The Oak and the Ram by Michael Moorcock
"It is beautiful, however,’’ said Jhary.
"I have been told to fear beauty, also,'‘ said Corum. He still could not find the source of the music. He realized that he was trembling and he controlled himself, urging his horse onward. "I have been told that I shall be slain," he continued,' 'by a brother. ‘'
And Jhary, asking questions, could get Corum to speak no further on this subject. They rode for some miles in silence until they came out of the valley and looked upon a wide plain.
' 'The Plain of Craig Don,' ‘ said Corum. ‘’It is all it can be. This is thought a holy place by the Mabden. We are more than half-way to Caer Llud now, I think.’'
"And well into the Lands of the Fhoi Myore," added Jhary-a-Conel.
Even as they watched, a blizzard swept suddenly over the great plain from East to West and was gone again, leaving fresh snow sparkling as a woman might lay a fresh sheet upon a bed.
"We'll leave good tracks in that," said Jhary.
Corum was marveling at the strange sight as the fast-moving blizzard moved away into the distance. Overhead the sun was fully obscured by clouds. The clouds were agitated. They swirled restlessly all the time, changing shape swiftly.
"I am reminded somewhat of the Realm of Chaos," Jhary told him.' 'And I have been told that such frozen landscapes as these are the ultimate landscapes of worlds where the Lords of Entropy are triumphant. This is what their wasteful variety achieves. But I speak of other worlds and other heroes—indeed, of other dreams. Shall we risk the dangers of detection upon that plain, or shall we circle the plain and hope that we are not seen?"
' 'We cross the Plain of Craig Don," said Corum firmly.' 'And if we are stopped and have time to speak, we shall say that we have come to offer our services to the Fhoi Myore, knowing that the Mabden cause is hopeless."
"There seem few here of any intelligence, as I understand by intelligence,’’ said Jhary. "Will they give us that time to converse, do you think?"
"We must hope that there are more like Gaynor."
"An odd thing to hope!" exclaimed Jhary. He smiled at his cat, but it merely purred without apparently understanding its master's joke.
The wind howled then and Jhary bowed to it, pretending to assume that it was showing its appreciation.
Corum clutched his fur robe to him. Though it had been ripped in several places by the Hounds of Kerenos, it was still serviceable.
"Come," he said. "Let us cross the Plain of Craig Don."
The snow was in constant movement beneath their horses' feet, eddying like an agitated river over rocks. The wind blew it this way and that. The wind made the snowdrifts heave and fall and re-form. The wind drove into their bones so that sometimes they felt they would rather have cold steel in them than that wind. The wind sighed like a huntsman satisfied by his kill. It moaned like a satiated lover and growled like a hungry beast. It shouted like a conqueror and hissed like a striking snake and blew fresh snow from the sky. Their shoulders would be heaped with this snow until it was blown clear again and a new deposit laid in its place. The wind blew roads through the snow for them and then sealed them up again. It blew from the East and from the North and from the West and the South. Sometimes it seemed that the wind blew from all directions at once, seeking to crush them as they pressed on across the Plain of Craig Don. The wind built castles and tore them down. It whispered promises and roared threats, toying with them.
Then, through the swirl and the confusion, Corum saw dark shapes ahead. At first he thought them warriors and, dismounting, drew his sword, for his horse would be of no help to him in this depth of snow. He sank to his knees in the stuff. Jhary remained on horseback however.
"Fear not," he said to Corum. "They are not men. They are stones. They are the stones of Craig Don."
And Corum realized that he had misjudged the distance, and the objects were still some good distance ahead.
"This is the holy place of the Mabden," said Jhary.
' 'This is where they elect their High Kings and hold their important ceremonies," said Corum.
"It is where they once did these things," Jhary corrected him. Even the wind appeared to drop as they approached the great stones, seeming to show reverence for this great, old place.
There were seven circles in all, each circle containing another until the center of all of them was reached, and the innermost circle contained a large stone altar. Looking out from the center and down the hill, Corum fancied the concentric stone circles represented ripples in a pool, planes of reality, representations of a geometry not wholly connected with Earthly geometry. "It is a holy place," he murmured. "It is."
