The Queen of the Swords

CHAPTER ONE The Horde from Hell

Thick smoke coiled from blazing villages, towns and cities. They were to the South-East of the River Ogyn in the Duchy of Kernow-a-Laun and it was plain that one of King Lyr-a-Brode's armies had landed on the coast, well South of Moidel's Mount.

'I wonder if Glandyth has yet discovered our leaving,' Corum said as he stared miserably from the Sky Ship at the burning land. Crops had been destroyed, corpses lay rotting in the summer sun, even animals had been needlessly slaughtered. Rhalina was sickened by what had happened to her country and she could not look at it for long.

'Doubtless he has,' she said quietly. 'Their army has plainly been on the march for some time.'

From time to time they saw small parties of barbarians in chariots or riding shaggy ponies, looting what was left of the settlements, though there was none left for them to slay or torture. Sometimes, too, they saw the refugees streaming Southwards towards the mountains where doubtless they hoped to find a hiding place.

When, finally, they came to the River Ogyn itself it was clogged with death. Corpses of whole families rotted in the river, along with cattle, dogs and horses. The barbarians were ranging widely, following the main army, making sure that nothing lived where it had passed. And now Rhalina was weeping openly and Corum and Jhary were grim-faced as they strove to keep the stink of death from their nostrils and fretted that the Sky Ship, moving faster than any horse could, did not move more swiftly.

And then they saw the farmhouse.

Children were running inside the house, shepherded by their father who was armed with an old, rusty broadsword. The mother was putting up crude barricades.

Corum saw the source of their fear. A party of barbarians, about a dozen strong, were riding down the valley towards the farm. They had brands in their hands and were riding rapidly, whooping and roaring.

Corum had seen Mabden like these. He had been captured by them, tortured by them. They were no different from Glandyth-a-Krae's Denledhyssi, save that they rode ponies instead of chariots. They wore filthy furs and bore captured bracelets and necklaces all over them, their braids laced with ribbons of jewels.

He got up and went into the wheel-house. 'We must go down,' he said harshly to Bwydyth-a-Horn. 'There is a family - it is about to be attacked…'

Bwydyth looked at him sadly. 'But there is so little time, Prince Corum.' He tapped his jerkin. 'We have to get this list of substances to Halwyg-nan-Vake if we are to rescue the city and, in turn, save Lywm-an-Esh…'

'Go down,' Corum ordered.

Bwydyth said softly: 'Very well.' And he made adjustments to the controls, looking through a viewer which showed him the country below. 'That farm?'

'Aye - that farm.'

The Sky Ship began to descend. Corum went out on deck to watch. The barbarians had seen the ship and were pointing upwards in consternation, reining in their ponies. The ship began to circle towards the farmyard where there was barely space for it to land. Chickens ran squawking as its shadow fell on them. A pig scampered into its sty.

The ship's moaning dropped in pitch as it descended.

'Have your sword ready, Master Jhary,' Corum said.

Jhary's sword was already in his hand. 'There are ten or more of them,' he cautioned. 'Two of us. Will you use your powers?'

'I hope not. I am disgusted by all that is of Chaos.'

'But, two against ten…'

'There is the steersman. And the farmer.'

Jhary pursed his lips but said no more. The ship bumped to the ground. The steersman emerged holding a long pole-axe.

'Who are you?' came a nervous voice from within the low wooden house.

'Friends,' Corum called. He said to the steersman: 'Get the woman and children on board the craft.' He vaulted over the rail. 'We'll try to hold them off while you do that.'

Jhary followed him and stood unsteadily on the ground. He was not used to a surface which did not move beneath him.

The barbarians were approaching cautiously. The leader laughed when he saw how many there were to deal with. He gave a bloodthirsty yell, cast aside his brand, drew a huge mace from his belt and spurred his pony forward, leaping the wicker barricade the farmer had erected. Corum danced aside as the mace whizzed past his helmet. He lunged. The sword caught the man in the knee and he shouted in rage. Jhary jumped through the barricade and ran to pick up the discarded brand, the other horsemen on his heels. He dashed back into the farmyard and fired the wicker work. It began to splutter as another rider leapt his horse over it. Jhary flung his poignard and it went true to the barbarian's eye. The man screamed and fell backwards off his pony. Jhary grabbed the reins and mounted the unruly creature, yanking savagely at the bit to turn it. Meanwhile the barricade was beginning to burn and Corum dodged the mace which was studded with the fangs of animals. He saw an opening, lunged again and caught the barbarian in the side. The man went forward over his pony's neck, clutching at his wound, and was borne away across the farmyard. Corum saw others trying to force their horses to brave the smoky blaze.

Now Bwydyth was helping the farmer's young wife carry a cot to the Sky Ship. Two boys and an older girl came with them. The farmer, still a little dazed by what was happening, came last, holding the rusty broadsword in both hands.

Three riders leapt suddenly through the barricade and bore down on the group.

But Jhary was there. He had recovered his poignard and he flung it again. Again it went straight into the eye of the nearest rider, again the rider fell backwards, his feet easily coming free from the leather loops he used as stirrups. Corum dashed for the pony and leapt into the saddle, flinging up his sword to protect himself from a heavy war-axe aimed at him. He slid his sword down the haft of the axe and forced the man to shorten his grip on it so that it was hard to bring back. While the man struggled to raise the axe Jhary took him from the rear, stabbing him through the heart so that his sabre-point appeared on the other side of the barbarian's body. There were more barbarians now. The farmer had hacked the legs of a pony from under one and before the warrior could disentangle himself had split him from shoulder to breastbone, using the sword rather like a woodman would use an axe.

The children and the woman were on board the ship. Corum took another barbarian in the throat and leant down to pull at the farmer who was hacking blindly at the corpse. He pointed at the ship. The farmer did not seem to understand at first, but then dropped his bloody broadsword and ran to the ship. Corum slashed at his last opponent and Jhary dismounted to recover his poignard. Corum turned the horse, extended an arm to Jhary who sheathed his weapons and took the arm, riding in the stirrup until they reached the Sky Ship. They both hauled themselves aboard. The ship was already rising through the smoky air. Two riders were left staring up at the disappearing ship. They did not look happy, for they had expected an easy slaying and now most of their number were dead and their prey was escaping.

'My stock,' said the farmer, looking down.

'You are alive,' Jhary pointed out.

Rhalina was comforting the woman. The Margravine had drawn her sword, ready to join the men if they were too hard-pressed. It lay on the seat near-by. Now she held the smallest boy in her arms and stroked his hair.

Jhary's cat peered out from a locker under the seat, was assured that the danger was over and fluttered up to settle again on its master's shoulder.

'Do you know anything of their main army?' Corum asked the farmer. The Prince in the Scarlet Robe dabbed at a minor wound he had received on his mortal hand.

'I have heard - heard things. I have heard that it is not a human army at all.'

'That may be true,' Corum agreed, 'but do you know its whereabouts?'

'It is almost upon Halwyg - if not there already. Pray, sir, where do you take us?'

'I fear it is to Halwyg,' Corum told him.

The Sky Ship sailed on over the desolated land. And now they could see that the bands of outriders were larger - plainly part of the main army. Many noticed the ship's passage over their heads and a few cast their lances at it or shot an arrow or two before returning to their burning, their raping and their murder.

It was not these that Corum feared but the sorcery which Lyr-a-Brode might now command.

The farmer was peering earthwards. 'Is it all like this?' he asked grimly.

'As far as we know. Two forces march on Halwyg - one from the East and one from the South-West. I doubt if the barbarians of Bro-an-Mabden are any more merciful than their comrades.' Corum turned away from the rail.

