The Queen of Swords Read online

  “I have not found it thus far.”

  “Could it lie beyond the Blood Plain?” Corum asked.

  “It could, but I’m not fool enough to cross it for it could be endless and you, on foot, would have a smaller chance than would I. I am not without courage,” said King Noreg-Dan, “but I still retain a little common sense. If there was wood in these parts, perhaps it would be possible to build a boat and hope to cross the desert by means of the White River, but there is no wood…”

  “But there is a boat,” said Jhary-a-Conel.

  “Would it be wise to go back to the Lake of Voices?” Rhalina cautioned.

  “The Lake of Voices!” King Noreg-Dan shook his tangled head. “Do not go there—the voices will draw you in…”

  Corum explained what had happened and the King Without a Country listened intently. Then he smiled and it was a smile of admiration. He dismounted from his horse and came close to Corum, inspecting him. “You’re a strange-looking creature, sir, with your hand and your eye-patch and your odd armour, but you are a hero and I congratulate you—all of you.” He addressed the others. “I’d say it would be worth a foray down to the beach and recover old Freenshak’s boat—we could use my horse to haul it up here!”

  “Freenshak?” Jhary said.

  “One of the names of the creature you encountered. A particularly powerful water sprite which came when Xiombarg began her reign. Shall we try to get the boat?”

  “Aye,” grinned Corum. “We’ll try.”

  * * *

  Somewhat nervously they returned to the lake shore, but it seemed that Freenshak was beaten for the moment and they had no difficulty in harnessing the tired horse to the boat and pulling it up the hill and halfway down the other side. In a locker Corum found a sail and saw that a short mast was stowed in lugs along one side of the boat.

  As they prepared the boat he said to King Noreg-Dan, “But what of your horse? There’ll not be room…”

  Noreg-Dan drew a deep breath. “It will be a shame, but I will have to abandon him. I think he will be safer alone than with me and, besides, he deserves a rest, for he has served me faithfully since I was forced to flee my land.”

  Noreg-Dan stripped the horse of his harness and put it in the boat. Then they began the hard task of dragging the vessel down the hill and across the brown, choking dust (all the more unpleasant now that they knew what the dust was) until they reached the nearest shore of the White River. The horse stood watching them from the hillside and then it turned away. Noreg-Dan lowered his head and folded his arms.

  And still the sun had not moved across the sky and they had no means of knowing how much time had passed.

  The liquid of the river was thicker than water and Noreg-Dan advised them not to touch it.

  “It can have a corrosive effect on the skin,” he said.

  “But what is the stuff?” Rhalina asked as they pushed off and raised the sail. “Will it not rot the boat if it will rot our skin?”

  “Aye,” said the King Without a Country. “Eventually. We must hope we cross the desert before that happens.” He looked back once more to where he had left his horse, but the horse had disappeared. “Some say that while the dust is the dried blood of mortals, the White River is the blood of the Great Old Gods which was spilled in the battle and which will not dry.”

  Rhalina pointed to the hillside from which the river appeared. “But that cannot be—it comes from somewhere and it goes somewhere…”

  “Apparently,” said Noreg-Dan.

  “Apparently?”

  “This land is ruled by Chaos,” he reminded her.

  A light breeze was blowing now and Corum raised the sail. The boat began to move more quickly and soon the hills were out of sight and there was nothing to be seen but the Blood Plain stretching to every horizon.

  Rhalina slept for a long while and, in turns, the others slept also, there being little else to do. But when Rhalina awoke for the third time and still saw the Blood Plain, she murmured to herself: “So much blood spilled. So much…”

  And still the boat sailed on down the milk-white river while Noreg-Dan told them something of what Xiombarg’s reign had brought to this domain.

  “All creatures not loyal to Chaos were destroyed or else, like me, had jokes played upon them—the Sword Rulers are notorious for their jokes. Every degenerate and vicious impulse in mortals was let loose and horror fell upon this world. My wife, my children were…” He broke off. “All of us suffered. But whether this took place a year ago or a hundred, I know not, for it was part of Xiombarg’s joke to stop the sun so that we should not know how much time passed…”

  “If Xiombarg’s rule began at the same time as Arioch’s,” Corum said, “then it was much more than one century, King Noreg-Dan…”

  “Xiombarg appears to have abolished time on this plane,” Jhary put in. “Relatively speaking, of course. What happened here happened at whatever time people agree upon…”

  “As you say,” Corum nodded. “But tell us what you have heard of the City in the Pyramid, King Noreg-Dan.”

