Knight of the Swords

by Michael Moorcock

  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 were 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 near-by 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.”

  King Onald stroked his lips with a thin finger. “It is graver than I had imagined. I was hard put to think of effective ways of stopping the coastal attacks, but now I can think of nothing which will enable us to resist such a force.”

  “Your people must be warned of their peril,” said Rhalina urgently.

  “Of course,” replied the king. “We will re-open the arsenals and arm every man that we can. But even then...”

  “You have forgotten how to fight?” suggested Jhary.

  The king nodded. “You have read my thoughts, sir.”

  “If only Lord Arkyn had consolidated his power over this Domain!” Corum said.

  “He could aid us. But now there is too little time. Lyr’s army marches from the East and his allies sail from the North...”

  “And doubtless this city is their ultimate destination,” murmured Onald. “We cannot possibly withstand the might which you say they command.”

  “And we do not know what supernatural allies they have,” Rhalina reminded him. “We could not remain any longer at Moidel to discover that.” She explained how they had learned of Lyr’s ambitions and Jhary smiled.

  “I regret,” he said, “that my little cat cannot fly over great stretches of water. The idea distresses him too much.”

  “Perhaps the priests of Law can help us...” Onald said thoughtfully.

  “Perhaps,” agreed Corum, “but I fear they have little power at this moment.”

  “And there are no allies we can call upon,” Onald sighed. “Well, we must prepare to die.”

  The three fell silent.

  A little later a servant entered and whispered something to the king. He looked surprised and turned to his guests.

  “We are all four summoned to the Temple of Law,” he said. “Perhaps the powers of the priests are greater than we know, for they seem aware of your presence in the city.” To the servant he said, “Have a carriage prepared to take us there please.”

  While they waited for the carriage, they bathed quickly and cleaned their clothes as best they could and then the little party left the palace and entered the simple, open carriage which bore them through the streets until it came to a low, pleasant building on the Western side of the city. A man stood at the entrance. He looked agitated. He was dressed in a long, white robe on which was embroidered the single straight arrow which was the Symbol of Law. He had a short grey beard, long grey hair and his skin was also almost grey. In all this, his large brown eyes seemed to belong to another.

  He bowed as the king approached.

  “Greetings, my lord king. Greetings Lady Rhalina, Prince Corum. and Sir Jhary-a-Conel. Forgive me for the sudden nature of my summons but - but...”

  He made a vague gesture and then led them into the cool temple which was almost entirely undecorated.

  “I am Aleryon-a-Nyvish,” said the priest. I was awakened early this morning by - by - my master’s master. He told me many things, but ended by naming the names of you three travellers and saying that you would soon be at the court of the king. He said I must bring you here...”

  “Your master’s master?” Corum said.

  “The Lord Arkyn himself. The Lord Arkyn, Prince Corum. None other.”

  And then, from the shadows at the far end of the hall a tall man walked. He was a comely man, dressed like a nobleman of Lywm-an-Esh. There was a gentle smile upon his face and his eyes seemed full of a sad wisdom. The form had changed, but Corum imm
ediately recognized the presence as that of Arkyn of Law.

  “My lord Arkyn,” he said.

  “Good Corum, how dost thou fare?”

  “My mind is full of fear,” Corum replied. “For Chaos comes against us all.”

  “I know, but it will be long before I can rid my domain of Arioch’s entire influence - just as it took him a great long time to rid the domain of mine.

  There is little material aid I can offer thee as yet, for I am still gathering my strength. However, there are other ways in which I can help. I can tell you that Lyr’s allies have now joined him and that they are dreadful things from the nether-regions. I can tell you that Lyr has another ally - an unhuman sorcerer who is the personal messenger of Queen Xiombarg and is capable of summoning further aid from her plane, though she would destroy herself if she attempted to come into this Realm in person.

  “But where might we find allies, Lord Arkyn”, Jhary said reasonably.

