The King of The Swords

The First Chapter CHAOS UNBOUNDED

"Corum."

It was Rhalina's voice.

"Corum?"

"I am here."

He stretched out his right hand and tried to touch her. At last he felt her hair beneath his fingers. He encircled her shoulders with his arm.

"Jhary?" he said. "Are you there?"

"I am here. I am trying different configurations, but the crystals do not respond. Is this Limbo, Corum?"

"I assume so. If it were not that we can breathe and it is relatively warm, I would think the sky ship adrift in the cosmos, beyond the sky."

Silence.

And then a thin line of golden light could be seen, cutting across the blackness as if dividing it in two, rather like a horizon, or the crack of light from beneath a gigantic door. And while they remained in the blackness the area of blackness above the golden line began, it seemed, to move upward, like a curtain in a vast theater.

And now, though they could still not see each other, they saw the wide area of gold, saw it begin to change.

"What is it, Corum?"

"I know not, Rhalina, Jhary?"

"This Limbo might be the domain of the Cosmic Balance-a neutral territory, as it were, where no gods or mortals come in ordinary circumstances."

"Have we drifted into it by accident?"

"I do not know."

This is what they saw then:

All was huge, but in proportion. A rider spurring his horse across a desert beneath a white and purple sky. The rider had milk-white hair and it streamed behind him. His eyes were red and full of wild bitterness, his skin was bone white. Physically he somewhat resembled the Vadhagh, for he had the same unhuman face. He was an albino, clothed all in black, baroque armor, every part of it covered in fine, detailed metal-work, a huge helm upon his head, a black sword at his side.

And now the rider was no longer upon a horse. He rode a beast that somewhat resembled those which had pursued them-a flying beast-a dragon. The black sword was in his hand and it gave off a strange, black radiance. The rider rode the dragon as if it were a horse, seated in a saddle, his feet in stirrups, but he was strapped to the saddle to save him from falling. He was crying out.

And below him there were other dragons, evidently brothers to the one he rode. They were engaged in aerial battles with misshapen things with the jaws of whales. A green mist drifted across the scene and obscured it.

Now they saw the asymmetrical outlines of a gigantic castle, flowing upward to form its shape even as they watched. Battlements, turrets, towers all appeared. The dragon-rider ordered his beasts toward it and they released flaming venom from their mouths, directing it at the castle. A few others who followed the rider also sat upon the backs of the dragons.

They passed the blazing castle and came now to an undulating plain. Upon this plain stood all the demons and corrupt, warped things of Chaos, arranged as if for battle. And here, too, were gods-Dukes of Hell every one-Malohin, Xiombarg, Zhortra and more-Chardros the Reaper, with monstrous, hairless head and sweeping scythe-and the oldest of the gods, Slortar the Old, slender and lovely as a youth of sixteen.

And it was this massed might that the dragon-riders attacked.

Surely they must perish.

Fiery venom splashed across the scene and again there was only golden light.

"What did we see?" Corum whispered. "Do you know, Jhary?"

"Aye. I know. I have been there-or will be there. We see another age, another plane. The mightiest battle between Law and Chaos, Gods and Mortals, that I have ever witnessed. The white-faced one I served in a different guise. He is called Elric of Melnibone."

"You mentioned him once, when we first met."

"He is, like you, a champion chosen by destiny to fight so that the equilibrium of the Cosmic Balance might be preserved." Jhary's voice sounded sad. "I remember his friend Moonglum, but his friend Moonglum does not remember me…"

The remark seemed inconsequential to Corum.

"What does it mean to us, Jhary?"

"I do not know. Look-something else comes upon the stage."

There was a city upon a plain. Corum felt that he knew it, but then realized that he had never seen it before, for it was not like any city in Bro-an-Vadhagh or Lywm-an-Esh. Of white marble and black granite, it was simple and it was magnificent. It was under siege. Silver-snouted weapons were upon its walls, directed at the attackers-a great horde of cavalry and infantry which had pitched its tents below. The attackers were clad in massive armor, but the defenders wore light protection and they, too, like the one Jhary had called Elric, were more like the Vadhagh than like other mortals. Corum began to wonder if the Vadhagh occupied many plains.

A horseman in bulky armor rode from the camp toward the black-and-white walls of the city. He carried a banner and seemed to have come to parley. He called up at the walls and eventually a gate opened to admit him. The watchers could not see his face.

The scene changed again.

Now, strangely, the one who had been attacking the city was defending it.

Sudden glimpses of terrible massacres. The humans were being destroyed by weapons even more powerful than those possessed by the folk of Gwlas-cor-Gwrys and it was one of their own kind who directed their murder… It was gone. Golden, pure light returned.

"Erekose," murmured Jhary. "I think I see significance in these scenes. I think it is the Balance and it is hinting at something. But the implications are so profound that my poor head cannot contain them."

"Speak of them, please!" Corum begged into the darkness, his eyes still upon the golden stage.

"There are no words. I have told you already that I am a Companion to Champions-that there is only one Champion and only one Companion, but that we do not always know each other, or even know of our fate. Circumstances change from time to time, but the basic destiny does not. It was Erekose's burden that he should be aware of this-aware of all his previous incarnations, his incarnations to come. You, at least, are spared that, Corum."

Corum shuddered. "Say no more."

Rhalina said, "And what of this hero's lovers? You have spoken of his friend…"

And a new scene came upon the golden stage before she could continue.

The face of a man, wracked with pain, covered in sweat, a dark, throbbing jewel imbedded in his forehead. He drew down over this face a helm of such highly polished metal that it became a perfect mirror. In the mirror could be seen a group of riders who at first appeared to be men with the heads of beasts. Then it became plain that these heads were in fact helmets, fashioned to resemble pigs, goats, bulls, and dogs.

There was a pitched battle. There were several riders in the same polished helms. They were greatly outnumbered by their enemies in the beast masks.

One of those in the mirror helmets-perhaps the man they had first seen-held something aloft-a short staff from which pulsed many-colored rays. This staff struck fear into the beast riders and many had to be driven on by their leaders.

The fight continued.

The scene vanished, to be replaced, once more, by nothing but the pure, golden light.

"Hawkmoon," murmured Jhary. "The Runestaff. What can all this mean? You have witnessed yourself, Corum, in three other incarnations. I have never experienced such a thing before."

Corum was trembling. He could not bear to consider Jhary's words. They suggested that it was his fate to experience an eternity of battle, of death, of misery.

"What can it mean?" Jhary said again. "Is it a warning? A prediction of something about to take place? Or has it no special significance?"

Slowly the blackness descended on the golden light until there was only a faint line of gold, and then that, too, vanished.

They hung once more in Limbo.

Jhary's voice came to Corum. The tone was distant, as if the dandy spoke to himself. "I think it means we must find Tanelorn. There, all destinies meet-there, all things are constant. Neither Law nor Chaos can effect Tanelorn's existence, though her occupants can sometimes be threatened. But even I do not know where Tanelorn lies in this age, in these dimensions. If I could only discover some sign which would give me my bearings…"

"Perhaps it is not Tanelorn we should seek," Rhalina said. "Perhaps these events we have been shown indicate some different quest?"

"It is all bound up together," Jhary mused, seeming to answer a question he had put to himself. "It is all bound up together. Elric, Erekose, Hawkmoon, Corum. Four aspects of the same thing, as I am another aspect of it, as Rhalina is a sixth aspect. Some disruption has occurred in the universe, perhaps. Or some new cycle is about to take place. I do not know…"

The sky ship lurched. It moved as if along a crazily undulating track. Massive teardrops of green and blue light began to fall all around them. There was the sound of a raging wind, but no wind touched them. An almost human voice, echoing on and on and on. And then they were flying through swiftly moving shadows-the shadows of things and people all rushing in the same direction.

Below, Corum saw a thousand volcanoes, each one spewing red cinders and smoke, but somehow the cinders and smoke did not touch the sky ship. There was a stink of burning and it was suddenly replaced by the smell of flowers. The volcanoes had become so many huge blossoms, like anemones opening red petals.

Singing came from somewhere. A joyful, martial tune like the song of a victorious army. It died away. There was a laugh, cut off short.

The bulk of enormous beasts rose from seas of excrement and the beasts raised their square snouts to the skies and groaned before sinking again beneath the surface.

A mottled, pink-white plain, apparently of stones. It was not stones. The plain was comprised entirely of corpses, each one neatly laid beside the other, each one face down.

"Where are we Jhary, do you know?" Corum called, peering through disturbed air at his friend.

"This place is ruled by Chaos, that is all I know at present, Corum. What you see is Chaos unbounded. Law has no power here at all. I believe we must be in Mabelrode's Realm and I am attempting to take the sky ship out of it, but it will not respond."

"We are moving through the dimensions, however," Rhalina said. "The scenes change so rapidly. That must be the case."

Jhary offered her a desperate grin as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "We are not moving through the dimensions. This is Chaos, Lady Rhalina. Pure, unchained Chaos."

The Second Chapter THE CASTLE BUILT OF BLOOD

"It is surely Mabelrode's Realm," Jhary said, "unless Chaos has conquered suddenly and all fifteen Planes are once again under its domination."

Foul shapes flew about the sky ship for a moment and then were gone.

"My brain reels," Rhalina gasped. "It as if I am mad. I can hardly believe I do not dream."

"Someone dreams," Jhary told her. "Someone dreams, lady. A god."

Corum could not speak. His head was aching. Peculiar memories threatened to come to him, but they remained elusive.

Sometimes he would listen hard, believing that he heard voices. He would peer over the rail of the craft to see if they came from beneath the ship. He would stare into the sky. "Do you hear them, Rhalina?"

"I hear nothing, Corum."

"I cannot make out the words. Perhaps they are not words."

"Forget them," Jhary said sharply. "Pay no attention to anything of that sort. We are in Chaos lands and our senses will deceive us in every way. Remember that we three are the only realities-and be careful to inspect anything which looks like me or Rhalina very carefully before you trust it."

"You mean demons will try to make me think that they are those I love?"

"That is what they will do, call them what you will."

A huge wave advanced toward them. It took the form of a human hand. It clenched itself into a fist. It threatened to smash the boat. It disappeared. Jhary flew on. He was sweating.

A spring day dawned. They flew over the morning fields as the dew sparkled. Flowers grew in the grass and there were little bright pools of water, tiny rivers. In the shade of oak trees stood horses and cows. A little way ahead was a low, white farmhouse with smoke curling from its chimney. Birds sang. Pigs rooted in the farmyard.

"I cannot believe it is not real," Corum said to Jhary.

"It is real," Jhary told him. "But it is short-lived. Chaos delights in creation but swiftly becomes bored with what it creates for it seeks not order or justice or constancy but sensation, entertainment. Sometimes it suits it to create something which you and I would value or find pleasure in. But it is an accident."

The fields remained. The farmhouse remained. The sense of peace grew.

Jhary frowned. "Perhaps, after all, we have left the Realm of Chaos and…"

The fields gradually began to swirl, like stagnant water stirred by a stick. The farmhouse spread to become scum on top of the water. The flowers were now festering growths on the surface.

"It becomes so easy to believe what one wishes to believe," Jhary said wearily. "So easy."

"We must escape from here," said Corum.

"Escape? I cannot control the sky ship. I have not controlled it since we entered Limbo."

