Corum's throat was dry. "No," he said.
"Did you know what it was, Corum? Did you recognize it?"
"I have seen it before. But I do not remember where or in what circumstances. Did it-did it look at me, Jhary, or did I imagine that?"
"I understand you. A peculiar sensation-the sort of sensation one has when one meets another's eyes by accident."
"Aye-something of the sort."
"I wonder what it could want with us or if it is connected with this snowfall in any way."
"I do not associate it with snow. I think rather of-fire! I remember! I remember where I saw it-or something like it-in the Flamelands, after I had strangled-after this hand of mine had strangled-Hanafax. I told you of that!"
Shuddering, he remembered the scene. The Hand of Kwll squeezing the life from the struggling, shrieking Hanafax, who had done Corum no harm at all. The roaring flames. The corpse. The Blind Queen Oorese with her impassive face. The hill. The smoke. A figure standing on the hill watching him. A figure obscured by a sudden drift of smoke.
"Perhaps it is only madness," he murmured. "My conscience reminding me of the innocent soul I took when I slew Hanafax. Perhaps I am remembering my guilt and see that guilt as an accusing figure on a hillside."
"A pretty theory," said Jhary almost grimly. "But I had nothing to do with the slaying of Hanafax and neither do I suffer from this guilt you people always speak of. I saw the figure first, Corum."
"So you did. So you did." His head bowed, Corum stumbled through the door of the tower. From his mortal eye streamed tears.
As Jhary closed the door behind them, Corum turned on the stairs and stared up at his friend.
"Then what was it, Jhary?"
"I know not, Corum."
"But you know so much."
"And I forget much. I am not a hero. I am a companion to heroes. I admire. I marvel. I offer sage advice which is rarely taken. I sympathize. I save lives. I express the fears heroes cannot express. I council caution…"
"Enough, Jhary. Do you jest?"
"I suppose I jest. I, too, am tired, my friend. I am tired of the company of gloomy heroes, of those who are doomed to terrible destinies-not to mention a lack of humor. I would have the company of ordinary men for a while. I would drink in taverns. Tell obscene stories. Fart. Lose my head to a doxie…"
"Jhary! You do not jest! Why are you saying these things?"
"Because I am weary of…" Jhary frowned. "Why, indeed, Prince Corum? It is not like me, at all. That carping voice-was mine!"
"Aye. It was." Corum's frown matched Jhary's. "And I liked it not at all. Why, if you sought to provoke me, Jhary, then…"
"Wait!" Jhary raised his hand to his head. "Wait, Corum. I feel as if something seeks possession of my mind, seeks to turn me against my friends. Concentrate. Do you not feel the same thing?"
Corum glared at Jhary for a moment and then his face lost its anger and became puzzled. "Aye. You are right. A kind of nagging shadow at the back of my head. It hints at hatred, contention. Is it the influence of the thing we saw on the hill?"
Jhary shook his head. "Who knows? I apologize for my outburst. I do not believe that it was myself speaking to you."
"I, too, apologize. Let us hope the shadow disappears."
In thoughtful silence they descended to the main part of the castle. The walls were silvery, shimmering. It meant that the snow had begun to fall outside once more.
Rhalina met them in one of the galleries where fountains and crystals sang softly a work by Corum's father, a love song to Corum's mother. It was soothing and Corum managed to smile at her.
"Corum," she said. "A few moments ago I was seized with a strange fury. I cannot explain it. I was tempted to hit one of the retainers. I…"
He took her in his arms. He kissed her brow. "I know. Jhary and I experienced the same thing. I fear that Chaos works subtly in us, turning us against each other. We must resist such impulses. We must try to find their cause. Something wishes us to destroy one another, I think."
There was horror in her eyes. "Oh, Corum…"
"We must resist," he said again.
Jhary scratched his nose, himself once more. He raised an eyebrow. "I wonder if we are the only folk who suffer this-this possession. What if it has seized the whole land, Corum?"
The Second Chapter
THE SICKNESS SPREADS
It was in the night that the worst thoughts came to Corum as he lay in bed beside Rhalina. Sometimes his visions were of his hated enemy Glandyth-a-Krae, but sometimes they were of Lord Arkyn of Law, whom he was now beginning to blame for all his hardships and miseries, and sometimes they were of Jhary-a-Conel, whose easy irony was now seen as facetious malice, and sometimes they were of Rhalina, whom he decided had snared him, directed him away from his true destiny. And these latter visions were the worst and he fought against them more fiercely even than the others. He would feel his face twist with hatred, his fingers clench, his lips snarl, his body shake with rage and a wish to destroy. All through the nights he would fight these terrible impulses and he knew that as he fought so did Rhalina-fighting the fury welling up inside her own head. Irrational fury-rage which had no purpose and yet which would focus on anything and seek to vent itself.
Bloody visions. Visions of torturing and maiming worse than Glandyth had ever performed on him. And he was the torturer and those he tortured were those he loved most.
Many a night he would awake shrieking. Crying aloud the single word, "No! No! No!" he would leap from his bed and glare down at Rhalina.
And Rhalina would glare back.
Rhalina's lips would curl away from her white teeth. Rhalina's nostrils would flare like those of a beast. And strange sounds would come from her throat.
Then he would fight off the impulses and cry to her, remind her of what was happening to them. And they would lie in each other's arms, drained of emotion.
The snow had begun to melt. It was as if, having brought the sickness of rage and malice, it could now leave. Corum rushed about in it one day, slashing at it with his naked sword and cursing it, blaming it for their ills.
But Jhary was sure now that the snow had merely been a natural occurrence, a coincidence. He ran out to try to pacify his friend. He succeeded in making Corum lower his sword and sheath it. They stood shivering in the morning light, both half-clad.
"And what of the shape on the hill?" Corum panted. "Was that coincidence, my friend?"
"It could have been. I have a feeling that all these things happened at the same time because, perhaps, something else happened. These are hints. Do you understand me?"
Corum shrugged and wrenched his arm away from Jhary's grasp. "A larger event? Is that what you mean?"
"Aye. A larger event."
"Is not what is happening to us already sufficiently unpleasant?"
"Aye. It is."
Corum saw that his friend was humoring him. He tried to smile. A sense of exhaustion filled him. All his energy was going to battle his own terrible desires. He wiped his brow with the back of his right hand.
"There must be something which can help us. I fear-I fear…"
"We all fear, Prince Corum."
"I fear I'll slay Rhalina one night. I do, Jhary."
"We had best take to living apart, locking ourselves in our rooms. The retainers also are suffering as badly as we."
"I have noticed."
"They, too, must be separated. Shall I tell them?"
Corum fingered the pommel of his sword and his red-rimmed left eye had a wide, staring look. "Aye," he said absently. "Tell them."
"And you will do the same, Corum? I am even now trying to concoct a potion-something which will calm us and make sure we do not harm each other. Doubtless it will make us less alert, but that is better than killing ourselves."