Michael Moorcock
The Queen of the Swords
BOOK ONE
In which Prince Corum meets a poet, hears a portent and plans a journey
CHAPTER ONE
What the Sea God Discarded
Now the skies of summer were pale blue over the deeper blue of the sea; over the golden green of the mainland forest; over the grassy rocks of Moidel's Mount and the white stones of the castle raised on its peak. And the last of the Vadhagh race, Prince Corum in the Scarlet Robe, was deep in love with the Mabden woman, Margravine Rhalina of Allomglyl.
Corum Jhaelen Irsei, whose right eye was covered by a patch encrusted with dark jewels so that it resembled the orb of an insect, whose left eye (the natural one) was large and almond-shaped with a yellow centre and purple surround, was unmistakably Vadhagh. His skull was narrow and long and tapering at the chin and his ears were tapered, too. They had no lobes and were flat against the skull. The hair was fair and finer than the finest Mabden maiden's, his mouth was wide, full-lipped, and his skin was rose-pink and flecked with gold. He would have been handsome save for the baroque blemish that was now his right eye and for the somewhat grim twist to his lips. Then, too, there was the alien hand which strayed often to his sword-hilt, visible when he pushed back his scarlet robe.
This left hand bore six fingers on it and seemed encased in a jewelled gauntlet (not so - the 'jewels' were the hand's skin). It was a sinister thing and it had crushed the heart of the Knight of the Swords himself - my lord Arioch of Chaos - and allowed Arkyn, Lord of Law, to return.
Corum certainly seemed a being bent on vengeance and he was, indeed, pledged to avenge his murdered family by slaying Earl Glandyth-a-Krae, servant of King Lyr-a-Brode of Kalenwyr, who ruled the South and the East of the continent once ruled by the Vadhagh. And he was also pledged to the Cause of Law against the Cause of Chaos (whose servant Lyr and his subjects were). This knowledge made him sober and manly, but it also made his soul heavy. He was also unsettled by the thought of the power grafted to his flesh - the Power of the Hand and the Eye.
The Margravine Rhalina was womanly and beautiful and her gentle face was framed by thick, black tresses. She had huge dark eyes and red, loving lips. She, too, was nervous of the sorcerous gifts of the dead wizard Shool, but she tried not to brood upon them, just as earlier she had refused to brood upon the loss of her husband, the Margrave, when he had been drowned in a shipwreck while on his way to Lywrn-an-Esh, the land he served and which was gradually being covered by the sea.
She found more to laugh at than did Corum and she was his comfort, for once he had been innocent and had laughed a great deal, and he remembered this innocence with longing. But the longing brought other memories - of his family lying dead, mutilated, dishonoured on the sward outside Castle Erorn as it burned and Glandyth brandished his weapons which were clothed in Vadhagh blood. Such violent images were stronger than the images of his earlier, peaceful life. They forever inhabited his skull, sometimes filling it, sometimes lurking in the darker corners and merely threatening to fill it. And when his revenge-lust seemed to wane, they would always bring it back to fullness. Fire, flesh and fear; the barbaric chariots of the Denledhyssi - brass, iron and crude gold. Short, shaggy horses and burly, bearded warriors in borrowed Vadhagh armour - opening their red mouths and bellowing their insensate triumph, while the old stones of Castle Erorn cracked and tumbled in the yelling blaze and Corum discovered what hate and terror were…
Glandyth's brutal face would fill his dreams, dominating even the dead, tortured faces of his parents and his sisters, so that he would often awake in the middle of the night, fierce, tensed and shouting.
Then only Rhalina could calm him, stroking his ruined face and holding his shaking body close to her own.
Yet, during those days of early summer, there were moments of peace and they could ride through the woods of the mainland without fear, now, of the Pony Tribes who had fled at the sight of the ship Shool had sent on the night of their attack - a dead ship from the bottom of the sea, crewed by corpses and commanded by the dead Margrave himself, Rhalina's drowned husband.
The woods were full of sweet life, of little animals and bright flowers and rich scents. And though they never quite succeeded, they offered to heal the scars on Corum's soul; they offered an alternative to conflict and death and sorcerous horror and they showed him that there were things in the universe which were calm and ordered and beautiful and that Law offered more than just a sterile order but sought to establish throughout the Fifteen Planes a harmony in which all things could exist in all their variety. Law offered an environment in which all the mortal virtues could flourish.
Yet while Glandyth and all he represented survived, Corum knew that Law would be under constant threat and that the corrupting monster Fear would destroy all virtue.
As they rode, one pretty day, through the woods, he cast about him with his mismatched eyes and he said to Rhalina, 'Glandyth must die!'
And she nodded but did not question why he had made this sudden statement, for she had heard it many times in similar circumstances. She tightened the rein on her chestnut mare and brought the beast to a prancing halt in a glade of lupins and hollyhocks. She dismounted and picked up her long skirts of embroidered samite as she waded gracefully through the knee-high grass. Corum sat on his tawny stallion and watched her, taking pleasure in her pleasure as she had known he would. The glade was warm and shadowy, sheltered by kindly elm and oak and ash in which squirrels and birds had made their nests.
'Oh, Corum, if only we could stay here forever! We could build a cottage, plant a garden…'
He tried to smile. 'But we cannot,' he said. 'Even this is but a respite. Shool was right. By accepting the logic of conflict I have accepted a particular destiny. Even if I forgot my own vows of vengeance, even if I had not agreed to serve Law against Chaos, Glandyth would still come and seek us out and make us defend this peace. And Glandyth is stronger than these gentle woods, Rhalina. He could destroy them overnight and, I think, would relish so doing if he knew we loved them.'
She kneeled and smelled the flowers. 'Must it always be so? Must hate always breed hate and love be powerless to proliferate?'
'If Lord Arkyn is right, it will not always be so. But those who believe that love should be powerful must be prepared to die to ensure its strength.'
She raised her head suddenly and there was alarm in her eyes as they stared into his.
He shrugged. 'It is true,' he said.
Slowly, she got to her feet and went back to where her horse stood. She put a foot into the stirrup and pulled herself into the side-saddle. He remained in the same position, staring at the flowers and at the grass which was gradually springing back into the places it had occupied before she had walked through it.
'It is true.'
He sighed and turned his horse towards the shore.
'We had best return,' he murmured, 'before the sea covers the causeway.'
A little while later they emerged from the forest and trotted their steeds along the shore. Blue sea shifted on the white sand and, still some distance away, they saw the natural causeway leading through the shallows to the mount on which stood Castle Moidel, the farthest and forgotten outpost of the civilization of Lywm-an-Esh. Once the castle had stood among woods on the mainland of Lywm-an-Esh, but the sea now covered that land.
Seabirds called and wheeled in the cloudless sky, sometimes diving to spear a fish with their beaks and return with their catch to their nests amongst the rocks of Moidel's Mount. The hooves of the horses thumped the sand or splashed through the surf as they neared the causeway which would soon be covered by the tide.