The Swords of Corium

by B. V. Larson

  “And what, High Lady, is this thing you are building?”

  “It is the Bane of men. A creature that is an abomination upon this world, and which will slay all who meet it. If you want to know more, ask your King. He can tell you the history of such constructs. And remind him he was the one who removed all his father’s bans on sorcery. We will aid this city in her hour of need, but we will do it in our own way. In the manner of our long, long dead matrons.”

  Gruum escaped the crone’s presence as quickly as he could. On his way out, he found a central stairway, which led up to the top of the marble slab the columns held aloft. His eyes drifted to the roof. They were constructing something up there.

  His foot snaked out and touched the first marble step. Before his second foot could mount the stair a dozen priestesses converged upon him.

  “You may cut several of us down barbarian, but we will send your soul to Anduin before we’re done!” shouted the crone from behind him.

  “That Dragon and I have already met,” Gruum said. He turned to face the old woman.

  The crone’s eyes flashed, and she stared at him. She cocked her head finally, nodding. “You speak the truth. But it matters not. Be you the King’s man or no, none can see the Bane before it is complete.”

  Gruum nodded. “My apologies,” he said.

  “Let’s go play, Gruum,” Nadja said, appearing at his side. She took his hand with her own small, pale fingers. Each finger was as cold as a tendril of frost growing upon a window pane at dawn.

  They left the mausoleum. Eventually Nadja showed him the way out of the Necropolis. The girl followed him up into the clean, echoing halls of the palace, skipping and humming. He did not ask her for her company, but neither did he discourage her.

  -9-

  When Gruum and Nadja reached the King’s apartments, they found them empty. Gruum glanced about, and found his master’s usual attire was laid upon the bed. Checking an open armoire, he discovered the armor was missing, as were the twin swords. Therian, wherever he was, had dressed for war.

  Gruum headed for the council chambers, and found the King there, consulting with a group of nobles. All of them wore fine armor and carried gleaming weapons. Plumes fanned from their helmets, red or black or both, depending on which Dragon their house worshipped. The nobles ignored Gruum as he entered, but a few eyes slid to Nadja and paused there.

  “Their fleet will arrive within the week,” Therian said.

  “This cannot be, sire,” insisted Viscount Bryg, a tall man with green eyes and a mashed nose. “The ice is much too thick. We have two months at least, maybe three.”

  Therian did not look at the Viscount. He stared down upon an ancient map of Hyborea instead. “The fleets come. I have seen them. They will land troops upon the ice or break through it somehow. Do not forget, they wield the sorcery of Yserth. The power of flame is theirs.”

  “In that case our fleets will be useless, sire,” Viscount Bryg said. “We will have to meet them on the ice, or atop our walls.”

  Therian shook his head slowly. “In battle, it is best to do the unexpected. I will open a way for our war arks. Vosh is not the only sorcerer involved.”

  The nobles eyed one another in concern. “We have so few men, sire,” said Viscount Bryg, choosing his words with care. “Perhaps we’d best stand the walls.”

  Therian looked at Bryg finally. He wore an expression of disdain. “If we allow them to take our outer lands, they will siege us and visit rapine upon our people in the provinces. I’ll not let a single barbarian boot set itself upon the lands of my ancestors. We shall sink them in the ocean, and spit upon their watery graves.”

  The Viscount stared back defiantly for several moments. Finally, he lowered his pale, green eyes and nodded. “It shall be as you say, King Therian,” he said quietly.

  “Long live the King!” Sir Tovus shouted.

  “Long live the King,” echoed the other nobles in a ragged, murmured chorus. To Gruum, they seemed unenthusiastic.

  “Prepare the war arks,” Therian said. “How many do we have in the cavern locks that are seaworthy?”

  “Ten sire, in addition to the Royal Ark.”

  “Very well. We shall sail with no more than ten. We will set out in the morning. Viscount Byrg, you shall be my admiral and see to the preparations. I will see to the ice.”