"Then some other force controls us?"

"Aye-but it may not be sentient." Jhary's voice was strained, his face was pale. Even the little cat was nestling hard against his neck as if seeking comfort.

Stretching to every horizon now was seething stuff, grayish-green with what looked like pieces of rotting vegetation floating in it. The vegetation seemed to assume the shapes of crustaceans-crabs and lobsters scuttling across its surface, only slightly different in shade.

"An island," Rhalina said.

Out of all this rose an island of dark blue rock. Upon the rock was a building, a great castle all colored scarlet. And the scarlet rippled as if water had somehow been molded into a permanent shape. A familiar, salty smell came from the scarlet castle. Jhary turned the ship to avoid it, but then the castle was ahead of them again. Again he turned. Again it was ahead of them. For several moments he altered the course of the sky ship and each time the castle reappeared before them.

"It seeks to stop us." Jhary tried again to avoid it.

"What is it?" Rhalina asked.

Jhary shook his head. "I know not, but it is unlike the other things we have seen. We are being drawn toward it now. That stench! It clogs my nostrils!"

Closer came the sky ship, until it hovered directly above the scarlet turrets of the castle. And then it had landed.

Corum peered over the side. The substance of the castle still rippled like liquid. It did not look solid, yet it held the sky ship. He drew his sword and looked toward a black gap in the nearby tower. An entrance. And a figure was emerging from it.

The figure was fat, about twice as broad as an ordinary man. It had a head which was essentially human but from which boarlike tusks sprouted. It moved over the rippling scarlet surface on bowed, thick legs, naked but for a tabard embroidered with a design not immediately recognizable. It was grinning at them. "I have been short of guests," it grunted. "Are you mine?"

Corum said, "Your guests?"

"No, no, no. Did I make you or did you come from elsewhere. Are you inventions of one of my brother dukes?"

"I do not understand-" Corum began.

Jhary interrupted him. "I know you. You are Duke Teer."

"Of course I am Duke Teer. What of it? Why, I do not believe you are inventions at all-not of this realm at all. How satisfying. Welcome, mortals, to my castle. How remarkable! Welcome, welcome, welcome. How exquisite! Welcome!"

"You are Duke Teer of Chaos and your liege lord is Mabelrode the Faceless. I was right, then. This is King Mabelrode's Realm."

"How intelligent! How marvellous!" The boar face split in an ugly grin and rotting teeth were displayed. "Do you bring me some message, perhaps?"

"We, too, serve King Mabelrode," Jhary said swiftly. "We fight in Arkyn's Realm to restore the rule of Chaos there."

"How excellent! But do not say you come for aid, mortals, for all my aid already goes to that other realm where Law attempts to hold sway. Every Duke of Hell sends his resources to the fight. The time might yet arise when we can go personally to do battle with Law, but that is not yet. We lend our powers, our servants, everything but ourselves-for doubtless you have learned what became of Xiombarg when he-or she, I should say, of course-attempted to cross into Arkyn's Realm. How unpleasant!"

"We had hoped for aid," Corum said, falling in with Jhary's attempted deception. "Law has thwarted us too often."

"I, as you know, am only a minor Lord of Chaos. My powers have never been great. Most of my efforts have gone-and peers may laugh-into the creation of my beautiful castle. I love it so much."

"What is it made of?" Rhalina asked him nervously. She plainly did not think they could remain undetected for long.

"You have not heard of Teer's Castle? How strange! Why, my pretty mortal, it is built of blood-it is built all of blood. Many thousands have died to make my castle. I must slay many thousands more before it is properly completed. Blood, my dear-blood and blood and blood! Can you not sniff its delicious tang? What you sniff is blood. What you see-it is all blood. Mortal blood-immortal blood-it all mingles. All blood is equal when it goes to build Teer's Castle, eh? Why, you have blood enough for part of a small wall of a tower. I could make a room from all three of you. You would be astonished to learn how far blood can be made to stretch as a building material. And it is tasty, eh?" He shrugged and waved a thick hand. "Or perhaps not to you. I know mortals and their fads. But for me-ah, it is delightful!"

"It was an honor to see the famous Castle Built of Blood," Jhary said as smoothly as he could, "but now the business of the moment presses and we must go to seek help in our fight against Law. Will you allow us to leave now, Duke Teer?"

"Leave?" The small eyes glinted. A fat, rough tongue licked the coarse lips. Teer fingered one of his tusks.

"We are, after all, upon King Mabelrode's service," said Corum.

"So you are! How superb!"

"It is urgent, our quest."

"It is rare for mortals to come directly to King Mabelrode's Realm," Duke Teer said.

"These are rare times, with two of our realms in the hands of Law," Jhary pointed out.

"How true! What is that running from the lips of the female?"

Rhalina was vomiting. She had done all she could to contain her nausea, but the stink had become too much for her.

Duke Teer's eyes narrowed. "I know mortals. I know them. She is distressed. By what? By what?"

"By the thought of Law's return," said Jhary weakly.

"She is distressed by me, eh? She is not wholly given up to serving Chaos, eh? Not a very good specimen for King Mabelrode to pick to serve him, eh?"

"He picked us," Corum said. "She merely accompanies us."

"Then she is of little use to King Mabelrode-or to you. Here, then, is what I want in return for my allowing you to see the splendor of my Castle Built of Blood…"

"No," said Corum, guessing what he meant. "We cannot do that. Let us go now, I beg you, Duke Teer. You know we must make haste! King Mabelrode will not be pleased if you delay us."

"He will not be pleased with you if you delay. Simply give me the female. Keep the flesh and bones, if you desire. All I require is the blood."

"No!" screamed Rhalina in terror.

"How stupid!"

"Let us go, Duke Teer!"

"Let me have the female first!"

"No!" said Jhary and Corum in unison. And they drew their swords, whereupon Duke Teer burst into grunting laughter that was at once mocking and incredulous.

The Third Chapter THE RIDER ON THE YELLOW HORSE

The Duke of Hell stretched as a man might stretch when awakening from a luxurious sleep. His arms grew longer, his body wider, and, within a space of seconds, he had doubled his size. He looked down on them, still laughing. "How badly you lie!"

"We do not lie!" cried Corum. "We beg you-let us be on our way."

Duke Teer frowned,. "I have no wish to earn King Mabelrode's displeasure. Yet if you truly served Chaos you would not show such silly emotions-you would give the female to me. She is useless to you, but she can be of great use to me. I exist only to build my castle, make it more elaborate, more beautiful." He began to stretch out one great hand. "Here, I will take her and then you may go your way and I'll-"

"See," called Jhary suddenly. "Our enemies! They have followed us to this plain. How stupid of them-to cross into the realm of their enemy King Mabelrode."

"What?" Duke Teer looked up. He saw the score of black flying things with their long necks and their red, jaws, the men upon their backs. "Who are they?"

"Their leader is called Corum Jhaelen Irsei," said Corum. "They are sworn enemies of Chaos and desire our deaths. Destroy them, Duke Teer, and Mabelrode will be mightily pleased with you."

Duke Teer glared upward. "Is this truth?"

"It is!" Jhary shouted.

"I believe I have heard of this mortal, Corum. Was it not he who destroyed Arioch's heart? Is he the one who lured Xiombarg to her doom?"

"He is the same!" Rhalina cried.

"My nets," muttered Duke Teer, reducing his size and hurrying back into his tower. "I will help you."

"There is enough blood in them to build a whole new hall!" Jhary yelled. He leaped for the controls and hastily passed his hands over them. They came to life and the sky ship sprang into the air.

Glandyth and his flying pack had seen them. The black beasts turned, wings sounding like thunder, and sped toward the sky ship.

But they were free of the Castle Built of Blood now and Duke Teer was engaged with his nets. He had one in each hand and he grew larger and larger, casting toward the disconcerted Earl of Krae.

Jhary's face was set. "I am going to try everything I can to hurl the sky ship from this foul dimension," he said. "It will be better to die than remain here. Duke Teer will learn soon enough that Glandyth serves Chaos and not Law. And Glandyth will tell him who we are. All the Dukes of Hell will seek us out." He removed a transparent cover and began to rearrange the crystals. "I know not what this will accomplish, but I am determined to try to find out!"

The sky ship began to oscillate throughout its length. Clinging to the rail Corum felt his entire body vibrate until he was sure he would shake to pieces. He clung to Rhalina. The ship began to dive toward a sea of violet and orange. They were flung forward, upon Jhary. The ship struck something. They passed into a liquid which stifled them. Another mighty wrench and Corum lost his grasp on Rhalina. Through the darkness he tried to find her, but she had gone. He felt his feet leave the deck of the ship. He began to drift.

He tried to call her name, but the stuff blocked his mouth. He tried to peer through it, but it stuck to his eyes.

He drifted languidly, sinking deeper and deeper. His heart began to bang against, his chest. No air entered his lungs. He knew he was dying.

And he knew Rhalina and Jhary were dying, somewhere nearby in the viscous stuff.

He was almost relieved that his quest had ended so, that his responsibility to the Cause of Law was over. He grieved for Rhalina and he grieved for Jhary, but he could not grieve for himself.

Suddenly he was falling. He saw a piece of the sky ship-a twisted rail-fall with him. He was falling through clear air but the speed of his descent still made it impossible for him to breathe.

He began to glide. He looked about him. There was blue sky on all sides-below him, above him. He spread his arms. The piece of twisted rail was still gliding with him. He looked for Rhalina. He looked for Jhary. They were nowhere in sight in all the blue vastness. There was just the piece of rail.

He called out, "Rhalina?"

There was no reply.

He was alone in a universe of blue light.

He began to feel drowsy. His eyes closed. He fought to open them but he could not. It was as if his brain refused any longer to experience further terrors.

When he awoke he was lying on something soft and very comfortable. He felt warm and he realized he was naked. He opened his eyes and saw the beams of a roof above him. He turned his head. He was in a room. Sunlight came through a window.

Was this a further illusion? The room was plainly at the top of a house, for its walls sloped. It was simply furnished. The home of a well-to-do peasant farmer, Corum thought. He looked at the varnished door with its simple metal latch. He heard a voice singing behind it.

How had he come here? It was possible that it was a trick. Jhary had warned him to beware of such visions. He drew his hands from beneath the bedsheets. On his left wrist there still remained the Hand of Kwll, six-fingered and bejeweled. He touched his face. The Eye of Rhynn, useless though it now was, still filled the socket of his right eye. On a chest in one corner all his clothes had been laid and his weapons ware stacked nearby.

Had he somehow returned to his own plane and had sanity been restored to it. Could Duke Teer have slain Glandyth and thus lifted Glandyth's spell from the land?

The room was not familiar, neither were the designs on the chest and the bedposts. This was not, he was sure, Lywm-an-Esh and it was most certainly not Bro-an-Vadhagh.

The door opened and a fat man entered. He looked amused and said something which Corum could not understand.

"Do you speak the language of Vadhagh or Mabden?" Corum asked him politely.

The fat man-not a farmer by his embroidered shirt and silk breeks-shook his head and spread his hands, speaking again in the strange language.

"Where is this place?" Corum asked him.

The fat man pointed out of the window, pointed to the floor, spoke at some length, laughed, and indicated with further gestures that Corum might like to eat. Corum nodded. He was very hungry.

