Free The Oak and the Ram - 04 by Michael Moorcock

something from Calatin's body. From above came the puzzled voices of the Ghoolegh, and the Ghoolegh whom Corum had pushed down the steps was beginning to slither forward, though almost every bone must have been broken. They were hard to slay, those who were already dead. "Those beyond the tower must soon realize that something is afoot here."
    They began to descend the last stairway.
    There was a noise below and around the bend came the remaining Ghoolegh while at the same time Corum heard their comrades rushing down the steps, having decided that their enemies must somehow have escaped them.
    Two above and three below. The Ghoolegh hesitated, seeing only Goffanon. Doubtless they had been told that Goffanon was not an enemy and this confused them further. As quickly as he could, Corum crept past those who blocked the path below and, as they began to climb towards Goffanon, he did the only thing he could do against the living dead: He cut at the tendons of their legs so that they flopped down, using their arms to continue to crawl towards Goffanon, their cutlasses still in their hands. Goffanon turned with his axe and chopped at the legs of the two remaining Ghoolegh, severing those limbs. No blood spouted as the guards collapsed.
    Then they were through the door, running into the cold poisoned mist, down the steps from the tower, through the gateway, into the freezing streets, Goffanon loping beside Corum, keeping pace with him, his brows still drawn together as if in tremendous concentration.
    Into the house they went and Jhary-a-Conel was already mounted, swathed still in coarse blankets so that only his face peeped through, holding Corum's horse ready for him. Jhary was astonished to see the Sidhi Smith. "Are you Amergin?"
    But Corum was tearing the mantle of invisibility from him, revealing the starved figure in old sheepskins who lay over his shoulder. "This is Amergin," he explained curtly. "The other's a cousin of mine I thought a traitor." Corum heaved the prone Archdruid over his saddle, speaking to Goffanon. "Do you come with us, Sidhi? Or do you remain to serve the Fhoi Myore?"
    "Serve the Fhoi Myore? A Sidhi would not do that! Goffanon serves nobody!" The speech was still thick, the eyes still dull.
    Having no time to waste either upon analyzing the cause of Goffanon's strange actions or conversing with the great smith to learn more, Corum said roughly:
    "Then come with us from Caer Llud."
    "Aye," said Goffanon musingly. "I would prefer to leave Caer Llud."
    They rode through the chilling mist, avoiding the massings of warriors on the far side of the city. Perhaps it was this which had allowed them to enter the city and leave it without detection—the Fhoi Myore thought only of their wars upon the West and gathered together all their forces, all their attention, for this single venture.
    Whatever the reason, they were soon able to leave the outskirts of Caer Llud and were riding up a snow-covered hill, with the Dwarf Goffanon running easily beside their horses, his axe upon his shoulder, his beard and hair streaming behind him, his huge breath billowing in the air.
    "Gaynor will soon understand what has happened and be most angry," Corum told Jhary-a-Conel. "He will realize that he has made a fool of himself. We can expect pursuit soon and he will be most vicious if he finds us."
    Jhary peered out from under his many blankets, refusing to relinquish a morsel of warmth. "We must make speed for Craig Don," he said. "There we will have time to consider what to do next." He managed to grin. "At least we now have something the Fhoi Myore wish to keep—we have Amergin."
    "Aye. They'll be reluctant to destroy us if it means destroying Amergin too. But we cannot rely on that.'' Corum adjusted the body more securely across his saddle.
    "From what I know of the Fhoi Myore, they'll not think over-subtly upon the matter," agreed Jhary.
    "Always our good luck and our bad luck both, the mentality of the Fhoi Myore!'' Corum