Michael Moorcock, The Prince With The Silver Hand: The Bull And The Spear / The Oak And The Ram / The Sword And The Stallion

Even more than the first Corum "trilogy," it's really one long story split into three books. Same hero, same patterned questing for plot coupons. What distinguishes it from the earlier volume (not to mention Moorcock's other heroic fantasies)? Well, first of all, it's hella Zelda-like: Corum is sent into his future to a misty wasteland with fairies and demons dwelling on the outskirts, and he faces his shadow, and I know those things appear in 90 percent of generic fantasy, but here they really feel close in tone and feel to Ocarina of Time (right down to the hero spending the majority of his time crossing fields where absolutely nothing happens), which, desperate for the trappings of importance, history, and size, is, after all, probably the most mythology-soaked entry in the franchise.

Which brings me to second major feature: it's hella Celtic. The first Corum trilogy's mythic elements were vague inflections -- a character name here, a place name there, little things about the nature of the Vadhagh and the Nhadragh. Here, the Celticisms are pervasive, reflected not only in the quest items, the villains, and the movement of the story, but often in the language itself. From time to time, Moorcock slips into elevated Mabinogion-inspired prose, and he makes use of lyrical staccato phrasing and characters who are frequently moved to poetry and song. It doesn't internalize the Celtic worldview as in Evangeline Walton's Mabinogion retellings (Moorcock's own personal moral vision always peeks through), and it doesn't recontextualize the specifics into something new and wonderful as in Lloyd Alexander's brilliant Prydain books (still the gold standard for myth-inspired fantasy), but it does effectively put them in service of the story's atmosphere and tone. Which is: hella bleak and hella melancholy. I mean, while there's an ever-present sense of doom in the Elric books, most of the time the characters try to push it out of their minds, and great emphasis is placed on the importance of the decisions of individuals in the face of fate. The frequent hacking and slashing is predictable, comfortable, and theoretically exciting, and it happens often enough to dilute the percentage of the story spent moping. There are victories and joys, if fleeting ones, and Elric usually responds to his predicaments with some dry, unfunny wit. Not so here. Corum doesn't spend comparatively much time mourning his fate, but the situation he faces is pretty dire, and the attempts at comic relief from the sidekicks seem out of place. They do little to leaven the general sense that any action is futile and everyone is digging his or her own grave.

The Bull And The Spear: After ridding his world of gods, Corum has settled into a comfortable domestic life with his Mabden (read: human) wife, Rhalina, at Castle Erorn, spending the long decades experimenting with artificial-hand-forging technology (he replaces the magic hand he lost at the end of the previous trilogy with a silver one; hence, the overarching title). But the Vadhagh live long and regular people don't, and eventually, Rhalina dies peacefully in her old age, leaving a still fairly youthful Corum with nothing more to live for. He feels that he's a man out of time, and -- spoiler -- that sense is only going to get worse. Everyone he knows and cares about is dead, save Jhary-a-Conel, the planeswalking dandy with the magic cat (which thankfully isn't used here to fight every battle -- it's been a regular Sonic Screwdriver in its previous appearances), who comes and goes every once in awhile bringing stories of other Eternal Champions, but really, why bother getting up in the morning just for those? So when the far-future descendants of his Mabden subjects call him in their hour of need (sending dreams with pleas for help, Erekose-style), he allows himself to be summoned and meets King Mannach of Caer Mahlod and his daughter, Medhbh, a warrior princess who reminds him strangely of his dear departed wife. They are in sore need of help; the Fhoi Myore, the Cold Folk who live only to bring death and endless winter to every living thing in the world, lead relentless assaults on the last few remaining enclaves of humanity, and the Mabden High King has been kidnapped.

