The Oak and the Ram - 04 (8 page)

As silently as was possible, Corum drew his sword as the three lids closed over the three mismatched eyes as the lump, seeing nothing, resettled itself to sleep again.

As the eyes closed Corum struck.

He struck through the oval mouth, through the roof of the mouth, into the brain. He knew that he could strike only once effectively before the lump made a noise which would bring other guards.

The eyes opened and instantly one closed again in a kind of obscene wink.

The others stared at the blade of the sword in astonishment, for it seemed to protrude from the thin air. The simian hand came up to touch the blade but it never completed the gesture. The hand fell limply back. The remaining eyes closed and Corum was sheathing his sword and clambering over the fat, yielding flesh as fast as he could, praying that none should find the lump's corpse before he had discovered the whereabouts of the Archdruid Amergin.

There were two Ghoolegh guards, their cutlasses at attention across their chests, at the top of this particular stair, but it was plain that they had heard nothing.

Hurriedly Corum slipped past them and mounted the next flight and there, on the landing above him, he saw two huge hounds, the largest of all the hounds of Kerenos he had ever seen.

And these hounds were sniffing the air. They could not see him, but they had caught his scent. Both were voicing soft, deep growls.

Acting as rapidly as he had acted when he had seen the lump, Corum ran through the gap between the dogs and had the satisfaction of seeing them snap at the air and almost close their fangs on each other's throats.

And here was a great archway filled by a door of beaten bronze on which had been raised motifs of beautiful complexity. King Fiachadh had described it. This was the door to Amergin's apartments. And hanging on a brass hook beside the door, behind the head of one gigantic Ghoolegh guard, was a single iron key. And this was the key to the beautiful bronze door.

Behind Corum the Hounds of Kerenos, ordered not to leave their position, were whining and sniffing at the flagstones near where they sat. The Ghoolegh guard's dull features became curious. He lurched forward.

"What is it, dogs? Do strangers come?"

Corum stepped behind the Ghoolegh and silently drew the key from its hook, inserting it into the lock, turning it, opening the door and closing it behind him. With the distraction of the dogs to occupy his slow brain, the Ghoolegh might not notice the absence of the iron key.

Corum found himself in an apartment full of rich, dark hangings. He sniffed and was surprised to recognize the smell of new-cut grass. The apartment was warm, too, heated by a fire even larger than the one at which Calatin and Goffanon sat two floors below.

But where was Amergin?

Stealthily Corum crept from one dark room to another, his hand on his sword, expecting some new trap.

And then, at last, he saw something. At first he took it for an animal, for it was upon all fours and eating from a golden tray piled high with the strands of some vegetable.

The head turned but the eyes did not see Corum, still draped in his Sidhi Mantle. Large, soft eyes stared at nothing and the jaws moved slowly as they chewed the vegetation. The body was clothed in sheepskin garments with the wool still on them. The wool was dirty and full of filthy scraps of thistle, briar and burrs as if torn from the body of a wild mountain sheep. Jacket, shirt and leggings were all of the same coarse stuff and there was even a hood of sheepskin drawn around the head, exposing only the face. The man looked ridiculous and pathetic and Corum knew that this was Amergin, High King of Mabden, Archdruid of Craig Don, and that he was truly under a glamour.

It had been a handsome face, possibly an intelligent face, but now it was neither. The eyes stared, unblinking, into nothing, the jaws continued to chew at the grass.

Corum murmured: "Amergin?"

And Amergin ceased his chewing. He opened his mouth and he uttered a single, frightened bleat.

He began to crawl toward the shadows where doubtless he thought he would find security.

Sadly, Corum drew his sword.

THE THIRD CHAPTER

A TRAITOR SLEEPS, A FRIEND AWAKES

Without hesitation, Corum reversed his grip upon his sword and brought the round pommel down hard on the back of Amergin's neck. Then he picked up the body, surprised by its lightness. The man was slowly starving to death on the diet of grass he had been fed. Corum had been told that there would be little chance of releasing Amergin from his enchantment until they were far away from Caer Llud. He would have to carry the Archdruid to safety.

Somehow he managed to drape his mantle over Amergin's body as well as his own, checking in a mirror that both he and Amergin were invisible. Looking once around the room he turned and walked back to the bronze door, his sword still in his hand, though also covered by his mantle.

Cautiously he turned the key and opened the door. The Ghoolegh was standing up, close to the hounds. Both the devil dogs remained nervous, suspicious, but were still seated, their heads corning almost to the Ghoolegh's shoulder. The red, stupid eyes of the guard peered first down the stair and then about the landing and Corum was sure that he had seen the door closing, but then he looked again down the stairs and Corum was able to replace the key on its hook.

But he moved hastily. The key clinked against the stone of the wall. The dogs picked up their ears. They snarled. Standing at the top of the stairs the Ghoolegh began to turn. Corum rushed forward and kicked the Ghoolegh off-balance. The undead creature yelled and fell, tumbling head-over-heels down the granite steps. The dogs glared and one snapped at Corum, but the Vadhagh prince lunged forward with his sword and cut through the hound's jugular as cleanly as he had slain the lump. Then he felt a blow on his back and staggered, taking two involuntary bounds down the stairs and only barely managing to keep his balance, burdened as he was by the unconscious High King, staggering around as the remaining hound leapt from the top of the stair, its red jaws extended, its glistening yellow fangs dripping saliva, its fur bristling, its forelegs extended. Corum only had time to bring up his sword before those gigantic paws had struck his chest and he was driven back against the wall, glimpsing from the corner of his single eye two Ghoolegh guards running to discover the cause of the commotion.

