The Sword of Rhiannon

by Leigh Brackett

  The Earthman’s heart sank. Then he remembered Rold of Khondor, and how they must have broken him to get the secret of the Tomb and a blind rage came over him.

  The snarl of fury in his voice was not feigned, only the sense of his words.

  “You dared to tamper with the power of Rhiannon?” He advanced toward the Dhuvian. “Can it be that the pupil now hopes to outrival the master?”

  “No, Lord.” The veiled head bowed. “We have but kept your weapons safe for you.”

  Carse permitted his features to relax somewhat.

  “Very well, then. See that they are returned to me here and at once!”

  Hishah rose. “Yes, Lord. I will go now to Caer Dhu to do your bidding.”

  The Dhuvian glided toward the inner door and was gone, leaving Carse in a secret sweat of mingled relief and apprehension.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Caer Dhu

  The next few hours were an eternity of unbearable tension for Carse.

  He demanded an apartment for himself, on the ground that he must have privacy to draw his plans. And there he paced up and down in a fine state of nerves, looking most ungodlike.

  It seemed that he had succeeded. The Dhuvian had accepted him. Perhaps, he thought, the Serpent folk after all lacked the astoundingly developed extra-sensory powers of the Swimmers and the winged men.

  It appeared that all he had to do now was to wait for the Dhuvian to return with the weapons, load them aboard his ship and go away. He could do that, for no one would dare to question the plans of Rhiannon and he had time also. The Sea Kings’ fleet was standing off, waiting for all its force to come up. There would be no attack before dawn, none at all if he succeeded.

  But some raw primitive nerve twitched to the sense of danger and Carse was oppressed by a foreboding fear.

  He sent for Boghaz on the pretext of giving orders concerning the galley. His real reason was that he could not bear to be alone. The fat thief was jubilant when he heard the news.

  “You have brought it off,” he chuckled, nibbing his hands together in delight, “I have always said, Carse, that sheer gall would carry a man through anything. I, Boghaz, could not have done better.”

  Carse said dourly, “I hope you’re right.”

  Boghaz gave him a sidelong glance. “Carse—”

  “Yes?”

  “What of the Cursed One himself?”

  “Nothing. Not a sign. It worries me, Boghaz. I have the feeling that he’s waiting.”

  “When you get the weapons in your hands,” Boghaz said meaningly, “I’ll stand by you with a belaying pin.”

  The soft-footed chamberlain brought word at last that Hishah had returned from Caer Dhu and awaited audience with him.

  “It is well,” said Carse and then nodded curtly toward Boghaz. “This man will come with me to supervise the handling of the weapons.”

  The Valkisian’s ruddy cheeks lost several shades of color but he came perforce at Carse’s heels.

  Garach and Ywain were in the throne room and the black-cowled creature from Caer Dhu. All bowed as Carse entered.

  “Well,” he demanded of the Dhuvian, “have you obeyed my command?”

  “Lord,” said Hishah softly, “I took counsel with the Elders, who send you this word. Had they known that the Lord Rhiannon had returned they would not have presumed to touch those things which are his. And now they fear to touch them again lest in their ignorance they do damage or cause destruction.

  “Therefore, Lord, they beg you to arrange this matter yourself. Also they have not forgotten their love for Rhiannon, whose teachings raised them from the dust. They wish to welcome you to your old kingdom in Caer Dhu, for your children have been long in darkness and would once again know the light of Rhiannon’s wisdom, and his strength.”

  Hishah made a low obeisance. “Lord, will you grant them this?”

  Carse stood silent for a moment, trying desperately to conceal his dread. He could not go to Caer Dhu. He dared not go! How long could he hope to conceal his deception from the children of the Serpent, the oldest deceiver of all?

  If, indeed, he had concealed it at all. Hishah’s soft words reeked of a subtle trap.

  And trapped he was and knew it. He dared not go—but even more he dared not refuse.

  He said, “I am pleased to grant them their request.”

  Hishah bowed his head in thanks. “All preparations are made. The King Garach and his daughter will accompany you that you may be suitably attended. Your children realize the need for haste—the barge is waiting.”