  The Viscount nodded, accepting his role. The other nobles appeared alarmed at the timetable. They did not ask how their ships would be freed from the masses of ice that encased them. That was a matter for Therian.

  The meeting broke up into smaller groups, and Therian came to speak with Gruum.

  “Did I see Nadja at your side?” the King asked.

  Gruum startled and looked around, but realized the girl had vanished again. “Yes sire,” he said. “I found her and brought her here, but the princess seems to have wandered off again.”

  “No matter. She is safe and well. You did as I asked as always, Gruum.”

  Gruum nodded. “What of the battle? May I choose my place to stand?”

  “Naturally.”

  “I choose to stand at your side.”

  The left corner of Therian’s mouth twitched. It was a cold flicker of a smile. “At my side, and slightly behind me, is that it? Do you know, you are the only man in Corium who thinks of my safety? But do not worry overmuch. I don’t think any of these fops have the stomach to plant a blade in my back.”

  “All the same, milord….”

  Therian nodded. “I said you may stand where you will. Now, I have much work to do. Meet me on the decks of the Royal Ark at dawn. She is beneath the city, stored in the underground docks. I believe you are familiar with the area.”

  “Indeed I am,” Gruum said.

  Therian strode out of the council chambers and headed for his apartments. Along the way, he gave strange orders to servants and retainers alike. A dozen eels—all alive and none torpid with cold, were to be delivered to his study, along with an assortment of other things. Candles fashioned with human tallow, the fruit of distant plants and choice parts of snow-apes, pickled in their jars. Along with these specific items a vast array of rare dusts, powders and creams were requested.

  Gruum watched as the castle guard was summoned to execute Therian’s orders. Armed groups of men formed, some among them the same hard-eyed, black-armored cadets he’d watched training. The soldiers headed to the twin temples of Yserth and Anduin. Gruum wasn’t surprised. The only local repositories of many of the strange substances were the two temples.

  Gruum recalled the last time they’d gone and raided Yserth’s temple for a geyser lizard and demanded passage below the palace. That had been the first time they’d met Vosh and awakened the very conflict they were in now. Once again, he wondered if the Hyboreans would be better off slaughtering one faction or the other. If only one dragon was worshipped in Corium, much future conflict might be avoided. He shrugged to himself and let the thought pass. In his experience, people rarely handled such matters logically. Besides, it was none of his affair.

  The night that followed began differently than most. There were no clouds to be seen and the air was perfectly still. By midnight, it was as quiet, cold and crisp as a morgue. Every star was vibrant and crystal-clear to the eye.

  In the wee hours, the northern lights began to shimmer and flash, splashing great gouts of color upon the sky. Gruum knew all peoples attributed such shows of nature to the gods of their choosing. He wondered if the people of Corium theorized their Dragons were playing at cards or fighting a battle.

  Leaning against Therian’s door, which had stayed quiet and shut for hours, Gruum’s eyelids drooped. He thought of getting a soft chair for the vigil, but chided himself. If he did so now, he would surely fall asleep.

  The borealis continued to play outside the windows, lighting the skies green and magenta in broad stripes. He closed his eyes, opened them wide, then let them droop again.

  His eyes snapped open again. Had he heard a sou
nd? A most stealthy approach?

  There, at the broad window at the end of the hall, stood a figure. Looking upon it, he relaxed in recognition. He walked to the end of the hall and stood gazing outside onto the gray snowy fields and the colorful lights that flickered in the sky.

  “Oh Gruum, isn’t it lovely?” Nadja asked him as he stood beside her.

  He glanced at her sidelong. Was she an inch or so taller than yesterday? He gave his head a tiny shake. It was best not to notice such things.

  “Yes, the lights are quite bright tonight…” Gruum began, looking outside. But he stopped in shock.

  Things were different in the city tonight. Living far in the north, there had always been a flickering show of natural beauty, the strange spectacle of dancing, ghostly lights. But tonight was different. Tonight, the lights had come down from the skies to walk the snows between the houses of Corium.