'I wonder how Llarak-an-Fol fared,' said Rhalina as she cradled a sleeping child. 'And did Beldan stay there or was he able to continue with our men to Halwyg? And what of the Duke?'

'We shall know all this soon, I hope.' Jhary allowed a little dark-haired boy to stroke his cat. The cat bore the assault with gravity.

Corum moved nervously about the deck, peering ahead to seek Halwyg's beflowered towers.

Then, 'There they are,' said Jhary softly. 'There's your host from Hell.'

Corum looked down and saw the tide of flesh and steel that swept across the land. Mabden horsemen in their thousands. Mabden charioteers. Mabden infantry. And things which were not Mabden - things summoned by sorcery and recruited from the Realms of Chaos. There was the Army of the Dog - huge, loping beasts the size of horses, more vulpine than canine. There was the Army of the Bear - each massive bear walking upright and carrying a shield and a club. And there was the Army of Chaos itself - misshapen warriors like those they had met earlier in the yellow abyss, led by a tall horseman in dazzling plate armour which clothed him from head to foot - doubtless the messenger of Queen Xiombarg of whom they had heard.

And just ahead of the host's leaders were the walls of Halwyg-nan-Vake, looking from this distance like a huge, complicated floral model.

Drums sounded from the ranks of the host of Hell. Harsh trumpets cried out the Mabden bloodlust. Horrid laughter rose towards the Sky Ship and howls escaped the throats of the Army of the Dog - mocking howls that anticipated victory.

Corum spat down on the horde, the stench of Chaos now strong again in his nostrils. His mortal eye changed to burning black with an iris of flaming gold as his anger seized him and he spat a second time upon the flowing vileness below. He made a noise in his throat and his hand went to the hilt of his sword as he remembered all his hatred of the Mabden who had slain his family and maimed him. He saw the banner of King Lyr-a-Brode - a crude, tattered thing bearing the Sign of the Dog and the Sign of the Bear. He sought to find his great enemy, Earl Glandyth-a-Krae, amongst the ranks.

Rhalina called, 'Corum - do not waste your strength now. Calm yourself and save your energy for the fight which must yet come!'

He sank down upon the seat, his mortal eye slowly fading back to its original colour. He panted like one of the dogs that marched below and the jewels covering his faceted, alien eye seemed to shift and glitter with a different rage from his own…

Rhalina shivered when she saw him thus, with hardly any trace of the mortal about him. He was like some possessed demi-god of the darkest legends of her people and her love of him turned to terror.

Corum buried his ruined head in his grafted, six-fingered hand and whimpered until the mood was driven out of him and he could look up and seem sane again. His rage and his fight to vanquish it had exhausted him. Pale and limp he lay back in the seat, one hand on the brass rail of the Sky Ship as it began to circle down over Halwyg.

'Not much more than a mile away,' Jhary murmured. 'They'll have surrounded the walls by the morning, if not stopped.'

'What army of ours could stop them?' Rhalina asked him hopelessly. 'Lord Arkyn's reign is to be short-lived I fear.'

The drums continued to rattle out their jubilation. The trumpets continued to blare their triumph. The howls of the Army of the Dog, the grunts of the Army of the Bear, the cacklings and shriekings of the Army of Chaos, the ground-shaking thunder of the ponies' hooves, the rumble of the iron-bound chariot wheels, the clatter of the war-gear, the creak of harness, the bellowing laughter of the barbarians, all seemed to come closer with each heartbeat as the horde of Hell swept inevitably towards the City of the Flowers.

CHAPTER TWO The Siege Begins

The Sky Ship circled lower and lower over the tense and silent city as the sun began to set and the towers echoed the sounds of the satanic horde still marching relentlessly towards it.

The streets and parks of Halwyg were packed with weary soldiers, camped wherever they could find an open space. Flowers had been trampled underfoot and edible shrubs had been stripped to feed the red-eyed warriors who had been driven back to Halwyg by the barbarian force. They were so tired that only a few looked up when the Sky Ship passed over their heads on its way to the roof of King Onald's palace. It landed on deserted battlements but almost immediately guards, in the murex-helms and the mother-o'-pearl breastplates, bearing the round shell shields of Lywm-an-Esh, with spears and swords, rushed up to apprehend them, doubtless thinking they were enemies. But when they saw Rhalina and Corum they lowered their weapons in relief. Several of them were wounded from previous encounters with the barbarian host and all looked as if they would be improved by more than a night's sleep.

'Prince Corum,' said the leader, 'I will tell the king that you are here.'

'I thank you. In the meantime I hope some of your men will help these people here, whom we saved from Lyr's men a short time back.'

'It will be done, though food is scarce.'

Corum had considered this. 'The Sky Ship here can forage for you, though it must not be endangered. It may find a little food.'

The steersman took a scroll from inside his jerkin and handed it to Corum. 'Here, Prince Corum, are the rare substances our city needs if it is to attempt to crash once again through the Wall Between the Realms.'

'If Arkyn can be summoned,' Corum told him, 'I will give him this list, for he is a god and therefore more knowledgeable about such things than any of us.' In Onald's simple room, still covered with maps of his land, they found the grim-faced king.

'How fares your nation, King Onald?' Jhary-a-Conel asked him as they entered.

'It is scarcely a nation any longer. We have been forced further and further back until barely all that's left of us is gathered here in Halwyg.' He pointed at a large map of Lywm-an-Esh and he spoke in a hollow voice. 'The County of Arluth-a-Cal - taken by the sea-raiders from Bro-an-Mabden - the County of Pengarde and its ancient capital Enyn-an-Aldarn - burned - it flames all the way to Lake Calenyk by all reports. I have heard that the Duchy of Oryn-nan-Calywn still resists them in its most Southern mountains, as does the Duchy of Haun-a-Gwyragh - but Bedwilral-nan-Rywm is completely taken, as is the County of Gal-a-Gorow. Of the Duchy of Palantyrn-an-Kenak, I do not know…'

'Fallen,' said Corum.

'Ah - fallen…'

'They close in now from all quarters it seems,' Jhary said, looking carefully at the map. 'They landed along each of your coasts and then systematically began to tighten their circle - the whole horde converging on Halwyg-nan-Vake. I would not have thought barbarians capable of such sophisticated tactics - or of keeping to them even if they thought of them…'

'You forget Xiombarg's messenger,' Corum said. 'He doubtless helped them make this plan and trained them in its manipulation.'

'You speak of the creature all in brilliant armour that rides at the head of his deformed army?' King Onald said.

'Aye. What news have you of him?'

'None that can help us. He is invulnerable, by all accounts, but, as you say, has much to do with the organizing of the barbarian army. He rides often at King Lyr's side. His name, I have heard, is Gaynor - Prince Gaynor the Damned…'

Jhary nodded. 'He figures often in such conflicts. He is doomed to serve Chaos through all eternity. So now he is Queen Xiombarg's lackey, is he? It is a better position than some he has attained to in the past - or the future - whichever it is…'

King Onald looked oddly at Jhary and then continued. 'Even without the aid of Chaos they would outnumber us ten to one. With our better weapons and superior tactics we might have resisted them for years - at least kept them on our coasts - but this Prince Gaynor advises them on every move. And his advice is good.'

'He has had plenty of experience,' said Jhary, rubbing at his chin.

'How long can you withstand a siege?' Rhalina asked the king.

He shrugged and stared miserably out of the window at his crowded city. 'I know not. The warriors are all weary, our walls are not particularly high, and Chaos fights on Lyr's side…'

'We had best hasten to the temple,' Corum said, 'and see if Lord Arkyn can be summoned.'