But his sword point had found the hound's heart and the beast had been dead even as it struck Corum. He dragged himself from under it, keeping a firm hold on Amergin, tugging his sword from the hound's corpse and then rearranging the Sidhi Mantle about his body.

The
Ghoolegh had seen something and they hesitated. They looked at the corpse of the hound, they looked at each other, uncertain what to do. Corum drew back, permitting himself a relieved grin as the Ghoolegh brandished their cutlasses and began to ascend the steps, plainly believing that whoever had slain the hound was still above.

Down the next flight Corum ran, clambering over the as yet undetected corpse of the lump, down the rest of the steps until, panting, he reached the landing.

But Calatin and Goffanon had heard the sounds of strife and they were coming out of their room. Calatin was first. He was shouting. "What is it? Who attacks?" He stared straight through Corum.

Corum made to move forward.

Then Goffanon said in a thick, slurred voice which had more curiosity in it than anger: "Corum? What do you in Caer Llud?"

Corum made to put a finger to his lips, hoping that Goffanon still had some loyalties to his Vadhagh cousin. Certainly Goffanon's great axe was still held loosely in his hand. He did not seem prepared to do battle.

^‘
'Corum?" Calatin whirled from where he stood on the first step. "Where?"

"There," said Goffanon pointing.

Calatin understood swiftly. "Invisible! He must be slain. Slay him! Slay him, Goffanon!"

'
^‘
Very well.'' Goffanon began to get a grip on the haft of his axe.

"Goffanon! Traitor!" yelled Corum, and put up his own sword, revealing his position to Calatin who took a dagger from his belt and began to move toward him.

Goffanon was moving slowly, as if drugged. Corum decided to deal with Calatin first. He whirled his sword round in a poorly considered stroke which yet found Calatin's head and downed him, but the wizard was only knocked senseless by the flat of the sword. Corum gave Goffanon all his concentration, wishing desperately that he was not hampered by the burden of Amergin across his shoulder.

"Corum?" Goffanon frowned. "Must I kill you?" "It's no wish of mine, traitor."

Goffanon began to lower his axe.’ 'But what does Calatin wish?'' ' 'He wishes nothing.'' Corum believed that he understood a little now of Goffanon's position. Amergin was not the only occupant of the tower under a glamour. ' 'He wishes you to protect me. That is what he wants. He wishes that you come with me."

"Very well," said Goffanon simply. And he fell in beside Corum.

"Hurry!" Corum stooped to wrench something from Calatin's body. From above came the puzzled voices of the Ghoolegh, and the Ghoolegh whom Corum had pushed down the steps was beginning to slither forward, though almost every bone must have been broken. They were hard to slay, those who were already dead. "Those beyond the tower must soon realize that something is afoot here."

They began to descend the last stairway.

There was a noise below and around the bend came the remaining Ghoolegh while at the same time Corum heard their comrades rushing down the steps, having decided that their enemies must somehow have escaped them.

Two above and three below. The Ghoolegh hesitated, seeing only Goffanon. Doubtless they had been told that Goffanon was not an enemy and this confused them further. As quickly as he could, Corum crept past those who blocked the path below and, as they began to climb towards Goffanon, he did the only thing he could do against the living dead: He cut at the tendons of their legs so that they flopped down, using their arms to continue to crawl towards Goffanon, their cutlasses still in their hands. Goffanon turned with his axe and chopped at the legs of the two remaining Ghoolegh, severing those limbs. No blood spouted as the guards collapsed.

Then they were through the door, running into the cold poisoned mist, down the steps from the tower, through the gateway, into the freezing streets, Goffanon loping beside Corum, keeping pace with him, his brows still drawn together as if in tremendous concentration.

Into the house they went and Jhary-a-Conel was already mounted, swathed still in coarse blankets so that only his face peeped through, holding Corum's horse ready for him. Jhary was astonished to see the Sidhi Smith. "Are you Amergin?"

But Corum was tearing the mantle of invisibility from him, revealing the starved figure in old sheepskins who lay over his shoulder. "This is Amergin," he explained curtly. "The other's a cousin of mine I thought a traitor." Corum heaved the prone Archdruid over his saddle, speaking to Goffanon. "Do you come with us, Sidhi? Or do you remain to serve the Fhoi Myore?"

"Serve the Fhoi Myore? A Sidhi would not do that! Goffanon serves nobody!" The speech was still thick, the eyes still dull.

Having no time to waste either upon analyzing the cause of Goffanon's strange actions or conversing with the great smith to learn more, Corum said roughly:

"Then come with us from Caer Llud."

"Aye," said Goffanon musingly. "I would prefer to leave Caer Llud."

They rode through the chilling mist, avoiding the massings of warriors on the far side of the city. Perhaps it was this which had allowed them to enter the city and leave it without detection—the Fhoi Myore thought only of their wars upon the West and gathered together all their forces, all their attention, for this single venture.

Whatever the reason, they were soon able to leave the outskirts of Caer Llud and were riding up a snow-covered hill, with the Dwarf Goffanon running easily beside their horses, his axe upon his shoulder, his beard and hair streaming behind him, his huge breath billowing in the air.

"Gaynor will soon understand what has happened and be most angry," Corum told Jhary-a-Conel. "He will realize that he has made a fool of himself. We can expect pursuit soon and he will be most vicious if he finds us."

Jhary peered out from under his many blankets, refusing to relinquish a morsel of warmth. "We must make speed for Craig Don," he said. "There we will have time to consider what to do next." He managed to grin. "At least we now have something the Fhoi Myore wish to keep—we have Amergin."

"Aye. They'll be reluctant to destroy us if it means destroying Amergin too. But we cannot rely on that.'' Corum adjusted the body more securely across his saddle.