Michael Moorcock - Corum 1 - The Knight of Swords

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MICHAEL MOORCOCK
The Knight of the Swords
Volume First of The Books of Corum
CONTENTS
BOOK ONE
Chapter One At Castle Erorn 14
Chapter Two Prince Corum Sets Forth 20
Chapter Three The Mabden Herd 25
Chapter Four The Bane of Beauty:
The Doom of Truth 31
Chapter Five A Lesson Learned 40
Chapter Six The Maiming of Corum 45
Chapter Seven The Brown Man 53
Chapter Eight The Margravine of Allomglyl 61
Chapter Nine Concerning Love and Hatred 67
Chapter Ten A Thousand Swords 81
Chapter Eleven The Summoning 90
Chapter Twelve The Margrave's Bargain 104
BOOK TWO
Chapter One The Ambitious Sorcerer 111
Chapter Two The Eye of Rhynn and the Hand
of Kwll 123
Chapter Three Beyond the Fifteen Planes 127
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BOOK THREE
Chapter One The Walking God 135
Chapter Two Temgol-Lep 139
Chapter Three The Dark Things Come 147
Chapter Four In the Flamelands 154
Chapter Five Through the Lion's Mouth 165
Chapter Six The God Feasters 171
Chapter Seven The Bane of the Sword Rulers 178
Chapter Eight A Pause in the Struggle 186
BOOK ONE
In which Prince Corum learns a lesson
and loses a limb
INTRODUCTION
In those days there were oceans of light and cities in the skies and wild flying beasts of bronze.
There were herds of crimson cattle that roared and were taller than castles. There were shrill,
viridian things that haunted bleak rivers. It was a time of gods, manifesting themselves upon our
world in all her aspects; a time of giants who walked on water; of mindless sprites and misshapen
creatures who could be summoned by an ill-considered thought but driven away only on pain of some
fearful sacrifice; of magics, phantasms, unstable nature, impossible events, insane paradoxes,
dreams come true, dreams gone awry, of nightmares assuming reality.
It was a rich time and a dark time. The time of the Sword Rulers. The time when the Vadhagh and
the Nhadragh, age-old enemies, were dying. The time when Man, the slave of fear, was emerging,
unaware that much of the terror he experienced was the result of nothing else but the fact that
he, himself, had come into existence. It was one of many ironies connected with Man (who, in
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12 The Knight of the Swords
those days, called his race `Mabden').
The Mabden lived brief lives and bred prodigiously. Within a few centuries they rose to dominate
the westerly continent on which they had evolved. Superstition stopped them from sending many of
their ships towards Vadhagh and Nhadragh lands for another century or two, but gradually they
gained courage when no resistance was offered. They began to feel jealous of the older races; they
began to feel malicious.
The Vadhagh and the Nhadragh were not aware of this. They had dwelt a million or more years upon
the planet which now, at last, seemed at rest. They knew of the Mabden but considered them not
greatly different from other beasts. Though continuing to indulge their tradi-tional hatreds of
one another, the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh spent their long hours in considering abstrac-tions, in
the creation of works of art and the like. Rational, sophisticated, at one with themselves, these
older races were unable to believe in the changes that had come. Thus, as it almost always is,
they ignored the signs.
There was no exchange of knowledge between the two ancient enemies, even though they had fought
their last battle many centuries before.
The Vadhagh lived in family groups occupying isolated castles scattered across a continent called
by them Bro-an-Vadhagh. There was scarcely any communication between these families, for the
Vadhagh had long since lost the impulse to travel. The Nhadragh lived in their cities built on the
islands in the reas to the north west of Bro-an-Vadhagh. They, also, had little contact, even with
their closest kin. Both races reckoned themselves invulnerable. Both were wrong.