Before the man left, he said, "Rhalina? Jhary?" hoping that he would recognize the names and know where the two were. The man shook his head, laughed again and closed the door behind him.

Corum got up. He felt weak but not totally weary. He pulled on his clothes, picked up the byrnie, and then laid it down again with the helm and the greaves. He went to the door and peered out. He saw a landing, varnished with the same brown varnish, a staircase leading downward. He stepped onto the landing and tried to peer below, but saw only another landing. He heard voices-a woman's voice, the laughter of the fat man. He went back into the room and looked out of the window.

The house lay on the outskirts of a town. But it was not a town like any he had seen before. All the houses had red, sloping roofs and were built of a mixture of timber and gray brick. The streets were cobbled and carts passed this way and that along them. Most of the people wore drabber clothes than those he had seen on the fat man, but they looked cheerful enough, often calling out greetings to each other, stopping to pass the time of day.

The town seemed quite large and, in the distance Corum could see a wall, the spires of taller buildings plainly more expensively built than the ordinary houses. Sometimes carriages passed by, or well-dressed men on horseback made their way through the throng-nobles or possibly merchants.

Corum rubbed his head and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He tried to think clearly. The evidence was that he was on another plane. And there seemed to be no battle between Law or Chaos here. Everyone was, as far as he could tell, leading ordinary, sedate lives. Yet he had it both from Lord Arkyn and from Duke Teer that every one of the Fifteen Planes was in conflict as Law fought Chaos. Was this some plane ruled by Arkyn or his brother which had not yet succumbed? It was unlikely. And he could not speak the language while they could not understand him. That had never happened to him before. Jhary's rearrangement of the crystals before the sky ship had been destroyed had evidently produced a drastic result. He was cut off from anything he knew. He might never learn where he was. And all this suggested that Rhalina and Jhary, if they lived, were similarly abandoned on some unfamiliar plane.

The fat man opened the door and an equally fat woman in voluminous white skirts entered the room with a tray on which was arranged meat, vegetables, fruit, and a steaming bowl of soup. She smiled at him and offered him the tray rather as if she were offering food to a caged wild animal. He bowed and smiled and took the tray. She was careful to avoid touching his six-fingered hand.

"You are land," said Corum, knowing she would not understand, but wishing her to know that he was grateful. While they watched, he began to eat. The food was not particularly well-cooked or flavored, but he was hungry. He ate it all as gracefully as he could and eventually, with another bow, returned the tray to the silent pair.

He had eaten too much too swiftly and his stomach felt heavy. He had never been much attracted to Mabden food at any time and this was coarser than most. But he made a great pretense of being satisfied, for he had become unused to kindness of late.

Now the fat man asked another question. It sounded like a single word. "Fenk?"

"Fenk?" said Corum and shook his head.

"Fenk?"

Again Corum shook his head.

"Pannis?"

Another shake of the head. There were several more questions of the same sort-just a single word-and each time Corum indicated that he did not understand. Now it was his turn. He tried several words in the Mabden dialect, a language derived from Vadhagh. The man did not understand. He pointed at Corum's six-fingered hand, frowning, pulling at one of his own hands, chopping at it, until Corum realized that he was asking if the hand had been lost in battle and this was an artificial one. Corum nodded rapidly and smiled, tapping at his eye also. The man seemed satisfied but extremely curious. He inspected the hand, marveling. Doubtless he believed it to be mortal work and Corum could not explain that it had been grafted to him by means of sorcery. The man indicated that Corum should come with him through the door. Corum willingly consented and was led down the stairs and into what was plainly a workshop.

And now he understood. The man was a maker of artificial limbs. He was plainly experimenting with many different lands. There were wooden, bone, and metal legs, some of them of very complicated manufacture. There were hands carved from ivory or made of jointed steel. There were arms, feet, even something which seemed to be a steel rib cage. There were also many anatomical drawings in a peculiar, alien style and Corum was fascinated by them. He saw a pile of scrolls bound into single sheets between leather covers and he opened one. It seemed to be a book concerning medicine. Although cruder in design and although the strange, angular letters were not at all beautiful in themselves, the book seemed as sophisticated as many which the Vadhagh had created before the coming of the Mabden. He tapped the book and made an approving noise.

"It is good," he said.

The man smiled and tapped again at Corum's hand. Corum wondered what the doctor would say if he could explain how he came by it. The poor man would probably be horrified or, perhaps more likely, convinced that Corum was mad, as Corum would have been before he began to encounter sorcery.

Corum let the doctor inspect the eyepatch and the peculiar eye beneath it.

This puzzled the fat man even more. He shook his head, frowning. Corum lowered the patch back over the eye. He half wished that he could demonstrate to the doctor exactly what the eye and the hand were used for.

Corum began to guess how he had come here. Evidently some citizens had found him unconscious and sent for the doctor, or brought Corum to the doctor. The doctor, obsessed with his study of artificial limbs, had been only too pleased to take Corum in, though what he had made of Corum's arms and armor the Prince in the Scarlet Robe did not know.

But now Corum became filled with a sense of urgency, with fears for Rhalina and Jhary. If they were in this world he must find them. It was even possible that Jhary, who had traveled so often between the planes, could speak the language. He took up a piece of blank parchment and a quill, dipped the quill in ink (it was little different to the pens used by the Mabden) and drew a picture of a man and a woman. He held up two fingers and pointed outside, frowning and gesturing to show that he did not know where they were. The fat doctor nodded vigorously, understanding. But then he showed, almost comically, that he did not know where Jhary and Rhalina were, that he had not seen them, that Corum had been found alone.

"I must look for them," Corum said urgently, pointing to himself and then pointing out of the house. The doctor understood and nodded. He thought for a moment and then signed for Corum to stay there. He left and returned wearing a jerkin. He gave Corum a plain cloak to wrap around his clothes, which were, for the place, outlandish. Together they left the house.

Many glanced at Corum as he and the doctor walked through the streets. Obviously the news of the stranger had gone everywhere. The doctor led Corum through the crowds and beneath an arch through the wall. A white, dusty road led through fields. There were one or two farmhouses in the distance.

They came eventually to a small wood and here the doctor stopped, showing Corum where he had been found. Corum looked about him and at last discovered the thing he sought. It was the twisted rail of the sky ship. He showed it to the doctor, who had certainly seen nothing like it, for he gasped in astonishment, turning it this way and that in his hands.

It was proof to Corum that he had not gone mad, that he had but recently left the realm of Chaos.

He looked around him at the peaceful scenery. Were there really such places where the eternal struggle was unknown? He began to feel jealous of the inhabitants of this plane. Doubtless they had their own sorrows and discomforts. Evidently there was war and pain, for why else would the doctor be so interested in making artificial limbs? And yet there was a sense of order here and he was sure that no gods-either of Law or of Chaos-existed here. But he knew that it would be stupid to entertain the idea of remaining here, for he was not like them, he hardly resembled them physically, even. He wondered what speculations the doctor had made to explain his coming here.

He began to walk amongst the trees, calling out the names of Rhalina and Jhary.

He heard a cry later and whirled round, hoping it was the woman he loved. But it was not. It was a tall, grim-faced man in a black gown, striding across the fields toward them, his gray hair blowing in the breeze. The doctor approached him and they began to converse, looking often at Corum, who stood watching them. There was a dispute between them and both became angrier. The newcomer pointed a long, accusing finger at Corum and waved his other hand.

Corum felt trepidation, wishing he had brought his sword with him.

Suddenly the man in the robe turned and marched back toward the town, leaving the doctor frowning and rubbing at his jowl.

Corum became nervous, sensing that something was wrong, that the man in the robe objected to his presence in the town, was suspicious of his peculiar physical appearance. And the man in the robe also seemed to have more authority than the doctor. And far less sympathy for Corum.

Head bowed, the doctor moved toward Corum. He raised his head, his lips pursed. He murmured something in his own language, speaking to Corum as a man might speak to a pet for which he had great affection-a pet which was about to be killed or sent away.

Corum decided that he must have his armor and weapons at once. He pointed toward the town and began to walk back. The doctor followed, still deep in worried thought

Back in the doctor's house Corum donned his silver byrnie, his silver greaves, and his silver helm. He buckled on his long strong sword and looped his bow, his arrows, and his lance upon his back. He realized that he looked more incongruous than ever, but he also felt more secure. He looked out of the window at the street. Night was falling. Only a few people walked in the town now. He left the room and went down the stairs to the main door of the house. The doctor shouted at him and tried to stop him from leaving, but Corum gently brushed him aside, opened the latch, and went out.

The doctor called to him-a warning cry. But Corum ignored it, both because he did not need to be warned of potential danger and also because he did not see why the kindly man should share his danger. He strode into the night.

Few saw him. None stopped him or even tried to do so, though they peered curiously at him and laughed among themselves, evidently taking him for an idiot. It was better that they laughed at him than feared him, or else the danger would have been much increased, thought Corum.

He strode through the streets for some time until he came to a partially ruined house which had been deserted. He decided that he would make this his resting place for the night, hiding here until he could think of his next action.

He stumbled through the broken door and rats fled as he entered. He climbed the swaying staircase until he came to a room with a window through which he could observe the street. He was hardly aware of his own reasons for leaving the doctor's house, save that he did not wish to become involved with the man in the robe. If they were seriously trying to find him, then, of course, they would discover him soon enough. But if they had a little superstition, they might think he had vanished as mysteriously as he had arrived.

He settled down to sleep, ignoring the sound the rats made.

He woke at dawn and peered down into the street. This seemed to be the main street of the city and it was already alive with tradesmen and others, some with donkeys or horses, others with handcarts, calling out greetings to each other.

He smelled fresh bread and began to feel hungry, but curbed his impulse, when a baker's cart stopped immediately beneath nun, to sneak out and steal a loaf. He dozed again. When it was night, he would try to find a horse and leave the city behind him, seek other towns where there might be news of Rhalina or Jhary.

Toward midday he heard a great deal of cheering in the street and he edged his way to the window.

There were flags waving and a band of some sort was playing raucous music. A procession was marching through the streets-a martial procession by the look of it, for many of the riders were undoubtably warriors in their steel breastplates and with their swords and lances.

In the middle of the procession, hardly acknowledging the crowd's cheers, was the man who was the object of their celebration. He rode a big yellow horse and he wore a high-collared red cloak which at first hid his face from Corum. There was a hat on his head, a sword at his side. He was frowning a little.

Then Corum saw with mild surprise that the man's left hand was missing. He clutched his reins in a specially made hook device. The warrior turned his head and Corum was this time completely astonished. He gasped, for the man on the yellow horse had an eye patch over his right eye. And, though his face was of the Mabden cast, he bore a strong resemblance to Corum.

Corum stood up, about to cry out to the man who was almost his double. But then he felt a hand close over his mouth and strong arms bear him down to the floor.

He wrenched his head about to see who attacked him. His eyes widened.

"Jhary!" he said. "So you are on this plane! And Rhalina? Have you see her?"

The dandy, who was dressed in the clothes of the local inhabitants, shook his head. "I have not. I had hoped that you and she stayed together. You have made yourself conspicuous here, I gather."

"Do you know this plane?"

"I know it vaguely. I can speak one or two of their languages."