  “It was not originally of this plane at all, I gather—though it existed on one of the Five Planes now ruled by Xiombarg. In its seeking to escape Chaos, it moved from one plane to another, but eventually it was forced to stop and merely be content with protecting itself against Queen Xiombarg’s attacks. She has spent, I hear, much of her energy on those attacks. Perhaps that is why I and the few like me are still allowed to exist. I do not know.”

  “There are others?”

  “Aye, other wanderers such as myself. Or, at least, there were. Perhaps Xiombarg has found them now…”

  “Or perhaps they found the City in the Pyramid.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Xiombarg concentrates on watching events in the next realm,” Jhary said knowledgeably. “She wants to see the outcome of the battle between the Chaos minions and those who serve Law.”

  “Just as well for you, Prince Corum,” said Noreg-Dan. “For if she knew the destroyer of her brother was actually where she could destroy him herself…”

  “We’ll not speak of that,” said Corum.

  On and on went the White River and they began to think that perhaps it and the Blood Plain were, indeed, without end, as this world was without time.

  “Is there a name for the City in the Pyramid?” Jhary asked.

  “You think it might be your Tanelorn?” Rhalina said.

  He grinned and shook his head. “No. I know Tanelorn and that description would not, I think, fit it.”

  “Some say it is built within a huge, featureless pyramid,” Noreg-Dan told him. “Others say it is merely a pyramid shape, like a great ziggurat. There are many myths, I fear, concerning the city.”

  “I do not think I have encountered such a city on my travels,” Jhary said.

  “It sounds to me,” said Corum, “as if it resembles one of the great Sky Cities, such as the one which crashed over the Plain of Broggfythus during the last great battle between the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh. They exist in our legends and I know that one, at least, was real, for the wreckage used to be near Castle Erorn where I was born. Both Vadhagh and Nhadragh had these cities, which were capable of moving through the planes. But when that phase of our history was over, they disappeared and we began to live more contentedly in our castles…” He stopped himself from continuing that theme, for it only brought back the bitterness. “It might be such a city,” he said rather lamely.

  “I think we had better land this craft,” said Jhary cheerfully.

  “Why?” Corum’s back was to the prow.

  “Because the White River and the Blood Plain seem to have ended.”

  Corum looked and was instantly alert. They were heading for a cliff. The plain ended as if sliced off by a gigantic knife and the liquid of the White River was hurtling into the abyss.

  3

  BEASTS OF THE ABYSS

  NOW THE WHITE River foamed wildly and roared as it rushed over t
he brink. Corum and Jhary dragged the oars free and used them to steer the rocking boat towards the bank.

  “Be ready to jump, Rhalina!” Corum yelled.

  She stood upright, holding on to the mast. King Noreg-Dan steadied her.

  The boat danced out into midstream again and then, as suddenly, swerved back towards the bank as another current caught it. Corum staggered and almost fell overboard as he manipulated the oar. The sound of the torrent almost drowned their voices. The abyss was much closer and it would not be much longer before they were all hurled over it. Dimly, through the spray, Corum saw the distant wall of the far cliff. It must have been a mile away at least.

  Then the boat scraped the bank and Corum yelled, “Jump, Rhalina!”

  And she jumped with Noreg-Dan leaping after her, his arms waving. She landed in the blood-dust and fell, sprawling.

  Jhary jumped next. But the boat was turning out into the centre of the river again. He landed in the shallows and struggled towards the bank, shouting at Corum.

  Corum remembered Noreg-Dan’s warning about the properties of the white liquid, but there was nothing for it but to leap in, his mouth tight shut, and flounder for the bank, his armour dragging him down.

  But the weight of the armour fought the current and his feet touched the bottom. Shuddering he climbed to the land, white droplets of liquid oozing down his body.

