advance along the causeway.
Corum walked to meet him.
The sea slapped against the rocks of the causeway. Sometimes a seabird cried out. There was no sound from the warriors of either side. Both defenders and attackers watched tensely as the two approached each other and then, in the middle, stopped. About ten feet separated them.
Corum saw that Glandyth had grown a little thinner. But the pale, gray eyes still contained that strange, unnatural glint and the face was just as red and unhealthy as the last time Corum had seen it. He held his war-axe down in front of him, in his two hands, his helmetted head on one side.
"By the Dog," he said, "you have become hugely ugly, Vadhagh."
"We make a fine pair, then, Mabden, for you have changed not at all."
Glandyth sneered. "And you are hung all about with pretty shells, I see, like some sea god's daughter going to be wed to her fishy husband. Well, you may become their nuptial feast when I throw your body into the sea." Corum wearied of these heavy insults. He leapt forward and swung his great broadsword at Glandyth, who brought his metal-shod axe haft up swiftly and blocked the blow, staggering a little. He kept his axe in bis right hand and drew his long knife, dropped to a crouch, and aimed the axe at Corum's knees.
Corum jumped high and the axe blade whistled under his feet. He stabbed out at Glandyth and the blade scraped the Mabden's shoulder plate but did not harm him.
Nonetheless Glandyth cursed and tried the same trick again. Again Corum jumped and the axe missed him. Glandyth sprang back and brought the axe down on the crab-shell shield, which creaked with the strain of the blow, but did not shatter, though Corum's arm was numb from wrist to shoulder. He retaliated with an overarm blow which Glandyth blocked.
Corum kicked out at Glandyth's legs, hoping to knock him off balance, but the Mabden ran backward several paces before standing his ground again. Corum advanced cautiously toward him. Then Glandyth cried out, "I'm tired of this. We have him BOW. Archers—shoot!"
And then Corum saw the charioteers, who had moved quietly down to the forefront of the ranks and were aiming their bows at him. He raised his shield to protect himself against their arrows.
Glandyth was running back down the causeway.
Corum had been betrayed. There was still an hour before the tide came in. It seemed he was going to die for nothing.
Now another shout, this time from the castle's battlements, and a wave of arrows swept down. Beldan's archers had shot first.
The Denledhyssi arrows rattled on Corum's shield and against his greaves. He felt something bite into his leg just above the knee, where he had scant protection. He looked down. It was an arrow. It had passed completely through his leg, and now half of it stuck out behind his knee. He tried to stumble backward, but it was hard to run with the arrow in him. To pull it out with his only hand would mean he would have to drop his sword. He glanced toward the shore.
As he had known they would, the first of the horsemen were beginning to cross.
He began to drag himself back along the causeway for a few more yards and then knew he would never reach the gates in time. Quickly he knelt on his good leg, put his sword on the ground, snapped off part of the arrow at the front, and drew the rest through his leg, flinging it to one side.
He picked up his sword again and prepared to stand his ground.
The warriors in the brass war masks were galloping along the causeway two abreast, their new swords in their hands.
Corum struck at the first rider and his blow was a iucfcy one, for it hurled trie man from his saddle. The other rider had tried to strike at Corum but had missed and overshot.
Corum swung himself up into the pony's primitive saddle. For stirrups there were just two leather loops hanging from the girth strap. Painfully, Corum managed to get his feet into these and block the sword blow from the returning rider. Another rider
Corum walked to meet him.
The sea slapped against the rocks of the causeway. Sometimes a seabird cried out. There was no sound from the warriors of either side. Both defenders and attackers watched tensely as the two approached each other and then, in the middle, stopped. About ten feet separated them.
Corum saw that Glandyth had grown a little thinner. But the pale, gray eyes still contained that strange, unnatural glint and the face was just as red and unhealthy as the last time Corum had seen it. He held his war-axe down in front of him, in his two hands, his helmetted head on one side.
"By the Dog," he said, "you have become hugely ugly, Vadhagh."
"We make a fine pair, then, Mabden, for you have changed not at all."
Glandyth sneered. "And you are hung all about with pretty shells, I see, like some sea god's daughter going to be wed to her fishy husband. Well, you may become their nuptial feast when I throw your body into the sea." Corum wearied of these heavy insults. He leapt forward and swung his great broadsword at Glandyth, who brought his metal-shod axe haft up swiftly and blocked the blow, staggering a little. He kept his axe in bis right hand and drew his long knife, dropped to a crouch, and aimed the axe at Corum's knees.
Corum jumped high and the axe blade whistled under his feet. He stabbed out at Glandyth and the blade scraped the Mabden's shoulder plate but did not harm him.
Nonetheless Glandyth cursed and tried the same trick again. Again Corum jumped and the axe missed him. Glandyth sprang back and brought the axe down on the crab-shell shield, which creaked with the strain of the blow, but did not shatter, though Corum's arm was numb from wrist to shoulder. He retaliated with an overarm blow which Glandyth blocked.
Corum kicked out at Glandyth's legs, hoping to knock him off balance, but the Mabden ran backward several paces before standing his ground again. Corum advanced cautiously toward him. Then Glandyth cried out, "I'm tired of this. We have him BOW. Archers—shoot!"
And then Corum saw the charioteers, who had moved quietly down to the forefront of the ranks and were aiming their bows at him. He raised his shield to protect himself against their arrows.
Glandyth was running back down the causeway.
Corum had been betrayed. There was still an hour before the tide came in. It seemed he was going to die for nothing.
Now another shout, this time from the castle's battlements, and a wave of arrows swept down. Beldan's archers had shot first.
The Denledhyssi arrows rattled on Corum's shield and against his greaves. He felt something bite into his leg just above the knee, where he had scant protection. He looked down. It was an arrow. It had passed completely through his leg, and now half of it stuck out behind his knee. He tried to stumble backward, but it was hard to run with the arrow in him. To pull it out with his only hand would mean he would have to drop his sword. He glanced toward the shore.
As he had known they would, the first of the horsemen were beginning to cross.
He began to drag himself back along the causeway for a few more yards and then knew he would never reach the gates in time. Quickly he knelt on his good leg, put his sword on the ground, snapped off part of the arrow at the front, and drew the rest through his leg, flinging it to one side.
He picked up his sword again and prepared to stand his ground.
The warriors in the brass war masks were galloping along the causeway two abreast, their new swords in their hands.
Corum struck at the first rider and his blow was a iucfcy one, for it hurled trie man from his saddle. The other rider had tried to strike at Corum but had missed and overshot.
Corum swung himself up into the pony's primitive saddle. For stirrups there were just two leather loops hanging from the girth strap. Painfully, Corum managed to get his feet into these and block the sword blow from the returning rider. Another rider
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