Chronicles of Corum Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘You keep me young, Corum,’ she had said.
    Tears came into Corum’s single eye. He brushed them away, cursing the visitor who had revived such memories. The man was a boor, coming uninvited to Castle Erorn, opening up a deliberately closed chamber. How could he justify such actions?
    And then Corum wondered if this were a Nhadragh, for the Nhadragh, he had heard, still hated him. Those who had remained alive after King Lyr-a-Brode’s conquests had degenerated into semi-sentience. Had one of them remembered just enough of his hatred to seek out Corum to slay him? Corum felt something close to elation at this thought. He would relish a fight.
    And so he strapped on his silver hand and his slender sword before he went down the ramp to the music chamber.
    As he neared the chamber the music grew louder and louder, more complex and more exquisite. Corum had to struggle against it as he might struggle against a strong wind.
    He entered the room. Its colors swirled and danced with the music. It was so bright that Corum was momentarily blinded. Blinking, he peered around the chamber, seeking his visitor.
    Corum saw the man at last. He was sitting in the shadows, absorbed in the music. Corum went amongst the huge harps, the organs and the crystals, touching them and quieting them until, at last, there was complete silence. The colors faded from the room. The man rose from his corner and began to approach. He was small of stature and walked with a distinct swagger. He had a wide-brimmed hat upon his head and a deformity on his right shoulder, perhaps a hump. His face was entirely obscured by the brim of the hat, yet Corum began to suspect that he knew the man.
    Corum recognized the cat first. It sat upon the man’s shoulder. It was what Corum had at first mistaken for a hump. Its round eyes stared at him. It purred. The man’s head lifted and there was there smiling face of Jhary-a-Conel.
    So astonished was Corum, so used was he to living with ghosts, that at first he did not respond.
    “Jhary?”
    “Good morrow, Prince Corum. I hope you did not mind me listening to your music. I don’t believe I have heard that piece before.”
    “No. I wrote it long after you left.” Even to his own ears, Corum’s voice was distant.
    “I upset you, playing it?” Jhary became concerned.
    “Yes. But you were not to blame. I wrote it for Rhalina and now …”
    “… Rhalina is dead. I heard she lived a good life. A happy life.”
    “Aye. And a short life.” Corum’s tone was bitter.
    “Longer than most mortals’, Corum.” Jhary changed the subject. “You do not look well. Have you been ill?”
    ‘ ‘In my head, perhaps. I still mourn for Rhalina, Jhary-a-Conel. I still grieve for her, you see. I wish she …” Corum offered Jhary a somewhat bleak smile. “But I must not consider the impossible.”
    “Are there impossibilities?” Jhary gave his attention to his cat, stroking its fur-covered wings.
    “There are in this world.”
    “There are in most. Yet what is impossible in one is possible in another. That is the pleasure one has in travelling between the worlds, as I do.”
    “You went to seek gods. Did you find them?”
    ‘ ‘A few. And some heroes whom I could accompany. I have seen a new world born and an old one destroyed since we last talked. I have seen many strange forms of life and heard many peculiar opinions regarding the nature of the universe and its inhabitants. Life comes and goes, you know. There is no tragedy in death, Corum.”
    ‘ ‘There is a tragedy here,” Corum pointed out, “when one has to live for centuries before rejoining the object of one’s love—and then only joining her in oblivion.”
    “This is morbid, silly talk. It is unworthy of a hero.” Jhary laughed. ’ ‘It is unintelligent, to say the least, my friend. Come now, Corum—I’ll regret paying you this visit if you’ve become as dull as that.”
    And at last Coram smiled. “You are right. It is what happens to men who