Through the packed streets they rode, seeing hopeless faces on all sides. Carts cluttered the broad avenues and camp-fires burned on the lawns. Half the army seemed to bear wounds of one description or another and others were inadequately armed and armoured. It hardly seemed that Halwyg could stand Lyr's first assault. The siege would not be long, thought Corum as he tried to make faster headway through the throng.

At last they reached the temple. The grounds of this were packed with sleeping, wounded soldiers and Aleryon-a-Nyvish, the priest, was standing in the entrance to the temple as if he had known they were coming.

He welcomed them eagerly. 'Did you find aid?'

'Perhaps,' answered Corum. 'But we must speak with Lord Arkyn. Can he be summoned?'

'He awaits you. He came not a few moments since.'

They strode rapidly into the cool darkness. Mattresses filled it but they were at this time unoccupied. They awaited the wounded and the dying.

The handsome shape which Lord Arkyn had chosen to assume stepped from the shadows. 'How fared you in Xiombarg's Realm?'

Corum told him what had transpired and Arkyn looked disturbed by what he heard. He stretched out his hand. 'Give me the scroll. I will seek the substances needed by the City in the Pyramid. But it will take even me some time to locate them.'

'And in the meanwhile the fate of two besieged cities is in doubt,' Rhalina said. 'Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys in Xiombarg's Realm and Halwyg-nan-Vake here. The destiny of one depends upon the other.'

'Such mirrorings are common enough in the struggle between Law and Chaos,' murmured Jhary.

'Aye - they are,' agreed Lord Arkyn. 'But you must try to hold Halwyg until I return. Even then we cannot be sure that Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys will still be standing. Our one advantage is that Queen Xiombarg now concentrates upon two battles - the one in my Realm and the one in her own.'

'Yet her messenger Prince Gaynor the Damned is here and seems to represent her adequately,' Corum pointed out.

'If Gaynor were destroyed,' Arkyn said, 'much of the barbarian advantages would go. They are not natural tacticians and without him there will be some confusion.'

'But their numbers alone represent a mighty big advantage,' Jhary said. 'And then there is the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear…'

'Agreed Master Jhary. Still, I say, your most important enemy is Gaynor the Damned.'

'But he is indestructible.'

'He can be destroyed by one as strong and as fate-heavy as himself.' Arkyn looked significantly at Corum. 'But it would take much courage and could mean that both would be destroyed…'

Corum inclined his head. 'I will consider what you have said, Lord Arkyn.'

'And now I go.'

The handsome figure vanished and they were left alone in the temple.

Corum looked at Rhalina and then he looked at Jhary. Neither met his gaze. They both knew what Lord Arkyn had asked of him - of the responsibility which had been put upon his shoulders.

He frowned, fingering the jewelled patch on his eye, flexing the fingers of the six-fingered alien hand extending from his left wrist.

'With the Eye of Rhynn and the Hand of Kwll,' he said. 'With Shool's obscene gifts which were grafted to my soul almost as wholly as they were grafted to my body, I will attempt to rid this Realm of Prince Gaynor the Damned.'

CHAPTER THREE Prince Gaynor the Damned

'He was once a hero,' said Jhary as they stood on the walls that night, peering out at the thousand campfires of the Chaos army surrounding the city, 'this Prince Gaynor. He, too, fought on the side of Law. But then he fell in love with something - perhaps it was a woman - and became a renegade, throwing in his lot with Chaos. He was punished - punished some say, by the Power of the Balance. Now he may never serve Law or know the pleasure of Law. Now he must serve Chaos eternally, just as you, eternally, serve Law…'

'Eternally?' Corum said, disturbed.

'I'll speak no more of that,' Jhary said. 'But you sometimes know peace. Prince Gaynor only remembers peace and can never, throughout all the ages, expect to find it again.'

'Not even in death?'

'He is doomed never to die, for in death there is peace, even if that death lasts only an instant before another rebirth.'

'Then I cannot slay him?'

'You can slay him no more than you can slay one of the Great Old Gods. But you can banish him. You must know how to do that, however…'

'Do you know, Jhary?'

'I think so.' Jhary lowered his head in concentration as he paced the walls beside Corum. 'I remember tales that Gaynor can be defeated only if his visor is opened and his face looked upon by one who serves Law. But his visor can only be opened by a greater force than any mortal wields. Such is the familiar condition of a sorcerous fate. It is all I know.'

'It is precious little,' Corum said gracelessly.

'Aye.'

'It must be tonight. They will expect no attack from us - especially on the first night of their siege. We must go against the Chaos Host, strike swiftly and attempt to slay - or banish, whatever it is - Prince Gaynor the Damned. He controls the malformed army and they will be drawn back to their own Realm if he is no longer present.'

'A simple plan,' said Jhary sardonically. 'Who rides with us? Beldan is here. I have seen him.'

'I'll not risk any of the defenders. They'll be needed if the plan fails.'

'We'll ride alone,' Corum said.

Jhary shrugged and sighed. 'You'd best stay here, little friend,' he told his cat.

Through the night they slipped, leading their horses whose hooves were bound in thick rags to muffle their sound, towards the Camp of Chaos where the Mabden revelled and kept poor guard.

The smell was sufficient to tell them where Prince Gaynor's hellish band was camped. The half-men shambled about in strange, ritual dances, resembling the movements of mating beasts rather than those of human folk. The stupid beast faces were slack-mouthed, dull-eyed, and they drank much sour wine to make them forget what once they had been before they had pledged themselves to the corruption that was Chaos.

Prince Gaynor sat in the middle of this, near the leaping fire, all encased from head to foot in his flashing armour. It was sometimes silver, sometimes gold, sometimes bluish steel. A dark yellow plume nodded on the helm and on the breastplate was engraved the Arms of Chaos - eight arrows radiating from a central hub, representing, according to Chaos, all the rich possibilities inherent in its philosophy. Prince Gaynor did not carouse. He did not eat and he did not drink. He merely stared at his warriors, his metal-gloved hands upon the pommel of his big sword which was also sometimes silver, sometimes gold, sometimes bluish steel. He was all of a piece, Prince Gaynor the Damned.

They had to skirt several snoring barbarian guards before they could creep into Gaynor's camp, which was set some distance from the rest of the camp, just as the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear were camped the other side. Some of Lyr's men staggered past them, but, because Corum and Jhary were swathed in cowled cloaks, hardly gave them a second glance. None suspected that the warriors of Lywm-an-Esh would come in couples to their camp.

When they reached the edge of the firelight and were close to the leaping throng of beast men, they mounted their horses and waited for a long moment while they regarded the mysterious figure of Prince Gaynor the Damned.

He had not moved once since they had first observed him. Seated on an ornate, high saddle of ebony and ivory, his hands on the pommel of his great broadsword he continued to stare without interest at the caperings of his obscene followers.

Then they rode into the circle of fiery light and Prince Corum Jhaelen Irsei, Servant of Law, faced Prince Gaynor the Damned, Servant of Chaos.

Corum wore all his Vadhagh gear - his delicate, silver-mail, his conical helm, his scarlet robe. His tall spear was in his right hand and his great round war-board was upon his left arm.

Prince Gaynor rose from where he was seated and lifted an arm to stop the revels. The legion of hell turned to regard Corum and they began to snarl and gibber when they recognized him.

'Be silent!' Prince Gaynor the Damned commanded, stepping forward in his flickering armour and sheathing his sword. 'Saddle my charger, one of you, for I think Prince Corum and his friend come to do battle with me.' His voice was vibrant and, on the surface, amused. But there was a bleak quality underlying it, a tragic sadness.