  Shapes, figures of glowing light, walked through the city streets. They all walked in a single direction, toward the snow-laden docks. Once there, they set to work. Vaguely man-shaped, but much larger and with blocky, indistinct outlines, each figure stood taller than a nobleman’s house.

  They dug into the snow with their ghostly hands. They ripped up chunks of ice ten feet thick. They hauled them away and stacked them to the side, then went back for more. The cold, the ice in their hands and the frothing, half-frozen seawater below the ice shelf did not discomfort them in the slightest. For they were beings of flickering, colored light and shadow. Creatures half-imagined, and half-ethereal. As Gruum watched, a hundred figures colored as many different hues joined the effort. A trench through the ice quickly grew and widened, heading out to sea.

  Gruum cast a wary glance over his shoulder toward Therian’s shut door. What went on in there? He heard what he thought was a sighing sound, and the sounds of things that dribbled and splattered on stone. As he watched, a shimmer of golden light not unlike those that labored upon the ice shined under the crack at the bottom of the door. The golden shimmer faded to be replaced by a single lavender shaft of light that beamed through the keyhole.

  Nadja continued to watch at the window. She gasped and whooped with excitement, as a normal child might at a summer fireworks display. Gruum tried to hide his discomfort and fear, forcing himself to smile and nod when the princess exclaimed and pointed out details to him. Far below out on the ice shelf, glimmering figures toiled. The crack and crash of the breaking ice reached his ears with echoing reports.

  -10-

  Corium sat upon the sea. Along the seaboard side, the walls did not stand upon the edge of the ocean. South of the southern wall a large dock district existed. Between the docks and the rest of the city stood a heavy gate, which normally was left open all day and closed by night. To the west side of the gate was another archway. Seawater let into the structure there, into an enclosed naval base made of brick and natural stone. Half natural cavern and half built of carved granite bricks, the naval base hollowed out a great section of the nearest mountain that shouldered up to Corium. The caverns sheltered the great ships of the Hyborean navy from the bitter winters. The ceiling inside was fifty feet high and the channels were the same in width. The water was twenty feet deep, allowing the great ships to pass into safety each fall and exit during the late spring thaws.

  When dawn rose over the city, turning the silver towers pink, a passage through the ice had been completed by the summoned beings of light. Dark seawater showed like a roadway, guiding the ships out to the open sea a mile away. The beings summoned by Therian had completed their long labor, and the ships were able to exit their frozen port two months before the summer thaw.

  The Hyborean fleet sailed with the Royal Ark in the lead. Ten more war arks followed the flagship. Each massive vessel boasted nine masts, which were lowered to the decks until they could get under the archway and out onto the open seas. The men strained and cried out with exertion, using oars, small sails and great poles to drive the ships down the channel to the sea. Once out in the open, the crewmen strained and clockwork systems clicked until the great masts rose up. The masts, each carven from a tree trunk of Hyborea’s hardwood forests, were locked into place. Only then did the sailors unfurl the sails and catch the light breeze, gratefully setting aside their poles.

  Each of the eleven vessels sailed out and immediately turned west. The plan was to head out to sea and wait until the barbarian fleet landed on the ice shelf. A signal would come then from Corium via flashing lights. When the signal came, they would rush forward and catch the invaders half on the land and half on the sea.

  Therian and Viscount Bryg discussed the plan in the captain’s cabin. Gruum stood off in a discreet corner, watching everyone.

  “What if the news does not come for days?” asked the Viscount. He was clearly distraught at being outside the city in her hour of need. “What if a heavy fog rolls in?”

  “We will deal with such issues when the time comes,” Therian said. “The signalers must flash a beacon to us every hour. If they do not, we will know something is amiss.”

  Viscount Bryg nodded. He stared down fiercely upon the rolled charts that laden the captain’s table. “I don’t like any of this, sire.”

  “The most difficult part of battle is the waiting,” Therian agreed.

  “Permission to send out a scout, sir,” Bryg said. “I want to spot that fleet. They could be a week off or a day.”

  “Permission denied,” Therian said calmly.