  “Good.” Carse turned on his heel, fixing Boghaz as he did so with a steely look.

  “You will attend me also, man of Valkis. I may have need of you with regard to the weapons.”

  Boghaz got his meaning. If he had paled before he turned now a livid white with pure horror but there was not a word he could say. Like a man led to execution he followed Carse out of the throne room.

  Night brooded black and heavy as they embarked at the palace stair in a low black craft without sail or oar. Creatures hooded and robed like Hishah thrust long poles into the water and the barge moved out into the estuary, heading up away from the sea.

  Garach crouched amid the sable cushions of a divan, an unkingly figure with shaking hands and cheeks the color of bone. His eyes kept furtively seeking the muffled form of Hishah. It was plain that he did not relish this visit to the court of his allies.

  Ywain had withdrawn herself to the far side of the barge, where she sat looking out into the sombre darkness of the marshy shore. Carse thought she seemed more depressed than she ever had when she was a prisoner in chains.

  He too sat by himself, outwardly lordly and magnificent, inwardly shaken to the soul. Boghaz crouched nearby. His eyes were the eyes of a sick man.

  And the Cursed One, the real Rhiannon, was still. Too still. In that buried corner of Carse’s mind there was not a stir, not a flicker. It seemed that the dark outcast of the Quiru was like all the others aboard, withdrawn and waiting.

  It seemed a long way up the estuary. The water slid past the barge with a whisper of sibilant mirth. The black-robed figures bent and swayed at the poles. Now and again a bird cried from the marshland and the night air was heavy and brooding.

  Then, in the light of the little low moons, Carse saw ahead the ragged walls and ramparts of a city rising from the mists, an old, old city walled like a castle. It sprawled away into ruin on all sides and only the great central keep was whole.

  There was a flickering radiance in the air around the place. Carse thought that it was his imagination, a visual illusion caused by the moonlight and the glowing water and the pale mist.

  The barge drew in toward a crumbling quay. It came to rest and Hishah stepped ashore, bowing as he waited for Rhiannon to pass.

  Carse strode up along the quay with Garach and Ywain and the shivering Boghaz following. Hishah remained deferentially at the Earthman’s heels.

  A causeway of black stone, much cracked by the weight of years, led up toward the citadel. Carse set his feet resolutely upon it. Now he was sure that he could see a faint, pulsing web of light around Caer Dhu. It lay over the whole city, glimmering with a steely luminescence, like starlight on a frosty night.

  He did not like the look of it. As he approached it, where it crossed the causeway like a veil before the great gate, he liked it less and less.

  Yet no one spoke, no one faltered. He seemed to be expected to lead the way, and he did not dare to betray his ignorance of the nature of the thing. So he forced his steps to go on, strong and sure.

  He was close enough to the gleaming web to feel a strange prickling of force. One more stride would have taken him into it. And then Hishah said sharply in his ear, “Lord! Have you forgotten the Veil, whose touch is death?”

  Carse recoiled. A shock of fear went through him and at the same time he realized that he had blundered badly.

  He said quickly, “Of course I have not forgotten!”

&
nbsp; “No, Lord,” Hishah murmured. “How indeed could you forget when it was you who taught us the secret of the Veil which warps space and shields Caer Dhu from any force?”

  Carse knew now that that gleaming web was a defensive barrier of energy, of such potent energy that it somehow set up a space-strain which nothing could penetrate.

  It seemed incredible. Yet Quiru science had been great and Rhiannon had aught some of it to the forefathers of these Dhuvians.

  “How, indeed, could you forget?” Hishah repeated.

  There was no hint of mockery in his words and yet Carse felt that it was there.

  The Dhuvian stepped forward, raising his sleeved arms in a signal to some watcher within the gate. The luminescence of the Veil died out above the causeway, leaving a path open through it.

  And as Carse turned to go on he saw that Ywain was staring at him with a look of startled wonder in which a doubt was already beginning to grow. The great gate swung open and the Lord Rhiannon of the Quiru was received into Caer Dhu.