'Will you fight me alone, Prince Gaynor?' Corum asked.

The Prince of Chaos laughed. 'Why should I? It is long since I subscribed to your ideas of chivalry, Prince Corum. And I have a pledge to my mistress, Queen Xiombarg, that I must use any means to destroy you. I have never known her to hate - but she hates you, Sir Vadhagh. How she hates you!'

'It could be because she fears me,' Corum suggested.

'Aye. It could be.'

'Then you will set your whole host upon us?'

'Why should I not? If you are foolish enough to enter my power…'

'You have no pride?'

'None, I think.'

'No honour?'

'None.'

'No courage?'

'I have no absolute qualities at all, I fear - save that, perhaps - save fear, itself.'

'You are honest, however.'

A deep laugh issued from the closed visor. 'If you would believe it. Why have you come to my camp, Prince Corum?'

'You know why, do you not?'

'You hope to slay me, because I am the brain which controls all this barbarian brawn? A good idea. But I cannot be slain. Would that I could - I have prayed for death, often enough. You hope that if you defeat me you will buy time for building up your defences. Perhaps you would do so, but I regret that I will slay you and thus rob Halwyg-nan-Vake of its chief supply of brain and resourcefulness.'

'If you cannot be slain, why not fight me personally?'

'Because I would not waste time. Warriors!'

The misshapen beast-men arrayed themselves behind their master who mounted his white charger on which had been placed the high saddle of ebony and ivory. He settled his own spear in its rest and drew his own shield on to his arm.

Corum lifted his jewelled eye-patch and looked beyond Prince Gaynor and his men, into the netherworld cavern where his last victims were. Here were the Chaos Pack, all the more distorted since the Ghanh had taken them into the folds of its crushing wings. There was Polib-Bav, the pack's horse-faced leader. Into the netherworld reached the Hand of Kwll and summoned the Chaos Pack to Corum's aid.

'Now Chaos shall war once more with Chaos!' Corum cried. 'Take your prizes Polib-Bav and be released from Limbo!'

And foulness met foulness and horror clashed with horror as the Chaos Pack rushed into Gaynor's camp and began to set upon their brother beasts. Dog-thing fought cow-thing, horse-thing fought frog-thing, and their bludgeons and their carvers and their axes rose and fell in a frightful massing. Screams, grunts, bellows, groans, oaths, squeals, cackles rose from the heap of embattled creatures and Prince Gaynor the Damned looked at it and then turned his horse so that it faced Corum.

'I congratulate you, Prince in the Scarlet Robe. I see you did not rely upon my chivalry. Now, will both of you fight me?'

'Not that,' Corum said, preparing his spear and lifting himself in his stirrups so that he was now seated on the high part of his saddle, almost standing upright. 'My friend is here to report the outcome of this fight should I perish. He will only fight to protect himself.'

'A fair tourney, eh?' Prince Gaynor laughed again. 'Very well!' And he, too, put himself into the fighting position in his saddle.

Then he charged.

Corum spurred his own war-horse towards his foe, spear raised to strike, shield up to protect his face, for he lacked Gaynor's visor.

Prince Gaynor's flashing armour half-blinded him as he galloped on, then flung back his arm and hurled the great spear with all his might at Gaynor's head. It struck full against the helm but did not pierce, did not appear to dent it. However, Gaynor reeled in his saddle and did not immediately retaliate with his own spear, giving Corum time to stretch out his hand and catch the haft of his weapon as it bounced back. Gaynor laughed when he saw this and jabbed at Corum's face, but the Prince in the Scarlet Robe brought up his war-board to block the blow.

Elsewhere the grisly fight between the two parties of beast-men went on. The Chaos Pack was smaller than Gaynor's force, but it had the advantage that it had already been slain once and therefore could not be slain again.

Now both horses reared at once, hooves tangling and almost throwing their riders off. Corum flung his spear as he clung to the reins. Again it struck the Prince of the Damned who was hurled backwards from his saddle and lay in the filthy mud of his camp. He sprang up at once, his spear still in his hand and returned Corum's cast. The spear pierced the war-board and its point came a fraction of an inch to entering Corum's jewelled eye. The spear hanging in his shield, he drew his sword and charged down upon Prince Gaynor. Gaynor's helm rang with a bitter glee and now his broadsword was in his right hand, his shield raised to take Corum's first blow. Gaynor's stroke was not at Corum. but at the horse. He hacked off one of its feet and it collapsed to the ground, throwing Corum sprawling.

Swiftly in spite of his heavy plate armour, Prince Gaynor raised his sword and ran at Corum as he desperately tried to regain his footing in the mud. The sword whistled down and was met by the shield. The blade bit through the layers of leather and metal and wood but was stopped by the metal of Gaynor's own spear which was still protruding from Corum's war-board. Corum swiped at Gaynor's feet, but the Prince of the Damned leapt high and escaped the blow while Corum rolled back and at last managed to climb to a standing position, his shield all split and near useless.

Gaynor still laughed, his voice echoing in the helm that was never opened.

'You fight well, Corum, but you are mortal - and I no longer am!'

The sounds of battle had alerted the rest of the camp, but the barbarians were unsure of what was happening. They were used to obeying Lyr who had come to rely upon Gaynor's commands and now Gaynor had no time to tell Lyr what to do.

The two champions began to circle each other while to one side of them the beast-men of Chaos continued to fight to the death.

In the shadows beyond the firelight, the faces of superstitious, wide-eyed barbarians watched the fray, not understanding how this thing had come about.

Corum abandoned his shield and unslung his war-axe from his back, holding it in the six-fingered Hand of Kwll. He increased the distance between himself and his enemy, adjusting his grip on the axe. It was a perfectly balanced throwing axe, normally used by Vadhagh infantry in the old days when they had battled the Nhadragh. Corum hoped that Prince Gaynor would not realize what he intended to do.

Swiftly he raised his arm and flung the axe. It flashed through the air towards the Prince of the Damned - and was caught upon the shield.

But Gaynor staggered back under the force of the blow, his shield completely split in twain. He threw aside the pieces, took his broadsword in both hands and closed with Corum.

Corum blocked the first blow and the second and the third, being forced back by the ferocity of Gaynor's attack. He jumped to one side and aimed a darting thrust designed to pierce one of the joins in Gaynor's armour. Gaynor shifted his sword into his right hand and turned the thrust aside, taking two steps backwards. He was panting now. Corum heard his breath hissing in his helm.

'Immortal you may be, Prince Gaynor the Damned - but tireless you are not.'

'You cannot slay me! Do you not think I would welcome death!'

'Then surrender to me.' Corum was panting himself. His heart beat rapidly, his chest heaved. 'Surrender to me and see if I cannot kill you!'

'To surrender would be to betray my pledge to Queen Xiombarg.'

'So you do know honour?'

'Honour!' Gaynor laughed. 'Not honour - fear, as I told you. If I betray her, Xiombarg will punish me. I do not think you could comprehend what that means, Prince in the Scarlet Robe.' And again Prince Gaynor rushed upon Corum, the broadsword shrieking around his head.

Corum ducked under the whirling broadsword and came in with a swipe to Gaynor's legs so powerful that one knee buckled for an instant before the Prince of the Damned hopped backward, darting a glance over his shoulder to see how his minions fared.

The Chaos pack was finishing them. One by one the Creatures Corum had summoned from the netherworld were gathering in their prizes and vanishing to whence they had come.

With a cry Gaynor threw himself once more on Corum. Corum summoned all his strength to turn the lunge and thrust back. Then Gaynor closed in, grabbing Corum's sword arm and raising his broadsword to bring it down on Corum's head. Corum wrestled himself free and the blade struck his shoulder, cut through the first layer of mail and was stopped by the second.