"Certainly it touches upon something I cannot explain," Jhary agreed. "Does it not remind you in some ways of Tanelorn?"
"Tanelorn? Perhaps. Is this their Tanelorn?"
‘’Geographically speaking, I think it might be. Tanelorn is not always a city. Sometimes it is a thing. Sometimes it is merely an idea. And this—this is the representation of an idea."
"So primitive in its materials and the working of those materials," said Corum, "yet so subtle in its conception. What minds created Craig Don, I wonder?"
' 'Mabden minds. Those you serve. This, too, is why they cannot bring themselves to unite against the Fhoi Myore. This was the center of their world. It reminded them of their faith and of their dignity. Now that they can no longer travel upon their two great yearly visits to Craig Don, their souls starve and, starving, rob them of their strength of will."
' 'We must find a means of giving Craig Don back to them, then,'' said Corum firmly.
"But first give them their High King, he who possesses all the wisdom of those who spend whole weeks fasting and meditating at Craig Don's altar." Jhary leaned against one of the great stone pillars. "Or so they say," he added, as if embarrassed by having been caught uttering an approving word for the place.' 'Not that it is my affair," he went on. "I mean, if—"
"Look who comes," said Corum. "And he appears to come alone."
It was Gaynor. He had appeared at the outer circle of stones and seemed so small at that distance that he could only be identified by his armor which, as usual, constantly changed color. He was not on horseback. He came walking through what was almost a tunnel made up of seven great arches, and, as he came within speaking distance, said:
"Some would have it that this temple, this Craig Don, is a representation of the Million Spheres, of the various planes of existence. But I do not think the local people sophisticated enough to understand such matters, do you?"
"Sophistication is not always measured by an ability to forge good steel or build large cities, Prince Gaynor," said Corum.
"Indeed no. I am sure that you are right. I have known worlds where the complexity of the natives' thought was equaled only by the squalor of their living conditions.'' The faceless helm turned to look up at the boiling sky. "More snow coming, I'd say. What do you think?''
"Have you been here long, Prince Gaynor?" said Corum, his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
"On the contrary, you seem to have preceded me. I have just arrived."
"But you knew we should be here?"
"I guessed this was your destination."
Corum tried to hid his interest. Gaynor was wrong. This was not his destination. But did Gaynor know a secret concerning Craig Don? A secret which might be to the advantage of the Mabden.
"This place seems free of wind," he said. "At least, it is freer than the plain itself. And no signs of the Fhoi Myore in Craig Don itself."
"Of course not. That is why you sought its sanctuary. You hope to understand why the Fhoi Myore fear it. You think you can find a means of defeating them here.'' Gaynor laughed. ' T knew that was your quest."
Corum restrained a secret smile. Without realizing it Gaynor had betrayed his masters.
"You are clever, Prince Gaynor."
Gaynor had come to a stop under an arch in the third circle. He moved no closer.
In the distance Corum
' 'Aye—they are Fhoi Myore dogs, come with them from Limbo. Their instincts warn them against Craig Don. Only Sidhi and mortals—even mortals such as I—can come here. And I fear the place, too, though I've little reason for my fears. The vortex cannot swallow Gaynor the Damned."
Corum restrained his impulse to ask Prince Gaynor further questions. He must not let his old enemy know that he had not, until recently, any hint of Craig Don's properties.
"Yet you, too, are from Limbo," Corum reminded Gaynor. "I cannot understand why the—the vortex does not claim you."
' 'Limbo is not my natural home. I was banished there—banished by you, Corum. Only those who came originally from Limbo need fear Craig Don. But what you think to gain from coming here, I know not. As naive as ever, Corum, you doubtless hoped that the
Fhoi Myore knew nothing of Craig Don and would follow you here. Well, my friend, I must tell you that my masters, while apparently stupid in some matters, have a proper regard for this place. They would not come an inch within the outer circle. Your journey has been for nothing." Gaynor laughed his bleak laugh. "Only once were your Sidhi ancestors successful in luring their foes to this place. Only once did Fhoi Myore warriors find themselves engulfed and drawn back to Limbo. And that was many centuries ago. Beastlike, the remaining Fhoi Myore keep a safe distance from Craig Don, barely realizing why they do so."
