'He means the Sword Ruler,' Glandyth explained. 'He means Arag the Great Old God.'
'It told me that Arioch - Arag - had been slain by Corum Jhaelen-Irsei of the Vadhagh and that Lord Arkyn of Law now ruled these five planes again…' The Nhadragh's voice trailed off.
'Tell my king the rest,' Glandyth said fiercely, tugging again on the wretch's hair. 'Tell him what you learned relating to we Mabden!'
'I was told that now Lord Arkyn has returned he will attempt to regain all the power he once had over the world. But he needs mortals as his agents and of these agents Corum is the most important - but it is certain that most of the folk of Lywm-an-Esh will serve Arkyn, too, for they learned the ways of the - the Shefanhow - long since…'
'So all our suspicions were correct,' King Lyr said in quiet triumph. 'We do well to ready for war against Lywm-an-Esh. We fight against that soft degeneration misnamed as Law!'
'And you would agree that it is my duty to destroy this Corum?' Glandyth asked.
The king frowned. Then he raised his head and looked directly at Glandyth. 'Aye.' He waved his hand. 'Now take that stinking Shefanhow from this hall. It is time to summon The Dog and The Bear!'
High on the central roof beam the little cat felt its fur stiffen. It was inclined to leave the hall there and then, but made itself stay. It was loyal to its master and Jhary-a-Conel had told it to witness all that passed during Lyr's Gathering.
Now the warriors had packed themselves around the walls. The women had been dismissed. Lyr himself left his throne and the whole centre of the hall was now barren of men.
A silence fell.
Lyr clapped his hands from where he stood, still surrounded by his Grim Guard.
The doors of the hall opened and prisoners were brought in. There were young children and women and some men of the peasant class. All were comely and all were terrified. They were wheeled into the hall in a great wicker cage and some of the children were wailing. The imprisoned adults made no attempt to comfort the children any longer, but clutched at the wicker bars and stared hopelessly out into the hall.
'Aha!' King Lyr cried. 'Here is the Food of the Dog and the Bear. Tender food! Tasty food!' He relished their misery. He stepped forward and the Grim Guard stepped forward too. He licked his lips as he inspected the prisoners. 'Let the food be cooked,' he commanded, 'so that the smell will reach into Yffarn and whet the appetites of the gods and draw them to us.'
One of the women began to scream and some of them fainted. Two of the young men bowed their heads and wept and the children looked out of their cage uncomprehendingly, merely frightened by the fact of their imprisonment, not of the fate which was to come.
Ropes were passed through loops at the top of the cage and men hauled on the ropes so that the entire contraption was raised towards the roof beams.
The little cat shifted its position, but continued to observe.
A huge brazier was wheeled in next and placed directly below the cage. The cage rocked and swayed as the prisoners struggled. The eyes of the watching warriors glowed in anticipation. The brazier was full of white hot coals and now servants came with jars of oil and flung it upon the coals so that flames suddenly roared high into the air and licked around the wicker cage. A horrid ululation came from the cage then, - a dreadful, incoherent noise which filled the hall.
And King Lyr-a-Brode began to laugh.
Glandyth-a-Krae began to laugh.
The Earls and the Counts and the Dukes and the Captains of his Court all began to laugh.
And soon the screams subsided and were replaced by the crackling of the fire, the smell of roasting human flesh.
Then the laughter died and silence came again to the hall as the warriors waited tensely to see what would happen next.
Somewhere beyond the walls of Castle Kalenwyr - somewhere out beyond the town - beyond the darkness of the night - there came a howling.
The little cat drew itself further back along the beam, close to the opening which led into the passage beyond the hall.
The howling grew louder and the flames of the great brazier seemed to be chilled by it and went out.
Now there was pitch darkness in the hall.
The howling echoed everywhere, rising and falling, sometimes seeming to die and then rising to an even louder pitch.
And then it was joined by a peculiar roaring sound.
These were the sounds of The Dog and The Bear - the dark and dreadful gods of the Mabden.
The hall shuddered. A peculiar light began to manifest itself over the vacant throne.
And then, wreathed in radiance of unpleasant and unnameable colours, a being stood on the granite dais and it turned its muzzle this way and that, sniffing for the feast. It was huge and it stank and it stood upon its hindlegs like a parody of those who, quaking, observed it.
The Dog sniffed again. Noises came from its throat. It shook its hairy head.
Still from somewhere came the other sound - the sound of grunting and roaring. This now grew louder and louder and, hearing it, The Dog cocked its head on one side and paused in its sniffing.
A dark blue light appeared on the dais on the opposite side of the throne. It took a form and The Bear stood there - a great, black Bear with long, black horns curling from its head. It opened its snout and grimaced, displaying its pointed fangs. It reached out towards the charred wicker cage and it ripped it down from where it hung.
The Dog and The Bear fell upon the contents of the cage, stuffing the roasted human flesh into their mouths, growling and snuffling and choking, crunching the bones with the bloody juices running down their snouts.
And then they were finished and they lounged on the dais and glared around them at the silent, fearful mortals.
Primitive gods for a primitive people.
For the first time King Lyr-a-Brode left his circle of guards and walked towards the throne. He lowered himself to his knees and raised his arms in supplication to The Dog and The Bear.
'Great Lords, hear usl' he moaned. 'We have learned that Lord Arag has been slain by our enemy the Shefanhow who is in league with our enemies of Lywm-an-Esh, the Sinking Land. Our cause is threatened and thus is your own rule in danger. Will you aid us, lords?'
The Dog growled. The Bear snuffled.
'Will you aid us, lords?'
The Dog cast its fierce eyes about the hall and it seemed that the same feral glint was in every other eye there. It was pleased. It spoke.
'We know of the danger. It is greater than you think.' The voice was clipped, harsh and it did not come easily to the caninoid throat. 'You will have to marshal your strength quickly and march swiftly upon our enemies if Those We serve are to retain their power and make you, in turn, stronger.'
'Our Captains are already gathered, my lord The Dog, and their armies come to join them at Kalenwyr.'
'That is good. Then we shall send you the aid we can send.' The Dog turned its huge head and regarded its brother The Bear.
The Bear's voice was high-pitched but easier to understand.
'Our enemies will also seek aid, but they will have greater difficulty in finding it, for Arkyn of Law is still weak. Arioch - whom you call Arag - must be brought back to his rightful place to rule these planes again. But if he is to do this a new heart must be found for him and a new fleshly form. There is only one heart and one form which will serve - the heart and form of his banisher, Corum in the Scarlet Robe. Complicated sorcery will be required to prepare Corum once he is captured - but captured he must be.'
'Not slain?'
It was Glandyth's disappointed tones.
'Why spare him?' said The Bear.
And even Glandyth shuddered.