And he was defenceless. Prince Gaynor had clung to his sword and now held it triumphantly in his left gauntlet.

'Yield to me, Prince Corum. Yield to me and I will spare your life.'

'So that you can take, me back to your mistress Xiombarg.'

'It is what I must do.'

'Then I will not yield!'

'So I must kill you, then?' Gaynor panted as he dropped Corum's sword to the mud, took a grip with both hands on the hilt of his own broadsword, and stumbled forward to finish his foe.

CHAPTER FOUR The Barbarian Attack

Instinctively Corum flung up his hands to ward off Gaynor's blow and then something happened to the Hand of Kwll.

More than once the Hand had saved his life - often in anticipation of the threat - and now it acted of its own volition again to reach out and grasp Gaynor's blade, wrenching it from the hands of the Damned Prince and bringing it rapidly up then down to dash the pommel against the top of Gaynor's head.

Prince Gaynor staggered, groaning and slowly fell to his knees.

Now Corum jumped forward and with one arm encircled Gaynor's neck. 'Do you yield, prince?'

'I cannot yield,' Gaynor replied in a strangled voice. 'I have nothing to yield.'

But he no longer struggled as the sinister Hand of Kwll grasped the lip of his visor and tugged.

'NO!' Prince Gaynor cried as he realized what Corum planned. 'You cannot. No mortal may see my face!' He began to writhe, but Corum held him firmly, and the hand of Kwll tugged again at the visor.

'PLEASE!'

The visor shifted slightly.

'I BEG THEE, PRINCE IN THE SCARLET ROBE! LET ME GO AND I WILL OFFER THEE NO FURTHER HARM!'

'You have not the right to swear such an oath,' Corum reminded him fiercely. 'You are Xiombarg's thing and are without honour or will.'

The pleading voice echoed strangely. 'Have mercy, Prince Corum.'

'And I have not the right to grant you that mercy, for I serve Arkyn,' Corum told him.

The Hand of Kwll wrenched for a third time at the visor and it came away.

Corum stared at a youthful face which writhed as if composed of a million white worms. Dead, red eyes peered from the face and all the horrors Corum had ever witnessed could not compare with the simple, tragic horror of that visage. He screamed and his scream blended with that of Prince Gaynor the Damned as the flesh of the face began to putrefy and change into a score of foul colours which gave off a more pungent stench than anything which had issued from the Chaos Pack itself. And as Corum watched the face changed its features. Sometimes it was the face of a middle-aged man, sometimes the face of a woman, sometimes that of a boy - and once, fleetingly, he recognized his own face. How many guises had Prince Gaynor known through all the eternity of his damnation? Corum saw a million years of despair recorded there. And still the face writhed, still the red eyes blazed in terror and agony, still the features changed and changed and changed and changed…

More than a million years. Eons of misery. The price of Gaynor's nameless crime, his betrayal of his oath to Law. A fate imposed upon him not by Law but by the Power of the Balance. What crime could it have been if the neutral Cosmic Balance had been required to act? Some suggestion of it appeared and disappeared in the various features that flashed within the helm. And now Corum did not grip Gaynor's neck, but instead cradled the tormented head in his arms and wept for the Prince of the Damned who had paid a price - was paying a price - which no being should ever have to pay.

Here, Corum felt as he wept, was the ultimate in justice - or the ultimate in injustice. Both seemed at that moment to be the same.

And even now Prince Gaynor was not dying. He was merely undergoing a transition from one existence to another. Soon, in some other distant Realm, far from the Fifteen Planes and the Realms of the Sword Rulers, he would be doomed to continue his servitude to Chaos.

At last the face disappeared and the flashing armour was empty.

Prince Gaynor the Damned was gone.

Corum lifted his head dazedly and heard Jhary-a-Conel's voice in his ears. 'Quickly, Corum, take Gaynor's horse. The barbarians are gathering their courage. Our work is done here!'

The Companion to Champions was shaking him. Corum got up, found his sword where Gaynor had dropped it in the mud, let Jhary help him into the ebony and ivory saddle…

… Then they were galloping towards the walls of Halwyg-nan-Vake with the Mabden warriors howling behind them.

The gates opened for them and closed instantly. Barbarian fists beat uselessly on the iron-shod timbers as they dismounted to find that King Onald and Rhalina were waiting for them.

'Prince Gaynor?' said King Onald eagerly. 'Does he still live?'

'Aye,' Corum answered hollowly. 'He still lives.'

'Then you failed!'

'No.' Corum walked away from them, leading his foe's horse, walking into the darkness, unwilling to speak to anyone, not even Rhalina.

King Onald followed him and then paused, looking up at Jhary who was lowering himself from his saddle. 'He did not fail?'

'Prince Gaynor's power is gone,' Jhary said tiredly. 'Corum defeated him. Now the barbarians have no brain - they have only their numbers, their brutality, their Dogs and their Bears.' He laughed without humour. 'That is all, King Onald.'

They all stared after Corum who, with bowed back and dragging feet, passed into the shadows.

'I will prepare us for their attack,' Onald said. 'They will come at us in the morning, I think.'

'It is likely,' Rhalina agreed. She had an impulse to go to Corum then, but she restrained it. And at dawn the barbarian army of King Lyr-a-Brode joined with the army of Bro-an-Mabden and, still with the strength of the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear, began to close in on Halwyg-nan-Vake.

Warriors were packed on all Halwyg's low walls. The barbarians had no siege engines with them, since they had relied on Prince Gaynor's strategy and his Host of Chaos in their taking of all other cities. But there were many of them - so many that it was almost impossible to see the last ranks of their legions. They rode on horses and in chariots or they marched.

Corum had rested for a few hours but had not been able to sleep. He could not rid himself of the vision of Prince Gaynor's face. He tried to remember his hatred of Glandyth-a-Krae and sought the Earl amongst the barbarian horde, but Glandyth was apparently nowhere present. Perhaps he searched for Corum still in the region of Moidel's Mount?

King Lyr sat on a big horse and clutched his own crude battle-banner. Beside him was the hump-backed shape of King Cronekyn-a-Drok, ruler of the tribes of Bro-an-Mabden. Half-idiot was King Cronekyn and well was he nicknamed the Little Toad.

The barbarians marched raggedly, without much order and it seemed that the sunken-featured king looked about him nervously as if he were not sure he could control such a force now that Prince Gaynor was gone.

King Lyr-a-Brode lifted his great iron sword and a sheet of flaming arrows suddenly leapt from behind his horsemen and whistled over the walls of Halwyg, setting light to shrubs which had dried from lack of watering. But King Onald had prepared for this and for some days the citizens had been preserving their urine to throw upon the flames. King Onald had heard of the fate of other besieged cities in his kingdom and he had learned what was necessary.

Several of the defenders staggered about on the walls beating at the flaming arrows which stuck in them. One man ran by Corum with his face burning but Corum hardly noticed him.

With a huge roar the barbarians rode right up to the walls and began to scale them.

The attack on Halwyg had begun in earnest.

But Corum watched for the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear, wondering when that would be brought against them. They seemed to be holding it in reserve and he could not quite see why.

Now his attention was forced back to the immediate threat as a gasping barbarian, brand in one hand, sword in his teeth, hauled himself over the battlements. He gave a yell of surprise as Corum cut him down. But others were coming now.

