Read Online Chronicles of Corum by Michael Moorcock - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Moorcock
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Hy-Breasail if the fort begins to fall.”
“I promise,” said Corum.
Again he found himself glancing at King Mannach’s daughter. She was laughing, flinging back her thick, red hair as she drained her mead-cup. He looked at her smooth limbs with their golden bangles, her firm, well-proportioned figure. She was the very picture of a warrior-princess, yet there was something else about her manner that made him think she was more than that. There was a fine intelligence in her eyes, and a sense of humor. Or did he imagine it all, wanting so desperately to find Rhalina in any Mabden woman.
At length he forced himself to leave the hall, to be escorted by King Mannach to the room set aside for him. It was simple, plainly furnished, with a wooden bed sprung with hide ropes, a straw mattress and furs to cover him against the cold. And he slept well in that bed and did not dream at all.
BOOK TWO
New foes, new friends, new enigmas
THE FIRST CHAPTER
SHAPES IN THE MIST
And the first morning dawned, and Corum saw the land.
Through the window, filled with oiled parchment to admit light and allow a shadowy view of the world outside, Corum saw that the walls and roofs of rocky Caer Mahlod sparkled with bright frost. Frost clung to gray granite stones. Frost hardened on the ground and frost made the trees, in the nearby forest below, bright and sharp and dead.
A log fire had burned in the low-roofed room Corum had been given, but now it was little more than warm ash. Corum shivered as he washed and donned his clothes.
And this, Corum thought, was springtime. Once spring had been early and golden and winter barely noticed, an interval between the mellow days of autumn and the fresh mornings of the springtime.
Corum thought he recognized the landscape. He was not, in fact, far from the promontory on which Castle Erorn stood, in a former time, at least. The view through the oiled parchment window was further obscured by a suggestion of sea-mist rising from the other side of the fortress town, but far away could just be seen the outline of a crag which was almost certainly one of the crags close to Erorn. He conceived a wish to go to that point and see if Castle Erorn still stood and, if it did stand, if it was occupied by one who might know something of the castle’s history. Before he left this part of the country he promised himself he would visit Castle Erorn, if only to witness a symbol of his own mortality.
Corum remembered the proud, laughing girl in the hall on the previous night. It was no betrayal of Rhalina, surely, if he admitted that he was attracted to the girl. And there had been little doubt that she had been attracted to him. Yet why did he feel so reluctant to admit the fact? Because he was afraid? How many women could he love and watch grow old and perish before his own long life were over? How many times could he feel the anguish of loss? Or would he begin to grow cynical, taking the women for a short while and leaving them before he could grow to love them too much? For their sake and for his, that might be the best solution to his profoundly tragic situation.
With a certain effort of will he dismissed the problem and the image of the red-haired daughter of the king. If today were a day for the making of war, then he had best concentrate on that matter before any other, lest the enemy silence his conscience when they silenced his breathing. He smiled, recalling King Mannach’s words. The Fhoi Myore followed Death, Mannach had said. They courted Death. Well, was not the same true of Corum? And, if it were true, did that not make him the best enemy of the Fhoi Myore?
He left his chamber, ducking through the doorway, and walked through a series of small, round rooms until he reached the hall where he had dined the previous night. The hall was empty. Now the plate had been stored away and faint, gray light came reluctantly through the narrow windows to illuminate the hall. It was a cold place, and a stern one.
“I promise,” said Corum.
Again he found himself glancing at King Mannach’s daughter. She was laughing, flinging back her thick, red hair as she drained her mead-cup. He looked at her smooth limbs with their golden bangles, her firm, well-proportioned figure. She was the very picture of a warrior-princess, yet there was something else about her manner that made him think she was more than that. There was a fine intelligence in her eyes, and a sense of humor. Or did he imagine it all, wanting so desperately to find Rhalina in any Mabden woman.
At length he forced himself to leave the hall, to be escorted by King Mannach to the room set aside for him. It was simple, plainly furnished, with a wooden bed sprung with hide ropes, a straw mattress and furs to cover him against the cold. And he slept well in that bed and did not dream at all.
BOOK TWO
New foes, new friends, new enigmas
THE FIRST CHAPTER
SHAPES IN THE MIST
And the first morning dawned, and Corum saw the land.
Through the window, filled with oiled parchment to admit light and allow a shadowy view of the world outside, Corum saw that the walls and roofs of rocky Caer Mahlod sparkled with bright frost. Frost clung to gray granite stones. Frost hardened on the ground and frost made the trees, in the nearby forest below, bright and sharp and dead.
A log fire had burned in the low-roofed room Corum had been given, but now it was little more than warm ash. Corum shivered as he washed and donned his clothes.
And this, Corum thought, was springtime. Once spring had been early and golden and winter barely noticed, an interval between the mellow days of autumn and the fresh mornings of the springtime.
Corum thought he recognized the landscape. He was not, in fact, far from the promontory on which Castle Erorn stood, in a former time, at least. The view through the oiled parchment window was further obscured by a suggestion of sea-mist rising from the other side of the fortress town, but far away could just be seen the outline of a crag which was almost certainly one of the crags close to Erorn. He conceived a wish to go to that point and see if Castle Erorn still stood and, if it did stand, if it was occupied by one who might know something of the castle’s history. Before he left this part of the country he promised himself he would visit Castle Erorn, if only to witness a symbol of his own mortality.
Corum remembered the proud, laughing girl in the hall on the previous night. It was no betrayal of Rhalina, surely, if he admitted that he was attracted to the girl. And there had been little doubt that she had been attracted to him. Yet why did he feel so reluctant to admit the fact? Because he was afraid? How many women could he love and watch grow old and perish before his own long life were over? How many times could he feel the anguish of loss? Or would he begin to grow cynical, taking the women for a short while and leaving them before he could grow to love them too much? For their sake and for his, that might be the best solution to his profoundly tragic situation.
With a certain effort of will he dismissed the problem and the image of the red-haired daughter of the king. If today were a day for the making of war, then he had best concentrate on that matter before any other, lest the enemy silence his conscience when they silenced his breathing. He smiled, recalling King Mannach’s words. The Fhoi Myore followed Death, Mannach had said. They courted Death. Well, was not the same true of Corum? And, if it were true, did that not make him the best enemy of the Fhoi Myore?
He left his chamber, ducking through the doorway, and walked through a series of small, round rooms until he reached the hall where he had dined the previous night. The hall was empty. Now the plate had been stored away and faint, gray light came reluctantly through the narrow windows to illuminate the hall. It was a cold place, and a stern one.
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