The Oak and the Ram - 04 Read Online Free Page B
Author: Michael Moorcock
time; because he accepted his duty, he was rewarded with this peculiar peace of mind. He began to wonder if he would find peace only by accepting his fate. It would be a strange paradox—tranquility attained in strife.
By the evening the sky had begun to grow gray, and heavy clouds could be seen in the horizon towards the East.
THE FOURTH CHAPTER
A WORLD FULL OF DEATH
Shivering, Corum pulled the heavy fur cloak around his shoulders and drew the hood over his helmeted head. Then he drove his fleshly hand deep into the fur-lined gauntlet he held ready and covered his silver hand with the other gauntlet. He stamped out the remains of his fire and looked this way and that across the landscape, his breath billowing white in the air. The sky was a hard, flat blue and it was sunless, for it was not yet true dawn. The land was almost featureless and the ground was dead, black, with a coating of pale frost. Here and there a stark, leafless tree stood out. In the distance was a line of snow-topped hills, as black as the ground. Corum sniffed the wind.
It was a dead wind.
The only scent on the wind was that of the killing frost. This part of the land was so desolate that it was evident the Cold Folk had spent some time here. Perhaps this was where they had camped before moving against Caer Mahlod in their war with that city.
Now Corum heard the sound he thought he had heard before. This sound had caused him to spring up from his fire and disperse the smoke. The sound of hoofbeats. He looked to the southeast. There was a place where the ground rose and obscured his view. It was from beyond the rise that the hoofbeats were coming.
And now Corum heard another sound.
The faint baying of hounds.
The only hounds he might expect to hear in these parts were the devil hounds of Kerenos.
He ran to his red horse, who was showing signs of nervousness, and mounted himself in his saddle, shaking his lance free from its scabbard and laying it across his pommel. He leaned forward and patted his horse's neck to calm the beast. He turned the horse toward the rise, ready to meet the danger.
A single rider appeared first, just as the sun began to rise behind him. The sun's rays caught the rider's armor and it flashed deep red. There was a naked sword in the rider's hand and the sword also reflected the rays of the sun so that for a second Corum could barely see. Then the armor turned to a fierce, burning blue, and Corum guessed the identity of the horseman.
The baying of those frightful hounds became louder, but still they had not appeared.
Corum urged his horse towards the rise.
Suddenly there was silence.
The voices of the hounds were stilled; the rider sat unmoving on his horse, but his armor changed color again, from blue to greenish yellow.
Corum listened to the sound of his own breathing, the steady beating of his own horse's hooves upon the hard, rimed earth. He began to ascend the rise, approaching the rider, his lance ready.
And then the rider spoke from within the featureless helm enclosing his head.
"Ha! I guessed so. It is you, Corum."
"Good morning, Gaynor. Will you joust?"
Prince Gaynor the Damned threw back his head and laughed a bleak, hollow laugh and his armor changed from yellow to blazing black and he swept his sword into its scabbard. "You know me, Corum. I am become wary. I do not have it in mind to make another journey into Limbo just yet. Here, at least, I have matters to occupy my time. There—well, there is nothing at all there."
"In Limbo?"
"Aye. In Limbo."
"Join a noble cause, then? Fight for my cause? Thus you could win redemption."
"Redemption? Oh, Corum, you are simple-minded indeed. Who would redeem me?"
"No one."
"Then why do you speak of redemption?"
' ‘ You can redeem yourself. That is what I meant. I do not mean that you should placate the Lords of Law—if they still exist anywhere—or that you should bow to any authority save your own pride. I mean that there is within
By the evening the sky had begun to grow gray, and heavy clouds could be seen in the horizon towards the East.
THE FOURTH CHAPTER
A WORLD FULL OF DEATH
Shivering, Corum pulled the heavy fur cloak around his shoulders and drew the hood over his helmeted head. Then he drove his fleshly hand deep into the fur-lined gauntlet he held ready and covered his silver hand with the other gauntlet. He stamped out the remains of his fire and looked this way and that across the landscape, his breath billowing white in the air. The sky was a hard, flat blue and it was sunless, for it was not yet true dawn. The land was almost featureless and the ground was dead, black, with a coating of pale frost. Here and there a stark, leafless tree stood out. In the distance was a line of snow-topped hills, as black as the ground. Corum sniffed the wind.
It was a dead wind.
The only scent on the wind was that of the killing frost. This part of the land was so desolate that it was evident the Cold Folk had spent some time here. Perhaps this was where they had camped before moving against Caer Mahlod in their war with that city.
Now Corum heard the sound he thought he had heard before. This sound had caused him to spring up from his fire and disperse the smoke. The sound of hoofbeats. He looked to the southeast. There was a place where the ground rose and obscured his view. It was from beyond the rise that the hoofbeats were coming.
And now Corum heard another sound.
The faint baying of hounds.
The only hounds he might expect to hear in these parts were the devil hounds of Kerenos.
He ran to his red horse, who was showing signs of nervousness, and mounted himself in his saddle, shaking his lance free from its scabbard and laying it across his pommel. He leaned forward and patted his horse's neck to calm the beast. He turned the horse toward the rise, ready to meet the danger.
A single rider appeared first, just as the sun began to rise behind him. The sun's rays caught the rider's armor and it flashed deep red. There was a naked sword in the rider's hand and the sword also reflected the rays of the sun so that for a second Corum could barely see. Then the armor turned to a fierce, burning blue, and Corum guessed the identity of the horseman.
The baying of those frightful hounds became louder, but still they had not appeared.
Corum urged his horse towards the rise.
Suddenly there was silence.
The voices of the hounds were stilled; the rider sat unmoving on his horse, but his armor changed color again, from blue to greenish yellow.
Corum listened to the sound of his own breathing, the steady beating of his own horse's hooves upon the hard, rimed earth. He began to ascend the rise, approaching the rider, his lance ready.
And then the rider spoke from within the featureless helm enclosing his head.
"Ha! I guessed so. It is you, Corum."
"Good morning, Gaynor. Will you joust?"
Prince Gaynor the Damned threw back his head and laughed a bleak, hollow laugh and his armor changed from yellow to blazing black and he swept his sword into its scabbard. "You know me, Corum. I am become wary. I do not have it in mind to make another journey into Limbo just yet. Here, at least, I have matters to occupy my time. There—well, there is nothing at all there."
"In Limbo?"
"Aye. In Limbo."
"Join a noble cause, then? Fight for my cause? Thus you could win redemption."
"Redemption? Oh, Corum, you are simple-minded indeed. Who would redeem me?"
"No one."
"Then why do you speak of redemption?"
' ‘ You can redeem yourself. That is what I meant. I do not mean that you should placate the Lords of Law—if they still exist anywhere—or that you should bow to any authority save your own pride. I mean that there is within
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