The Oak and the Ram - 04 Read Online Free PDF Page A

you, Prince Gaynor the Damned, something which could save you from the hopelessness now consuming you. You know those whom you serve to be degenerate, destructive, lacking in greatness of spirit. Yet willfully you follow them, fulfill their ends for them, perpetrate great crimes and create monstrous miseries, spread evil, carry death—you know what you do and you know, too, that for you such crimes bring further agony of spirit."
    The armor changed from black to angry crimson. Prince Gaynor's faceless helm turned to stare directly into the rising sun. His horse stirred and he tightened his grip upon his reins.
    "Join my cause, Prince Gaynor. I know that you respect it."
    "Law has rejected me," said Prince Gaynor the Damned in a hard, weary voice. "All that I once followed, all that I once respected, all that I once admired and sought to emulate—all have rejected Gaynor. It is too late, you see, Prince Corum."
    "It is not too late," said Corum urgently, "and you forget, Gaynor, that I alone have looked upon that face you hide behind your helm. I have seen all your guises, all your dreams, all your secret desires, Gaynor."
    "Aye," said Prince Gaynor the Damned quietly, "and that is why you must perish, Corum. That is why I cannot bear to know that you are alive."
    "Then fight," said Corum with a sigh. "Fight now."
    "I would not dare do that, not now that you have beaten me in combat once. I would not have you look upon all my faces again, Corum. No, you must die by other means than in single combat. The Hounds ..."
    Then Corum, guessing what was in Gaynor’s mind, sent his horse into a sudden gallop, lance aimed directly at Gaynor's featureless helm, and rushed upon his ancient enemy.
    But Gaynor laughed and wheeled his steed, thundering down the hill so that the white frost rose in glistening shards on all sides of him and the ground seemed to crack as he crossed it.
    And Gaynor rode straight down the hill toward where half-a-score of pale hounds squatted, their red tongues lolling, their yellow eyes glaring, their yellow fangs dripping yellow saliva, their long, feathery tails curled along their shaggy backs. And all their bodies were that glowing, leprous white, save for the tips of their ears which were the color of fresh-drawn blood. Some, the largest, were the size of small ponies.
    And now they were getting to their feet as Gaynor rode toward them. And now they were panting and grinning as Gaynor yelled to them.
    And now they were running up the hill toward Corum. Corum spurred his horse to greater efforts, hoping to plunge through the dogs and reach Gaynor before he escaped. He struck the pack with an impact which bowled several of the hounds over and his lance skewered one directly through the skull. And both these things combined to slow Corum down as he tried to tug the lance from the dog he had slain. His horse reared, screaming, and lashed at the dogs with its iron-shod hooves. Corum abandoned his grip upon his lance and swung his double-bladed war-axe from his back, whirling it as he struck first to his left and then to his right, cleaving the head from one dog and cracking the spine of another. But the dogs kept up their chill baying, and this mixed with the horrible bowlings of the hound whose spine had been snapped, and yellow fangs clashed on Corum's byrnie and ripped at his great fur cloak, trying to drag the whistling war-axe from his hands.
    Corum kicked his right foot free from his stirrup and drove his heel into the snout of one hound while with his axe he smashed down a dog which had got a grip upon his horse's harness. But the horse was tiring fast. Corum realized that it could not hold out against the hounds only a few moments more before it collapsed beneath him with its throat torn, and there were still some six dogs to contend with.
    Five. Corum sliced the rear legs from a dog which sought to spring at him and misjudged its distance. The thing flopped to the ground near the one which still died