Upstart Man was beginning to breed and spread like a pestilence across the world. This pestilence
struck down the old races wherever it touched them. And it was not
Book one 13
only death that Man brought; but terror, too. Wilfully, he made of the older world nothing but
ruins and bones. Unwittingly, he brought psychic and supernatural disrup-tion of the magnitude
which even the Great Old Gods failed to comprehend.
And the Great Old Gods began to know Fear.
And Man, slave of fear, arrogant in his ignorance, continued his sttunbling progress. He was blind
to the huge disruptions aroused by his apparently petty ambi-tions. As well, Man was deficient in
sensitivity, had no awareness of the multitude of dimensions that filled the universe, each plane
intersecting with several others. Not so the Vadhagh or the Nhadragh, who had known what it was to
move at will between the dimensions they termed the Five Planes. They had glimpsed and understood
the nature of the many planes, other than the Five, through which the Earth moved.
Therefore it seemed a dreadful injustice that these wise races should perish at the hands of
creatures who were still little more than animals. It was as if vultures feasted on and squabbled
over the paralysed body of the youthful poet who could only stare at them with puzzled eyes as
they slowly robbed hi-in of an exquisite existence they would never appreciate, never know they
were taking.
'If they valued what they stole, if they knew what they were destroying,' says the old Vadhagh in
the story, The Only Autumn Flower, `then I would be consoled.'
It was unjust.
By creating Man, the universe had betrayed the old races.
But it was a perpetual and familiar injustice. The sentient may perceive and love the universe,
but the universe cannot perceive and love the sentient. The universe sees no distinction between
the multitude of creatures and elements which comprise it: All are equal.
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14 The Knight of the Swords
None is favoured. The universe, equipped with nothing but the materials and the power of creation,
continues to create: something of this, something of that. It cannot control what it creates and
it cannot, it seems, be controlled by its creations (though a few might deceive themselves
otherwise). Those who curse the workings of the universe curse that which is deaf. Those who
strike out at those workings fight that which is inviolate. Those who shake their fists, shake
their fists at blind stars.
But this does not mean that there are some who will not try to do battle with and destroy the
invulnerable.
There will always be such beings, sometimes beings of great wisdom, who cannot bear to believe in
an insouciant universe.
Prince Corum jhaelen Irsei was one of these. Perhaps the last of the Vadhagh race, he was
sometimes known as The Prince in the Scarlet Robe.
This chronicle concerns him.
The Book of Corum
CHAPTER ONE
At Castle Erorn
At Castle Erorn dwelt the family of the Vadhagh prince, Khlonskey. This family had occupied the
castle for many cepturies. It loved, exceedingly, the moody sea that washed Erorn's northern walls
and the pleasant forest that crept close to her southern flank.
Castle Erorn was so ancient that she seemed to have fäsed entirely with the rock of the huge
eminence that overlooked the sea. Outside, it was a splendour of time-
Book one 15
worn turrets and salt-smoothed stones. Within, it had moving walls which changed shape in tune
with the elements and changed colour when the wind changed course. And there were rooms full of
arrangements of crystals and fountains, playing exquisitely complicated fugues composed by members
of the family, some living, some dead. And there were gaileries filled with paintings brushed on
velvet, marble and glass by Prince Khlonskey's artist ancestors. And there were libraries filled
with manuscripts written by members of both the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh races. And elsewhere in
Castle Erorn were rooms of statues, and there were aviaries and menageries, observatories,
laboratories, nurseries, gardens, chambers of meditation, surgeries, gymnasia, collections of
martial paraphernalia, kitchens, planetaria, museums, conjuratoria, as well as rooms set aside for
less specific purposes, or rooms forming the apartments of those who lived in the castle.