"They would not rather return to their own Realm?"
' 'They do not understand that that is where they would go. And it is scarcely in the interest of those, like me, who do know, to try to communicate this knowledge to them. I have no wish to be abandoned here without their protecting power?"
"So," said Corum as if to himself, "my journey has been fruitless."
' 'Aye. Moreover, I think it unlikely you'll return to Caer Mahlod alive. When I go back to Caer Llud I shall tell them I have seen their Sidhi foe. Then all the Hounds will come. All the Hounds, Corum. I suggest you remain here, where you are safe." Gaynor laughed again. "Stay in this sanctuary. There is nowhere else in this land that you can escape the Fhoi Myore and the Hounds of Kerenos.''
"But," replied Corum, pretending to miss Gaynor's meaning, "we have food only for a little while. We should starve here, Gaynor."
' 'Possibly,'' said Gaynor with evident relish.' 'On the other hand I could come from time to time with food-—when it pleased me. You could live for years, Corum. You could experience something of what I felt while I enjoyed my banishment in Limbo."
"So that is what you hope for. That is why you did not harry us on our way here!" Jhary-a-Conel began to descend the hill, drawing one of his curved blades.
"No!" Corum cried out to his friend. "You cannot harm him, Jhary, but he can slay you!"
"It will be pleasant," Gaynor said, retreating slowly as Jhary came to a reluctant stop. "It will be pleasant to see you squabbling for the scraps I bring. It will be pleasant to see your friendship die as hunger grows. Perhaps I'll bring you a hound's corpse—one that you slew, Jhary-a-Conel, eh? Would that be tasty? Or perhaps you will begin to find human flesh wholesome. Which one of you will first begin to desire to slay and eat the other?"
"This is an ignoble vengeance that you take, Gaynor," said Corum.
' 'It was an ignoble fate you sent me to, Corum. Besides, I do not claim nobility of spirit. That is your province, is it not?"
Gaynor turned, and his step was almost light as he walked away from them.
"I will leave the dogs," he said. "I am sure you'll appreciate their company."
Corum watched Gaynor until he had reached the outer circle and climbed onto his horse. The wind made a low sound in the distance, a melancholy murmuring, as if it wished to enter the seven stone rings but could not.
"So," said Corum musingly, "we have gained something from the encounter. Craig Don is more than a holy place. It is a place of great power—an opening between the Fifteen Realms, perhaps—or even more. We were right to be reminded of Tanelorn, Jhary-a-Conel. But how is the gateway formed? What ritual opens it? Perhaps the High King will know."
"Aye," said Jhary, "we have, as you say, gained something, Corum. But we have lost something, too. How are we to reach the High King now? Listen."
And Corum listened, and he heard the ferocious baying of the frightful Hounds of Kerenos as they ranged about the outer stone circle. If they rode from the sanctuary of Craig Don, the dogs would instantly be upon them.
Corum frowned and he shivered as he drew his fur cloak about him. He squatted by the altar while Jhary-a-Conel paced back and forth and the horses snorted nervously as they pricked their ears and heard the hounds. It seemed to become colder as the evening settled upon the place of the seven stone circles. Craig Don's properties might protect them from the Fhoi Myore, but they could not protect them from the marrow-chilling cold. Neither were there materials here from which they could build a fire. Night came down. The noise of the wind increased, but it could not drown the persistent and terrible howling of the Hounds of Kerenos.
BOOK TWO
In which Prince Corum makes use of one Treasure only to discover his lack of two others . . .
THE FIRST CHAPTER
A SAD CITY IN THE MIST
They stood between two of the great stone pillars of Craig Don and faced the prowling devil dogs of the Fhoi Myore. The Hounds of Kerenos were both fierce and wary; they snapped, they snarled, but they gave the stone circle wide clearance. Others of the dogs sat some distance off, barely visible against the wind-swirled snow which ruffled their shaggy coats. From somewhere Gaynor had added five more hounds.