All through that morning Corum fought mechanically, though he fought well. Elsewhere on the walls Rhalina, Jhary and Beldan were commanding detachments of defenders. A thousand barbarians died, but a thousand more replaced them, for Lyr had had the sense at least to rest his men and bring them up in waves. There was no chance of such strategy amongst those who manned the walls. Every warrior who could carry a sword was being used.

Corum's ears rang with the roar and the clash of battle. He must have taken a score of lives, yet he was hardly aware of it. His mail was torn in a dozen places, he was bleeding from several minor wounds, but he did not notice that, either.

More flame arrows crossed the walls and the women and children came with buckets to douse the fires that started.

Behind the defenders was a thin haze of smoke. Before them was a mass of stinking barbarian warriors. And everywhere was the hysteria of battle. Blood splashed all surfaces. Human guts smeared the walls. Broken weapons littered the ground and corpses were piled several deep on the battlements in a vain attempt to raise the walls and stem the attack.

Below them, at the gates, barbarians used tree-trunks to try to split the iron-shod wood, but so far they had held.

Corum, only distantly aware of the noise and the sights of battle, knew that his fight with Prince Gaynor had been worthwhile. There was no doubt that Gaynor's hell-creatures and Gaynor's tactics would have taken the city by now.

But how much time was there? When would Arkyn return with the substances needed by King Yurette? And did the City in the Pyramid still stand.

Corum smiled grimly then. Xiombarg would know by now that he had slain her servant, Prince Gaynor. Her anger would be that much greater, her sense of impotence the stronger. Perhaps this would lessen the fury of her attack upon Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys?

Or perhaps it would strengthen it?

Corum strove to banish the speculations from his mind. There was no use in them. He picked up a spear, hurled by a barbarian, and flung it back so that it pierced the stomach of a Mabden attacker who clutched the shaft and swayed on the wall for a moment before toppling head over heels to join the other corpses on the ground below.

Then, soon after noon, the barbarians began to retreat, dragging their dead with them.

Corum saw King Lyr and King Cronekyn conferring. Perhaps they were wondering whether to bring up the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear. Were they considering a new strategy which would not waste so many of their men? Perhaps they did not care about the men they wasted?

A boy found Corum on the wall. 'Prince Corum, a message. Will you join Aleryon there?'

On aching legs Corum left the battlements and got into a chariot, driving it slowly through the streets to the temple.

And now the temple was packed with wounded both within and without. Corum met Aleryon at the entrance.

'Is Arkyn returned?'

'He is, prince.'

Corum strode in, looking questioningly at the prone bodies on the floor.

'They are dying,' said Aleryon quietly. 'They are hardly aware of anything. There is no need for discretion with these poor lads.'

Arkyn stepped again from the shadows. For all he was a god and the form he assumed was not his true form, he looked tired. 'Here,' he said, handing Corum a small box of plain, dull metal. 'Do not open it for the substances are very powerful and their radiance can kill you. Take it to the messenger from Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys and tell him to go back through the Wall Between the Realms in his Sky Ship…'

'But he has not the power to return?' Corum argued.

'I will manufacture an opening for him - or at least I hope I will, for I am close to exhaustion. Xiombarg is working against me in subtle ways. I am not sure I will be able to find an opening near to his city, but I will try. If it is far from his city he may be in danger trying to get back there, but it will be the best I can do.'

Corum nodded and took the box. 'Let us pray that Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys still stands.'

Arkyn gave a sardonic smile. 'Do not pray to me, then,' he said. 'For I know no better than you.'

Corum hurried from the temple with the box under his arm. It was heavy and throbbed. He climbed into his chariot, whipped up the horses and raced through the miserable avenues until he came at last to King Onald's palace. Up the steps he rushed until he came to the roof where the Sky Ship awaited him. He handed the box to the steersman and told him what Lord Arkyn had said. The steersman looked dubious but took the box and placed it carefully in a locker in the wheel-house.

'Farewell, Bwydyth-a-Horn,' Corum said earnestly. 'May you find your City in the Pyramid and may you bring it back to this Realm in time.'

Bwydyth saluted him as he took the ship into the air. Suddenly a ragged gap appeared in the sky. It was unstable. It quivered and it sparked. Beyond it a vivid golden sky could be seen, scarred with purple and orange light which shouted.

Through the gap went the Sky Ship. It was swallowed suddenly and the gap shrank behind it until there was no gap there at all.

Corum stood watching the sky for a moment before he heard a great roar suddenly go up from the walls.

A new attack must be beginning.

He ran down the steps, back through the palace, out into the street. And then he saw the women. They were on their knees. They were weeping. A board was being borne on the shoulders of four tall warriors. On the board was something covered by a cloak.

'What is it?' Corum asked one of the warriors. 'Who is dead?'

'They have slain our King Onald,' said the warrior sorrowfully. 'And they have sent the Armies of the Dog and the Horned Bear against us. Destruction comes to Halwyg, Prince Corum. Now nothing can stop it!'

CHAPTER FIVE The Fury of Queen Xiombarg

Savagely Corum whipped the horses back through the streets to the wall. A silence had fallen upon the citizens of Halwyg-nan-Vake and now, it seemed, they waited passively for the death which the victorious barbarians would bring them. Already two women had committed suicide as he passed, hurling themselves from the roofs of their houses. Perhaps they were wise, he thought.

He jumped from the chariot and ran up the steps to the wall where Rhalina and Jhary-a-Conel stood together. He did not need to listen to what they told him, for he could see what was coming.

The great dogs, eyes glaring, tongues lolling, were loping swiftly towards the city, towering over the barbarians who ran beside them. And behind the dogs came the gigantic bears with their clubs and their shields and with black horns curling from their heads, lumbering on their hind legs.

Corum knew that the dogs could leap the walls and that the bears would batter down the gates with their clubs and he reached a decision.

'To the palace!' he shouted. 'All warriors to the palace. All civilians find what cover they can!'

'You are abandoning the citizens?' Rhalina asked him, shivering when she saw that his single eye burned black and gold.

'I am doing what I can for them, hoping that our retreat will bring us a little time. From the palace we shall be able to defend ourselves better. Hurry!' he shouted. 'Hurry!'

Some of the warriors moved swiftly, in relief, but others were reluctant.

Corum stayed on the walls, watching as the soldiers straggled back towards the distant palace, herding the citizens with them, carrying the wounded.

Soon only he, Rhalina and Jhary remained on the walls, watching the dogs lope nearer, watching the bears come closer.

Then the three companions descended to the streets and began to run through the ruined, deserted avenues, past burned bushes and crushed flowers and corpses, until they arrived at the palace and supervised the barricading of windows and doors.

The howls of the dogs and the bears, the yells of the triumphant barbarians could now be heard in the distance.

A kind of peace fell over the waiting palace as the three companions climbed to the roof and stood watching.

'How long!' Rhalina whispered. 'How long, Corum, before they come?'

'The beasts? Some minutes before they reach the walls.'

'And then?'

'A few more minutes while they nose about for a trap.'

'And then?'

'A minute or two before they attack the palace. And then - I do not know. We cannot stand for long against such powerful foes.'

'Have you no other plan?'

'I have one more plan. But against so many…' His voice trailed off. 'I am not sure. I simply do not know the power…'

The howling and grunting grew louder, then stopped.

'They are at the walls,' said Jhary.

Corum arranged his torn, scarlet robe about his shoulders. He kissed Rhalina. 'Farewell, my Margravine,' he said.

'Farewell? What --?'

'Farewell, Jhary - Companion to Champions. I think you may have to find another hero to befriend.'

Jhary tried to smile. 'Do you want me with you?'

'No. '

The first of the huge dogs leapt the wall and stood panting in the street, sniffing this way and that. They saw it in the distance.