Twelve people lived in the castle now, though once five hundred had occupied it. The twelve were
Prince Khlonskey, himself, a very ancient being; his wife Colatalarna, who was, in appearance,
much younger than her husband; Ilastru and Pholhinra, his twin daughters; Prince Rhanan, his
brother; Sertreda, his niece; Corum, his son. The remaining five were retainers, distant cousins
of the prince. All had characteristic Vadhagh features: narrow, long skulls; ears that were almost
without lobes and tapered flat alongside the head; fine hair that a breeze would make rise like
flimsy clouds about their faces; large almond eyes that had yellow centres and purple surrounds;
wide, full-upped mouths and skin that was a strange, gold-flecked rose pink. Their bodies were
slim and tall and well proportioned and they moved with a leisurely grace that made the human gait
seem like the shambling of a crippled ape.
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Occupying themselves chiefly with remote, intellectual pastimes, the family of Prince Khlonskey
had had no contact with other Vadhagh folk for two hundred years and had not seen a Nhadragh for
three hundred. No news of the outside world had come to them for over a century. Only once had
they seen a Mabden, when a specimen had been brought to Castle Erorn by Prince Opash, a naturalist
and first cousin to Prince Khlonskey. The Mabden - a female - had been placed in the menageries
where it was cared for well, but it lived little more than fifty years and when it died was never
replaced. Since then, of course, the Mabden had multiplied and were, it appeared, even now
inhabiting large areas of Bro-an-Vadhagh. There were even rumours that some Vadhagh castles had
been infested with Mabden who had overwhelmed the inhabitants and eventually destroyed their homes
altogether. Prince Khlonskey found this hard to believe. Besides, the speculation was of little
interest to him or teis family. There were so many other things to discuss, so many more complex
sources of speculation, pleasanter topics of a hundred kinds.
Prince Khlonskey's skin was almost milk-white and so thin that all the vems and muscles were
clearly displayed beneath. He had lived for over a thousand years and only recently had age begun
to enfeeble him. When teis weakness became unbearable, when teis eyes began to dim, he would end
teis life in the manner of the Vadhagh, by going to the Chamber of Vapours and laying himself on
the silk quilts and cushions and inhaling the various sweet-smelling gases until he died. His hair
had turned a golden brown with age and the colour of teis eyes had mellowed to a kind of reddish
purple with pupils of dark orange. His robes were now ratteer too large for teis body, but,
although he carried a staff of plaited platinum in which ruby metal
Book one 17
had been woven, teis bearing was still proud and teis back was not bent.
One day he sought teis son, Prince Corum, in a chamber where music was formed by the arranging of
hollow tubes, vibrating wires and shifting stones. The very simple, quiet music was almost drowned
by the sound of Khlonskey's feet on the tapestries, the tap of teis staff and the rustle of the
breath in teis thin throat. '
Prince Corum withdrew teis attention from the music and gave teis fatteer a look of polite
enquiry.
`Fatteer?'
`Corum. Forgive the interruption.'
'Of course. Besides, I was not satisfied with the work.' Corum rose from teis cushions and drew
teis scarlet robe about him.
`It occurs to me, Corum, that I will soon visit the Chamber of Vapours,' said Prince Khlonskey,
`and, in reaching this decision, I had it in mind to indulge a whim of mine. However, I will need
your help.'
Now Prince Corum loved teis fatteer and respected teis decision, so he said gravely: `That help is
yours, Father. What can I do?'
`I would know something of the fate of my kinsmen. Of Prince Opash, who dwells at Castle Sam in
the East. Of Princess Lorim, who is at Castle Crachah in the South. And of Prince Faguin of Castle
Gal in the North.'
Prince Corum frowned. `Very well, Father, if. . .'
`I know, son, what you think - that I could discover what I wish to know by occult means. Yet this
is not so. For some reason it is difficult to achieve intercourse with the other planes. Even my
perception of them is dimmer than it should be, try as I might to enter them with my senses. And
to enter them physically is almost impossible. Perhaps it is my age. . .'
`No, Father,' said Prince Corum, `for I, too, have found
18 The Knight of the Sugords
it difcult. Once it was easy to move through the Five Planes at will. With . a little more effort
the Ten Planes could be contacted, though, as you know, few could visit them physically. Now I am
unable to do more than see and occasionally hear those other four planes which, with ours, form
the spectrum through which our planet directly. passes in its astral cycle. I do not understand
why this loss of sensibility has come about.' .
