Gaal the Conqueror

by John White

  Eleanor was staring at him with an expression on her face that he found hard to read. "So what happened to you?" she said. "I mean after you left us yesterday. You seemed real upset."

  Authentio turned to the dragon. "You never told me he might be invisible. There was a fearful commotion in the village, but I could not see what it was about. Shagah the Sorcerer directed them. Therefore I knew that matters of moment were afoot. The Regenskind seemed to be trying to stop something from reaching the water. But in the end there came a splash and movements in the water. I knew it was not a fish-"

  At the mention of Shagah a look of distress had darkened Eleanor's face. "Oh, no!" she breathed in a scared voice.

  John's mind was still on Eleanor's question. "I seemed upset?" he cried, answering it. "I was. I thought you were both crazy. The thing about burning the dog made me sick"

  "So what did you do? I was asleep when you and Authentio got back"

  So John told his story. There was no shortage of interrupting questions. At the mention of the old man with the black skull cap Eleanor's distress was plain. John noticed that she trembled as she spoke. "That's him all right," she said. "That's Shagah. Whatever are we going to do? I hoped Gaal was wrong and that I was through with him."

  As John described what was taking place inside the village temple Pontificater nodded his head gravely. "The magic is deep and dark," he said. "I am amazed that you escaped with your life. The only one who can enter and leave there at will, apart from those consecrated to do so, is Shagah. He comes from Bamah through the temple, and returns to Bamah through it."

  "Why do the villagers behave like-like they're under a spell?" John asked.

  "Ah, yes. A spell. Our lives are made miserable by the constant fear of spells and their power," Authentio replied agitatedly, "Enchantment. The black arts. Nowadays all children under the control of the Circle of Nine are enchanted at birth. They become puppets of the Circle, controlled by the Circle and by the servants of the Circle, Shagah and Hocoino, the two principal sorcerers in the land. But spell-it is basically a spell of fear, the fear of death."

  John stared at him, uncomprehending. "Fear? The fear of death?"

  "Yes, indeed. The one who governs the Circle also carries keys around his belt. They are called the Keys of Torment. It is he who invented murder. He is the Spirit of Hate. We call him, `Him that hath the power of death.' Some of us among the hill tribes have been able to resist and rebel against the Nine. But his power is great. Those he gains control of freeze with fear and stop thinking. That's what you saw in the villagers."

  "They don't seem afraid."

  "Perhaps not. Nevertheless they are. "

  "And what is the Circle in Bramah?"

  "Not Bramah, Bamah." Pontificater interrupted.

  "O.K, Bamah. But what is it?"

  The dragon drew in a long breath. To John's consternation flames shot from his nostrils hitting a bare patch of rock close to the edge of the ledge. After a moment he said, "There, try that! You look cold, and I've warmed it for you."

  Eleanor giggled. Cautiously John felt the rock with his hand. It was about as hot as an old-fashioned hot-water radiator, and not too hot to sit on. Gratefully he squatted cross-legged, pressing the palms of his hands against the hot rock.

  The dragon cleared his throat with a sound like a train in a distant tunnel. "Ahem! Yes, quite so. The Circle. The Circle of Light in Bamah has a long and exceedingly complicated his

  After he had spoken for a minute or more using and longer words, John finally interrupted, "Please-if you don't mind. I-I can't stand history! Could we skip that part? You're starting to sound like an encyclopedia. Just give me the facts."

  In a tone of alarm Authentio said, "Do not offend him, Sir! He is a loyal dragon, and knows many, many things."

  For a moment or two the dragon put on an injured air and seemed reluctant to continue. But at last he sighed and said, "The Circle of Light is a powerful group of nine-er, ahemnine nonmaterial beings who currently rule the land from the new capital city of Bamah. We call them Angeli."

  "Like ghosts?"

  "No, not like ghosts. Well, how can I express it? Perhaps like exceedingly powerful ghosts. Spiritual beings? At any rate it is they who by their sorceries have turned the villagers into dreaming idiots so the Regenskind will be easier to control."

  "Regenskind?" John queried, a frown creasing his forehead.

  "Descendants of the Regents-those beings from the Garden Room, whom doubtless you remember well. Regenskind are the equivalent of humans from your own world."

  John's heart had been beating fiercely for several minutes. "This Shagah. He seems very important," he said shakily.

  Eleanor nodded, her lips pale, and her fingers trembling a little. "Gaal said I'd have to meet him again. In fact he said I'd have something to do with imprisoning him. It makes me afraid."

  "You said a bit about that yesterday," John said, turning to the dragon. "You also said the treasure had to go to the Tower of Geburah. But why? And why do I have to take it?"

