The Queen of the Swords

'Would that…'

'If I…'

'Could I…'

'Love - love - love…'

'Sad soothing songs seeking souls so soft so sensitive seeming smooth silken…'

'Stop! Stop!' begged Rhalina, but the voices went on and Corum and Jhary pulled the harder on their oars, their lips moving in pain.

'I wish - I wish - I wish - I wish…'

'Curl awake in kitten time the condemnation of my…'

'Once - once - once…'

'Help us!'

'Release us!'

'Give us peace! Peace!'

'Please, peace, please, peace…'

'Opening without resort…'

'Cold…'

'Cold…'

'Cold…'

'We cannot help you!' Corum groaned. 'There is nothing we can do!'

Rhalina was screaming now.

Only Jhary-a-Conel kept his lips tight shut, his eyes fixed on the middle distance, his body moving rhythmically back and forth as he continued to row.

'Oh, save us!'

'Save me!'

'The child is - the child…'

'Bad, mad, sad, glad, bad, sad, mad, glad, mad, bad, glad, sad…'

'Be silent! We can do nothing!'

'Corum! Corum! Stop them! Is there no sorcery at your command which will hush their voices?'

'None.'

'Aaaah!,

'Oorum canish, oorum canish, oorum canish, sashan foroom alann alann, oorum canish, oorum canish…'

'Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha…'

'Nobody, nothing, nowhere, needless misery, what purpose doth it serve, which man benefits?'

'Whisper softly, whisper low, whisper, whisper…'

'No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…'

Now Corum released one hand from his oar and slapped at his head as if trying to drive the voices out. Rhalina had collapsed completely on the bottom of the boat and he could not distinguish her cries, her pleadings and demands, from the others.

'Stop!'

'Stop, stop, stop, stop…'

'Stop…'

'Stop…'

'Stop…'

There were tears flowing down Jhary's face, but he rowed on, not once altering the rhythm of his movements. Only the cat seemed undisturbed. It sat on the seat between him and Corum and it washed its paws. To the cat the water was like any other water and thus to be avoided as much as possible. Once or twice it cast nervous glances over the side of the boat but that was all.

'Save us, save us, save us…'

Then a deeper voice, a warm, humorous, pleasant voice, cut through the others and it said:

'Why do you not join them. It would save you this misery. All you need do is to stop your rowing and leave the boat and enter the water and relax, becoming one with the rest. Why be proud?'

'No! Do not listen! Listen to me!'

'Listen to us!'

'Listen to me!'

'Do not listen to them. They are really happy. It is just that your coming disturbs them. They wish you to join them - join them - to join them - to join them…'

'No, no, no!'

'No!' screamed Corum. He plucked the oar from the row-locks and he began to beat at the waters of the lake. 'Stop! Stop! Stop!'

'Corum!' Jhary spoke for the first time. He clung to the side as the boat rocked badly from side to side. Rhalina looked up in terror.

'Corum! You will make it worse. You will destroy us if we fall into the lake!' Jhary cried.

'Stop! Stop! Stop!'

Keeping one arm on his own oar Jhary reached across and tugged at Corum's scarlet robe. 'Corum! Desist!'

Corum sat down suddenly and looked strangely at Jhary as if he were an enemy. Then his expression softened and he put the oar back in its place and began to row. The shore was not too distant now.

'We must get to the shore,' Jhary said. 'It is the only way in which we'll escape the voices. You must hang on a little longer, that is all.'

'Yes,' said Corum. 'Yes…' And he resumed his rowing and avoided looking at Rhalina's tortured features.

'Molten sleeping snakes and old owls and hungry hawks populate my memories of Charatatu…'

'Join them and all the splendid memories may be shared. Join them Prince Corum, Lady Rhalina, Sir Jhary. Join them. Join them. Join them.'

'Who are you?' Corum said. 'Did you do this to them all?

'I am the Voice of the Lake of Voices, that is all. I am the true spirit of the Lake. I offer peace and union with all your fellow souls. Do not listen to the minority of discontented ones. They would be discontented wherever they were. There are always such spirits…'

'No, no, no, no.'

And Corum and Jhary pulled even harder on their sweeps until suddenly the boat scraped up the shore and there was an angry motion in the water and a huge waterspout suddenly appeared and began to whine and roar and scream and shout.

'NO! I WILL NOT BE THWARTED! YOU ARE MINE! NONE ESCAPES THE LAKE OF VOICES!'

The water-spout assumed a form and they could see a fierce, writhing face there - a face full of rage. Hands, too, formed from the water and began to reach out for them.

'YOU ARE MINE! YOU WILL SING WITH THE REST! YOU WILL BE PART OF MY CHORUS!'

The three scrambled hastily from the boat and dashed up the shore with the water thing growing larger and larger behind them and its voice roaring louder and louder.

'YOU ARE MINE! YOU ARE MINE! I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO GO!'

But a thousand tinier voices all babbled:

'Run - run swiftly - never return - run - run - run…'

'TRAITORS! STOP!'

And the voices stopped and there was silence until the roaring creature of water bellowed once more.

'NO! YOU HAVE MADE ME DISPEL THE VOICES - MY VOICES - MY PETS! I MUST BEGIN AFRESH TO COLLECT MY CHOIR! YOU HAVE MADE ME BANISH THEM! COME BACK! COME BACK!'

And the creature grew even taller as they ran all the faster, its watery hands reaching out for them.

Then, suddenly, with a scream, it began to tumble back into the lake, no longer able to sustain its shape. They watched it fall, they watched it writhe and gesticulate in anger and then it was gone and the lake was the peaceful stretch of blue water they had first seen.

But this time there were no voices. The souls were still. By accident the three had made the creature tell its captives to be silent and had evidently broken the spell which it had had over them.

Corum sighed and sat down on the grass. 'It is over,' he said. 'And all those poor spirits are at rest now…'

He smiled at the expression of panic on the cat's face and he realized how much more horrifying their last experience had been to the little animal.

Then, when they had rested, they climbed the hill and looked down upon a desert.

It was a brown desert and through it ran a river. But it seemed that the river was not of water. It was white, like pure milk, and it was wide and it wandered lazily through the brown landscape.

Corum sighed. 'It seems to go on forever.'

'Look,' said Rhalina and she pointed. 'Look, a rider!'