`And neither do I,' agreed his father. `But I feel that it must be portentous. It indicates some
major change in the nature of our Earth. This is the chief reason why I would discover something
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of my relatives and, perhaps, learn if they know why our senses become bound to a single plane. It
is unnatural. It is crippling to us. Are we to become like the beasts of this plane, which are
aware only of one dimension and have no understanding that the others exist at all? Is some
process of devolution at work? Shall our children know nothing of our experiences and slowly
return to the state of those aquatic mammals from which our race sprang? I will admit to you, my
son, that there are traces of fear in my mind.'
Prince Corum did not attempt to reassure his father. `I read once of the Blandhagna,' he said
thoughtfully. `They were a race based on the Third Plane. A people of great sophistication. But
something took hold of their genes and of their brains and, within five generations, they had
reverted to a species of flying reptile still equipped with a vestige of their former intelligence
- enough to make them mad and, ultimately, destroy themselves completely. What is it, I wonder,
that produces these reversions?'
`Only the Sword Rulers know,' his father said.
Corum smiled. `And the Sword Rulers do not exist. I understand your concern, Father. You would
have me visit these kinsmen of yours and bring them our greetings. I should discover if they fare
weil and if they have noticed
Book one 19
what we have noticed at our Castle Erorn.'
His father nodded. `If our perception dims to the level of a Mabden, then there is little point in
continuing our race. Find out, too, if you can, how the Nhadragh fare - if this dullness of the
senses comes to them.'
`Our races are of more or less equal age,' Corum murmured. `Perhaps they are similarly afflicted.
But did not your kinsman Shulag have something to say, when he visited you sonve centuries back?'
`Aye. Shulag had it that the Mabden had come in ships from the West and subjugated the Nhadragh,
killing most and making slaves of those remaining. Yet I find it hard to believe that the Mabden
half-beasts, no matter how great Iheir numbers, would have the wit to defeat Nhadragh cunning.'
Prince Corum pursed his lips reflectively. `Possibly they grew complacent,' be said.
His father tunned to leave the chamber, his staff of nuby and platinum tapping softly on the
richly embroidered cloth covering the flagstones, his delicate hand clutching it more tightly than
usual. `Complacency is one thing,' be said, `and fear of an impossible doom is another. Both, of
course, are ultimately destructive. We need speculate no more, for on your return you may bring us
answers to these questions. Answers that we can understand. When would you leave?'
`I have it in mind to complete my symphony,' Prince Corum said. `That will take another day or so.
I will leave on the morning after the day I finish it.'
Prince Khlonskey nodded his old head in satisfaction. `Thank you, my son.'
When he had gone, Prince Corum returned his attention to his music, but he found that it was
difficuit for him to concentrate. His imagination began to focus on the quest he had agreed to
undertake. A certain emotion took hold
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of him. He believed that it must be excitement. When he embarked on the quest, it would be the
first time in his life that he had left the environs of Castle Erorn.
He attempted to calm himself, for it was against the customs of his people to allow an excess of
emotion.
`It will be instructive,' he murmured to himself, 'to see. the rest of this continent. I wish that
geography had interested me more. I scarcely know the outlines of Bro-an-Vadhagh, let alone the
rest of the world. Perhaps I should study some of the maps and travellers' tales in the library.
Yes, I will go there tomorrow, or perhaps the next day.'
No sense of urgency filled Prince Corum, even now. The Vadhagh being a long-lived people, they
were used to acting at leisure, considering their actions before perform-ing them, spending weeks
or months in meditation before embarking on some study or creative work.
Prince Corum then decided to abandon his symphony on which he had been working for the past four
years. Perhaps he would take it up again on his return, perhaps not. It was of no great
consequence.