  “And why, if I may ask, my King?”

  Therian stared at him for a moment. Gruum thought it was a dangerous stare. Viscount Bryg, despite his no-doubt good intentions, seemed to be irritating the King with his persistent queries.

  “I will permit this question, as you are my Admiral. But I would point out that a man in your position should not require such hand-holding.”

  Bryg winced, but held his tongue.

  “What is the point of this trap, man, if we go out and show ourselves?”

  “It would only be a single war ark…” Bryg began.

  “Vosh was not a fool when he was alive, and he’s had seven hundred years since then to grow ever wiser. He will see we escaped the ice with one ark, and will immediately surmise the rest are nearby. The entirety of our plan will be revealed to his mind.”

  The cheek muscles on Bryg’s jaw line twitched. Gruum watched him closely, with each of his hands resting on the hilt of a weapon.

  At last, Bryg nodded. He rolled up a chart and marched out of the cabin to the decks. Gruum stepped forward out of the shadows when Bryg had gone.

  “That one bears watching, milord,” Gruum said.

  “He’s a good officer.”

  “He’s very passionate.”

  “The best officers are.”

  Gruum shrugged. Mentally, he marked Bryg down as a man who would never be allowed in the King’s presence alone.

  -11-

  Within hours, the fleet had reached the point where they planned to lie in wait. When evening came, it was as windy as the day before had been calm. Half the sails had to be rolled and stowed so the great arks could stand at anchor without heeling over. The hours rolled by, and the lights flashed from the main island. Each time the all-clear signal came, there was a wave of relief and boredom that swept the fleet. Men both wanted to stave off the inevitable, and yet wanted to be done with the waiting, at the same time.

  An hour after dawn the next day, a last signal came. It was forty minutes early. From the blasting of horns and rolling thunder of distant drums, Gruum knew without asking anyone what had happened. The invaders had been sighted.

  The fish were leaping near the prow as they cut through the frigid waters. Gruum looked down at them, seeing occasional chunks of thin ice floating on the surface. He wondered just how cold that water was, and fervently hoped he would never find out. The ship became a frenzy of activity as she set full sails. Therian himself stood upon the rear decks, and Gruum stood nearby.

  “I don’t like
this,” Therian said to no one in particular.

  Gruum stood the closest, and looked for something amiss. He saw nothing obvious. “What’s wrong, milord? Can I repair the matter?”

  Therian gave him a faint smile. “Hardly. I don’t like the winds. They are not a direct headwind, but we will have to tack to get back to Corium. Our speed will not be the best. Did you notice the shift in the winds?”

  Gruum shrugged. “Yes, some minutes before the signal came. But what can be done?”

  “Much can be done. But I must question if it is worth doing. There is a hand at work here, other than my own. The shift in the winds was too precisely timed to be a work of nature. The enemy fleet has a perfect wind—one that goes against the grain of the seasons here in Hyborea as well.”

  “You think Vosh summoned this wind? To bring him to Hyborea with speed?”

  “Exactly,” Therian said. “I’m chagrinned not to have predicted it. If we had chosen a different spot to lie in wait, we might have shared his wind and thus sped in behind him. Now, if I wish to increase my speed, I must use my strength and warn the enemy at the same time. But if I do not, the enemy will have all that much more time to unload and begin their assault upon Corium.”

  Gruum nodded slowly. He saw the dilemma clearly. “What will you do, sire?”

  “I will summon the witch winds. For this ship alone.”

  Gruum blinked. “Whatever for, sire?”

  “We will gain less than an hour. When the enemy sees us on the horizon, it will slow their assault. With luck, they will send a group of ships to engage us, but not enough vessels to destroy us. The rest will keep unloading. Then the rest of my ships will arrive.”

  “But what if the winds shift and we are left wallowing and fighting a dozen smaller, faster vessels.”

  “A dozen?” Therian demanded. He laughed aloud. “One war ark has nothing to fear from a dozen barbarian scows. I would worry if they send out fifty—or a hundred—to meet us.”