again, trying to perch on the cocoon as it writhed about, still pecking. Streams of green blood poured from the Ghanh now and the blood-dust stuck to it so that it was all begrimed and tattered.
Then, quite suddenly, it had rolled over the edge of the abyss. The companions ran forward to see what had happened, the disturbed dust stinging their eyes and clogging their lungs. They saw the Ghanh falling. They saw its wings open and slow its descent, but it did not have the power to do more than drift back towards the floor of the pit as the black birds pecked and pecked at its exposed skull. The yellow mist swallowed them all.
Corum waited, but nothing emerged from the mist again.
“Does that mean that you have no more allies in the netherworld, Corum?” Jhary asked. “For the birds did not take their prey with them…”
Corum nodded. “I wonder the same.” He lifted the eye-patch again and saw that the strange, cold cave was bare. “Aye—no allies there.”
“So an impasse has been created. The birds have not killed the Ghanh and they have not themselves been destroyed,” Jhary-a-Conel said. “Still, at least that danger has been averted. Let’s press on.”
The black clouds had ceased to stream across the sky but had instead stopped in their tracks and cut out the sunlight. Beneath this dark shroud they stumbled onward.
Corum noticed that Jhary had been brooding deeply since the birds had driven off the Ghanh and at last he said, “What is it that bothers you, Jhary-a-Conel?”
The man adjusted his wide hat on his head and pursed his lips. “It occurred to me that if the Ghanh was not slain but instead returned to its lair—and if the Ghanh is, as King Noreg-Dan says, a favourite pet of Queen Xiombarg’s—then fairly soon now (if not already) Queen Xiombarg will become aware of our presence here. Doubtless if she becomes aware of us then she will decide to act to punish us for what we did to her pet…”
Corum removed his helmet and ran his gauntleted hand over his hair. He looked at the others who had stopped to listen to Jhary.
“It is true,” said the King Without a Country with a sigh. “We must expect to have Queen Xiombarg upon us very soon—or, at the very least, some more of her minions if she is still not aware that her brother’s destroyer is in her realm and thinks only that we are upstart mortals…”
Rhalina had been ahead of the rest. She hardly listened to the conversation but instead pointed just in front of her. “Look! Look!” she cried.
They ran towards her and saw that she pointed at a place on the edge of the abyss—a square-cut notch carved from the rock and larger than a man’s body. They clustered around it and saw that a stairway led down and down into the distant mist. But the stairway was scarcely more than a foot across and it went straight beside the massive wall of the cliff until it disappeared into the mist a mile below. If one missed one’s footing for an instant, then one would be plunged into the abyss.
Corum stood staring at the stairway. Had it just appeared? Was it a trick of Queen Xiombarg’s? Would the steps suddenly vanish when they were halfway down—if they ever managed to get halfway down?
But the alternative was to continue to trudge along the edge and perhaps, ultimately, find themselves back at the White River (for Corum was beginning to suspect that the Blood Plain was circular, containing the Lake of Voices and the mountains, and that the abyss extended all around it).
With a sigh Corum gradually lowered himself to the first step and, on weakened legs, his back against the smooth rock, began to descend.
* * *
The four little figures inched their way down the slippery steps until the top of the abyss itself was lost in gloom, while the bottom was still shrouded by the yellow mist. There was a frightening silence as they moved. They dared not speak—dared not do anything which would break their concentration as they lowered
Then, quite suddenly, it had rolled over the edge of the abyss. The companions ran forward to see what had happened, the disturbed dust stinging their eyes and clogging their lungs. They saw the Ghanh falling. They saw its wings open and slow its descent, but it did not have the power to do more than drift back towards the floor of the pit as the black birds pecked and pecked at its exposed skull. The yellow mist swallowed them all.
Corum waited, but nothing emerged from the mist again.
“Does that mean that you have no more allies in the netherworld, Corum?” Jhary asked. “For the birds did not take their prey with them…”
Corum nodded. “I wonder the same.” He lifted the eye-patch again and saw that the strange, cold cave was bare. “Aye—no allies there.”
“So an impasse has been created. The birds have not killed the Ghanh and they have not themselves been destroyed,” Jhary-a-Conel said. “Still, at least that danger has been averted. Let’s press on.”
The black clouds had ceased to stream across the sky but had instead stopped in their tracks and cut out the sunlight. Beneath this dark shroud they stumbled onward.
Corum noticed that Jhary had been brooding deeply since the birds had driven off the Ghanh and at last he said, “What is it that bothers you, Jhary-a-Conel?”
The man adjusted his wide hat on his head and pursed his lips. “It occurred to me that if the Ghanh was not slain but instead returned to its lair—and if the Ghanh is, as King Noreg-Dan says, a favourite pet of Queen Xiombarg’s—then fairly soon now (if not already) Queen Xiombarg will become aware of our presence here. Doubtless if she becomes aware of us then she will decide to act to punish us for what we did to her pet…”
Corum removed his helmet and ran his gauntleted hand over his hair. He looked at the others who had stopped to listen to Jhary.
“It is true,” said the King Without a Country with a sigh. “We must expect to have Queen Xiombarg upon us very soon—or, at the very least, some more of her minions if she is still not aware that her brother’s destroyer is in her realm and thinks only that we are upstart mortals…”
Rhalina had been ahead of the rest. She hardly listened to the conversation but instead pointed just in front of her. “Look! Look!” she cried.
They ran towards her and saw that she pointed at a place on the edge of the abyss—a square-cut notch carved from the rock and larger than a man’s body. They clustered around it and saw that a stairway led down and down into the distant mist. But the stairway was scarcely more than a foot across and it went straight beside the massive wall of the cliff until it disappeared into the mist a mile below. If one missed one’s footing for an instant, then one would be plunged into the abyss.
Corum stood staring at the stairway. Had it just appeared? Was it a trick of Queen Xiombarg’s? Would the steps suddenly vanish when they were halfway down—if they ever managed to get halfway down?
But the alternative was to continue to trudge along the edge and perhaps, ultimately, find themselves back at the White River (for Corum was beginning to suspect that the Blood Plain was circular, containing the Lake of Voices and the mountains, and that the abyss extended all around it).
With a sigh Corum gradually lowered himself to the first step and, on weakened legs, his back against the smooth rock, began to descend.
* * *
The four little figures inched their way down the slippery steps until the top of the abyss itself was lost in gloom, while the bottom was still shrouded by the yellow mist. There was a frightening silence as they moved. They dared not speak—dared not do anything which would break their concentration as they lowered
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