Now Conun saw that the rest of the crew were beginning to move. He heard the slithering of then: feet on the slime-grown deck. He saw their rotting flesh, their glowing eye sockets. He began to move backward, dragging Rhalina with him. But Rhalina would not go willingly and he was completely exhausted. Panting, he paused, speaking urgently to her. "Rhalina. I know you never loved him, even in life. You love me. I love you. Surely that is stronger than any bargain!"
"I must join my husband."
The dead crew had descended to the causeway and were moving toward them. Corum had left his sword behind. He had no weapons.
"Stand back!" he cried. "The dead have no right to take the living!"
On came the corpses.
Corum cried up to the figure of the Margrave, still on the poop. "Stop them! Take me instead of her! Make a bargain with me!"
"I cannot.”
"Then let me sail with her. What is the harm in that? You will have two living beings to warm your dead souls!"
The Margrave appeared to consider this.
"Why should you do it? The living have no liking for the dead."
"I love Rhalina. It is love, do you understand?"
"Love? The dead know nothing of love."
"Yet you want your wife with you."
"She proposed the bargain. Shool-an-Jyvan heard her and sent us."
The shuffling corpses had completely surrounded them now. Corum gagged at their stench.
"Then I will come with you."
The dead Margravine inclined his head.
Escorted by the shuffling corpses, Corum allowed himself and Rhalina to be led aboard the ship. It was covered in scum from the bottoms of the sea. Weed draped it, giving off the strange green fire. What Corum had thought were dull jewels were colored barnacles which encrusted everything. Slime lay on all surfaces.
While the Margravine watched from his poop, Corum and Rhalina were taken to a cabin and made to enter. It was almost pitch-black and it stank of decay.
He heard the rotting timbers creak and the ship began to move.
It sailed rapidly, without wind or any other understandable means of propulsion..
It sailed for Svi-an-Fanla-Brool, the island of the legends, the Home of the Gorged God.
BOOK TWO
In which Prince Corum receives a gift and makes a pact
The First Chapter
THE AMBITIOUS SORCERER
As they sailed through the night, Corum made many attempts to waken Rhalina from her trance, but nothing worked. She lay amongst the damp and rotting silks of a bunk and stared at the roof. Through a porthole too small to afford escape came a faint green light. Corum paced the cabin, still barely able to believe his predicament.
These were plainly the dead Margrave's own quarters. And if Corum were not here now, would the Margrave be sharing the bunk with his wife…?
Corum shuddered and pressed his hand to his skull, certain that he was insane or had been entranced-certain that none of this could be.
As a Vadhagh he was prepared for many events and situations that would have seemed strange to the Mabden. Yet this was something that seemed completely unnatural to him. It defied all he knew of science. If he were sane and all was as it seemed, then the Mabden's powers were greater than anything the Vadhagh had known. Yet they were dark and morbid powers, unhealthy powers that were quintessentially evil…
Corum was tired, but he could not sleep. Everything he touched was slimy and made him feel ill. He tested the lock on the cabin door. Although the wood was rotten, the door seemed unusually strong. Some other force was at work here. The timbers of the ship were bound by more than rivets and tar.
The weariness did not help his head to clear. His thoughts remained confused and desperate. He peered frequently through the porthole, hoping to get some sort of bearing, but it was impossible to see anything more than the occasional wave and a star in the sky.
Then, much later, he noticed the first line of gray on the horizon and he was relieved that morning was coming. This ship was a ship of the night. It would disappear with the sun and he and Rhalina would awake to find themselves in their own bed.
But what had frightened the barbarians? Or was that part of the dream? Perhaps his collapse within the gates after his fight with Glandyth had induced a feverish dream? Perhaps his comrades were still fighting for then-lives against the Pony Tribesmen. He rubbed at his head with the stump of his hand. He licked his dry lips and tried to peer, once again, into the dimensions. But the other dimensions were closed to him. He paced the cabin, waiting for the morning.
But then a strange droning sound came to his ears. It made his brain itch. He wrinkled his scalp. He rubbed his face. The droning increased. His ears ached. His teeth were on edge. The volume grew.
He put his good hand to one ear and covered the other with his arm. Tears came into his eye. In the socket where the other eye had been a huge pain pulsed.
He stumbled from side to side of the rotting cabin and even attempted to break through the door.
But his senses were leaving him. The scene grew dim.
He stood in a dark hall with walls of fluted stone which curved over his head and touched to form the roof, high above. The workmanship of the hall was equal to anything the Vadhagh had created, but it was not beautiful. Rather, it was sinister.
His head ached.
The air before him shimmered with a pale blue light and then a tall youth stood there. The face was young, but the eyes were ancient. He was dressed in a simple flowing gown of yellow samite. He bowed, turned his back, walked a little way, and then sat down on a stone bench that had been built into the wall.
Corum frowned.
"You believe you dream, Master Corum?"
"I am Prince Corum in the Scarlet Robe, last of the Vadhagh race."
"There are no other princes here, but me," said the youth softly. "I will allow none. If you understand that, there will be no tension between us."
Corum shrugged. "I believe I dream, yes."
"In a sense you do, of course. As we all dream. For some while, Vadhagh, you have been trapped in a Mabden dream. The rules of the Mabden control your fate and you resent it."
"Where is the ship that brought me here. Where is Rhalina?"
"The ship cannot sail by day. It has returned to the depths."
"Rhalina?"
The youth smiled. "She has gone with it, of course. That was the bargain she made."
"Then she is dead?"
"No. She lives."
"How can she live when she is below the surface of the ocean!"
"She lives. She always will. She cheers the crew enormously."
"Who are you?"
"I believe you have guessed my name."
"Shool-an-Jyvan."
"Prince Shool-an-Jyvan, Lord of All That Is Dead in the Sea-one of my several titles."
"Give me back Rhalina."
"I intend to."
Corum looked suspiciously at the sorcerer. "What?"
"You do not think I would bother to answer such a feeble attempt at a Summoning as the one she made, do you, if I did not have other motives in mind?"
"Your motive is clear. You relished the horror of her predicament."
"Nonsense. Am I so childish? I have outgrown such things. I see you are beginning to argue in Mabden terms. It is just as well for you, if you wish to survive in this Mabden dream."
"It is a dream…?"
"Of sorts. Real enough. It is what you might call the dream of a God. There again you might say that it is a dream that a God has allowed to become reality. I refer of course to the Knight of the Swords who rules the Five Planes."
"The Sword Rulers! They do not exist. It is a superstition once entertained by the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh."