The Chronicles of Corum Read Online Free

to interpret in any other way. This was a party of warriors—a raiding party or a looting party, Corum could not be sure. But he found it hard to accept that these creatures had lately done battle with Vadhagh warriors and won.
    Now the last chariots of the caravan began to pass and Corum saw that a few Mabden walked behind, tied to the chariots by ropes attached to their hands. These Mabden bore no weapons and were hardly clothed at alL They were thin, their feet were bare and bleeding, they moaned and cried out from time to time. Often the response of the charioteer to whose chariot they were attached would be to curse or laugh and tug at the ropes to make them stumble.
    One did stumble and fall and desperately tried to regain his feet as he was dragged along, Corum was horrified. Why did the Mabden treat their own species in such a way? Even the Nhadragh, who were counted more cruel than the Vadhagh, had not caused such pain to their Vadhagh prisoners in the old days.
    "These are peculiar brutes, in truth," mused Corum, half-aloud.
    One of the Mabden at the head of the caravan called out loudly and brought his chariot to a halt beside the river.   The other chariots and wagons began to stop. Corum saw that they intended to make camp here.
    Fascinated, he continued to observe them, stock still on his horse, hidden by the trees.
    The Mabden removed the yokes from the horses and led them to the water. From the wagons they took cooking pots and poles and began to build fires.
    By sunset they were eating, though their prisoners, still tied to the chariots, were given nothing.
    When they were done with eating, they began to drink again and soon more than half the herd was insensible, sprawled on the grass and sleeping where they fell. Others were rolling about on the ground engaged in mock fights, many of which increased in savagery so that knives and axes were drawn and some blood spilled.
    The Mabden who had originally called for the caravan to stop roared at the fighting men and began to stagger amongst them, a wineskin clutched in one hand, kicking them and plainly ordering them to stop. Two refused to heed him and he drew the huge bronze war-axe from his belt and smashed it down on the skull of the nearest man, splitting his helmet and his head. A silence came to the camp and Corum, with an effort, made out the words the leader spoke:
    "By the Dog! I'll have no more squabbling of this sort. Why spend your energies on each other. There is sport to be had yonder!" He pointed with his axe to the prisoners, who were now sleeping.
    A few of the Mabden laughed and nodded and rose up, moving through the faint light of the evening to where their prisoners lay. They kicked them awake, cut the ropes attached to the chariots, and forced them toward the main encampment, where the warriors who had not succumbed to the wine were arranging themselves in a circle. The prisoners were pushed into the center of this circle and stood there staring in terror at the warriors.
    The leader stepped into the circle and confronted the prisoners.
    “When we took you with us from your village I promised you that we Denledhyssi hated only one thing more than we hated Shefanhow. Do you remember what that was?"
    One of the prisoners mumbled, staring at the ground. The Mabden leader moved quickly, pushing the head of his axe under the man's chin and lifting it up.
    "Aye, you have learned your lesson well, Mend. Say it again."
    The prisoner's tongue was thick in his mouth. His broken lips moved again and he turned his eyes to the darkening skies and tears fell down his cheeks and he yelled in a wild, cracked voice, "Those who lick Shefanhow urine!"
    And a great groan shuddered from him and then he screamed.
    The Mabden leader smiled, drew back bis axe, and rammed the haft into the man's stomach so that the scream was cut short and he doubled over in agony.
    Corum had never witnessed such cruelty and his frown deepened as he saw the Mabden begin to tie