The Queen of Swords

The Queen of Swords by Michael Moorcock Page A

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Authors: Michael Moorcock
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Duke Gwelhen?”
    “I fear not. My memory for faces…”
    She laughed. “It was many years past. I am Rhalina who married your cousin’s son…”
    “Whose responsibility was the Margravate of Allomglyl. But I learned that he died in a shipwreck.”
    “It is so,” she said gravely.
    “But I thought Castle Moidel taken by the sea these many years. Where have you been in the meantime, my child?”
    “Until recently I ruled at Moidel, but now the barbarians of the east have driven us out and we ride to warn you that what you have experienced here today is only a trifle of what Chaos will do if unchecked.”
    Duke Gwelhen rubbed at his beard. He returned his attention to the prisoners for a moment and issued some orders, then he smiled slowly. “Well, well. And who is this brave fellow with the eye-patch—and this one, who has a pretty cat on his shoulder, and…”
    She laughed. “I will explain, Duke Gwelhen, if we may guest in your hall.”
    “I would hope that you would! Come. This sad business is done. We’ll to the hall now.”
    * * *
    In Gwelhen’s simple hall they ate a meal of cheese and cold meats washed down by locally brewed beer.
    “We are not used to fighting these days,” Gwelhen said after introductions had been made and they had explained how they came to Llarak. “In some ways today’s skirmish was a bloodier business than it might have been. If my men had more experience, they might have contained the thing and taken most of them prisoner, but they panicked. And it’s likely that I’d have been dead by now if your company had not arrived. But all you tell me of this war between Law and Chaos makes sense of various moods I have had of late. You heard how I banished the Temple of Urleh? Its adherents had taken to morbid, unhealthy pursuits. There were some murders—other things… I could not explain them. We are content here. None starves or goes in need of anything. There was no reason for the unrest. So we are victims of powers beyond our control, are we? I like not that—whether it be Law or Chaos. I would prefer to remain neutral…”
    “Aye,” said Jhary-a-Conel. “Any thinking man does in these conflicts. Yet there are times when sides must be taken lest all that one loves is destroyed. I have never known another answer to the problem, though the taking of an extreme position will always make a man lose something of his humanity.”
    “My feelings,” murmured Gwelhen, motioning with his beer mug at Jhary.
    “And all of ours,” Rhalina agreed. “Yet unless we are ready for King Lyr’s attack, Lywm-an-Esh will be brutally destroyed.”
    “She is dying, for the sea takes more land every year,” said Gwelhen thoughtfully. “Yet she should die at her own speed. We must convince the king, however…”
    “Who rules now in Halwyg-nan-Vake?” Rhalina asked.
    He looked at her in surprise. “The Margravate was indeed remote! Onald-an-Gyss is our king. He is old Onald’s nephew—his uncle died without issue…”
    “And what of his temperament—for these things are decided on temperament—does he favour Law or Chaos?”
    “Law, I would think, but I cannot say the same for his captains. Military men being what they are…”
    “Perhaps they have already decided,” Jhary murmured. “If the whole land is seized by the strife we have witnessed thus far, then a strong man supporting Chaos might have deposed the king, just as an attempt was made to depose you, Duke Gwelhen.”
    “We must ride at once to Halwyg,” Corum said.
    The duke nodded. “Aye—at once. Yet a largish company rides with you. It would be a week at least before you reached the capital.”
    “The company must follow us,” Rhalina decided. “Beldan, will you command it and bring it to Halwyg?”
    Beldan grimaced. “Aye, though I wish I could ride with you.”
    Corum got up from the table. “Then we three will set off for Halwyg tonight. If we may rest an hour or two, Duke Gwelhen, we should be

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