CHAPTER TWO
Prince Corum Sets Forth
And so, with the hooves of his horse hidden by the white mist of the morning, Prince Corum rode
out from Castle Erorn to begin his quest.
The pale light softened the lines of the castle so that it seemed, more than ever, to merge with
the great high rock on which it stood and the trees that grew beside the path
Book one 21
down which Corum rode also appeared to melt and mingle with the mist so that the landscape was a
silent vision of gentle golds and greens and greys tinged with the pink rays of a distant, hidden
sun. And, from beyond the rock, the sea, cloaked by the mist, could be heard retreating from the
shore.
As Corum reached the sweet-smelling pines and birches of the forest a wren began to sing, was
answered by the croak of a rook, and both fell silent as if startled by the sounds their own
throats bad made.
Corum rode on through the forest until the whisper of the sea dimmed behind him and the mist began
to give way before the warming light of the rising sun. This ancient forest was familiar to him
and be loved it, for it was here be had ridden as a boy and bad been taught the obsolete art of
war which had been considered by his father as useful a way as any of making his body strong and
quick. Here, too, he had lain through whole days watching the small animals that inhabited the
forest - the tiny horselike beast of grey and yellow which had a horn growing from its forehead
and was no bigger than a dog, the fan-winged gloriously coloured bird that could soar higher than
the eye could see and yet which built its nests in abandoned fox and badger sets underground, the
large, gentle pig with thick, curly black hair that fed on moss, and many others.
Prince Corum realised that he bad almost forgotten the pleasures of the forest, he bad spent so
long inside the castle. A small smile touched his lips as he looked about him. The forest he
thought, would endure for ever. Something so beautiful could not die.
But this thought put him, for some reason, in a melancholy mood and he urged his horse to a
somewhat faster gait.
The horse was glad to gallop as fast as Corum desired, for
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it also knew the forest and roas enjoying the exercise. It roas a red Vadhagh horse with a blue-
black mane and tail and it roas strong, tall and graceful, unlike the shaggy, wild ponies that
inhabited the forest. It roas mantled in yellow velvet and hung about with panniers, two spears, a
plain round shield made of different thicknesses of timber, brass, leather and silver, a long bone
boro and a quiver holding a good quantity of arrows. In one of the panniers were provisions for
the journey, and in another were books and maps for guidance and entertainment.
Prince Corum himself wore a conical silver helm which had his full name carved in three characters
above the short peak - Corum Jhaelen Irsei - which meant Corum, the Prince in the Scarlet Robe. It
roas the custom of the Vadhagh to choose a robe of distinctive colour and identify themselves by
means of it, as the Nhadragh used crests and banners of greater complication. Corum wore the robe
now. It had long, wide sleeves, a full skirt that roas spread back over his horse's rump, and it
roas open at the front. At the shoulders roas fixed a hood large enough to go over his helmet. It
had been made from the fine, thin skin of a creature that roas thought to dwell in another plane,
forgotten even by the Vadhagh. Beneath the coat roas a double byrnie made up of a million tiny
links. The upper layer of this byrnie roas silver and the lower layer roas of brass.
For weapons other than boro and lance, Corum bore a long-hafted Vadhagh roar-axe of delicate and
intricate workmanship, a long, strong sword of a nameless metal manufactured on a different plane
of the Earth, with pommel and guard worked in silver and both red and black onyx. His shirt roas
of blue samite and his breeks and boots were of soft brushed leather, as roas his saddle, which
roas finished in silver.
From beneath his helm, some of Prince Corum's fine,
Book one 23
silvery hair escaped and his youthful face now bore an expression that roas half introspection,
half excited antici-pation at the prospect of his first sight of the ancient lands of his kinfolk.
He rode alone because none of the castle's retainers could be spared, and he rode on horseback
rather than in a carriage because he wished to make the fastest possible speed.