  He lay panting on the bank and watched as the boat reared on the edge of the abyss and then fell from sight.

  * * *

  They staggered away from the White River, following the edge of the gorge, ankle-deep in the brown dust, and when the roar of the torrent had grown fainter they paused and tried to assess their situation.

  The abyss seemed endless. It stretched to both horizons, its edges straight and its sides sheer. It was plain that it had not been created naturally. It was as if some gigantic canal had been planned to flow between the cliffs—a mile-wide canal, a mile deep.

  They stood on the brink and looked down into the abyss. Corum felt vertigo seize him and he took a step backwards. The sides of the cliff were of the same dark obsidian as the mountains they had left earlier, but these sides were utterly smooth. Far, far below a yellowish vapour writhed, obscuring the bottom—if any bottom there were. The four people felt completely dwarfed by the vastness of the scene. They looked backwards across the Blood Plain. It was featureless, endless. They tried to make out details of the opposite cliff, but it was too distant.

  A faint mist obscured the sun which still stood at noon above them.

  The little figures began to tramp along the edge, through the blood-dust, away from the White River.

  Eventually Corum spoke to Noreg-Dan. “Have you heard of this place before, King Noreg-Dan?”

  He shook his head. “I never knew what really lay beyond the Blood Plain, but I did not expect this. Perhaps it is new…”

  “New?” Rhalina looked curiously at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Chaos is forever altering the landscape, playing new tricks with it—playing new jokes. Perhaps Queen Xiombarg knows that we are here. Perhaps she is playing a game with us…”

  Jhary stroked his cat between its ears. “It would be like a Queen of Chaos to do such a thing, yet I suspect she would have planned worse than this for the destroyer of her brother.”

  “This could be just the beginning,” Rhalina pointed out. “She could be building up to her true vengeance…”

  “But I think not,” Jhary insisted. “I have fought against Chaos in many worlds and in many guises and one thing that they are is impetuous. I think she would have acknowledged what she was doing by now if she knew who Prince Corum was. No, she still concentrates on the events taking place in the realm we have left. That is not to say we are not in danger,” he added with a faint smile.

  “In danger of starving again,” Corum said. “If nothing else. This place is the most barren of all—and there is no way down, no way across, no way back…”

  “We must keep moving until we do find a way down or a way across,” Rhalina told him. “Surely the abyss must end somewhere?”

  “Possibly,” said Noreg-Dan, rubbing at his gaunt face, “but I remind you again that this is a realm completely ruled by Chaos. From what you have told me of Arioch’s realm, he never wielded the power which Xiombarg wields—he was the least of the Sword Rulers. It is said that Mabelode, the King of the Swords, is even more powerful than she—that he has created of his realm a constantly shifting substance which changes shape more swiftly than thought…”

  “Then I pray we are never forced to visit Mabelode,” Jhary murmured. “This situation is sufficiently terrifying for me. I have witnessed Total Chaos and I like it not at all.”

  They tramped on beside the unchanging edge of the abyss.

  Lost in a daze of weariness and monotony Corum only gradually began to realize that the sky was darkening. He looked up. Was the sun moving?

  But the sun seemed to be in the same position. Instead, an eddy of black cloud had risen from somewhere and was streaming across the sky, heading towards the far side of the abyss. He had no means of knowing whether this were some sorcerous manifestation or if it were natural. He stopped. It had grown colder. Now the others noticed the clouds.

  Noreg-Dan’s eyes held trepidation. He drew his cracked leather coat about him and licked his bearded lips.

  Suddenly, from Jhary’s shoulder the little black-and-white cat leapt into the air and sped away on its black, white-tipped wings. It began to circle over the gorge, almost out of their range of vision. Jhary, too, looked perturbed, for the cat was behaving uncharacteristically.

  Rhalina drew closer to Corum and put one hand on his arm. He hugged her shoulders and stared skyward at the black streamers of cloud as they dashed from nowhere to nowhere.

  “Have you seen such a sight before, King Noreg-Dan?” Corum called through the gloom. “Has it significance for you?”

  Noreg-Dan shook his head. “No, I have not seen this before, but it has significance—it is an omen, I fear, of some danger from Chaos. I have seen similar sights.”