  The ancient halls were dimly lighted by what seemed to be globes of prisoned fire that stood on tripods at long intervals, shedding a cool greenish glow. The air was warm and the taint of the Serpent lay heavy in it, closing Carse’s throat with its hateful sickliness.

  Hishah went before them now and that in itself was a sign of danger, since Rhiannon should have known the way. But Hishah said that he wished the honor of announcing his lord and Carse could do nothing but choke down his growing terror and follow.

  They came into a vast central place, closed in by towering walls of the black rock that rose to a high vault, lost in darkness overhead. Below, a single large globe lighted the heavy shadows.

  Little light for human eyes. But even that was too much!

  For here the children of the serpent were gathered to greet their lord. And here in their own place they were not shrouded in the cowled robes they wore when they went among men.

  The Swimmers belonged to the sea, the Sky Folk to the high air, and they were perfect and beautiful in accordance with their elements. Now Carse saw the third pseudo-human race of the Halflings—the children of the hidden places, the perfect, dreadfully perfect offspring of another great order of life.

  In the first overwhelming shock of revulsion Carse was hardly aware of Hishah’s voice saying the name of Rhiannon and the soft, sibilant cry of greeting that followed was only the tongue of nightmare speaking.

  From the edges of the wide floor they hailed him and from the open galleries above, their depthless eyes glittering, their narrow ophidian heads bowed in homage.

  Sinuous bodies that moved with effortless ease, seeming to flow rather than step. Hands with supple jointless fingers and feet that made no sound and lipless mouths that seemed to open always on silent laughter, infinitely cruel. And all through that vast place whispered a dry harsh rustling, the light friction of skin that had lost its primary scales but not its serpentine roughness.

  Carse raised the sword of Rhiannon in acknowledgement of that welcome and forced himself to speak.

  “Rhiannon is pleased by the greeting of his children.”

  It seemed to him that a little hissing ripple of mirth ran through the great hall. But he could not be sure, and Hishah said,

  “My Lord, here are your ancient weapons.”

  They were in the center of the cleared space. All the cryptic mechanisms he had seen in the Tomb were here, the great flat crystal wheel, the squat looped metal rods, the others, all glittering in the dim light.

  Carse’s heart leaped and settled to a heavy pounding. “Good,” he said. “The time is short—take them aboard the barge, that I may return to Sark at once.”

  “Certainly, Lord,” said Hishah. “But will you not inspect them first to make sure that all is well. Our ignorant handling…”

  Carse strode to the weapons and made a show of examining them. Then he nodded.

  “No damage has been done. And now—”

  Hishah broke in, unctuously courteous. “Before you go, will you not explain the workings of these instruments? Your children were always hungry for knowledge.”

  “There is no time for that,” Carse said angrily. “Also, you are as you say—children. You could not comprehend.”

  “Can it be, Lord,” asked Hishah very softly, “that you yourself do not comprehend?”

  There was a moment of utter stillness. The icy certainty of doom took Carse in its grip. He saw now that the ranks of the Dhuvians had closed in behind him, barring all hope of escape.

  Within the circle Garach and Ywain and Boghaz stood with him. There was shocked amazement on Garach’s face and the Valkisian sagged with the weight of horror that had come as no surprise to him. Ywain alone was not amazed, or horrified. She looked at Carse with the eyes of a woman who fears but in a different way. It came to Carse that she feared for him, that she did not want him to die.

  In a last desperate attempt to save himself Carse cried out furiously.

  “What means this insolence? Would you have me take up my weapons and use them against you?”

  “Do so, if you can,” Hishah said softly. “Do so, oh false Rhiannon, for assuredly by no other means will you ever leave Caer Dhu!”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The Wrath of Rhiannon

  Carse stood where he was, surrounded by the crystal and metal mechanisms that had no meaning for him, and knew with terrible finality that he was beaten. And now the hissing laughter broke forth on all sides, infinitely cruel and jeering.

  Garach put out a trembling hand toward Hishah, “Then,” he stammered, “this is not Rhiannon?”