"And the man on the yellow horse-who is he?"

"He is the reason why you should leave here as soon as possible. He is yourself, Corum. He is your incarnation on this plane in this age. And it goes against all the laws of the cosmos that you and he should occupy the same plane at the same time. We are in great danger, Corum, but these folk could also be in danger if we continue-however unwittingly-to disrupt the order, the very balance of the multiverse."

The Fourth Chapter THE MANOR IN THE FOREST

"You know this world, Jhary?"

The dandy put a finger to his lips and drew Corum into the shadows as the parade went by. "I know most worlds," he murmured, "but this less well then many. The sky ship's destruction flung us through time as well as through the dimensions and we are marooned in a world whose logic is in most cases essentially different. Secondly our 'selves' exist here and we therefore threaten to upset the fine balance of this age and, doubtless, others, too. To create paradoxes in a world not used to them would be dangerous, you see…"

"Then let us leave this world with all speed! Let us find Rhalina and go!"

Jhary smiled. "We cannot leave an age and a plane as we would leave a room, as you well know. Besides, I do not believe Rhalina to be here if she has not been seen. But that can be discovered. There used to be a lady not far from here who was something of a seeress. I am hoping that she will help us. The folk of this age have an uncommon respect for people like ourselves-though often that respect turns to hatred and they hound us. You know you are sought by a priest who wants to burn you at the stake?"

"I knew a man disliked me."

Jhary laughed. "Aye-disliked you enough to want to torture you to death. He is a dignitary of their religion. He has great power and has already called out warriors to search for you. We must get horses as soon as possible."

Jhary paced the rickety floor, stroking his chin. "We must return to the Fifteen Planes with all speed. We have no right to be here…"

"And no wish to be," Corum reminded him.

Outside the sound of pipes and drums faded and the crowd began to disperse.

"I remember her name now!" Jhary muttered. He snapped his fingers. "It is the Lady Jane Pentallyon and she dwells in a house close to a village called Warleggon."

"These are strange names, Jhary-a-Conel!"

"No stranger than ours are to them. We must make speed for Warleggon as soon as possible and we must pray that Lady Jane Pentallyon is in residence and has not, herself, been burned by now."

Corum stepped closer to the window and glanced down. "The priest comes," he said, "with his men."

"I thought it likely you would be seen entering here. They have waited until after the parade lest you escaped in the confusion. I like not the thought of killing them, when we have no business in their age at all…"

"And I like not the thought of being killed," Corum pointed out. He drew his long, strong sword and made for the stairs.

He was halfway down when the first of them burst in, the priest in the gown at their head. He called out to them and made a sign at Corum-doubtless some superstitious Mabden charm. Corum sprang forward and stabbed him in the throat, his single eye blazing fiercely. The warriors gasped at this. Evidently they had not expected their leader to die so soon. They hesitated in the doorway.

Jhary said softly from behind Corum, "That was foolish. They take it ill when their holy men are slain. Now the whole town will be against us and our leavetaking will be the harder."

Corum shrugged and began to advance toward the three warriors crowded in the doorway. "These men have horses. Let us take them and have done with it, Jhary. I am weary of hesitation. Defend yourselves, Mabden!"

The Mabden parried his thrusts but, in so doing, became entangled with each other. Corum took one in the heart and wounded another in the hand. The pair fled into thestreet yelling.

Corum and Jhary followed, though Jhary's face was set and disapproving. He preferred subtler plans than this. But his own sword whisked out to take the life of a mounted man who tried to ride him down and he pushed the body from the saddle, leaping upon the back of the horse. It reared and arched its neck but Jhary got it under control and defended himself against two more who came at him from the end of the street.

Corum was still on his feet. He used his jeweled hand as a club, forcing his way through to where several horses stood without riders. The Mabden were terrified, it seemed, of the touch of his six-fingered, alien hand and dodged to avoid it. Two more died before Corum reached the horses and sprang into the saddle. He called out, "Which way, Jhary?"

"This way!" Without looking behind him, Jhary galloped the horse down the street.

Striking aside one who tried to grab at his reins, Corum followed the dandy. A great hubbub began to spread through the city as they raced toward the west wall.

Tradesmen and peasants tried to block their path, they were forced to leap over carts and force a path through cattle or sheep. More warriors were coming, too, from two sides.

And then they had ducked under the archway and were through the low wall and riding swiftly down the white, dusty road away from the city, a pack of warriors at their backs.

Arrows began to whistle past their heads as archers came to the walls and shot at them. Corum was astonished at the range of the bowmen. "Are these sorcerous arrows, Jhary?"

"No! It is a land of bow unknown in your age. These people are masters of it. We are lucky, however, that it is too bulky a bow to be shot from a horse. There, see, the arrows are beginning to fall short. But the horsemen stay with us. Into yonder wood, Corum. Swiftly!"

They plunged off the road and into a deep, sweet-smelling forest, leaping a small stream, the horses' hooves slipping for a moment in damp moss.

"How will the doctor fare?" Corum called. "The one who took me in."

"He will die unless he is clever and denounces you," Jhary told him.

"But he was a man of great intelligence and humanity. A man of science, too-of learning."

"All the more reason for killing him, if their priesthood has its way. Superstition, not learning, is respected here."

"Yet it is such a pleasant land. The people seem well-meaning and kind!"

"You can say that, with those warriors at our backs?" Jhary laughed as he slapped his horse's rump to make it gallop faster. "You have seen too much of Glandyth and his kind, of Chaos and the like, if this seems paradise to you!"

"Compared with what we have left behind, it is paradise, Jhary."

"Aye, perhaps you speak truth."

By much backtracking and hiding they had managed to throw off their pursuers before sunset and they now walked along a narrow track, leading their tired horses.

"It is a good many miles to Warleggon yet," Jhary said. "I would that I had a map, Prince Corum, to guide us, for it was in another body with different eyes that I last saw this land."

"What is the land itself called?" asked the Prince in the Scarlet Robe.

"It is, like Lywm-an-Esh, divided into a number of lands under the dominion of one monarch. This one is called Kernow-or Cornwall, depending whether you speak the language of the region or the language of the realm as a whole. It's a superstition-ridden land, though its traditions go back further than most other parts of the country of which it is part, and you will find much of it like your own Bro-an-Vadhagh. Its memories stretch back longer than do the memories of the rest of the realm. The memories have darkened, but they still have partial legends of a people like yourself who once lived here."

"You mean this Kernow lies in my future?"

"In one future, probably not yours. The future of a corresponding plane, perhaps. There are doubtless other futures where the Vadhagh have proliferated and the Mabden died out. The multiverse contains, after all, an infinity of possibilities."

"Your knowledge is great, Jhary-a-Conel."

The dandy reached into his shirt and drew out his little black-and-white cat. It had been there all the time they had been fighting and escaping. It began to purr, stretching its limbs and its wings. It settled on Jhary's shoulder.

"My knowledge is partial," said Jhary wearily. "It consists generally of half-memories."

"But why do you know so much of this plane?"

"Because I dwell here even now. There is really no such thing as time, you see. I remember what to you is the 'future.' I remember one of my many incarnations. If you had watched the parade longer you would have seen not only yourself but myself. I am called by some grand title here, but I serve the one you saw on the yellow horse. He was born in that city we have left and he is reckoned a great soldier by these people, though, like you, I think he would prefer peace to war. That is the fate of the Champion Eternal."

"I'll hear no more of that," Corum said quickly. "It disturbs me too much."

"I cannot blame you."

They stopped at last to water their horses and take turns to sleep. Sometimes in the distance groups of horsemen would ride by, their brands flaring in the night, but they never came close enough to be a great threat.

In the morning they reached the edges of a wide expanse of heather. A light rain fell but it did not discomfort them, rather it refreshed them. Their surefooted horses began to canter over the moor and brought them soon to a valley and a forest.

"We have skirted Warleggon now," said Jhary. "I thought it wise. But there is the forest I sought. See the smoke rising deep within. That, I hope, is the manor of the Lady Jane."

Along a winding path protected on each side by high banks of rich-scented moss and wild flowers they rode and there at last were two posts of brown stone which were topped by two carvings of spread-winged hawks, mellowed by the weather. The gates of bent iron were open and they walked their horses along a gravel path until they turned a corner and saw the house. It was a large house of three stories, made of the same light brown stone, with a gray slate roof and five chimneys of a reddish tint. Lattice windows were set into the house and there was a low doorway in the center. Two old men came round the side of the house at the sound of their horses' hooves on the gravel. The men had dark features, heavy brows, and long, gray hair. They were dressed in leather and skins and, if they wore any expression at all, their eyes seemed to hold a look of grim satisfaction as they looked at Corum in his high helm and his silver byrnie.

Jhary spoke to them in their own language-a language which was not that Corum had heard in the city but a language which seemed to hold faint echoes of the Vadhagh speech.

One of the men took their horses to be stabled. The other entered the house by the main door. Corum and Jhary waited without.

And then she came to the door.

She was an old, beautiful woman, her long hair pure white and braided, a mantle upon her brow. She wore a flowing gown of light blue silk, with wide sleeves and gold embroidery at neck and hem.

Jhary spoke to her in her own tongue, but she smiled then.

She spoke in the pure, rippling speech of the Vadhagh.

"I know who you are," she said. "We have been waiting for you here at the Manor in the Forest."

The Fifth Chapter THE LADY JANE PENTALLYON

The old, beautiful lady led them into the cool room. Meats and wines and fruits were upon the table of polished oak. Jars of flowers everywhere made the air sweet. She looked at Corum more often than she looked at Jhary. And at Corum she looked almost fondly.

Corum removed his helm with a bow. "We thank you, lady, for this gracious hospitality. I find much kindness in your land, as well as hatred."

She smiled, nodding. "Some are kind," she said, "but not many. The elf folk as a race are kinder."

He said politely: "The elf folk, lady?"

"Your folk."

Jhary removed a crumpled hat from within his jerkin. It was the hat he always wore. He looked at it sorrowfully.

"It will take much to straighten that to its proper shape. These adventures are hardest of all on hats, I fear. The Lady Jane Pentallyon speaks of the Vadhagh race, Prince Corum, or their kin, the Eldren, who are not greatly different, save for the eyes, just as the Melniboneans and the Nilanrians are offshoots of the same race. In this land they are known sometimes as elves-sometimes as devils, djinns, even gods, depending upon the region."

"I am sorry," said the Lady Jane Pentallyon gently. "I had forgotten that your people prefers to use its own names for its race. And yet the name 'elf" is sweet to my ears, just as it is sweet to speak your language again after so many years."

"Call me what you will, lady," Corum said gallantly, "for almost certainly I owe you my life and, perhaps, my peace of mind. How came you to learn our tongue?"

"Eat," she said. "I have made the food as tender as I could, knowing that the elf folk have more delicate palates than we. I will tell you my story while you banish your hunger."

And Corum began to eat, discovering that this was the finest Mabden food he had ever eaten. Compared with the food he had had in the town it was light as air and delicately flavored. The Lady Jane Pentallyon began to speak, her voice distant and nostalgic.