Something cool: the villains are implacable leprous nihilistic geriatrics with a death wish. It's appropriate that, following a story about the higher powers leaving Corum's world, the threat here comes from being who embody a denial of the meaning of existence in the face of the loss of absolute arbiters of good and evil (in other words, the first trilogy: God Is Dead. This trilogy: If God's Dead, What's The Point?). Denizens of the places between the planes (the Cold Places / Limbo) who wound up in this place by accident, the Fhoi Myore cannot survive in the world. There are only seven of them left alive, all sick, diseased, dying. Though they can mow down groups of fighters with ease with Catoblepas-style death stares and stuff, when Corum actually faces them, they aren't even particularly adept fighters. Still, decrepit as they are, they are capable of hanging on long enough to spread freezing death for no good reason. They act without malice or hatred, and the humans can neither reason nor bargain with them. Their motives are incomprehensible because their value system comes from an entirely different reality. They want to get home, but they have no idea how. Even when Corum and friends discover a way to send the Fhoi Myore back to Limbo -- which would solve everyone's problems -- there's no way to communicate the information. They're not exactly bad, but they must be eliminated. Appropriately in the post-god world, the threat they pose is that they have great power and don't belong in this time and place. All of these things mirror Corum's own dilemma and reflect his final fate. Another strength: the Fhoi Myore bring cold -- mist, ice, and snow -- which blankets the world; thus, though they're rarely on-screen, their effects are always present. Where in Phoenix In Obsidian and The Ice Schooner (the other two Moorcock books set in icy wastelands that I've read), the settings mainly affect the plot and worldbuilding, here you actually get a feel for the encroaching chill. Corum is constantly trudging through thick snow or hearing the faint music of the harp that haunts him (but I get ahead of myself) blown on a freezing wind, and it feels cold and hopeless, where those earlier books simply talked about being cold and hopeless.

Corum has passed into legend, and the Vadhagh are unknown, but there remain tales of the Sidhi, said to be descendants of the Vadhagh (not that it particularly matters, but we later learn straight from the source that the Sidhi are not Vadhagh descendants, but rather cousins from another plane -- more Eldren offshoots), who in the past helped humanity to defeat and repel the Fhoi Myore with the use of magical items -- a spear, a cauldron, an oak tree, and more -- and magical animals -- a stallion, a ram, a bull -- all of which were the only weapons deadly to the invaders. But the treasures and animals have been scattered, and each pair he collects can be traded in for a book-concluding victory. Conveniently, the Bull of Crianass, a deadly giant black bull and beast of the Sidhi, is located nearby, but it can be tamed only by using the spear, Bryionak, which was fashioned by the Sidhi smith Goffanon, who is said to dwell on a mysterious enchanted island called Hy-Breasail. Before setting out for the island, though, Corum needs to trade the can to a crocodile for some bananas repulses an assault on Caer Mahlod by some deadly white hounds led by one of the Fhoi Myore, Kerenos, who controls his beasts with a magical horn (plenty of magical items to go around up in this bitch). Corum passes the ruins of Castle Erorn (the Mabden think it's a natural formation, partly because it has been so long and partly because Vadhagh architecture works with organic growth), where he is haunted for the first time by the sweet, sad strains of a harp played by a spectral harpist (he begins to hear this at regular intervals). He passes deserted and leveled villages full of frozen corpses on the moors; one contains a survivor, a seeress, who prophesies that Corum will be slain by a brother, and tells him he has three things to fear: his brother, a harp, and beauty. Corum is like, well, I am kind of leery of that harp I keep hearing, but I certainly have nothing to fear from those other things! I mean, I don't even have a brother, and all mystic pronouncements are to be taken entirely literally! And nothing that's beautiful could ever be dangerous!

Tracked by the Hounds of Kerenos and some zombie warriors (also controlled by the horn, just because), Corum passes the ruins of several of the locations of his past adventures and, as things have changed and landmarks have disappeared, he becomes lost. Before he's dismembered, however, the baddies are scattered by a horn blast (because there just happens to be another magic horn) from crazy old Ben Kenobi Calatin, a selfish, cynical wizard who's out for himself but wants Corum's help. See, the wizard once had plenty of sons to do his dirty work, but one by one they all died on his behalf -- seeking magical artifacts and spell components. On learning that Corum is off to see Goffanon on the island that makes people go crazy, he allows him to borrow the horn in exchange for getting some of the Sidhi smith's spittle in a bag. Uncurious as to why this guy would want the spit, Corum agrees to this, since he's boned without the horn. The horn, by the way, can be used both to control the hounds (with one blast) and to kill them instantly (with three). At no point do the hounds display anything less than total obedience to their masters or any sign of free will at all, so there's no real reason for the Fhoi Myore to be giving their armies an easily exploitable weakness. At least Davros, having been betrayed by his creations like ten million times, has a decent reason for putting a button on his control panel that immediately eradicates all Daleks.