Corum left them as they watched, going back down the steps within the palace, squeezing through the barricade at the entrance and walking out down the broad path, past the gates of the palace, until he stood in the main avenue looking towards the walls.

Some bushes were burning near-by. Gardens and lawns were littered with the dead and the near-dead. A small, winged cat circled over Corum's head and then flew back towards the battlements.

More dogs had leapt the walls and, heads down, tongues panting, eyes wary, came slowly along the avenue to where the single small figure of Corum waited for them.

Behind the dogs the main gates of the city suddenly splintered, cracked and were forced down. The first of the horned bears waddled through, nostrils dilating, club ready.

Corum was seen to raise his hand to his jewelled eye then. He was seen to blanch and stagger slightly, he was seen to stretch out his sorcerous Hand of Kwll and it vanished so that it seemed he had only a stump on his wrist.

And then, all around him, frightful things suddenly appeared. Ghastly, ruined, misshapen things - the things which had been the followers of Prince Gaynor the Damned and were now loyal to Corum only because he promised them release if they would find new victims to imprison in the Cavern of Limbo.

Corum pointed with the Hand of Kwll which had now reappeared.

Rhalina turned her horrified gaze to Jhary-a-Conel who viewed the scene with a certain equanimity. 'How can such - such maimed things hope to beat those dogs and those bears and the thousands of barbarians who follow behind them?'

Jhary said. 'I do not know. I think Corum is testing their power. If they are beaten completely, then it means that the Hand of Kwll. and the Eye of Rhynn are all but useless to him and will not be able to save us if we try to escape.'

'And that is what he knew and did not speak of,' said Rhalina, nodding her beautiful head.

The creatures of Chaos began to race up the avenue towards the gigantic dogs and bears. The animals were puzzled, growling a little, but not sure whether these were friends or foes.

Scampering, malformed things they were, many with limbs missing, many with huge gaping wounds, some with no heads, some with no legs at all, so that they clung to their fellows or, where they could, propelled themselves on their hands. A wretched mob with but one advantage - and that was that they were already dead.

Down the long, desolated avenue they poured and the dogs barked, their voices reverberating among the roofs of ruined Halwyg, warning the creatures to go back.

But the creatures came on. They could not stop. To slay the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear was to assure their release from terrifying Limbo - to assure that their souls might die completely - and true death was all they sought now.

Corum remained where he was at the end of the avenue and he could not believe that such wounded creatures could possibly overcome the fierce and agile beasts. He saw that all the bears had entered the gates and that the barbarians were crowding in behind them, led by King Lyr and King Cronekyn. He hoped that even if the Chaos things were not successful a part of an hour might be granted Halwyg before the attack on the palace began.

He looked back, behind the palace, to where the roof of the Temple of Law could just be seen. Was Arkyn there? Was Arkyn waiting to see what would happen?

The dogs began to snap at the first of the Chaos creatures to reach them. One of the huge beasts flung its head back with an armless, struggling living-dead thing in its jaws. It shook it and flung it aside, but it began to crawl towards the dog again, the moment it had fallen. The dog flattened its ears and its tail drooped when it saw this.

Large as they were, thought Corum, fierce as they were, they were still dogs. It was one of the things he had counted upon.

The bears moved forward, red mouths glistening with white fangs, clubs and shields raised, striking about them with their bludgeons so that Chaos creatures were flung in all directions. But they did not die. They picked themselves up and they attacked again.

Chaos creatures clung to the fur of the dogs and the bears. One dog went down at last, threshing on its back as Corum's maimed corpses tore out its throat. Corum smiled an unpleasant smile.

But now he saw that what he feared might happen was happening. Lyr-a-Brode was leading his riders around the fighting beasts. They moved warily, but they were beginning to fill the approach to the long avenue.

Corum turned and ran back towards the palace.

Before he had reached the roof the barbarians were pouring down the avenue towards the palace, while behind them the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear still struggled with the living-dead Chaos creatures.

Arrows whirred from the windows of the palace and Corum saw that King Cronekyn was one of the first to fall with an arrow in each eye. King Lyr-a-Brode was better armoured than his brother monarch and the arrows merely bounced off his helmet and breastplate. He waved his sword in mockery of the archers and flung his barbarians against the palace. They began to batter down the barricades.

A captain of the Royal Guard came running to the roof. 'We can hold the lower floors a few moments longer, Prince Corum, but that is all.'

Corum nodded. 'Retreat as slowly as you can. We'll join you soon.'

Rhalina said: 'What did you think would happen down there, Corum?'

'I have a feeling that Xiombarg is exerting great pressures on this Realm since I destroyed Prince Gaynor. I thought she might have the power to turn those things upon me.'

'But she cannot personally come to this Realm,' Rhalina said. 'We were told that. It would be to sin against the Rule of the Balance and even the Great Old Gods will not defy the Cosmic Balance so openly.'

'Perhaps,' said Corum. 'But I am beginning to suspect that Xiombarg's fury is so great she may attempt to break through into this Realm.'

'That will mean the end of us without doubt,' she murmured. 'What is Arkyn doing?'

'Engaging himself with what he can. He cannot interfere directly in our aid - and I suspect that he, too, prepares himself for Xiombarg. Come, we had best join the defenders.'

They were two flights down when they saw the retreating warriors vainly trying to force back the roaring barbarians who pressed blindly upwards, careless of the threat of death. The captain who had earlier addressed Corum spread his hands hopelessly. 'There are more detachments elsewhere in the palace, but I fear they're as hard-pressed as us.'

Corum looked at the steps which were crowded with the invaders. The wall of guards was thin and would soon break. 'Then we must go to the roof,' he said, 'At least we will be able to hold them there a little longer. We must conserve our forces as best we can.'

'But we are defeated are we not, Prince Corum?' said the captain calmly.

'I fear so, captain. I fear so.'

And then, from somewhere, they heard a scream. It was not a human scream and yet it was plainly a scream of pure anger.

Rhalina covered her face with her hands. 'Xiombarg?' she whispered. 'It is Xiombarg's voice, Corum.'

Corum's mouth was dry. He could not answer her. He licked his lips.

The scream came again. But there was another sound with it - a humming which rose higher and higher in pitch until it hurt their ears.

'The roof!' Corum cried. 'Quickly.'

Gasping for breath they reached the roof and flung up their arms to protect their eyes against the powerful lights which swam in the sky and obscured the sun.

Corum saw it first. Xiombarg's face, contorted with insensate fury, huge upon the horizon, her auburn hair flowing as clouds might flow across the sky, a mighty sword in her hand, large enough to slice the whole world in twain.

'It is she,' groaned Rhalina. 'The Queen of the Swords. She has defied the Balance and she has come to destroy us.'

'Look there!' Jhary-a-Conel. cried. 'That is why she is here. She has followed them to our Realm! They have escaped her. All her plans were thwarted and she defied the Balance in her impotence and her rage!'

It was the City in the Pyramid. It hovered in the sky over battered Halwyg-nan-Vake, its green light flickering and threatening to fade and then bursting into increased brilliance. From the City in the Pyramid came the whining sound they had heard.

Something left the city and flew down towards the palace. Corum turned away from the image of Xiombarg's raging face and her waving sword and he watched the Sky Ship descend. In it was the King Without a Country. He held something in his arms.

The Sky Ship settled on the roof and the King Without a Country smiled at Corum. 'A gift,' he said. 'In return for your help to Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys…'

'I thank you,' Corum said, 'but this is no time --'

'The gift has powers. It is a weapon. Take it.'

Corum took the thing. It was a cylinder covered in peculiar designs and with a spade-grip at one end. The other end tapered.