''I was a girl," she said, "of seventeen years, and I was already mistress of this manor, for my father had died crusading and my mother had contracted the plague while on a visit to her sister. So, too, had my little brother died, for she had taken him with her. I was distressed, of course, but not old enough to know then that the best way of dealing with sorrow is to face it, not try to escape it. I affected not to care that all my family were dead. I took to reading romances and to dreaming of myself as a Guinevere or an Isolde. These servants you have seen were with me then and they seemed little younger in those days. They respected my moods and there was none to check me as a kind of quiet madness came over me and I dwelt more and more in my own dreams and less and less thought of the world, which, anyway, was far away and sent no news. And then one day there came an Egyptian tribe past the manor and they begged permission to set up their camp in a glade in the woods not far from here. I had never seen such strange, dark faces and glittering black eyes and I was fascinated by them and believed them to be the guardians of magic wisdom such as Merlin had known. I know now that most of them knew nothing at all. But there was one girl of my own age who had been orphaned like me and with whom I identified myself. She was dark and I was fair, but we were of a height and shape and, doubtless because narcissism had become one of my faults, I invited her to live in the house with me after the rest of the tribe had moved on-taking, I need not say, much of our livestock with them. But I did not care, for Aireda's tales-learned from her parents, I understood-were far wilder than any I had read in my books or imagined for myself. She spoke of dark old ones who could still be summoned to carry young girls off to lands of magic delight, to worlds where great demigods with magic swords disrupted the very stuff of nature if their moods willed it. I think now that Aireda was inventing much of what she told me-elaborating stories she had heard from her mother and father-but the essence of what she told me was, of course, true. Aireda had learned spells which, she said, would summon these beings, but she was afraid to use them. I begged her to conjure each of us a god from another world to be our lovers, but she became afraid and would not. A year passed and our deep, dark games went on, our minds became more and more full of the idea of magic and demons and gods, and Aireda, at my constant behest, slowly weakened in her resolve not to speak the spells and perform the rituals she knew…"

The Lady Jane Pentallyon took up a dish of sliced fruit and offered it to Corum. He accepted it. "Please continue, lady."

"Well, I learned from her the patterns to carve upon the stones of the floor, the herbs to brew, the arrangements of precious stones and particular lands of rocks, of candles, and the like. I got from her every piece of knowledge save the incantations and the signs which must be traced in the air with a witch knife of glowing crystal. So I carved the patterns in the stones, I gathered the herbs, I collected the stones and the rocks, and I sent to the city for the candles. And I presented them all to Aireda one day, telling her that she must call for the old ones who ruled this land before the druids, who, themselves, came before the Christians. And she agreed to do it, for by this time she had become as mad as I. We chose All Hallows Eve for the ritual, though I do not believe now that it has any special significance. We arranged the stones and the rocks and we traced the designs in the air with the crystal witch knife and we burned the candles and we brewed the herbs and we drank what we brewed and we were successful…"

Jhary sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the Lady Jane Pentallyon. He was eating an apple. "You were successful, lady," he said, "in conjuring up a demon?"

"A demon? I think not, though he looked to us like a demon with his slanting eyes and his pointed ears-a face not unlike your own, Prince Corum-and we were at first afraid, for he stood in the center of our magic ring and he was furious, shouting, threatening in a language which I could not, in those days, understand. Well, the tale grows long and I will not bore you, save to say that this poor 'demon' was of course a man of your race, dragged from his own world by our incantations and our diagrams and our crystals, and most anxious to return there."

"And did he return, lady?" Corum asked gently, for he saw that her eyes had a suggestion of tears in them. She shook her head.

"He could not, for we had no means of returning him. After the astonishment-for truly we had not really believed in our game!-we made him as comfortable here as we could, for we instantly felt sorry for what we had done when we realized that he was helpless. He learned something of our language and we learned something of his. We thought him very wise, though he insisted he was only a minor member of a large and not very important family of moderate nobility, that he was a soldier and not a scholar or a sorcerer. We understood his modesty but continued to admire him very much. I think he enjoyed that, although he continued to beg us to try to return him to his own age and his own plane."

Corum smiled. "I know how I should feel if two young girls had been responsible for tearing me suddenly away from all I knew and cared for and had then told me that they had only been playing a game and could not send me back!"

And the Lady Jane smiled in reply. "Aye. Well, by and by Gerane-that was one of his names-became reconciled to some degree and he and I fell in love and were happy for a short while. Sadly, I had not accounted for the fact that Aireda was also in love with Gerane." She sighed. "I had dreamed of being Guinevere, of Isolde, of other heroines of romance, but I had forgotten that all these women were the victims of tragedy in the end. Our tragedy began to play itself out and at first I was not aware of it. Jealousy took power over Aireda and she grew to hate first me and then Gerane. She would plan revenges on us of varying sorts, but they were never completely satisfying to her. She had heard that Gerane's people had enemies -another race with bleaker souls-and she had guessed that one of her mother's rituals had to do with summoning members of this race-other demons, her mother had thought. Her first attempts were unsuccessful, but she absorbed herself in remembering every detail of those old spells."

"She conjured up Gerane's enemies?"

"Aye. Three of them came one night into the house. She was their first victim, for they hate humans as much as they hate elves-your folk. Shambling, awkward, poorly fashioned creatures they were, completely unlike your folk, Prince Corum. We should call them trolls or some such name."

"And what did they do after they had slain Aireda?"

"She was not slain, but badly wounded, for it was in conversation with her later that I learned what she had done…"

"And Gerane?"

"He had no sword. He had come with none. He had needed none in the Manor in the Forest."

"He was killed?"

"He heard the noise in the hall and came down to see what caused it. They butchered him there, by the door." She pointed. The tears shone on her cheeks now. "They cut him into sections, my elfin love…" She lowered her head.

Corum got up and went to comfort the old, beautiful Lady Jane Pentallyon. She gripped his mortal hand just once and had once again contained her grief. She straightened her back. "The-trolls-did not remain in the house. Doubtless they were confused by what had happened to them. They ran off into the night."

"Do you know what became of them?" Jhary asked.

"I heard several years later that beasts resembling men had begun to terrorize the folk of Exmoor and had eventually been taken and had stakes driven through their hearts, for they were thought to be the Devil's spawn. But the story spoke of only two, so perhaps one still lives in some lonely spot, still unaware of what had happened to him or where he is. I feel a certain sympathy for him…"

"Do not grieve yourself, lady, by any further telling of this tale," said Corum gently.

"Since then," she went on, "I have concerned myself with the study of old wisdom. I learned something from Gerane and I have since spoken with various men and women who reckon themselves versed in the mystic arts. It was my hope, once, to seek the plane of Gerane's people, but it is evident now that our planes are no longer in conjunction, for I have learned enough to know that the planes circle as some say the planets circle about each other. I have learned a little of the art of seeing into the future and the past, into other planes, as Gerane's folk could…"

"My folk also possess something of that art," said Corum in confirmation of her questioning glance, "but we have been losing it of late and can do nothing now beyond see into the five planes which comprise our realm."

"Aye." She nodded. "I cannot explain why these powers wax and wane as they do."

"It is something to do with the gods," said Jhary. "Or our belief in them, perhaps."

"Your second sight gave you a glimpse into the future and that is how you knew we were seeking your help," Corum said.

Again she nodded.

"So you know that we are trying to return to our own age, where urgent deeds are necessary?"

"Aye."

"Can you help us?"

"I know of one who can put you on the road which leads to the achievement of that desire, but he can do no more."

"A sorcerer?"

"Of sorts. He, like you, is not of this age. Like you, he seeks constantly to return to his own world. He can move easily through the few centuries bordering this time, but he seeks to travel many millenia and that he cannot do."

"Is his name Bolorhiag?" asked Jhary suddenly. " An old man with a withered leg?"

"You describe the man, but to us he is known merely as the Friar, for he is inclined to wear clerical garb since this offers him the greatest protection in the periods of history he visits."

"It is Bolorhiag," said Jhary. "Another lost one. There are a few such souls who are whisked about the multiverse in this manner. Sometimes they are not at fault at all, but have been plucked, willy-nilly, by whatever winds they are which blow through the dimensions. Others, like Bolorhiag, are experimenters-sorcerers, scientists, scholars, call them what you will-who have understood something of the nature of time and space but not enough to protect themselves. They, too, find themselves blown by those winds. There are also, as you know, ones like me who appear to be natural dwellers in the whole multiverse-or there are heroes, like yourself, Corum, who are doomed to move from age to age and plane to plane, from identity to identity, fighting for the cause of Law. And there are women of a certain sort, like yourself, Lady Jane, who love these heroes. And there are malicious ones who hate them. What object there is to this myriad of existences I know not and it is probably better that we know nothing of them…"

Lady Jane nodded gravely. "I think you are right, Sir Jhary, for the more one discovers, the less point there seems in life at all. However, we are concerned not with philosophy but with immediate problems. I have sent out a summoning for the Friar and hope that he hears it and comes-it is not always the case. Meanwhile I have a gift for you, Prince Corum, for I feel that it may be useful to you. It appears that there is a mighty conjunction about to take place in the multiverse, when for a moment in tune all ages and all planes will meet. I have never heard of such a thing before. That is part of my gift, the information. The Other part is this…" From a thong around her neck she now drew out a slender object which though of a milky white color also sparkled with every color in the spectrum. It Was a knife carved of a crystal which Corum had never seen before.

"Is it…?" he began.

She inclined her head to remove the thong. "It is the witch knife which brought Gerane to me. It will, I think, bring aid to you when you need it greatly. It will call your brother to you…"

"My brother? I have no-"

"I was told this," she said. "And I can add nothing to it. But here is the witch knife. Please take it."

Corum accepted it and placed the thong around his own neck. "Thank you, lady."

"Another will tell you when and how to use it," she said. "And now, gentlemen, will you rest here at the Manor in the Forest, until such time as the Friar may present himself to us?"

"We should be honored," said Corum. "But tell me, lady, if you know anything of the woman I love, for we are separated. I speak of the Lady Rhalina of Allomglyl and I fear much for her safety."

The Lady Jane frowned, "There was something concerning a woman which came momentarily into my head. I have the feeling that if you succeed in your present quest, then you will succeed in being reunited with her. If you fail, then you shall never see her again."

Corum's smile was grim.

"Then I must not fail," he said.

The Sixth Chapter SAILING ON THE SEAS OF TIME

Three days went by and in normal circumstances Corum would have grown frustrated, impatient. But the old, beautiful lady calmed him, telling him something of the world she lived in but hardly ever saw. Some aspects of it were strange to him, but he began to understand why strange folk such as himself were, in the main, treated with suspicion, for what the Mabden of this world desired more than anything was equilibrium, stability not threatened by the doings of gods and demons and heroes, and me to sympathize with them, though he felt that an understanding of what they feared would give them less to fear. They had invented for themselves a remote god whom they called simply the God and they had placed him far away from them. Some half-remembered fragments of the knowledge concerning the Cosmic Balance were theirs, and they had legends which might relate to the struggle between Law and Chaos. As he told the Lady Jane, all the Balance stood for was equilibrium-but stability could be achieved only by an understanding of the forces which were at work in the world, not a rejection of them.

On the third day one of the old retainers came running along the path up to the house, where Jhary-a-Conel, Corum, and the Lady Jane stood conversing. Speaking in his own language the man pointed into the forest.