  “Do you not know, you of many names?” smiled Lord Arkyn. He had recognized Jhary-a-Conel for what he was.

  “I know that if there be an answer then it may well be some form of paradox,”

  Jhary replied. “That is one thing I have learned in my profession as Companion to Champions.”

  Again Arkyn smiled. “Existence is a paradox, friend Jhary. Everything that is Good is also Evil. You know that, I am sure.”

  “Aye. That is what makes me so insouciant.”

  “And it is what makes you so concerned?”

  “Aye.” Jhary laughed. “Then is there an answer, my Lord of Law?”

  “That is why I am here, to tell you that unless you find aid for yourselves then Lywm-an-Esh will of a certainty perish and with it the Cause of Law. You know that you have not the strength, ferocity or experience to withstand Lyr, Glandyth and the rest - particularly since they may now call upon the Power of the Dog and the Bear. There is one people of whom I know who may be willing to ally themselves with your cause. But they do not exist in this plane - or in any of the planes I rule. Save for yourself, Corum, Arioch had succeeded in destroying all with the power to resist Chaos.”

  “Where do they exist, my lord?” Corum asked.

  “In the Realm of Queen Xiombarg of Chaos.”

  “She must be our bitterest enemy!” Rhalina gasped. “If we could enter her Realm - and I do not see how that is possible - she would welcome the chance to slay us!”

  “I know that she would - once she found you,” Lord Arkyn agreed. “But if you went to her Realm you would have to hope that her attention would be so focused on the events in this Realm that she would not realize you had entered her own.

  “And what is there that might help us?” Jhary said. “Surely nothing of Law!

  Queen Xiombarg was more powerful than her brother Arioch. Chaos must hold full sway in her Realm.”

  “Not quite -and not so much as in her brother Mabelode’s Realm... There is a city in her Realm which has resisted all she could have brought against it.

  It is called the City in the Pyramid and the people who dwell in it are of a highly sophisticated civilization. If you can reach the City in the Pyramid, you may find the allies you need.”

  “But how could we travel to Xiombarg’s Realm?” Corum said reasonably. “We have no such powers.”

  “I can make it possible for you to do that.”

  “And how, in Five Planes, shall we find a single city?” Jhary asked.

  “You must ask,” said Arkyn simply. “Ask for the City in the Pyramid. The city which has resisted Xiombarg’s attacks. Will you go? It is all that I can suggest if you would be saved...”

  “And if you, too, are to be saved,” Jhary pointed out with a smile. “I know you gods and I know that you manipulate mortals only to achieve those things you cannot yourselves achieve, for mortals may scurry where gods may not go.

  Have you other motives in encouraging this course of action, Lord Arkyn?”

  Lord Arkyn looked humorously at Jhary. “You know the ways of gods, as you say. But I can tell you no more save that I gamble with your lives as freely as I gamble with my own destiny. What you risk, I risk. If you do not succeed in all I hope, then I will perish, all that is gentle and good in this Realm will perish. And you need not go to Xiombarg’s Realm...”

  “If there are potential allies there, then we will go,” Corum said firmly.

  “Then I will open the Wall Between the Realms”, said Arkyn quietly.

  He turned and walked back into the shadows.

  “Ready yourselves,” he said. He was now invisible.

  Corum heard a sound in his head - a sound that was soundless, but which blocked out all other sounds. He looked at the others. They were evidently experiencing the same thing. Something moved in front of his eyes - a dim pattern superimposed on the more solid scene which showed his companions and the simple walls of the temple. Something vibrated.

  And then it was there.

  A cruciform shape stood in the middle of the temple. They moved around it in wonder but, from whatever angle they regarded it, it retained the same perspective. It was a shimmering silver in the cool darkness of the temple and through it, as through a window, they could see part of a landscape.

  Arkyn’s voice came from behind them.

  “There is the entrance to Xiombarg’s plane.”

  Strange, black birds flew across the section of sky they could observe through the peculiar window. A distant sound of cackling.