Calatin, by the way, is a potentially intriguing character whose potential is squandered. In this book, he's a living illustration of the post-higher-being world Corum has created. Calatin is entirely amoral (or at least, he starts that way). He doesn't grieve for the deaths of his sons (though he is ticked that he doesn't have any more to fetch stuff for him), or for the coming extinction of humanity. He's interested in abstractions and theory. His search for arcane knowledge despite mockery from his peers and neighbors isolated him, but also allowed him to survive when the Fhoi Myore slaughtered everyone else. This makes him another thematic twin to Corum, and his appearance might allow our hero to examine the similarities in their life paths. But no, Corum simply finds him heartless and cold, agreeing to the bargain only because he has to, and in the subsequent books, Calatin becomes nothing more than a straight-up evil cackling villain, and not a memorable one at that (I look at Morda from Lloyd Alexander's Taran Wanderer and think, whoa, these scenes will stick with me till the day I die. THAT's how you incorporate elements of folklore into your evil sorcerer). He's a stock figure who exists solely to complicate things for the hero, eventually creating a less resonant evil twin for Corum and allying himself with the Fhoi Myore (and some demons, but I'll get to them) for no good reason at all.

Anyway, with the borrowed horn, Corum goes to the enchanted island and meets Goffanon the smith, who's a nice guy and willing to assist Corum in any way possible that doesn't involve him actually leaving his island and doing anything (he swears not to become involved, ignoring the fact that he's under siege by the hellhounds and neutrality isn't an option here). Goffanon, by the way, is enormous compared to humans but admits he's actually really small for one of the Sidhi. So he's a giant dwarf. This is allegedly humorous, and it's pretty much the extent of his characterization. He gladly offers up his spit, thinking it to be a Mabden superstition, but will only give Corum the spear in exchange for the horn, considering he needs something to keep the hounds away. The smith talks in terms of debts paid -- the balance, order -- which should be a warning sign indicating that this guy is living in the past, maaaaaaaaaan, but Corum accepts his terms, a bargain that leaves them both with less. He returns to Calatin, who's happy to get the bag of spit but understandably livid at the loss of his horn, which was the only thing keeping him safe; to calm the old man down, Corum offers his scarlet Name-robe, which holds only minor sentimental value, to settle the debt, and leaves, waylaid periodically by monsters and, at one particularly videogamey moment, is attacked by some ice phantoms who are immune to his other weapons but are easily vanquished by the spear. Set spear with C-Button!

Corum rejoins the people of Caer Mahlod and summons the Bull of Crianass at a Sidhi holy spot just in time, as the Fhoi Myore army shows up momentarily. And who could be leading the unholy army but Corum's old adversary Prince Gaynor the Damned? He has joined the Cold Folk because they promise death, which remains his chief desire, though I don't think they're capable of offering the eternal soul-death he's looking for. Gaynor, by the way, exists entirely as a red herring; Corum thinks he's the "brother" he should beware, but he's so wrong. There's fighting and the Bull wreaks havoc, eventually killing one of the Fhoi Myore (one down, six to go) and routing Gaynor. After the battle is won, the Bull asks to be slain, as it is a fertility symbol and the narrative wasn't giving it the opportunity to fulfill its role in the natural course of events. Corum obliges (the spear vanishes, too, sensing that the author has no interest in finding any other purpose for it), the land becomes fertile, and everyone at Caer Mahlod is able to live in peace -- for the moment.