  "Why you? One can only suppose it is because you and Eleanor are the ones Gaal chose," Pontificater replied.

  Eleanor took a long breath and began, "Gaal told me two things. He said the treasures must go to the tower for safekeeping. But he also said Shagah would try to stop us and try to capture them, and that's where the second thing comes in. The treasures have magic powers, and we can use them to counteract his magic. He didn't tell me how, though. He just said they'd come in very useful on our journey, and that one day we would overcome Shagah himself by trapping him into his picture." She paused and frowned. "But he said I was to go with someone called the Sword Bearer. Who or what is the Sword Bearer?"

  "You mean you don't know?" John asked.

  "No. Should I?"

  Pontificater rumbled, "Hm! The Sword Bearer and I engaged in a prolonged discussion about his identity in your presence yesterday."

  "In my presence?"

  "It is true that you were engaged in conducting excavations around the much-discussed treasure ..."

  "Oh, then. I wasn't listening to what you two were gabbing about."

  "If you had you would have known ..."

  John interrupted. "I'm the Sword Bearer. That's the title I had last time I was here."

  A look of delight slowly dawned on Eleanor's face. "You?" she said wonderingly. "I never thought Gaal would send the two of us on such a journey together."

  "There's that Gaal fellow again. I don't know who this Gaal is," John said. "How can he order me around like that? I came here of my own free will, and nobody can make me do anything I don't want to do."

  Authentio laughed. "I don't know Gaal well myself. But he seems to be a remarkable person. You chose to come here? I wonder if this is so. I suspect Gaal brought you here."

  John hadn't thought of that. Could he have chosen not to come? Had he walked into a trap when he took those extra steps on Black Sturgeon Lake?

  "The issue is an interesting one philosophically," the dragon said. "Let it, for the sake of argument, be granted that the choice to come here was truly your own. A moment ago you talked about returning to Canada. Can you choose to go back by an act of will-to return by a similar act of will to the one that brought you here?"

  John had been standing, but as Pontificater's words sank in, he felt a cold weakness and a nausea steal over his frame. Until now he had assumed that all he had to do was to find Eleanor and return. But clearly, getting back was going to prove a bigger problem than he had thought.

  "Gaal wouldn't trick you or trap you," Eleanor said slowly. "He's not like that. I'm glad you've come, John. And even though I'm scared, I'm willing-well, sort of willing to go to Bamah and to the Tower."

  "But why?" John asked, "Why must we go? I wouldn't mind seeing the island again, but what makes it so important?"

  "According to my mother," Authentio said settling down comfortably on the rock, "the treasure was lost when it was stolen by enemies of G
aal-"

  "-and of the Changer," Pontificater interrupted.

  Authentio continued. "It is to play an important role in the future history of Anthropos, say the prophecies. My mother has told me, `The Tower of Geburah is the one safe place where such important objects can be protected, until the time is ripe."'

  "Quite so, quite so," Pontificater said. "But if you will all allow me the liberty of waxing a little epigrammatic, I would say: Protect the treasure and you will be protected. Guard it with your lives and you will be guarded."

  "And what's that supposed to mean?" John asked.

  "I speak as an oracle," Pontificater said, turning his nose upward.

  John snorted. Pontificater was impossible. He decided to take another tack. "Then why do we have to go to Bamah?" he asked.

  "Ah, yes, Bamah. Bamah the ancient and evil city. Bamah the evil capital of Anthropos," Pontificater said, obviously preparing to make a speech. "Sinister place in the extreme. You have to go there to imprison the evil sorcerer Shagah. Gaal himself will deal with the Circle of Nine. But both Shagah and his picture are in Bamah. And Shagah and his picture are your business. Therefore your assigned task begins in Bamah."

  "And I suppose Shagah will be glad to see us,"John snapped.

  Authentio looked at him narrowly. "This is no matter for jesting. If what my mother says is true, Shagah is expecting you. He has known all along about the prophecy. No, he will not welcome you. We wondered what he was doing at the village. It is clear now that he was looking for you, that he had divined the approximate time and place of your coming. He thought he had gotten rid of Eleanor when he turned her into a dog, and he obviously plans to rid himself likewise of you. You are not going to have an easy time getting to Bamah. He knows now that you are in Anthropos, and that you are somewhere near the village."

  John sighed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that what the others told him was true, that there was no way for him to return to Canada right away, and that he and Eleanor had been selected for an important mission. Indeed it was an honor to be chosen. But it was too much to accept at once. "You may all be right," he said. "But I don't want to talk about it right now. I don't want to be rude, Ponty, my friend-if you don't mind me calling you that."

  "If by such a name you indicate a friendship between us, then yes, I willingly accept it," said the dragon.

