"So you have relearnt superstition, too," mused Corum. "Ah, what do these Mabden do to us?"
The Nhadragh began to laugh and the laugh turned into a cough and blood came out of his mouth and poured down his chin. As Corum wiped away the blood, he said, "They supersede us, Vadhagh. They bring the darkness and they bring the terror. They are the bane of beauty and the doom of truth. The world is Mabden now. We have no right to continue existing. Nature abhors us. We should not be here!"
Corum sighed. "Is that your thinking, or theirs?"
"It is a fact."
Corum shrugged. "Perhaps."
"It is a fact, Vadhagh. You would be mad if you denied it"
"You said you thought this the last of our castles.”
"Not I. I sensed there was another one. I told them."
"And they have gone to seek it?"
"Yes."
Corum gripped the being's shoulder. "Where?"
The Nhadragh smiled. "Where? Where else but in the West?"
Corum ran to his horse.
"Stay!" croaked the Nhadragh. "Slay me, I pray you, Vadhagh! Do not let me linger!"
"I do not know how to kill," Corum replied as he mounted the horse.
"Then you must learn, Vadhagh. You must learn!" cackled the dying being as Corum frantically forced his horse to gallop down the hill.
The Fifth Chapter
A LESSON LEARNED
And here was Castle Erora, her tinted towers entwined with greedy fires. And still the surf boomed in the great black caverns within the headland on which Erora was raised and it seemed that the sea protested, that the wind wailed its anger, that the lashing foam sought desperately to drench the victorious flame.
Castle Erora shuddered as she perished and the bearded Mabden laughed at her downfall, shaking the brass and gold trappings of their chariots, casting triumphant glances at the little row of corpses lying in a semicircle before them.
They were Vadhagh corpses.
Four women and eight men.
In the shadows on the far side of the natural bridge of rock that led to the headland, Corum saw glimpses of the bloody faces and he knew them alclass="underline" Prince Khlonskey, his father. Colatalarna, his mother. His twin sisters, Hastru and Pholhinra. His uncle, Prince Rhanan. Sertreda, his cousin. And the five retainers, all second and third cousins.
Three times Corum counted the corpses as the cold grief transformed itself to fury and he heard the butchers yell to one another in their coarse dialect.
Three times he counted, and then he looked at them and his face really was the face of a Shefanfaw.
Prince Corum had discovered sorrow and he had discovered fear. Now he discovered rage.
For two weeks he had ridden almost without pause, hoping to get ahead of the Denledhyssi and warn his family of the barbarians' coming. And he had arrived a few hours too late.
The Mabden had ridden out in their arrogance bora of ignorance and destroyed those whose arrogance was bora of wisdom. It was the way of things. Doubtless Corum's father, Prince Khlonskey, had thought as much as he was hacked down with a stolen Vadhagh war-axe. But now Corum could find no such philosophy within his own heart.
His eyes turned black with anger, save for the irises, which turned bright gold, and he drew his tall spear and urged his weary horse over the causeway, through the flame-lit night, toward the Denledhyssi.
They were lounging in their chariots and pouring sweet Vadhagh wine down their faces and into their gullets. The sounds of the sea and the blaze hid the sound of Corum's approach until his spear pierced the face of a Denledhyssi warrior and the man shrieked.
Corum had learned how to kill.
He slid the spear's point free and struck the dead man's companion through the back of the neck as he began to pull himself upright He twisted the spear.
Corum had learned how to be cruel.
Another Denledhyssi raised a bow and pulled back an arrow on the string, but Corum hurled the spear now and it struck through the man's bronze breastplate, entered his heart, and knocked him over the side of the chariot,
Corum drew his second spear.
But his horse was failing him. He had ridden it to the point of exhaustion and now it could barely respond to his signals. Already the more distant charioteers were whipping their ponies to life, turning their great, groaning chariots around to bear down on the Prince in the Scarlet Robe.
An arrow passed close and Corum sought the archer and urged his tired horse forward to get close enough to drive his spear through the archer's unprotected right eye and slip it out in time to block a blow from his comrade's sword.
The metal-shod spear turned the blade and, using both hands, Corum reversed the spear to smash the butt into the swordsman's face and knock him out of the chariot.
But now the other chariots were bearing down on him through the rumbling shadows cast by the roaring fires that ate at Castle Erorn.
They were led by one whom Corum recognized. He was laughing and yelling and whirling his huge war-axe about his head.
"By the Dog! Is this a Vadhagh who knows how to fight like a Mabden? You have learned too late, my friend. You are the last of your race!"
It was Glandyth-a-Krae, his gray eyes gleaming, his cruel mouth snarling back over yellow fangs. Corum flung his spear.
The whirling axe knocked it aside and Glandyth's chariot did not falter.
Corum unslung his own war-axe and waited and, as he waited, the legs of his horse buckled and the beast collapsed to the ground.
Desperately Corum untangled his feet from the stirrups, gripped his axe in both hands, and leapt backward and aside as the chariot came at him. He aimed a blow at Glandyth-a-Krae, but struck the brass edge of the chariot. The shock of the blow numbed his hands so that he almost dropped the axe. He was breathing harshly now and he staggered. Other chariots raced by on both sides and a sword struck his helmet. Dazed, he fell to one knee. A spear hit his shoulder and he fell in the churned mud.
Then Corum learned cunning. Instead of attempting to rise, he lay where he had fallen until all the chariots had passed. Before they could begin to turn, he pulled himself to his feet. His shoulder was bruised, but the spear had not pierced it. He stumbled through the darkness, seeking to escape the barbarians.
Then his feet struck something soft and he glanced down and saw the body of his mother and he saw what had been done to her before she died and a great moan escaped him and tears blinded him and he took a firmer grip on the axe in his left hand and painfully drew his sword, screaming, "Glandyth-a-Krae!"
And Corum bad learned the lust for revenge.
The ground shook as the hooves of the horses beat upon it, hauling the returning chariots toward him. The tall tower of the castle suddenly cracked and crumbled into the flames, which leapt higher and brightened the night to show Earl Glandyth whipping the horses as he bore down on Corum once again.
Corum stood over the corpse of his mother, the gentle Princess Colatalarna. His first blow split the forehead of the leading horse and it fell, dragging the others down with it.
Earl Glandyth was flung forward, almost over the edge of the chariot, and he cursed. Behind him two other charioteers hastily tried to rein in their horses to stop from crashing into their leader. The others, not understanding why they were stopping, also hauled at their reins.
Corum clambered over the bodies of the horses and swung his sword at Glandyth's neck, but the blow was blocked by a gorget and the huge, hairy head turned and the pale gray eyes glared at Corum. Then Glandyth leapt from the chariot and Corum leapt too, to come face to face with the destroyer of his family.
They confronted each other in the firelight, panting like foxes, crouching and ready to spring.