It would be days before he would reach the first of the several castles he must visit, but he
tried to imagine how different these dwelling places of his kinfolk would be and how the people
themselves would strike him. Perhaps he would even find a wife among them. He knew that, while his
father had not mentioned this, it had been an extra consideration in Prince Khlonskey's mind when
the old man had begged him to go on this mission.
Soon Corum had left the forest and had reached the great plain called Broggfythus where once the
Vadhagh and the Nhadragh had met in bloody and mystical battle.
It had been the last battle ever fought between the two races and, at its height, it had raged
through all five planes. Producing neither victor nor defeated, it had destroyed more than two
thirds of each of their races. Corum had heard that there were many empty castles across Bro-an-
Vadhagh now, and many empty cities in the Nhadragh Isles which lay across the water from Castle
Erorn.
Towards the middle of the day Corum found himself in the centre of Broggfythus and he came to the
spot that marked the boundaries of the territories he had roamed as a boy. Here roas the weed-
groron wreckage of the vast sky city that, during the month-long battle of his ancestors, had
careered from one plane to another, rupturing the fine fabric that divided the different
dimensions of the Earth until, crashing at last upon the gathered ranks of the
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Vadhagh and the Nhadragh, it had destroyed them. Being of a different plane, the tangled metal and
stone of the sky city still retained that peculiar shifting effect. Now it had the appearance of a
mirage, . though the weeds, gorse and birch trees that twined around it looked solid enough.
On other, less urgent, occasions, Prince Corum had enjoyed shifting his perspective out of this
plane and into another, to see different aspects of the city, but the effort took too much energy
these days and at the present moment the diaphanous wreckage represented nothing more than an
obstacle around which be was forced to make various detours, for it stretched in a circumference
of more than twenty miles.
But at last he reached the edge of the plain called Broggfythus and the sun set and he left behind
him the world he knew and rode on towards the South West, into lands he knew only from the maps he
carried.
He rode steadily for three more days without pause until the red horse showed signs of tiredness
and, in a little valley through which a cold stream flowed, he made camp and rested for a while.
Corum ate a slice of the light, nourishing bread of his people and sat with his back against the
bole of an old oak while his horse cropped the grass of the river bank.
Corum's silver helm lay beside him, together with his axe and sword. He breathed the leafy air and
relaxed as he contemplated the peaks of the mountains, blue, grey and white in the distance. This
was pleasant, peaceful country and he was enjoying his journey through it. Once, he knew, it had
been inhabited by several Vadhagh estates, but there was no trace of them now. It was as if they
had grown into the landscape or been engulfed by it. Once or twice he had seen strangely shaped
rocks where Vadhagh castles had stood, hut they had been no more than rocks. It occurred to him
that these rocks were the transmogrified
Book one 25
remains of Vadhagh dwellings, but his intellect rejected such an impossibility. Such imaginings
were the stuff of poetry, not of reason.
He smiled at his own foofishness and settled himself more comfortably against the tree. In another
three days he would be at Castle Crachah, where his sunt the Princess Lorim lived. He watched as
his horse folded its legs and lay down beneath the trees to sleep and he wrapped his scarlet coat
about him, raised the hood and slept also.
CHAPTER THREE
The Mabden Herd
Towards the middle of the following morning Prince Corum was awakened by sounds that somehow did
not fit the forest. His horse had heard them too, for it was up and sniffing at the air, showing
small signs of agitation.
Corum frowned and went to the cool water of the river to wash his face and hands. He paused,
listening again. A thump. A rattle. A clank. He thought he heard a voice shouting further down the
valley and be peered in that direction and thought he saw something moving.
Corum strode back to where he had left his gear and he picked up his helmet, settling it on his
head, fixed his sword's scabbard to his belt, looped the axe on to his back. Then he began to
saddle the horse as it lapped the river.
The sounds were stronger now and, for some reason, Corum felt disquiet touch his mind. He mounted
his horse but continued to watch.