"They still search for you, it seems," she told them. "Your horses were released a day's ride away in order to put them off the scent and make them think you hid near Liskeard, but doubtless they come here because I am suspected a witch." She smiled. "I deserve their suspicion far more than do the poor souls they sometimes catch and burn."

"Will they find us?"

"There is a place for you to hide. Others have been hidden there in the past. Old Kyn will take you there." She spoke to the old man and he nodded, grinning as if he enjoyed the excitement.

They were led into the attic of the house and there Old Kyn unlocked a false wall. Inside it was smoky and cramped but there was room to stretch and sleep if they wished to. They climbed into the darkness and Old Kya replaced the false wall.

Sometime later they heard voices, booted feet on the stairs. They pressed their backs against the false wall so that if it were thumped it would sound more solid. It was thumped, but it passed the inspection of the searchers, whose coarse voices were grumbling and tired as if they had been at work ever since Corum and Jhary had escaped from the city.

The footsteps went away. Faintly they heard the jingle of harness, more voices, the sound of hooves on the gravel, and then silence.

A little later Old Kyn removed the false wall and leered into their hiding place. He winked. Corum grinned at him and climbed out, dusting down his garments. Jhary blew plaster from his cat's coat and began to stroke the little beast. He said something in Old Kyn's language which made the man wheeze with laughter.

Downstairs Lady Jane's face was serious. "I think they will return," she said. "They noticed that our chapel has not been used for a good while."

"Your chapel?"

"Where we are meant to pray if we do not go to church. There are laws governing such things,"

Corum shook his head in astonishment. "Laws?" He rubbed at his face. "This world is indeed hard to fathom."

"If the Friar does not come soon, you may have to leave here and seek fresh sanctuary," she said. "I have already sent for a friend who is a priest. Next time those soldiers come they shall find a very devout Lady Jane, I hope."

"Lady, I hope that you will not suffer for us," said Corum seriously.

"Worry not. There's little they can prove. When this fear dies down they will forget me again for a while."

"I pray it is true."

Corum went to bed that night, for he felt unnaturally weary. The main fear was for Lady Jane and he could not help but feel she had made too little of the incident. At last he slept, but was awakened shortly after midnight.

It was Jhary and he was dressed, with his hat upon his head and his cat upon his shoulder. "The time has come," he said, "to come to time."

Corum rubbed at his eyes, not understanding the dandy's remark.

"Bolorhiag is here."

Corum swung himself from the bed. "I will dress and come down directly."

When he descended the stairs he saw that Lady Jane, wrapped in a dark cloak, her white hair unbound, stood there with Jhary-a-Conel and a small, wizened man who walked with the aid of a staff. The man's head was disproportionately large for his frail body, which even the folds of his priest's gown could not hide. He was speaking in a high, querulous voice.

"I know you, Timeras. You are a rogue."

"I am not Timeras in this identity, Bolorhiag. I am Jhary-a-Conel…"

"But still a rogue. I resent even speaking the same tongue as you and only do so for the sake of the lovely Lady Jane."

"You are both rogues!" laughed the old, beautiful woman. "And you know that you cannot help but like each other."

"I only help him because you have asked me to do so," insisted the wizened man, "and because he may one day admit that he can help me."

"I have told you before, Bolorhiag, that I have much knowledge and hardly any skills. I would help you if I could, but my mind is a patchwork of memories -fragments of a thousand lives are in my skull. You should have sympathy for a wretch such as I."

"Bah!" Bolorhiag turned his twisted back and looked at Corum with his bright blue eyes. "And this is the other rogue, eh?"

Corum bowed.

"The Lady Jane requests me to ship you out of this age and into another where you will be less bothersome to her," Bolorhiag went on. "I will do it willingly, of course, for her heart is too kind for her own good. But I do no favors for you, young man, you understand."

"I understand, sir."

"Then let us get about it. The winds blow through and may be gone again before we can set our course. My carriage is outside."

Corum approached Lady Jane Pentallyon and took her hand, kissing it gently. "I thank you for this, my lady. I thank you for your hospitality, your confidence, your gifts, and I pray that you will know happiness one day."

"Perhaps in another life," she said. "Thank you for such thoughts, and let me kiss you now." She bent and touched his forehead with her lips. "Farewell, my elfin prince…"

He turned away so that she would not see that he had noticed the tears in her eyes. He followed the wizened man as he hopped toward the door.

It was a small vessel he saw on the gravel outside the house. It was hardly large enough for three and had plainly been designed to take one in comfort. It had a high, curved prow of a substance neither wood nor metal but much pitted and scored as if it had weathered many storms. A mast rose from the center, though there was no sail furled on the yard.

"Sit there," said Bolorhiag impatiently, indicating the bench to his right "I will sit between you and steer the craft."

After Corum had squeezed himself into place, Bolorhiag sat next to him and Jhary sat on the other side of the old man. A globe on a pivot seemed the only controls of the quaintly shaped craft, and now Bolorhiag raised his hand to salute the Lady Jane, who stood in the shadows of the doorway, then took the globe between both palms.

Again Corum and Jhary bowed toward the door, but now the Lady Jane had disappeared altogether. Corum felt a tear form in his own good eye and he thought he knew why she did not watch them leave.

Suddenly something shimmered around the mast and Corum saw that it was a faint area of light shaped like a triangular sail. It grew stronger and stronger until it resembled an ordinary sail of cloth, bulging in a wind, though no wind blew.

Bolorhiag muttered to himself and the little craft seemed to move and yet did not move.

Corum glanced at the Manor in the Forest. It seemed framed in dancing brightness.

Daylight suddenly surrounded them. They saw figures outside the house, all around them, but the figures did not appear to see them. Horsemen-the soldiers who had searched the house the day before. They vanished. It was dark again and then light and then the house was gone and the boat rocked, turned, bounced.

"What is happening?" Corum cried out.

"What you wanted to happen, I gather," snapped Bolorhiag. "You are enjoying a short voyage upon the seas of time."

Everywhere now was what appeared to be clouds of dark gray. The sail continued to strain at the mast. The unfelt wind continued to blow. The boat moved on, with its inventor in his black robe muttering over his globe, steering it this way and that.

Sometimes the gray clouds would change color, become green or blue or deep brown, and Corum would fed peculiar pressures upon him, find it difficult to breathe for a few moments, but the experience would quickly pass. Bolorhiag seemed completely oblivious of these sensations and even Jhary gave them no special attention. Once or twice the cat would give a faint cry and cling closer to its master, but that was the only sign that others felt the discomforts that Corum felt.

And then the ship's sail went limp and began to fade. Bolorhiag cursed in a harsh language of many consonants and spun the globe so that the ship whirled at a dizzying speed and Corum felt his stomach turn over.

Then the old man grunted in satisfaction as the sail reappeared and filled out again. "I thought we had lost the wind for good," he said. "There is nothing more aggravating than being becalmed on the time seas. Hardly anything more dangerous, either, if one is passing through some solid substance!" He laughed richly at this, nudging Jhary in the ribs. "You look ill, Timeras, you rogue."

"How long will this voyage last, Bolorhiag?" said Jhary in a strained voice.

"How long?" Bolorhiag stroked the globe, seeing something within it that they could not see. "What meaningless remark is that? You should know better, Timeras!"

"I should have known better than to begin on this voyage. I suspect you of becoming senile, old man."

"After several thousand years I am bound to begin to feel my years." The old man grinned wickedly at Jhary's consternation.

The speed of the ship seemed to increase.

"Stand by to turn about!" shouted Bolorhiag, apparently quite mad, almost hysterical. "Ready to drop anchor, lads! Date ahoy!"

The ship swung as if caught by a powerful current. The peculiar sail sagged and vanished. The gray light began to grow brighter.

The ship stood upon an expanse of dark rock overlooking a green valley far, far below.

Bolorhiag began to chuckle as he saw their expressions. "I have few pleasures," he said, "but my favorite is to terrify my passengers. It is, in part, what I regard as my just payment. I am not mad, I think, gentlemen. I am merely desperate."

The Seventh Chapter THE LAND OF TALL STONES

Bolorhiag allowed them to disembark from his tiny craft. Corum looked around him at the rather bleak landscape. Everywhere he looked he saw in the distance tall columns of stone, sometimes standing singly, sometimes in groups. The stone varied in color but had plainly been put there by some intelligence.

"What are they?" he asked.

Bolorhiag shrugged. "Stones. The inhabitants of these parts raise them."

"For what purpose?"

"For the same purpose that makes them dig deep holes in the ground-you will discover those as well-to pass the time. They cannot explain it any other way. I understand that it is their art. No better or worse than much of the art one sees."

"I suppose so," said Corum doubtfully. "And now perhaps you will explain, Master Bolorhiag, why we have been brought here."

"This age corresponds roughly with the age of your own Fifteen Planes. The conjunction comes soon and you are better here than elsewhere. There is a building which is occasionally seen here and which has the name in some parts of the Vanishing Tower. It comes and goes through the planes. Timeras here knows the story, I am sure."

Jhary nodded. "I know it. But this is dangerous, Bolorhiag. We could enter the Vanishing Tower and never return. You are aware that-?"

"I am aware of most things about the tower, but you have little choice. It is your only means of getting back to your own age and your own plane, believe me. I know of no other method. You must risk the dangers."

Jhary shrugged. "As you say. We will risk them."

"Here." Bolorhiag offered him a rolled sheet of parchment. "It is a map of how to get there from here. A rather rough map, I am afraid. Geography was never my strong point."

"We are most grateful to you, Master Bolorhiag," Corum said gracefully.

"I want no gratitude, but I do want information. I am some ten thousand years away from my own age and wonder what barrier it is which allows me to cross it one way but not the other. If you should ever discover a clue to the answer to this question and if you, Timeras, ever pass through this age and plane again, I should want to hear of it."

"I will make a point of it, Bolorhiag."

"Then farewell, both of you."

The old man hunched himself once more over his steering crystal. Once more the peculiar sail appeared and filled with the unfelt wind. And then the little ship and its occupant had faded.

Corum stared thoughtfully at the huge, mysterious stones.

Jhary had unrolled the map. "We must climb down this cliff until we reach the valley," he said. "Come, Prince Corum, we had best start now."

They found the least steep part of the cliff and began to inch their way down it.

They had not gone very far when they heard a shout above them and looked up. It was the little wizened man and he was hopping up and down on his stick. "Corum! Timeras or whatever pseudonym you're using! Wait!"

"What is it, Master Bolorhiag?"

"I forgot to tell you, Prince Corum, that if you find yourself in extreme danger or distress within the next day-and only the next day-go to a point where you see a storm which is isolated. Do you hear?"

"I hear. But what-?"

"I cannot repeat myself, the time tide changes. Enter the storm and take out the witch knife given you by the Lady Jane. Hold it so that it traps the lightning. Then call upon the name of Elric of Melnibone and say that he must come to make the Three Who Are One-the Three Who Are One. Remember that. You are part of the same thing. It will be all you need to do for the Third-the Many-Named Hero-will be drawn to the Two."

"Who told you all this, Master Bolorhiag?" Jhary called, clinging to the rock of the cliff and not looking down.

"Oh, a creature. It does not matter who told me. But you must remember that, Prince Corum. The storm-the knife-the incantation. Remember it!"

Corum called, half to humor the old man, "I will remember."