  Corum shivered. Rhalina moved closer to him.

  Now King Onald’s voice: “If you would stay here, I will think no less of you.

  . .”

  “We must go,” Corum said almost dreamily. “We must.”

  But Jhary, with a suggestion of defiant jauntiness, was the first to step through and stand there, looking up at the unpleasant birds, stroking his cat.

  “How shall we return?” Corum said.

  “If you are successful, then you will find the means to return,” said Arkyn.

  His voice was growing weaker. “Hurry. It takes much from me to hold the gateway open.”

  Hand in hand with Rhalina, Corum stepped through and looked back.

  The cruciform shape of shimmering silver was fading. They saw Onald’s concerned face for an instant and then it was gone.

  “So this is Xiombarg’s Realm,” said Jhary with a sniff. “It has a brooding air about it.”

  Black mountains lay on two sides and the sky was bleak. The horrid birds flew into the mountains, still screaming. Ahead, a foul sea washed a rocky shore.

  Book Two

  In which Prince Corum and his companions gain the further enmity of Chaos and experiance a strange, new form of sorcery

  The First Chapter

  The Lake of Voices

  “Which way?” Jhary looked about him. “The sea or the mountains? Neither’s inviting...”

  Corum sighed deeply. The morbid landscape had instantly depressed him.

  Rhalina touched his arm, her eyes full of sympathy.

  Though she looked at Corum, she spoke to Jhary who was now adjusting his ever-present sack on his shoulder. “Inland would be best, surely, since we have no boat.”

  “And no horses,” Jhary reminded her. “It will be a fearful long walk. And who’s to say those mountains are passable when we reach 'em?”

  Corum gave Rhalina a quick, sad smile of gratitude. He straightened his shoulders. “Well, we made up our minds to enter this Realm, now we must make up our minds which way to go.” His hand on the pommel of his sword he stared towards the mountains. “I have seen something of the Power of Chaos when I journeyed to Arioch’s Court, but it seems to me that that Power extends further in this Realm. We’ll head towards the mountains. There we may discover some inhabitants who may know where lies this City in the Pyramid Lord Arkyn mentioned.”

  And they set off over the unpleasantly mottled rock.

  A while later it became evident that the sun had not moved across the sky.
/>   The brooding silence continued, broken only by the ghastly screechings of the black birds which nested in the peaks of the mountain. It was a land which seemed to radiate despair. For a short time Jhary had attempted to whistle a bright little tune, but the sound had died, as if swallowed by the desolate land.

  “I thought Chaos all howling, random creativity,” said Corum. “This is worse.”

  “It is what becomes of a place when Chaos exhausts its invention,” Jhary told him. “Ultimately, Chaos brings a more profound stagnation than anything it despises in Law. It must forever seek more and more sensation, more and more empty marvels, until there is nothing left and it has forgotten what true invention is.”

  And at length weariness overcame them and they lay down on the barren rock and slept. When they awoke it was to observe that only one thing had changed...

  The great black birds were closer. They were wheeling overhead in the sky.

  “What can they live on?” Rhalina wondered. “There is no game here, no vegetation. Where is their food?”

  Jhary looked significantly at Corum who shrugged.

  “Come,” said the Prince in the Scarlet Robe. “Let’s continue. Time may be relative, but I have a feeling that unless we accomplish our mission soon, Lywm-an-Esh will fall.”

  And the birds circled lower so that they could see their leathery wings and bodies, their tiny, greedy eyes, their long vicious beaks.

  A small, fierce sound escaped from the throat of Jhary’s cat. It arched its back slightly as it glared at the birds.

  They trudged on until the ground began to rise more sharply and they had reached the nearer slopes of the mountains.

  The mountains squatted over them like sleeping monsters that might at any moment awake and devour them. The rocks were glassy, slippery and they climbed them slowly.

  Still the black birds wheeled among the crags and now they were certain that if they allowed themselves to sleep the birds would descend and attack. This knowledge alone kept them climbing.