The Sword and the Stallion - 06 Read Online Free PDF Page B

have still to sing the song." "Song?" Medhbh was curious.
    "My sword song. A song was always sung at such a time as this.'' Goffanon lifted the sword toward the moon and it took on the aspect, for a moment, of a living thing; then it was a solid black cross framed against the great disc of the moon. "Each sword I make is different. Each must have a different song. Thus its identity is established. But I shall not name the blade. That task is Corum's. He must name the sword with the only name right for it. And when it is named, then the sword will fulfill its ultimate destiny."
    "And what is that?" asked Corum.
    Goffanon smiled.’’ I do not know. Only the sword will know. ‘'
    "I thought you above such superstition, Sir Sidhi!" Jhary-a-Conel stroked his cat's neck.
    "It is not superstition. It is something to do with an ability, at such times as these, to see into other planes, into other periods of time. What will happen will happen. Nothing we do here will change that, but we will have some sense of what is to come and that knowledge could be of use to us. I must sing my song, that is all I know." Goffanon looked defensive. Then he relaxed, turning his face to the moon. "You must listen and be silent while I sing."
    "And what will you sing?" asked Medhbh.
    "As yet," murmured Goffanon, "I do not know. My heart will tell me."
    And, instinctively, they all fell back into the shadows of the oaks while Goffanon climbed slowly to the crest of Cremmsmound, the sword held by the blade in his two hands and lifted toward the moon. On the top of the mound he paused.
    The night was full of heavy scents, of rustlings and the voices of small animals. The darkness in the surrounding grove was almost impenetrable. The oak trees were still. Then the sounds of the forest seemed to die away and Corum heard only the breathing of his companions.
    For a long moment Goffanon neither moved nor spoke. His huge chest rose and fell rapidly and his eyes had closed. Then he moved slowly, lifting the sword to eight separate points before returning to his original position.
    Then he began to sing. He sang in the beautiful, liquid speech of the Sidhi which was so like the Vadhagh tongue and which Corum could easily understand. This is what Goffanon sang:
    Lo! I made the great swords
    Of a hundred Sidhi knights. Nine and ninety broke in battle.
    Only one came home.
    Some did rot in earth; some in ice;
    Some in trees; some under seas; Some melted in fire or were eaten.
    Only one came home.
    One blade, all broken, all torn,
    Of the Sidhi metal Not enough for a sword,
    So iron was added.
    Sidhi strength and Mabden strength
    Combine in Goffanon ‘s blade, His gift for Corum.
    Weakness, too, this war-knife holds.
    Now Goffanon shifted his grip slightly upon the sword, raising it a little higher. He swayed, as one in a trance, before continuing:
    Forged in fire, tempered in frost,
    Power from the sun, wisdom from the moon,
    Fine and fallible, This brand is fated.
    Ah! They will hate it,
    Those ghosts of the yet-to-come!
    Even now the sword thirsts for them. Their blood grows chill.
    And it seemed almost that Goffanon balanced the blade by its tip and that it stood upright under its own volition.
    (And Corum recalled a dream and he recoiled. When had he handled such a sword before?)
     
    Soon will come the naming,
    Then the foe shall shudder! Here is a handsome needle,
    To stitch the Fhoi Myore shroud!
    Glaive! Goffanon made thee!
    Now you go to Corum! Worms and carrion eaters
    Will call you 'Friend. ’
    Harsh shall Be the slaughter,
    Ere the winter's vanquished, Good, red reaping
    For a Sidhi scythe!
    Then must come the naming;
    Then must come the tally. Sidhi and Vadhagh both shall
    Pay the score.
     
    Now a frightful shuddering possessed Goffanon's bulky body and he came close to losing his grip on the sword.
    Corum wondered why the others did not seem to hear Goffanon when he groaned. He looked at their faces. They stood entranced, uncomprehending,