"Not dead long," he said. "It means the sickness is still strong. And yet it does not touch us. Perhaps it takes time to enter our brains. Ah, the poor folk of Lywm-an-Esh-my poor Vadhagh…"
A movement in the trees.
Corum drew his sword, feeling for the first time the lack of his left hand and right eye. He felt off-balance. Then he grinned in relief.
It was Jhary-a-Conel leading three of the dead Tribesmen's ponies by their bridle ropes.
"Not the most comfortable beasts to ride, but better than walking. Where do you head for, Corum. For Halwyg?"
Corum shook his head. "I have been thinking of the only positive deed we can try to perform. There's little to be done in Halwyg. I doubt if Glandyth has yet set up his court there, for, doubtless, he still hunts for us on other planes. We'll go to Erorn, I think. There is a boat there we can use and it will take us to the Nhadragh Isles."
"Where the sorcerer dwells who has put this spell upon the world."
"Just so."
Jhary-a-Conel stroked his cat under its chin. "Your idea is sound, Corum Jhaelen Irsei. Let us make speed,"
Soon they were mounted on the shaggy ponies and were driving them as hard as they could go through the woods of Bro-an-Vadhagh. Twice they were forced to hide while small groups of Vadhagh hunted each other. Once they witnessed a massacre, but there was nothing they could do to save the victims.
Corum was relieved to sight the towers of Castle Erorn at long last, for he had wondered if Glandyth or some other had destroyed it again. The castle was as they had left it. The snow had all melted and a mild spring was beginning to touch the trees and shrubs. Gratefully they entered the castle.
But they had forgotten the retainers.
The retainers had not resisted the sickness long. They found two corpses just inside the doorway, horribly butchered. Others were elsewhere in the castle and all had been murdered save one-the last survivor, his aggression had turned to self-hatred and he had hanged himself in one of the rooms of music. His presence caused the fountains and the crystals to make a sour, dreadful sound which almost drove Corum, Rhalina, and Jhary back out of the castle.
The work of disposing of the corpses done, Corum took the passage down to the large sea-cave below the castle. Here was the little boat in which he and Rhalina had sailed for pleasure in the short-lived days of peace. It was ready for immediate use.
Rhalina and Jhary brought down the provisions while Corum checked the rigging and the sail. They waited for the tide to turn and then sailed beneath the great, rugged arch of the sea cave and out into open water. It would be two days before they sighted the first of the Nhadragh Isles.
With only the sea surrounding him, Corum thought about his adventures upon the different planes. He had entered so many worlds he had lost count of them. Were there really a million spheres, each sphere containing a number of planes? It was hard to conceive of so many worlds. And on each world a struggle was taking place.
"Are there no worlds which know permanent peace?" he asked Jhary as he took over the rudder of the boat while the dandy adjusted the sail. "Are there none, Jhary?"
The dandy shrugged. "Perhaps there are, though I have never seen one. Perhaps it is not my fate to see one. But it is basic to Nature to know struggle of some kind, surely?"
"Some creatures live in peace all their lives."
"Aye, some do. There is a legend that once there was only one world-one planet like ours-which was tranquil and perfect. But something evil invaded it and it learned strife and in learning strife created other examples of itself where strife could flourish the better. But there are many legends which say the past was perfect or that the future will be perfect. I have seen many pasts and many futures. None of them were perfect, my friend."
Corum felt the boat rock and he tightened his grip on the rudder. The waves became larger and the sea was choppy.
Rhalina pointed into the distance. "The Wading God-see! He goes toward our coast, still fishing."
"Perhaps the Wading God knows peace," said Corum when the sea settled and the giant had gone.
Jhary stroked the head of his cat. The little creature looked nervously at the water. "I think not," said Jhary quietly.
Another day went by before they saw the outer islands of the group. They were predominantly dark green and brown and as they sailed by them they saw the black ruins of the towns and the castles which the Mabden had fired when they had come reaving to the Nhadragh Isles. Once or twice a shambling figure would wave to them from a beach but they ignored him, for doubtless the Cloud of Contention had touched those who were left of the Nhadragh.
"There," said Corum. "That large island. It is Maliful, where lies the city of Os and the Nhadragh sorcerer Ertil. I think I feel the Cloud of Contention begin to gnaw again at my brain…"
"Then we had best hurry and do our work, if we can," Jhary said.
They landed the small boat on a stony, deserted beach quite close to Os, whose walls they could already see.
"Go, Whiskers," murmured Jhary to his cat, "show us the way to the sorcerer's keep."
The cat spread its wings and flew high into the air, hovering to keep pace with them as they moved cautiously toward the city. Then, as they climbed over the rubble of what had once been a gateway and began to make their way through piles of weed-grown masonry, the cat flew to the squat building with the yellow dome upon its roof. It flew twice around the dome and then came back to settle on Jhary's shoulder.
Corum felt a twinge of annoyance at the cat. It was reasonless anger and he knew what caused it. He began to run toward the squat building.
There was only one entrance and it was filled with a hard, wooden door.
"To break that," whispered Jhary, "would be to make our presence known. Look, here-steps lead up the side."
A flight of stone steps led to the roof and up these the three went, Rhalina following in the wake of the men.
Together, they crept up to the dome and peered inside. At first it was hard to make out what was in there. They saw the clutter of parchments and animal cages and cauldrons. But there was a form moving about in one corner. It could only be the sorcerer.
"I'm tired of this caution!" Corum shouted. "Let's end it now!" With a yell he reversed his sword hilt and struck heavily at the dome. It groaned and a crack appeared. He struck again and the stuff shattered, falling into the room.
But Corum had released a stink which drove them back for a few yards until it had dispersed in the cleaner outer air. Corum, feeling the unreasoning fury rising in him again, dashed to the edge of the broken dome and leaped through the hole he had made, landing with a crash upon the scored table below.
Sword ready, he glared around him.
And what he saw drove the fury from his head. It was the Nhadragh, Ertil.
The corrupt sorcerer had plainly succumbed to his own spell. There was foam on his lips. His dark eyes rolled.
"I killed them," he said, "as I will kill you. They would not obey me-so I killed them."
With his one remaining arm he held up his severed leg. Another leg and an arm bled nearby.
"I killed them!"
Corum turned away, kicking out at the bubbling cauldron, the vials of herbs and chemicals, scattering them about the room.
"I killed them!" babbled the sorcerer. His voice rose to a shriek and then subsided. The blood was pouring from his body. He would only live a few seconds more.
"How made you the Cloud of Contention?" Corum asked him.
Weakly Ertil grinned and gestured with the severed leg. "There-the censer. Only a little censer-but it has destroyed you all!"