  “Even your human mind should tell you that much now,” answered Hishah contemptuously. He had thrown back his cowl and now he moved toward Carse, his ophidian eyes full of mockery.

  “By the touching of minds alone I would have known you false but even that I did not need. You, Rhiannon! Rhiannon of the Quiru, who came in peace and brotherhood to greet his children in Caer Dhu!”

  The stealthy evil laughter hissed from every Dhuvian throat and Hishah threw his head back, the skin of his throat pulsing with his mirth.

  “Look at him, my brothers! Hail Rhiannon, who did not know of the Veil nor why it guards Caer Dhu!”

  And they hailed him, bowing low.

  Carse stood very still. For the moment he had even forgotten to be afraid.

  “You fool,” said Hishah. “Rhiannon hated us at the end. For at the end he learned his folly, learned that the pupils to whom he gave the crumbs of knowledge had grown too clever. With the Veil, whose secret he had taught us, we made our city impregnable even to his mighty weapons, so that when he turned finally against us it was too late.”

  Carse said slowly, “Why did he turn against you?”

  Hishah laughed. “He learned the use we had for the knowledge he had given us.”

  Ywain came forward, one step, and said, “What was that use?”

  “I think you know already,” Hishah answered. “That is why you and Garach were summoned here—not only to see this imposter unmasked but to learn once and for all your place in our world.”

  His soft voice had in it now the bite of the conqueror.

  “Since Rhiannon was locked in his tomb we have gained subtle dominance on every shore of the White Sea. We are few in number and averse to open warfare. Therefore we have worked through the human kingdoms, using your greedy people as our tools.

  “Now we have the weapons of Rhiannon. Soon we will master their use and then we will no longer need human tools. The Children of the Serpent will rule in every palace—and we will require only obedience and respect from our subjects.

  “How think you of that, Ywain of the proud head, who have always loathed and scorned us?”

  “I think,” said Ywain, “that I will fall upon my own sword first.”

  Hishah shrugged. “Fall then.” He turned to Garach. “And you?”

  But Garach had already crumpled to the stones in a dead faint.<
br />
  Hishah turned again to Carse. “And now,” he said, “you shall see how we welcome our lord!”

  Boghaz moaned and covered his face with his hands. Carse gripped the futile sword tighter and asked in a strange, low voice,

  “And no one ever knew that Rhiannon had finally turned against you Dhuvians?”

  Hishah answered softly, “The Quiru knew but nevertheless they condemned Rhiannon because his repentance came too late. Other than they only we knew. And why should we tell the world when it pleased our humor to see Rhiannon, who hated us, cursed as our friend?”

  Carse closed his eyes. The world rocked under him, and there was a roaring in his ears, as the revelation burst upon him.

  Rhiannon had spoken the truth in the place of the Wise Ones. Had spoken truth when he voiced his hatred of the Dhuvians!

  The hall was filled with a sound like the rustling of dry leaves as the ranks of the Dhuvians closed gently in toward Carse.

  With an effort of will almost beyond human strength Carse threw open all the channels of his mind, trying desperately now in this last minute to reach inward to that strangely silent, hidden corner.

  He cried aloud, “Rhiannon!”

  That hoarse cry made the Dhuvians pause. Not because of fear but because of laughter. This, indeed, was the climax of the jest!

  Hishah cried, “Aye, call upon Rhiannon! Perhaps he will come from his Tomb to aid you!”

  And they watched Carse out of their depthless jeering eyes as he swayed in torment.

  But Ywain knew. Swiftly she moved to Carse’s side and her sword came rasping out of the sheath, to protect him as long as it could.

  Hishah laughed. “A fitting pair—the princess without an empire and the would-be-god!”

  Carse said again, in a broken whisper, “Rhiannon!”

  And Rhiannon answered.

  From the depths of Carse’s mind where he had lain hidden the Cursed One came, surging in terrible strength through every cell and atom of the Earthman’s brain, possessing him utterly now that Carse had opened the way.

  As it had been before in the place of the Wise Ones the consciousness of Matthew Carse stood aside in his own body and watched and listened.