Duke Gwelhen, if we may guest in your hall.”

  “I would hope that you would! Come. This sad business is done. We’ll to the hall now.”

  * * *

  In Gwelhen’s simple hall they ate a meal of cheese and cold meats washed down by locally brewed beer.

  “We are not used to fighting these days,” Gwelhen said after introductions had been made and they had explained how they came to Llarak. “In some ways today’s skirmish was a bloodier business than it might have been. If my men had more experience, they might have contained the thing and taken most of them prisoner, but they panicked. And it’s likely that I’d have been dead by now if your company had not arrived. But all you tell me of this war between Law and Chaos makes sense of various moods I have had of late. You heard how I banished the Temple of Urleh? Its adherents had taken to morbid, unhealthy pursuits. There were some murders—other things… I could not explain them. We are content here. None starves or goes in need of anything. There was no reason for the unrest. So we are victims of powers beyond our control, are we? I like not that—whether it be Law or Chaos. I would prefer to remain neutral…”

  “Aye,” said Jhary-a-Conel. “Any thinking man does in these conflicts. Yet there are times when sides must be taken lest all that one loves is destroyed. I have never known another answer to the problem, though the taking of an extreme position will always make a man lose something of his humanity.”

  “My feelings,” murmured Gwelhen, motioning with his beer mug at Jhary.

  “And all of ours,” Rhalina agreed. “Yet unless we are ready for King Lyr’s attack, Lywm-an-Esh will be brutally destroyed.”

  “She is dying, for the sea takes more land every year,” said Gwelhen thoughtfully. “Yet she should die at her own speed. We must convince the king, however…”

  “Who rules now in Halwyg-nan-Vake?” Rhalina asked.

  He looked at her in surprise. “The Margravate was indeed remote! Onald-an-Gyss is our king. He is old Onald’s nephew—his uncle died without issue…”

  “And what of his temperament—for these things are decided on temperament—does he favour Law or Chaos?”

  “Law, I would think, but I cannot say the same for his captains. Military men being what they are…”

  “Perhaps they have already decided,” Jhary murmured. “If the whole land is seized by the strife we have witnessed thus far, then a strong man supporting Chaos might have deposed the king, just as an attempt was made to depose you, Duke Gwelhen.”

  “We must ride at once to Halwyg,” Corum said.

  The duke nodded. “Aye—at once. Yet a largish company rides with you. It would be a week at least before you reached the capital.”

  “The company must follow us,” Rhalina decided. “Beldan, will you command it and bring it to Halwyg?”

  Beldan grimaced. “Aye, though I wish I could ride with you.”

  Corum got up from the table. “Then we three will set off for Halwyg tonight. If we may rest an hour or two, Duke Gwelhen, we should be grateful.”

  Gwelhen’s face was grave. “I would advise it. For all we know, you’ll have little chance for much rest in the days to come.”

  4

  THE WALL BETWEEN THE REALMS

  THEIR RIDING WAS swift and it was across a land growing increasingly disturbed, with a people becoming more and more distressed without understanding why these moods descended on them or why they suddenly thought in terms of violence when a short time before they had thought only in terms of love.

  And the priests of Chaos, many of them believing themselves to be acting from benevolent motives, continued to encourage strife and uncertainty.

  They heard many rumours when they stopped to refresh themselves briefly or to change horses, but none of the rumours came close to the much more terrifying truth and soon they gave up their warnings until they should speak with the king himself so that he might then issue a decree which would carry his authority.

  But would they convince the king? What evidence was there that they spoke the truth?

  This was the great doubt in their minds as they rode for Halwyg-nan-Vake, across a beautiful landscape of soft hills and quiet farms which might soon be all destroyed.

  Halwyg-nan-Vake was an old city of spires and pale stones. From all directions across the plain came white roads, leading to Halwyg. Along these roads travelled merchants and soldiers, peasants and priests, as well as the players and musicians in which Lywm-an-Esh was so rich. Down the Great East Way galloped Corum and Rhalina and Jhary, their armour and their clothes covered in dust, their eyes heavy with weariness.

  Halwyg was a walled city, but the walls seemed more decorative than functional, their stonework carved with fanciful motifs, mythical beasts and complicated scenes of the city’s past glories. None of the gates was closed as they came near and there were only a few sleepy guards who did not bother to hail them when they passed through and found themselves in streets filled with flowers. Every building had a garden surrounding it and every window had boxes in which more plants grew. The city was filled with the rich scents of the flowers and it seemed to Corum, remembering the Plain of Blossoms, that the main business of these people seemed to lie in the nurturing of lovely growing things.

  And when they came to the palace of the king, they saw that every tower and battlement, every wall was covered in vines and flowers so that it seemed from a distance to be a castle built entirely of flowers. Even Corum smiled with pleasure when he saw it.

  “It is magnificent,” he said. “How could anyone wish to destroy all this?”

  Jhary looked dubiously at the palace. “But they will,” he said. “The barbarians will.”

  Rhalina addressed herself to a guard at the low wall.

  “We come with news for King Onald,” she said. “We have travelled far and swiftly and the news is urgent.”

  The guard, dressed in a handsome, but most unwarlike, fashion, saluted her. “I will
see that the king is informed if you will kindly wait here.”

  * * *

  And then, at last, they were escorted into the presence of the king.

  He sat in a sunlit room which had a view over most of the southern part of the city. There were maps of his country upon a marble table and these had recently been consulted. He was young, with small features and a small frame which made him look almost like a boy. As they entered he rose gracefully to welcome them. He was dressed in a simple robe of pale yellow samite and there was a circlet upon his auburn hair which was the only indication of his station.

  “You are tired,” he said when he saw them. He signed to a servant. “Bring comfortable chairs and refreshment.” He remained standing until the chairs had been brought and they were all seated near the window with a small table nearby on which food and wine were placed.

  “I am told you come with urgent news,” said King Onald. “Have you travelled from our eastern coasts?”

  “From the west,” said Corum.

  “The west? Is trouble beginning there, also?”

  “Excuse me, King Onald,” Rhalina said, removing her helmet and shaking out her long hair, “but we were not aware that there was any strife in the east.”

  “Raiders,” he said. “Barbarian pirates. Not long since they took the port of Dowish-an-Wod and razed it, slaying all. Several fleets, as far as we can gather, striking at different points along the coast. In most parts the citizens were unprepared and fell before they could begin to fight, but in one or two small towns the garrisons were able to resist the raiders and, in one case, took prisoners. One of those prisoners has recently been brought here. He is mad.”

  “Mad?” Jhary said.

  “Aye—he believes himself to be some kind of crusader, destined to destroy the whole land of Lywm-an-Esh. He speaks of supernatural help, of an enormous army which marches against us…”

  “He is not mad,” Corum told him quietly. “At least, not in that respect. That is why we are here—to warn you of a huge invasion. The barbarians of Bro-an-Mabden—doubtless your coastal attackers—and the barbarians of the land you know as Bro-an-Vadhagh have united, called on the aid of Chaos and those creatures which serve Chaos, and are pledged to destroy all who side, knowingly or unknowingly, with the Lords of Law. For Lord Arioch of Chaos has been but lately banished from this particular domain of Five Planes and can only return if all who support Law are vanquished. His sister Queen Xiombarg cannot give aid directly, but she encourages all her servitors to throw their weight behind the barbarians.”