'It is a weapon,' repeated Noreg-Dan. 'It will destroy those at whom you point it.' '

Corum looked at the vision of Xiombarg, heard her screaming begin again, saw her raise the sword. He pointed it at her.

'No,' said the King Without a Country. 'Not Xiombarg for she is a Great Old God - a Sword Ruler. Your mortal enemies.'

Corum rushed to the stairs and descended. The barbarians, King Lyr now leading them, had reached the last flight.

'Point it and press the handle,' called Noreg-Dan.

Corum pointed at King Lyr-a-Brode. The tall king was striding up the stairs, his braided beard fluttering, his bearing triumphant and all his huge Grim Guard behind him. He saw Corum and he laughed.

'Do you wish to surrender, last of the the Vadhagh?'

And Corum laughed back at him. 'I am not the last of the Vadhagh, King Lyr-a-Brode, as this shows you.' He pressed the grip and suddenly the king clutched at his chest, choked and fell backwards into the arms of his Guard, his tongue protruding from his lips, his grey braids falling over his eyes.

'He is dead!' shrieked the leader of the Grim Guard. 'Our king! Vengeance!'

Waving his sword he rushed at Corum. But again Corum depressed the grip and he, too, died in the manner of his king. Corum pointed the weapon several times. Each time a Grim Guard fell until there were no more Grim Guards living.

He looked back at the King Without a Country. Noreg-Dan was smiling. 'We used such things against Xiombarg's minions. That is one of the reasons why she expresses such rage. It will take her time to create new mortal things to do her work.'

'But she has defied the Balance in one thing,' Corum said. 'She may defy it in another.'

The monstrous, beautiful, furious face of the Queen of the Swords rose higher over the horizon and now her shoulders could be seen, her breasts, her waist.

'AH! CORUM! DREADFUL ASSASSIN OF ALL I LOVE!'

The voice was so loud that it made Corum's ears throb with pain. He staggered backwards against the battlements, watching, transfixed, as the great sword filled the sky and Xiombarg's eyes blazed like two mighty suns. She was engulfing the world with her presence. The sword began to fall and Corum readied himself for death. Rhalina rushed to his arms and they hugged one another.

Then: 'YOU HAVE MOCKED THE RULING OF THE COSMIC BALANCE, SISTER XIOMBARG!'

Against the far horizon stood Arkyn, as gigantic as the Queen of the Swords. Lord Arkyn of Law in all his godly finery, with a sword in his hand as large as Xiombarg's. And the city and its inhabitants were more insignificant than a tiny ant-nest and its occupants would be to two humans confronting each other in a meadow.

'YOU HAVE MOCKED THE BALANCE, QUEEN OF THE SWORDS.'

'I AM NOT THE FIRST!'

'THERE IS ONLY ONE WHO HAS SURVIVED AND HE IS THE NAMELESS FORCE! YOU HAVE RELINQUISHED YOUR RIGHT TO RULE YOUR REALM!'

'NO! THE BALANCE HAS NO POWER OVER ME!'

'BUT IT HAS…'

And the Cosmic Balance, that Corum had seen once before in a vision after he had banished Arioch of Chaos, appeared in the sky between Lord Arkyn and Queen Xiombarg, and it was so great that it dwarfed them.

'IT HAS,' said a voice that was not the voice of Xiombarg or Arkyn.

And the Balance began to tip towards Arkyn.

'IT HAS.'

Queen Xiombarg screamed in fear and it was a scream that shook the whole world and threatened to send it spinning from its course about the sun.

'IT HAS.'

The sword that was the symbol of her power was wrenched effortlessly from her hand and appeared for an instant in the bowl of the Balance which tilted towards Lord Arkyn.

'NO!' begged Queen Xiombarg. 'IT WAS A TRICK - ARKYN PLANNED THIS. HE LURED ME HERE. HE KNEW…' Her voice was fading. 'He knew… He knew…'

And the substance of Queen Xiombarg began to disperse. It drifted away like wisps of cloud and then was gone.

For a moment the Cosmic Balance remained framed in the sky, then that, too, disappeared.

Only Lord Arkyn remained now, all clothed in white radiance, his white sword in his hand.

'IT IS DONE!' said his voice and it seemed that warmth flooded through all the world.

'IT IS DONE!'

Corum cried, 'Lord Arkyn! Did you know that Xiombarg's fury would be so great that she would risk the Wrath of the Balance and enter this Realm.'

'I HOPED IT. I MERELY HOPED IT.'

'Then much of what you have asked me to do was with this in mind?'

'AYE.'

Corum thought of all the bitterness he had experienced, all the strife. He thought of Prince Gaynor's thousands of faces flickering before him…

'I could come to hate all gods,' he said.

'IT WOULD BE YOUR RIGHT. WE MUST USE MORTALS FOR ENDS WE CANNOT OURSELVES ACHIEVE.'

And then Lord Arkyn had vanished also and all that was left were the circling Sky Ships of Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys sending down invisible death to the shrieking, terrified barbarians who were scattering now all over the churned lawns, avenues and gardens of Halwyg-nan-Vake.

Beyond the walls a few barbarians were fleeing, but the Sky Ships found them. The Sky Ships found them all.

Corum noted that the Army of the Dog and the Army of the Bear had gone, as had the creatures of Chaos he had summoned to his aid. Had they been recalled by their masters - the Dog and the Horned Bear - or were they now occupying the Cavern of Limbo. He put a finger to his jewelled eye-patch but then dropped it. He could not bear, for a long time, to look upon that netherworld.

The King Without a Country came forward. 'You see how useful the gift was, Prince Corum.'

'Aye.'

'And now Xiombarg is banished from her Realm only one more Realm has a Sword Ruler. Mabelode must fear us now.'

'I am sure that he does,' said Corum without joy.

'And I am no longer a King Without a Country. I can begin to rebuild my kingdom once I have returned to my own plane.'

'That is good,' said Corum tonelessly.

He went to the battlements and he looked down at the corpse-strewn city. A few of the citizens were beginning to emerge from their houses. The power of the Mabden barbarians was ended for ever. Peace had come to Arkyn's Realm and peace, no doubt, would come to the Realm now to be ruled by his brother Lord of Law.

'Shall we return to Moidel in the sea?' Rhalina asked him softly, stroking his haggard face.

He shrugged. 'I doubt if it exists. Glandyth would have razed it.'

'And what of Earl Glandyth?' Jhary-a-Conel stroked the chin of his purring, winged cat which sat again upon his shoulder. 'Where is he? What became of him.'

'I do not think he is dead,' said Corum. 'I think I shall encounter him again. I have served Law and performed all the deeds Arkyn asked of me. But I have still to take my vengeance.'

A Sky Ship came towards them. In its prow stood the old, handsome Vadhagh Prince Yurette. He was smiling as the ship of the air settled on the roof. 'Corum. Will you guest with us at Gwlгs-cor-Gwrys? I wish to speak on matters concerning the restoration of Vadhagh lands, of Vadhagh castles - so that your land may once again be called Bro-an-Vadhagh. We will send the remaining Mabden back to their original kingdom of Bro-an-Mabden and the pleasant forests and fields will bloom again.'

And, at last Corum's gaunt face softened and he smiled.

'I thank you, Prince Yurette. We should be honoured to guest with you.'

'Now that we have returned to our own Realm, I think we shall cease our venturings for a while,' said Prince Yurette.

'And,' Corum added feelingly, 'I hope that I, too, may cease my own venturings. A little tranquillity would be welcome.'

Far out across the plain the City in the Pyramid was beginning to descend to Earth.