The Oak And The Ram: Oh, yeah, that victory didn't accomplish much of anything. Corum still has visions/nightmares about the harp, Medhbh (you'd think he'd have reservations about his girlfriend when old seeresses and his own psyche are warning him like this, but no), and a twin to himself. The Fhoi Myore threat continues to grow, and King Fiachadh, another Mabden leader, shows up at Caer Mahlod, hoping to unite the small surviving human settlements and failing because of the incredibly stupid political system: Amergin, the High King, is being held captive at Caer Llud (the former capital of the world and now the Fhoi Myore headquarters), and the other kings aren't allowed to choose a new one while he's still alive. So Corum needs to save the High King, and to this end, Fiachadh gives him another of the Sidhi treasures: Arianrod's Cloak, which confers your standard magical invisibility. On the way, Corum runs into Prince Gaynor (Corum halfheartedly urges him to repent. Gaynor halfheartedly rejects the proffered hand) and ditches him. Then Jhary-a-Conel shows up with his magic cat and makes this book more formulaic and a lot less thematically coherent than its predecessor. He starts by smugly comparing the Fhoi Myore to the Lords of Chaos (noting the dull similarities and ignoring the differences, which are the only remotely interesting things about them) and proceeds to lead Corum to a stone circle, which is this plane's representation of Tanelorn and a pretty lousy one at that. The Fhoi Myore fear and avoid it, not knowing that it would send them back to Limbo, which is what they want (though you wouldn't get them to understand that). The rest of the villains are also given names and half a sentence worth of personality apiece. So in addition to Kerenos (the huntsman) and Balahr (Catoblepas), there's Rhannon (breathes life into the dead), Sreng of the Seven Swords (I assume Kali-style), Arek (not important, other than going on to become a Sinistral), and Goim (female, gobbles cocks, not making this up).

Things get even stupider when the good guys reach the enemy stronghold and decide to infiltrate it by pretending to be the living dead for maybe five minutes, at which point even the book doesn't care about it any more. They find the High King, but he's under an enchantment that causes him to believe himself to be a beast (I'm not exactly sure why the Fhoi Myore decided to do this, as they have no reason to be taking captives or performing torture or anything), so they have to drag his useless ass around. What's the literary equivalent of an escort mission? Then they're shocked to see Calatin there along with Goffanon, who is taking orders because the magic bag of spit places him under the wizard's control. It's one of the most ineffective forms of mind control I've ever seen. Corum gets around it by saying, "Calatin wants you to help us out and come with us and do whatever you want!" The glamour is also interrupted when he knocks Calatin out (without killing this clearly present threat who is in league with the enemy! Or even stealing the spit bag! At least they have the sense to take the hound-controlling horn).

They leave, bringing High King Amergin and Goffanon along, but the people they've rescued aren't okay yet. Goffanon can still be controlled by the wizard if he gets close, and the spell on the High King can only be broken by the Golden Oak and the Silvern Ram, so it's off to collect more items. Jhary thankfully leaves to take Amergin back to Caer Mahlod, while Corum and Goffanon travel to another human settlement, Caer Garanhir, because those cats have the Oak. They're taunted at regular intervals by Gaynor, but on the bright side, they come across another Sidhi, Goffanon's old friend Ilbrec, a full-sized giant, who is happy to join up but leaves to gather Sidhi weapons. Another Fhoi Myore army is rapidly approaching, and the warriors of Caer Garanhir are not prepared for the coming battle; fortunately, Ilbrec shows up with a sword that creates a magical Barrier of Convenient Stalling. The king has despaired because his just-married son has been killed by advance troops, but our heroes give the king hope (Cheer up! Your son may be dead, but the High King is still alive! Let's not mention he thinks he's an animal...) and in return he gives them the Oak and the Ram. Imagine a feel-good version of Denethor, only utterly flat and lifeless and making use of the tremendously unconvincing "what people really need at their darkest moments is to look up to a symbol of incorruptible paternal power" logic of Batman in The Dark Knight.