  “We had best be ready for what comes.” Corum drew his long Vadhagh sword and threw back his scarlet robe to expose his silver byrnie. The others drew their own blades and stood there on the edge of that vast pit, waiting for whatever might come to threaten them.

  Whiskers the cat was flying back. It was miaowing shrilly, urgently. It had seen something in the abyss. They stepped to the brink and peered over.

  A reddish shadow moved in the yellow mist. Gradually it began to emerge; gradually its shape was defined.

  It flew upon billowing crimson wings and its grinning face was that of a shark. It looked like something which should have inhabited the sea rather than the air and this was confirmed by the way in which it flew—with slow, undulating wings as if through liquid. Row upon row of sharp fangs filled its red mouth and its body was the size of a large bull, its wingspan nearly thirty feet.

  Out of the frightful pit it came, its jaws opening and closing as if it already anticipated its feast. Its golden eyes burned with hunger and with rage.

  “It is the Ghanh,” said Noreg-Dan hopelessly. “The Ghanh which led the Chaos pack upon my country. It is one of Queen Xiombarg’s favourite creations. It will take us before ever our swords strike a single blow.”

  “So you call it a Ghanh on this plane?” Jhary said with interest. “I have seen it before and, as I remember, I have seen it destroyed.”

  “How was it destroyed?” Corum asked him as the Ghanh flew higher and closer.

  “That part I forget.”

  “If we spread out, we shall have a better chance,” Corum said, backing away from the gorge’s edge. “Quickly.”

  “If you’ll forgive the suggestion, friend Corum,” Jhary said as he, too, stepped backwards. “I think your netherworld allies would be of use to us here.”

  “Those allies are now the black birds we fought on the mountain. Could they
defeat the Ghanh…?”

  “I suggest you discover that now.”

  Corum flung up the eye-patch and peered again into the netherworld. There they were, a score of black, brooding birds, each with the mark of the barbed Vadhagh lance in its breast. But they saw Corum and they recognized him. One of them opened its beak and screeched in a tone so hopeless that Corum felt almost sympathetic to it.

  “Can you understand me?” he said.

  He heard Rhalina’s voice. “It is almost upon us, Corum!”

  “We—understand—master. Have you—a prize—for us?” said one of the birds.

  Corum shuddered. “Aye, if you can take it.”

  The Hand of Kwll reached into that murky cavern and it beckoned to the birds. With a dreadful rustling sound they took to the air.

  And they flew into the world in which Corum and his companions stood awaiting the Ghanh.

  “There,” said Corum. “There is your prize.”

  The black birds flung their wounded, dead-alive bodies higher into the sky and began to wheel as the Ghanh swam over the edge of the gorge and opened its jaws, giving a piercing scream as it saw the four mortals.

  “Run!” Corum shouted.

  They took to their heels, scattering, running through the deep drifts of blood-dust as the Ghanh screamed again and hesitated, deciding which human to deal with first.

  Corum choked on the stink of the creature as the wind of its breath touched him. He darted a look backward. He remembered how cowardly the birds had been, how they had taken long to make up their minds to attack him before. Would they have the courage—even though it meant their release from limbo—to attack the Ghanh?

  * * *

  But now the birds were spearing downwards again at an incredible speed. The Ghanh had not known they were there and it screamed in surprise as their beaks drove into its soft head. It snapped at them and seized two bodies in its jaws. Yet, though half-eaten by the creature, the beaks continued to peck, for the living dead could not be slain again.

  The Ghanh’s wings beat close to the ground and a huge cloud of blood-dust rose all around it. Through this dust Corum and the others could see the fray. The Ghanh leapt and twisted and snapped and screamed, but the black birds’ beaks pecked relentlessly at its skull. The Ghanh reared and fell on its back. It twisted its wings so that it was rolled in them, trying to protect its head, and in this peculiar manner tumbled hither and thither across the dust. The black birds flapped into the air then descended again, trying to perch on the cocoon as it writhed about, still pecking. Streams of green blood poured from the Ghanh now and the blood-dust stuck to it so that it was all begrimed and tattered.