Corum narrowed his eyes and fixed them on the nearest dog, then he drew back the arm which held the long and heavy lance, shifted his feet a little to get the best balance, and hurled the weapon with all the force of his fear, anger and desperation.
The lance flew true, driving deep into the canine body, knocking the hound from its feet.
‘ ‘Now!'' called Corum to Jhary-a-Conel, who held the end of the rope and began to tug. Corum pulled too. The line had been securely attached to the lance and the lance was buried deep in the hound's body so that this, too, was dragged back into the sanctuary of the stone circle. The hound still lived, and when it realized what was happening to it, it began to make feeble efforts to get free. It whined, it tried to snap at the shaft of the lance, but then it had been pulled under the arch and it became suddenly supine as if it accepted its doom. It died.
Corum and Jhary-a-Conel were jubilant. Putting his booted foot on the carcass, Corum jerked his lance free and immediately ran back to the arch, selecting a fresh target, hurling his weapon out with the line flickering behind it, striking a second hound in the throat and instantly dragging the lance back. This time the lance came free from the corpse and bounced back through the snow to them. Now there were six hounds left. But they had become more wary. Not for the first time, Corum wished that he had brought his bone bow and his arrows upon this quest.
A hound came forward and sniffed at the corpse of its fellow. It nuzzled the throat from where the fresh blood poured. It began to lap the blood with its long, red tongue.
And a third hound paid dearly for its meal as the lance sprang out again from between the tall columns and plunged into its left flank. The hound yelled, whirled, tried to get free, fell writhing into the blood-flecked snow, rose again and wrenched itself away, leaving a large part of its flank on the head of the spear. It ran in circles for a while as its life-blood gushed from it and then, about a hundred yards from the corpse it had only recently been feeding from, it flopped down.
Feeling that they were at a safe distance from the deadly lance, its brother hounds moved in and began to feast off its still living flesh.
"It is our one great advantage," said Corum as he and Jhary-a-Conel mounted their horses, "that the Hounds of Kerenos possess no moral sense concerning the eating of their fellows! It is thei
Then, while the hounds slavered around their feast, Corum and Jhary-a-Conel rode back through the seven circles, past the carved stone altar at the center of the first circle, out again through the circles until they were on the far side from the hounds.
The hounds had not yet guessed Corum's plan. There were a few minutes in hand.
Digging their heels deep into the flanks of their horses, they galloped as fast as they could away from Craig Don, heading not for Caer Mahlod (as Gaynor would think they did) but for their original destination of Caer Llud. With any luck the wind would obscure their tracks and spread their scent in all directions and they would have time to reach Caer Llud and find Amergin the Archdruid before Gaynor or the Fhoi Myore had any hint of their plan.
Gaynor had spoken the truth when he had told them that they could never reach Caer Mahlod with all the Hounds of Kerenos hunting for them, but when Gaynor found them gone it was almost certain that for a while he would waste time riding in the wrong direction while his dogs cast for their scent. Gaynor's jaundiced view of mortal character had worked this time to his disadvantage. He had reckoned without the quick thinking of Corum and Jhary-a-Conel, without their determination or their willingness to risk their lives for a cause. He had spent too long in the company of the weak, the greedy and the decadent. Doubtless he preferred such company, since he basked in it.
As he rode, Corum considered what he had learned from Gaynor the Damned. Did-Craig Don still possess the properties Gaynor had described, or had they only worked for the Sidhi? Was Craig Don now only a shell, avoided by the Fhoi Myore out of superstition rather than knowing respect for its powers? He hoped that there would come a time when he could discover the truth for himself. If Craig Don was still truly a place of power there might be a way found to make use of it again.
But now he must forget Craig Don as the pillars faded to black shadows in the distance and then were obscured entirely by the swirling snow. Now he must think ahead, of Caer Llud and Amergin under a glamour in his tower by the river, guarded both by men and things which were not men.