"Farewell, again." And Bolorhiag stepped back from the cliff top and was gone.

They climbed down in silence, too intent on finding holds in the rock face to discuss Bolorhiag's peculiar message.

And when, eventually, they reached the floor of the valley, they were too exhausted to speak, but lay still, looking up at the great sky.

Later Corum said, "Did you understand the old man's words, Jhary?"

Jhary shook his head. "The Three Who Are One. It sounds ominous. I wonder if it has any connection with what we saw in Limbo?"

"Why should it?"

"I know not. Just a thought which popped into my brain because it was empty. We had best forget that for a while and hope to discover the Vanishing Tower. Bolorhiag was right. The map is crude."

"And what is the Vanishing Tower?"

"It once existed in your own realm, Corum, I believe-in one of the Five Planes, but not yours. On the edge of a place called Balwya Moor in a valley much like this one which was called Darkvale. Chaos was fighting Law and winning in those days. It came against Darkvale and its keep-a small castle, rather than a tower. The knight of the keep sought the aid of the Lords of Law and they granted that aid, enabling him to move his tower into another dimension. But Chaos had gained great power then and cursed the tower, decreeing that it should shift for all time, never staying more than a few hours on any one plane. And so it shifts to this day. The original knight-who was protecting a fugitive from Chaos-was soon insane, as was the fugitive. Then came Voilodion Ghagnasdiak to the Vanishing Tower and there he remains."

"Who is he?"

"An unpleasant creature. Trapped in the tower now and fearing to step outside, he uses the tower to lure the unsuspecting to him. He keeps them there until they bore him and then he slays them."

"And that is whom we must fight when we enter the Vanishing Tower?"

"Exactly."

"Well, there are two of us and we are armed."

"Voilodion Ghagnasdiak is very powerful-a sorcerer of no mean skill."

"Then we cannot conquer him! My hand and eye no longer come to my assistance."

Jhary shrugged. He stroked his cat's chin. "Aye. I said it was dangerous, but as Bolorhiag pointed out, we have little choice, have we? After all, we are still on our way to find Tanelorn. I am beginning to feel that my sense of direction returns. We are nearer Tanelorn now than we have been before."

"How do you know?"

"I know. I know, that is all."

Corum sighed. "I am weary of mysteries, of sorceries, of tragedies. I am a simple…"

"No time for self-pity, Prince Corum. Come, this is the way we want to go."

They followed a roaring river upstream for two miles. The river rushed through a steep valley and they climbed along the sloping sides, using the trees to stop them from falling down into the white rapids. Then they came to a place where the river forked and Jhary pointed to a place where it was shallow, running over pebbles. "A ford. We need yonder island. That is where the Vanishing Tower will appear, when it appears."

"Will we wait long?"

"I do not know. Still the island looks as if it has game on it and the river has fish in it. We shall not starve while we wait."

"I think of Rhalina, Jhary-not to mention the fate of Bro-an-Vadhagh and Lywm-an-Esh. I grow impatient."

"Our only means of getting back to the Fifteen Planes is to enter the Vanishing Tower. Thus, we must await the pleasure of the tower."

Corum shrugged and began to wade through the ice-cold stream toward the island.

Suddenly Jhary shouted and pushed past Corum. "It is there! It is there already! Quickly, Corum!"

He ran to where a stone keep stood above the trees. It seemed an ordinary sort of tower. Corum could hardly believe that this was their goal.

"Soon we shall see Tanelorn!" cried Jhary jubilantly. He reached the other side of the island, with Corum running some distance behind him, and began to crash through the undergrowth.

There was a doorway at the base of the keep and it was open.

"Come, Corum!"

Jhary was almost inside the door now. Corum went more warily, remembering what he had heard of Voilodion Ghagnasdiak, the dweller in the tower. But Jhary, his cat as ever upon his shoulder, had gone through the door.

Corum broke into a run, his hand on his sword hilt. He reached the tower.

The door closed suddenly. He heard Jhary's yell of horror from within. He clung to the wood of the door, he beat on it.

Inside Jhary was calling, "Find the Three Who Are One whatever it is. It is our only hope now, Corum! Find the Three Who Are One!" There came a chuckle which was not Jhary's.

"Open!" roared Corum. "Open your damned door!"

But the door would not budge.

The chuckle was fat and warm. It grew louder and Corum could no longer hear Jhary's voice at all. The fat, warm voice said, "Welcome to the home of Voilodion Ghagnasdiak, friend. You are an honored guest."

Corum felt something happen to the tower. He looked back. The forest was disappearing. He clung to the handle, kept his feet on the step for a moment. His body was racked by painful spasms, one following closely upon the other. Every tooth in his head ached, every bone in his body throbbed.

And then he had lost his grip upon the tower and saw it vanish away. He fell.

He fell and landed on wet, marshy ground. It was night. Somewhere a dark bird hooted.

The Eighth Chapter INTO THE SMALL STORM

Daybreak found Corum walking. His feet were weary and he was lost, but still he walked. He could think of nothing else to do and he felt bound to do something. Marshland stretched everywhere. Marsh birds rose in flocks into the red morning sky. Marsh animals slithered or hopped across the wet ground in search of food.

Corum selected another clump of reeds and made it his goal.

When he reached the clump of reeds he paused for a moment and then fixed his eye on another clump and began to make for that.

And so he progressed.

He was desolate. He had lost Rhalina. Now he had lost Jhary and thus his hope of finding either Rhalina or Tanelorn. And so he had lost Bro-an-Vadhagh and Lywm-an-Esh and he had lost them to conquering Chaos, to Glandyth-a-Krae.

All lost.

"All lost," he murmured through his numbed lips.

"All lost."

The marsh birds cackled and screeched. The marsh animals scuttled through the reeds, unseen as they ran on hasty errands.

Was this whole world a marsh? It seemed so. Marsh upon marsh.

He reached the next clump of reeds and he sat down on the damp ground, looking at the wide sky, the red clouds, the emerging sun. It was getting hot.

Steam began to rise over the marsh.

Corum took off his helmet. His silver greaves were grimed with mud, his hands were filthy-even the six-fingered Hand of Kwll was coated in mire.

Steam moved slowly over the marsh as if seeking something. He wet his face and lips with the brackish water, tempted to remove his scarlet robe and his silver byrnie and yet, for the moment, preferring their security should he be attacked by a larger marsh dweller than any he had so far seen.

Steam was everywhere. In places the mud bubbled and spat. The hot, damp air began to pain his throat and lungs and his eyelids became heavy as a great weariness came over him.

And it seemed to him that he saw a figure moving through the steam. A tall figure wading slowly through the boiling mud. A giant who dragged something heavy behind it. His head dropped to his chest and he raised it with difficulty. He no longer saw the figure. He realized that some marsh gas was making him drowsy, making him hallucinate.

He rubbed at bis eyes but only succeeded in making his mortal eye fill with mud.

And then he felt a presence behind him.

He turned.

Something loomed there, as white and intangible as the steam. Something fell upon him, entangling his arms and legs. He tried to draw his sword but he could not free himself. He was carried upward and other creatures struggled nearby, snapping and shouting. The heat began to disperse and then it was terribly cold, so cold that all the other creatures were suddenly silent. Then it was dark.

And then it was wet. He spat salt water from his mouth and cursed. He was free again and he felt soft sand beneath his feet and he waded waist-deep through the water, the silver helm still clutched in his hand, and fell upon a dark yellow beach, gasping.

Corum thought he knew what had happened to him, but he found it hard to believe. For the third time he had seen the mysterious Wading God and for the third time the gigantic fisherman had influenced his destiny-first by hurling him upon the coast of the Ragha-da-Kheta, second by bringing Jhary-a-Conel to Moidel's Mount, and third by saving him from the marsh world-a world, it now appeared, which must be on one of the Fifteen Planes-as this new world must be.

If it were a new world, of course, and not merely part of the same one.

Whichever it was, it was an improvement. He began to pick himself up.

And he saw the old woman standing there. She was a dumpy little woman and her red face was at once frightened and prim. She was soaking wet and ringing out her bonnet with her hands.

"Who are you?" Corum said.

"Who are you, young man? I was walking along the beach minding my own business when this terrible wave suddenly appeared and completely drenched me! It is none of your doing, is it?"

"I hope not, ma'am."

"Are you some mariner, then, who has been ship-wrecked?"

"That is the truth of it," Corum agreed. "Tell me, ma'am, where is this land?"

"You are near the fishing town of Chynezh Port, young sir. Up there," she pointed up the cliffs, "lies the great Balwyn Moor and then…"

"Balwyn Moor. Beyond it lies Darkvale, eh?"

The old woman pursed her lips. "Aye. Darkvale. None visits it these days, however."

"But that is the place of the Vanishing Tower?"

"So 'tis said."

"Is it possible to purchase a horse in Chynezh Port?"

"I suppose so. The horse breeders of Balwyn Moor are famous and they bring some of their best to Chynezh for the foreign trade-or did before the fighting."

"There is a war taking place?"

"Call it that. Things came out of the sea and attacked our boats. We have heard that folk have suffered much worse elsewhere and that we are relatively safe from the most dreadful of these monsters. But we lost half our menfolk and now none dares fish and, of course, no foreign ships put into our harbor to buy horses."

"So Chaos returns here, too," mused Corum. He sighed.

"You must aid me, old woman," he told her. "For I may in turn aid you and make these seas safe again. Now-the horse."

She led him along the beach and round a cliff and he saw a pleasant fishing town with a good, strong harbor and in the harbor were all their boats, their sails tightly furled.

"You see," she said. "Unless the boats go out again soon we of Chynezh Port shall starve, for fish is our livelihood."

"Aye." Corum put his mortal hand upon her shoulder. "Now, take me to where I can purchase a steed."

She led him to a stable on the outskirts of the town, near the road which wound up the cliff toward the moor. Here a peasant sold him a pair of horses, one white and one black, almost twins, with all the necessary gear. Corum had taken it into his head that he would need two horses, though he hardly knew why.

Riding the white horse and leading the black one, he began to ascend the winding road, making for Darkvale under the puzzled gaze of the old woman and the peasant He reached the top and saw that the road went on along the cliff until it disappeared into a wooded dale. The day was warm and pleasant and it was hard to believe that this world was threatened by Chaos too. It was very much like his own land of Bro-an-Vadhagh and parts of the coastline even seemed half familiar.

He became filled with a sense of anticipation as he entered the wood and listened to the birdsong in the trees. It was very peaceful and yet something seemed strange. He slowed his horses to a walk, proceeding almost hesitantly.

And then he saw it ahead.

A black cloud on the road through the trees. A cloud which began to grumble with thunder and flash with lightning.

Corum reined in his horses and dismounted. From the neck of his byrnie he pulled out the crystal witch knife which the Lady Jane had given him. He strove to remember Bolorhiag's shouted words. Go to the point where you see a storm which is isolated. Take out the witch knife given you by the Lady Jane. Hold it so that it traps the lightning. Then call upon the name of Elric of Melnibone and say that he must come to make the Three Who Are One… You are part of the same thing… The Third-the Many-Named Hero-will be drawn to the Two…

"Well," he said to himself, "there is nothing else for it. In truth I'll need allies to go against Voilodion Ghagnasdiak in his Vanishing Tower. And if these allies are powerful, then so much the better."