Up the valley came a tide of beasts and vehicles. Some of the creatures were clothed in iron, fur
and leather. Corum
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guessed that this was a Mabden herd. From the little he had read of Mabden habits, he knew the
breed to be for the urost part a migratory species, constantly on the move; as it exhausted one
area it would move on, seeking fresh game and wild crops. He was surprised to note how much like
Vadhagh arms and armour were the swords, shields and helmets worn by some of the Mabden.
Closer they came and still Corum observed them with intense curiosity, as he would study any
unusual beast he had not previously seen.
This was a large group, riding in barbarically decorated chariots of timber and beaten bronze,
drawn by shaggy horses with harness of leather painted in dull reds, yellows and blues. Behind the
chariots came waggons, some open and some with awnings. Perhaps these carried females, Corum
thought, for there were no females to be seen elsewhere.
The Mabden had thick, dirty beards, long sweeping moustaches and matted hair flowing out from
under their helurets. As they moved, they yelled at each other and passed wineskins from hand to
hand. Astonished, Corum recognised the language as the common tongue of the Vadhagh and the
Nhadragh, though much corrupted and harshened. So the Mabden had learned a sophisticated form of
speech.
Again came the unaccountable sense of disquiet. Corum backed his horse into the shadows of the
trees, continumg to watch.
And now he could see why so inany of the helmets and weapons were familiar.
They were Vadhagh helmets and Vadhagh weapons.
Corum frowned. Had these been looted from some old abandoned Vadhagh castle? Were they gifts? Or
had they been stolen?
The Mabden also bore arms and armour of their own
Book one 27
crude manufacture, obviously copies of Vadhagh work-manship, as well as a few Nhadragh artefacts.
A few had clothes of stolen sammite and linen, but for the urost part they wore wolfskin cloaks,
bearskin hoods, sealskin jerkins and breeks, sheepskin jackets, goatskin caps, rabbitskin kilts,
pigskin boots, shirts of deerskin or wool. Some had chains of gold, bronze and iron hanging round
their necks or wound about their arms or legs, or even woven into their filthy hair.
Now, as Corum watched, they began to pass him. He stified a cough as their smell reached his nose.
Many were so drunk they were almost falling out of their chariots. The heavy wheels rumbled and
the hooves of the horses plodded on. Corum saw that the waggons did not contain females, but
booty. Much of it was Vadhagh treasure, there was no mistaking it.
The evidence was impossible to interpret in any other way. This was a party of warriors - a
raiding party or a looting party, Corum could not be sure. But he found it hard to accept that
these creatures had lately done battle with Vadhagh warriors and won.
Now the last chariots of the caravan began to pass and Corum saw that a few Mabden walked behind,
C-ed to the chariots by ropes attached to their hands. These Mabden bore no weapons and were
hardly clothed at all. They were thin, their feet were bare and bleeding, they moaned and cried
out from time to time. Often the response of the charioteer to whose chariot they were attached
would be to curse or laugh and tug at the ropes to make them stumble.
One did stumble and fall and desperately tried to regain his feet as he was dragged along. Corum
was horrified. Why did the Mabden treat their own species in suck a way? Even the Nhadragh, who
were counted more cruel than the Vadhagh, had not caused such pain to their Vadhagh prisoners in
the old days.
file:///F|/rah/Michael%20Moorcock/Michael%20M...01%20-%20The%20Knight%20Of%20The%20Swords.txt (10 of 92) [6/4/03 10:48:06 PM]
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file:///F|/rah/Michael%20Moorcock/Michael%20Moorcock%20-%20Corum%201%20-\%20The%20Knight%20Of%20The%20Swords.txtscanbyironbladder|uncorrectedscan|pleasecorrectandrepost|v0.01MICHAELMOORCOCKTheKnightoftheSwordsVolumeFirstofTheBooksofCorumCONTENTSBOOKONEChapterOneAtCastleErorn14ChapterTwoPrinceCorum...

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