The main Fhoi Myore army is out of the picture for this book, but the small rear guard, led by Calatin and the decrepit seven-sworded Sreng, still pose a passing threat. Calatin takes control of Goffanon again, but only for like five seconds. Ilbrec knocks the smith out and kills Sreng (two down, five to go) while the wizard flees and Corum twiddles his thumbs. Everyone returns to Caer Mahlod, and Corum uses the Golden Oak to summon an Oak Woman, who brings the Ram to life and revives the High King, who is made youthful and strong. The Oak Woman and the Ram, which seems to have been kind of useless except as a symbol, disappear, and everyone is unified, the end. It's like the end of the first book, only even less is resolved! Yeah, this installment of the trilogy is almost entirely filler, and it reads like it was written in less than half the time it took to write the preceding and succeeding volumes.

The Sword And The Stallion: Goffanon forges the titular sword for our hero as Corum prepares the united Mabden for war, still haunted by the harp. Medhbh tells him that the harpist is known as the Dagdagh, and insists he is their friend. Look, Corum. Your girlfriend, the one you've already been given reason to be wary of, is praising an entity you definitely know is bad news -- grounds for a breakup? I think so. They set off for their planned assault to retake Caer Llud (there is no tactical reason this is necessary, since I would think their strategy should be based around how to eliminate the remaining Fhoi Myore one by one, rather than engaging the full power of their enemies at once. Ostensibly, this assault is meant to retake the artifacts located in the capital -- the Healing Cauldron and the Collar of Power -- but wouldn't a stealth mission work better to get those back, since it's already established that infiltrating enemy headquarters is incredibly easy?). On the way, they come across a group of traveling warriors who tell them of the Shadow Island, Ynys Scaith, Hy-Breasail's dark counterpart, shunned by the Sidhi, where their women and children were slaughtered by a man who looked identical to Corum. They mention the man's scarlet robe. Corum doesn't think about this at all. Back when he learned that the spit bag was used to control Goffanon, he might have wondered whether the personal item he gave to the wizard might conceivably have been used for something, but that would entail actually making use of our protagonist's spectacular self-absorption.

Corum and the High King decide they are doomed without magical aid from the folk of Ynys Scaith, so Corum decides to go there to enlist magical aid. This pisses off Medhbh royally, because women don't listen to explanations in this world. Goffanon also feels it's a suicide mission and continues with the rest, so only Corum and Ilbrec continue to the island, finding it to be chock full of hallucinatory horrors and illusions, though they do find a seemingly worthless old saddle whose importance would be a surprise if we hadn't just been told that the last lost treasure was some old saddle everyone thought was worthless. Ynys Scaith is inhabited by dragons and the Malibann, arrogant ancient decayed sorcerers of an island empire from another plane who also bear a resemblance to the Vadhagh. So this is just a shadow of Melniboné, then. For no real reason. That's the multiverse for you. The Malibannians are led by a man named Sactric, who tells them that time flows differently on the island (yeah, I watch Lost too), and months have passed in a matter of hours. Then things get unbelievably convoluted for maybe 10 pages because half of the most important events in the story happened off-screen. First, Calatin shows up again (having taken control of Goffanon. Again.) to gloat and fill everyone in on what happened in the meantime. To recap: a bunch of really minor characters died and/or had their penises eaten; morale is at rock-bottom because everyone thinks Corum is a traitor because a guy who looks exactly like him has been doing evil; the few survivors are holed up at the magic stone circle again. Calatin has allied himself with the Malibann, as they want Goffanon, who apparently knows the location of the artifact that Sactric and company need to return to their plane (couldn't this have been set up in one of the previous books?). But the deal goes south, Goffanon reveals he was only pretending to be controlled, and the wizard orders Corum's evil twin (known as the Karach) to attack everyone and promptly gets killed (the changeling double leaves, but surely he'll never show up again). Goffanon makes a deal with Sactric: they help the Mabden against the Fhoi Myore, and he'll give them what they need to leave the plane. Jhary reveals himself to be there, as it was all part of a plan where he pretended to defect to get access to the bag of spittle and switch it out. To leave Ynys Scaith, Sactric needs to possess someone, so Jhary volunteers his cat, since cats are great as soul vessels (this would seem to have come out of nowhere to anyone who hadn't previously read The Caravan Of Forgotten Dreams, where this fact is established).