With the crystal witch knife held aloft he stepped into the roaring cloud.

Lightning struck the witch knife and filled him with shivering energy. All about him was disturbance and noise. He opened his mouth and cried, "Elric of Melnibone! You must come to make the Three Who Are One! Elric of Melnibone! You must come to make the Three Who Are One! Elric of Melnibone!" And then a fierce bolt of lightning came down and shattered the witch knife, flung Corum down to the ground. Voices seemed to wail across the world, winds swept in all directions. He staggered upright wondering suddenly if he had been betrayed. He could see nothing but the lightning, hear nothing but the thunder.

He fell and struck his head. He began to raise himself to his feet.

And then mellow light filled the forest once more and the birds sang.

"The storm. It has gone." He looked about him and then he saw the man who lay on the grass. He recognized him. It was the man he had seen fighting on dragonback when he hung in Limbo. "And you? Are you called Elric of Melnibone?"

The albino got to his feet. His crimson eyes were full of a permanent sorrow. He answered politely enough.

"I am Elric of Melnibone. Are you to thank for rescuing me from those creatures Theleb K'aarna summoned?"

Corum shook his head. Elric was dressed in a travel-stained shirt and breeks of black silk. There were black boots on his feet and a black belt around his waist, which supported a black scabbard in which the albino sheathed a huge black broadsword carved from hilt to tip with peculiar runes. Over all this black was drawn a voluminous cloak of white silk with a large hood attached to it. Elric's milk-white hair seemed to flow over the cloak and blend with it.

" 'Twas I that summoned you," Corum admitted, "but I know of no Theleb K'aarna. I was told that I had only one opportunity to receive your aid and that I must take it in this particular place at this particular time. I am called Corum Jhaelen Irsei-the Prince in the Scarlet Robe-and I ride upon a quest of grave import."

Elric was frowning and looking about him. "Where is this forest?"

"It is nowhere on your plane or in your time, Prince Elric. I summoned you to aid me in my battle against the Lords of Chaos. Already I have been instrumental in destroying two of the Sword Rulers-Arioch and Xiombarg-but the third, the most powerful remains…"

"Arioch of Chaos-and Xiombarg?" The albino looked unconvinced. "You have destroyed two of the most powerful members of the company of Chaos? Yet but a month since I spoke with Arioch. He is my patron…"

Corum realized that Elric was not as familiar as he with the structure of the multiverse. "There are many planes of existence," he said as gently as he could. "In some the Lords of Chaos are strong. In some they are weak. In some, I have heard, they do not exist at all. You must accept that here Arioch and Xiombarg have been banished so that effectively they no longer exist in my world. It is the third of the Sword Rulers who threatens us now-the strongest, King Mabelrode."

The albino was frowning and Corum feared that the willful prince would choose not to aid him after all. "In my-plane-Mabelrode is no stronger than Arioch and Xiombarg, This makes a travesty of all my understanding…"

Corum drew a deep breath. "I will explain," he said, "as much as I can. For some reason Fate has selected me to be the hero who must banish the domination of Chaos from the Fifteen Planes of Earth. I am at present traveling on my way to seek a city which we call Tanelorn, where I hope to find aid. But my guide is a prisoner in a castle close to here and before I can continue I must rescue him. I was told how I might summon aid to-help me effect this rescue… And I used the spell to bring you to me. I-" Corum hesitated a fraction of a second, for he knew that Bolorhiag had not told him this and yet he knew it was the truth he spoke-"was to tell you that if you aided me, then you would aid yourself-that if I was successful then you would receive something which would make your task easier…"

"Who told you this?"

"A wise man."

Corum watched the puzzled albino go and sit down upon a treetrunk and place his head in his hands. "I have been drawn away at an unfortunate time," said Elric. "I pray that you speak the truth to me, Prince Corum." Suddenly he looked up and fixed Corum with those strange, crimson eyes. "It is a marvel that you speak at all-or at least that I understand you. How can this be?"

"I was-informed that we should be able to communicate easily-because 'we are part of the same thing.' Do not ask me to explain more, Prince Elric, for I know no more."

"Well this may be an illusion. I may have killed myself or become digested by that machine of Theleb K'aarna's, but plainly I have no choice but to agree to aid you in the hope that I am, in turn, aided." The albino glanced hard at Corum.

Corum went to get the horses where he had left them further up the road. He returned with them as the albino stood up, his hands on his hips, staring around him. He knew what it was to be plunged suddenly into a new world and he sympathized with the Melnibonean. He handed the black horse's reins to Elric and the albino climbed into the saddle and stood upright in the stirrups for a moment as he got the feel of the trappings, for he was plainly not used to the particular kind of saddle and stirrup.

They began to ride.

"You spoke of Tanelorn," said Elric. "It is for the sake of Tanelorn that I find myself in this dreamworld of yours."

Corum was astonished at Elric's casual mention of Tanelorn. "You know where Tanelorn lies?"

"In my own world, aye-but why should it lie in this one?"

"Tanelorn lies in all planes, though in different guises. There is one Tanelorn and it is eternal with many forms."

The two men continued to make their way through the forest as they spoke. Corum could hardly believe that Elric was real-just as Elric could hardly believe, it seemed, that this world was real. The albino rubbed his face several times and peered hard at Corum.

"Where go we now?" asked Elric finally. "To the castle?"

Corum spoke hesitantly, remembering Bolorhiag's words. "First we must have the Third Hero-the Many-Named Hero."

"And you will summon him with sorcery, too?"

Corum shook his head. "I was told not. I was told that he would meet us-drawn from whichever age he exists in by the necessity to complete the Three Who Are One."

"What mean these phrases? What is the Three Who Are One?"

"I know little more than you, friend Elric, save that it will need all three of us to defeat him who holds my guide prisoner."

Now they came to Balwyn Moor, leaving the forest behind them. On one side were the cliffs and the sea and the world was silent and at rest so that any threat from Chaos seemed very distant.

"Your gauntlet is of curious manufacture," Elric said.

Corum laughed. "So thought a doctor I lately encountered. He believed it was a man-made limb. But it is said to have belonged to a god-one of the Lost Gods, who mysteriously left the world millenia ago. Once it had special properties, just as this eye did. It could see into a netherworld-a terrible place from which I could sometimes draw aid."

"All you tell me makes the complicated sorceries and cosmologies of my world seem simple in comparison."

"It only seems complicated because it is strange," Corum answered. "Your world would doubtless seem incomprehensible to me if I were suddenly flung into it." Corum broke into laughter again. "Besides, this particular plane is not my world, either, though it resembles it more than do many. We have one thing in common, Elric, and that is that we are both doomed to play a role in the constant struggle between the Lords of the Higher Worlds-and we shall never understand why that struggle takes place, why it is eternal. We fight, we suffer agonies of mind and soul, but we are never sure that our suffering is worthwhile."

Elric plainly agreed completely. "You are right. We have much in common, you and I, Corum."

Corum looked down the road and there was a mounted man sitting stock still in his saddle. The warrior seemed to be waiting for them.

"Perhaps this is the Third of whom Bolorhiag spoke," said Corum as they slowed their pace and began, cautiously, to approach the warrior.

He was jet black with a huge, heavy, handsome head covered by the snarling mask of a snarling bear, its pelt going down his back. The mask could be used for a visor, Corum thought, but was now pushed off the face to reveal the melancholy eyes. He wore featureless plate armor, which was also black and, like Elric, he had a great black-hilted sword in a black scabbard. The pair of them made Corum feel almost gaudy in comparison. The black warrior's horse was not black-it was a strong, tall roan, a war horse. Hanging from his saddle was a great round shield.

The man did not seem pleased to see them. Rather he was horrified.

"I know you! I know you both!" he gasped.

Corum had never seen the man before and yet he, too, felt recognition.

"How came you here to Balwyn Moor, friend?" he asked.

The black warrior licked his lips, his eyes almost glazed. "Balwyn Moor? This is Balwyn Moor? I have been here but a few moments. Before that I was-I was… Ah! The memory starts to fade again." He pressed one massive black hand to his brow. "A name-another name! No more! Elric! Corum! But I-I am now…"

"How do you know our names?" cried Elric, aghast.

The man replied in a whisper. "Because-don't you see?-I am Elric-I am Corum-oh, this is the worst agony… Or, at least, I have been or am to be Elric and Corum…"

Corum was sympathetic. He remembered what Jhary had told him of the Champion Eternal. "Your name, sir?"

"A thousand names are mine. A thousand heroes I have been Ah! I am-I am-John Daker-Erekose-Urlik- many, many, many more… The memories, the dreams, the existences." He stared at them suddenly through his pain-filled eyes. "Do you not understand? Am I the only one to be doomed to understand? I am he who has been called the Champion Eternal-I am the hero who has existed forever-and, yes, I am Elric of Melnibone-Prince Corum Jhaelen Irsei-I am you, also. We three are the same creature and a myriad of other creatures besides. We three are one thing-doomed to struggle forever and never understand why. Oh! My head pounds. Who tortures me so? Who?"

From beside Corum Elric spoke. "You say you are another incarnation of myself?"

"If you would phrase it so! You are both other incarnations of myself!"

"So," Corum said, "that is what Bolorhiag meant by the Three Who Are One. We are all aspects of the same man, yet we have tripled our strength because we have been drawn from three different ages. It is the only power which might successfully go against Voilodion Ghagnasdiak of the Vanishing Tower."

Elric spoke quietly, "Is that the castle wherein your guide is imprisoned?"

"Aye." Corum took a stronger grip on the reins. "The Vanishing Tower flickers from one plane to another, from one age to another, and exists in a single location only for a few moments at a time. But because we are three separate incarnations of a single hero it is possible that we form a sorcery of some kind which will enable us to follow the tower and attack it. Then, if we free my guide, we can continue on to Tanelorn…"

The black warrior raised his head, hope beginning to replace despair. "Tanelorn? I, too, seek Tanelorn. Only there may I discover some remedy to my dreadful fate-which is to know all previous incarnations and be hurled at random from one existence to another! Tanelorn-I must find her!"

"I, too, must discover Tanelorn." The albino seemed half amused, as if beginning to enjoy the strange situation. "For on my own plane her inhabitants are in great danger."

"So we have a common purpose as well as a common identity," said Corum. Perhaps now there was some chance of saving Jhary and finding Rhalina. "Therefore we shall fight in concert, I pray. First we must free my guide, then go on to Tanelorn."

The black giant growled, "I'll aid you willingly."

Corum bowed his head in thanks. "And what shall we call you-you who are ourselves?"

"Call me Erekose-though another name suggests itself to me-for it was as Erekose that I came closest to knowing forgetfulness and the fulfillment of love."

"Then you are to be envied, Erekose," Elric said, "for at least you have come close to forgetfulness…"

The black giant shook his reins and fell in beside Corum. He gave Elric a sideways stare and his mouth was crooked. "You have no inkling of what it is I must forget." He turned to the Prince in the Scarlet Robe. "Now Corum-which way to the Vanishing Tower?"

"This road leads to it. We ride down now to Darkvale, I believe."

With a man who was a shadow of himself on either side of him, with a sense of doom filling his mind when it should have begun to feel hope, Corum guided his horse down toward Darkvale.