Chronicles of Corum Read Online Free PDF

avoid the company of their fellows, I fear. Their wits grow stale.”
    “It is for that reason that I have always, by and large, preferred the life of the city,” Jhary told him.
    “Does the city not rob you of your spirit? The Nhadragh lived in cities and they grew degenerate.”
    “The spirit can be nurtured almost anywhere. The mind needs stimuli. It is a question of finding the balance. It also depends upon one’s temperament, too, I suppose. Well, temperamentally I am a dweller in cities. The larger, the dirtier, the more densely populated, the better! And I have seen some cities so black with grime, so packed with life, so vast, that you would not believe me if I told you the details! Ah, beautiful!”
    Corum laughed. ‘ ‘I am pleased that you have come back, Jhary-a-Conel, with your hat and your cat and your irony!” And then they embraced each other and they laughed together.

THE SECOND CHAPTER
THE INVOCATION OF A DEAD DEMIGOD
    That night they feasted, and Corum’s heart lightened and he enjoyed his meat and wine for the first time in seven years.
    ‘ ‘And then I came to be involved in the strangest of all adventures concerning the nature of time,” Jhary told him. Jhary had been recounting his deeds for nearly two hours. “You’ll recall the Rune-staff, which came to our aid during the episode concerning the tower of Voilodion Ghagnasdiak? Well, my adventures touched on the world most influenced by that peculiar stick. A manifestation of that eternal hero, of whom you, yourself, are a manifestation, he called himself Hawkmoon. If you think that your tragedy is great, you would think it nothing when you hear the tragedy of Hawkmoon, who gained a friend and lost a bride, two children and …”
    And for another hour he told the tale of Hawkmoon. There were other tales to follow, he promised, if Corum wished to hear them. There were tales of Elric and Erekose, whom Corum had met, of Kane and Cornelius and Carnelian, of Glogaeur and Bastable and many more—all aspects, Jhary swore, of the same champion and all his friends (if not himself). And he spoke of such weighty matters with so much humor, with so many joking asides, that Corum’s spirits rose still higher, until he was helpless with laughter and quite drunk on the wine.
    Then, in the early morning, he confided to Jhary his secret—that he feared that he had gone mad.
    “I hear voices, dream dreams—always the same. They call for me. They beg me to join them. Do I pretend to myself that this is Rhalina who calls me? Nothing I do will rid me of them, Jhary. That is why I was out again today—hoping to tire myself so much that I would not dream.”
    And Jhary’s face became serious as he listened. And when Corum had finished, the little man put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, saying, “Fear not. Perhaps you have been mad these past seven years, but it was a quieter madness altogether. You did hear voices. And the people you saw in your dream were real people. They were summoning—or trying to summon—their champion. They were trying to bring you to them. They have been trying for many days now.
    Again Corum had difficulty in understanding Jhary. “Their champion … ?” he said vaguely.
    “In their age you are a legend,” Jhary told him.’ ‘A demigod, at very least. You are Corum Llaw Ereint to them—Corum of the Silver Hand. A great warrior. A great champion of his people. There are whole cycles of tales concerning your exploits and proving your divinity!” Jhary smiled a little sardonically. “As with most gods and heroes you have a legend attached to your name which says that you will return at the time of your people’s greatest need. Now their need is great indeed.”
    “Who are these people that they should be ‘mine’?”
    “They are the descendants of the folk of Lwym-an-Esh— Rhalina’s people.”
    “Rhalina’s … ?”
    “They are fine folk, Corum. I know them.”
    “You come from them now?”
    “Not