Everyone rushes to the besieged pseudo-Tanelorn holy stone circle. The High King is still alive, as is Medhbh, who is now Queen in the wake of her father's death, not that that means anything. She accuses him of treachery. Everyone else is like, no, no, it was his evil twin, really. The High King decides there must be a trial to settle things, which... this isn't really the time, you know? You're surrounded by deadly  enemies on all sides with no way out, and you need to prepare for the final showdown. But the trial goes on, and the evidence presented by both sides doesn't make the slightest bit of sense ("I have this awesome sword here. Wouldn't I have used this awesome sword if I had it? But I didn't use it to kill you guys. So that couldn't have been me!"). Then Ilbrec remembers that the saddle is actually Legaire's Saddle, which can be used to summon the Yellow Stallion, and only the pure of heart can ride it or something. So really, this book actually should have been called The Saddle And The Stallion to fit with the summoning artifact/summoned animal naming structure of the other books. Though I guess this name is a little snappier. They summon the Stallion, and Corum can ride it, which proves his innocence, though that's not really proof of anything, since there is the Vegeta loophole on the whole pure heart thing. And why everyone takes Ilbrec's word on the stallion-riding thing and doesn't listen to him when he says, come on, we fought the evil twin? Beyond me, but the people trust Corum again. Then Medhbh says, hey, Corum, can I borrow your silver hand? I got a charm to make it stronger and the one who taught it to me -- I WON'T SAY WHO IT IS -- says it's bound to work. BAD IDEA. I guess when Jhary was telling Corum stories about his many adventures with various incarnations of the Eternal Champion, he forgot to mention what happened to Hercules.

Time for the final fight. Corum fights Balahr and Gaynor, Ilbrec fights Kerenos, Goffanon fights Goim, and Sactric-in-cat traps all of the Fhoi Myore in an illusion and confuses their forces. The Fhoi Myore retreat, they're driven in their confusion into the stone circle, and they're sucked into Limbo. Jhary, trying to save his cat, gets sucked into Limbo too, hopefully for good. Corum kills Goffanon by accident. Ilbrec goes off to live in solitude. High King Amergin retrieves his Cauldron and his Collar of Power and we never find out what they actually do. Sactric leaves the cat (he and his people can leave the plane since the head of his hot sister has been dug up and her soul released). Corum keeps the cat and decides to return to Caer Mahlod with his lady love Queen Medhbh, because their relationship has been so strong. It would seem that victory was bittersweet, but the human race was saved and everyone can live happily ever after.

...

Not likely! In a legitimately eerie ending, Corum is drawn to the ruins of Castle Erorn, hearing the harp and Medhbh's voice. He meets the Karach, his evil twin. They fight, and the silver hand takes control of the sword and kills his doppelganger. He meets Gaynor (who has been a total nonentity in these books; this is the only moment that remotely justifies his appearance) and the Dagdagh, the harpist. Gaynor has sincerely come to make peace (!). The Dagdagh has opened a door into a land where Corum and Gaynor may find the contentment and peace they both search for. He tells Corum that he and his kind no longer belong in this world. He tells Corum that he loved Rhalina, not Medhbh. Corum insists he must stay because he loves Medhbh. He leaves to return to her. He finds her waiting outside. She strikes him with a sling (calling back to a minor moment at the very beginning of The Bull And The Spear when we learned of the sling's use in repelling "invaders"). He has chosen unwisely, as this is No Country For Old Heroes. The silver hand again acts on its own, stabbing Corum through the heart. It's brutal and effective stuff, reducing the dilemma to a fine point. Corum attempts to impose a vision on the world that is untrue, and the world rejects it. Like the Fhoi Myore, he embraces nothing -- a phantom, a love he can't possibly convince himself is real -- rather than something. Doing right also involves stepping aside when one's time in the spotlight it over. Genuine unconditional salvation is offered, even to the one who least deserves it. Corum persists in delusion; therefore, he dooms himself. Nothing noble about it, nothing grand. You reject grace, so you're damned. Nowhere to go from there.