"Killing? Aye." Corum stared at Jhary. The dandy's silk jerkin offended him, though not long since he had thought he admired it. And the man's face had an expression on it. What was it? Mocking? Why was Jhary mocking him?
"Why do you-?" He broke off, realizing that he was once again possessed. "We must leave Castle Erorn," he said. "Perhaps some-some ghost inhabits it now. Some evil force left behind by Glandyth. That is possible, Jhary, for I have heard of such things."
Jhary looked skeptical.
"It is a possibility!" Corum yelled. Why was Jhary so stupid sometimes?
"A possibility." Jhary rubbed at his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes, too, were rimmed red and had a tendency to stare wildly this way and that. "A possibility, aye. But we must leave here. You are right. We must see if only Castle Erorn is affected. We must see if anywhere else suffers what we suffer. If we can get the sky ship from the courtyard… The snow has melted from it now… We must go to… I must…" He stopped himself. "I'm babbling now. It's the weariness. But we must seek out a friend-Prince Yurette, perhaps-ask him if he has felt the same impulses."
"You proposed that yesterday," Corum reminded him.
"And we agreed, did we not?"
"Aye." Corum began to stumble back toward the castle gate. "We agreed. And we agreed the day before yesterday, also."
"We must make preparations. Will Rhalina stay here or come with us?"
"Why do you ask? It is impertinent…" Again Corum controlled himself. "Forgive me, Jhary."
"I do."
"What force is it that could possess us so? Turn old friends against each other? Make me desire, sometimes, to slay the woman I love most in the world?"
"We shall never discover that if we remain here," Jhary told him rather sharply.
"Very well, then," Corum said. "We'll take the air boat. We'll seek Prince Yurette. Do you feel strong enough to fly the craft?"
"I'll find the strength."
The world turned gray as the snow continued to melt. All the trees seemed gray and the hills seemed gray and the grass seemed gray. Even Castle Erorn's marvellously tinted towers took on a gray appearance and the walls within were also gray.
In the late afternoon, before sunset, Rhalina called for Corum and for Jhary. "Come," she shouted. "Sky ships approach us. They are behaving strangely."
They gathered at one of the windows facing the sea.
In the distance two of the beautiful metallic sky ships were wheeling and diving as if in a complicated dance, skimming close to the gray ocean and then hurling themselves upward at great speed. It seemed that each was attempting to get behind the other.
Something glittered.
Rhalina gasped.
"They are using those weapons-those fearful weapons with which they destroyed King Lyr and his army! They are fighting, Corum!"
"Aye," he said grimly. "They are fighting."
One of the ships suddenly staggered in the air and seemed to come to a complete stop. Then it turned over and they saw tiny figures falling from it. It righted itself. It drove upward at the other craft, trying to ram it, but the craft managed to dodge just in tune and the damaged craft continued on its course, rising higher and higher into the gray sky until it was only a shadow among the clouds.
It came back, diving at its enemy, which, this time, was struck in its stern and began to spiral down toward the sea. The other ship plunged straight into the ocean and disappeared. There was a little foam on the sea where it had entered.
The remaining sky ship corrected its own fall and began to limp through the sky toward the land, making for the cliff across the bay from Castle Erorn, changing course in a jerky movement and heading straight for the castle.
"Does he mean to strike us?" Jhary asked.
Corum shrugged. He had come to see Castle Erorn as a haunted prison rather than as his ancient home. If the sky ship smashed into Erorn's towers it would almost be as if it smashed into his own skull, driving the terrifying fury from his brain.
But the craft turned aside at the last minute and began to circle to land on the gray sward just beyond the gates.
It landed badly and Corum saw a wisp of smoke rise from its stern and curl sluggishly in the air. Men began to clamber from the ship. They were undoubtably Vadhagh, tall men with flowing cloaks and mail byrnies of gold or silver, conical helms on their heads, slender swords in their hands. They marched through the slush toward the castle.
Corum was the first to recognize the man who led them. "It is Bwydyth! Bwydyth-a-Horn! He must need our help. Come, let us greet him."
Jhary was more reluctant, but he said nothing as he followed Corum and Rhalina to the gates.
Bwydyth and his men were already ascending the path up the hill toward the gates when Corum opened them himself and stepped out, calling their friend's name.
"Greetings, Bwydyth! You are welcome here to Castle Erorn."
Bwydyth-a-Horn made no answer, but continued to march up the hill.
All at once Corum Jhaelen Irsei felt suspicion well in him. He dismissed it. The effect of the shadow lurking in his brain. He smiled and spread his arms wide.
"Bwydyth! It is I-Corum."
Jhary muttered, "Best ready yourself to draw your sword. Rhalina-you had best go inside."
She gave him a startled look. "Why? It is Bwydyth. Not an enemy."
He merely stared at her for a moment. She lowered her eyes and did as he suggested.
Corum fought against the anger within him. He breathed hard. "If Bwydyth means to fight, then he will find…"
"Corum!" Jhary said urgently. "Keep your head clear. It is possible that we can reason with Bwydyth, for I suspect he suffers from what we have been suffering from." He called out. "Bwydyth, old friend. We are not your enemies. Come, enjoy the peace of Castle Erorn. There's no need for strifing here. We have all known these sudden furies and we must gather to discuss their nature and their cause, decide how best to discover their source."
But Bwydyth marched on up the hill toward them, and his men, grim-faced and pale, marched on behind him. Their cloaks curled in the thin breeze which had begun to blow, the steel of their swords did not shine but was as gray as the landscape.
"Bwydyth!" It was Rhalina crying from behind them. "Do not give in to that which has seized your mind. Do not fight with Corum. He is your friend. Corum found the means to bring you back to your homeland."
Bwydyth stopped. His men stopped. Bwydyth glared up at them. "Is that another thing I must hate you for, Corum?"
"Another thing? What else do you hate me for, Bwydyth?"
"Why for-for your dreadful deformities. You are unsightly. For your alliance with demons. For your choice of women and your choice of friends. For your cowardice."
"Cowardice, eh?" Jhary growled and reached for his own sword.
Corum stopped him, "Bwydyth, we know that a sickness of the mind has come upon us. It makes us hate those we love, seek to kill those whom we most desire to live. Plainly this sickness is on you and it is on us, but if we give in to it, we give in to whatever it is which wants us to destroy each other. This suggests a common enemy-something we must seek out and slay."
Bwydyth frowned, lowering his sword. "Aye. I have thought the same. Sometimes I have wondered why the fighting has started everywhere. Perhaps you are right, Corum. Aye, we will talk." He began to turn to address his company. "Men, we will…"
One of the nearest swordsmen lunged forward with a snarl of hatred. "Fool! I knew you for a fool! You are proven a fool! You die for your foolishness." The sword passed through the byrnie and buried itself in Bwydyth's body. He cried out, groaned, tried to stagger toward his friends, and then fell face down in the melting snow.