  "Then, Ponty, the stew last night was excellent. But could we have some breakfast now?"

  Far away in a room in the Temple of Bamah a black robed, white-haired old man sat at the head of a long table of heavy dark wood. Chairs surrounded the table, and beyond them books lined the walls. The old man sat erect, staring intently at a gold-framed painting which lay face up on the table in front of him. It was a picture of himself-so real that he might have been staring down at his image in a mirror. In spite of its wrinkles the face in the picture was a handsome face, and in spite of the hint of cruelty and ruthless power around the nose and mouth, it was an attractive one. Its pale blue eyes were cold, but if you looked at the face as a whole you would say its smile was warm, almost merry.

  The man raised his arms over the picture, his wide sleeves drooping like curtains below them. His pale hands trembled, and a look of intense concentration replaced his smile. Then from his lips, softly at first but slowly increasing in volume, came a deeply intoned chant. As the volume increased, so did the shaking of his hands till at length his face grew distorted, sweat covered, while his arms flailed wildly and uncontrollably. Then with a final shriek he sank back in his chair, apparently exhausted. The picture before him no longer bore his likeness, but was now a gold-framed canvas of uniform gray. Shagah the Sorcerer had constructed for himself a place of refuge in danger where no one, not even the Nine could reach him.

  For several minutes he seemed to be gathering strength as his breathing settled back to normal. But his eyes were downcast, and several moments passed before he observed what was happening over the chair at the other end of the table. A mist gathered there, slowly taking the form of a huge and deathly white figure of strange beauty that dwarfed the old man. The figure appeared to be seated, not on the chair, but on an invisible seat that brought him level with the table. The lower parts of its body could not be seen. The upper part of the trunk was so enormous that the top of the head almost reached the ceiling. Had John been there he would at once have recognized the Lord Lunacy.

  The old man lifted his eyes, and as he did so his face grew white as death. Lord Lunacy spoke. "So you completed it, Shagah!"

  Shagah trembled. He was like a bird held hypnotically by the approach of a snake. "My lord Lunacy!" he breathed.

  "And you stole some of my power to do so."

  For several minutes the old man stared but made no reply. From time to time his pale lips moved, as if he were about to say something, but no sound issued from them. Finally he seemed to rally. A pallid, tremulous smile came on his face, and he whispered, "You taught me all about stealing power. Iwanted to show you how well I have learned." With a supreme effort he controlled the tremor in his hands, gripping one hand firmly in the other. Nor did he drop his gaze, staring with eyes to which frightened life had returned, eyes that looked like those of a dog that hoped its master would forgive, yet which also held a glint that bordered, terrified as he seemed, on defiance. For several minutes no word was spoken as the two stared at each other. Finally the old sorcerer lowered his gaze. The defiance had gone and his smile was replaced by a look of utter dread.

  Lord Lunacy spoke again. "And the Sword Bearer has arrived."

  "Yes, my lord, the Sword Bearer has arrived." The sorcerer's voice was low and tremulous.

  "He has located the treasure, and has even penetrated and successfully escaped from one of our temples. Shagah, the treasure belongs to me, just as you yourself belong to me."

  "Yes, my lord." The words were whispered rather than spoken.

  "You are to destroy the Sword Bearer, and to bring my treasure here. You must not allow it to reach Geburah."

  "I understand, my lord. But my lord, the boy is protected, Gaal-"

  A roar of rage swelled from Lord Lunacy's throat and mouth. The walls shook at the sound of it, and books tumbled from the shelves on to the floor. The table rocked uncertainly, while the chair on which the sorcerer was seated seemed about to pitch him across the room. Frantically he seized the moving table with both hands, his eyes wide with terror. The roaring turned to speech. "Know, magician, that I and I alone rule in Anthropos. And I say that you will destroy the boy. Or your power will be taken from you." Slowly the roar and the clatter died down.

  Lunacy stared at the cowering sorcerer before speaking again. His face was expressionless, and his voice calm when finally he spoke. "I know that you have made plans to deal with the boy. What are they, my good lord Shagah?"

  Shagah's voice shook, but his thoughts were coherent "Every road is watched. The ports are closed. I myself shall deal with the hill tribes."

  "And the plans you had for the forest, Shagah?"

  The trembling sorcerer drew in a breath. In spite of his fear a note of defiance again sounded in his voice. "The forest will be watched with unusual care, my lord. The path that winds through it will be the obvious route to take should his lordship the Sword Bearer come here to Bamah. I have been preparing the forest over the centuries, precisely with him in mind. It is now ready."

  A slow smile darkened the beautiful face of the Lord Lunacy. "My association with the Sword Bearer goes back a long way," he said. "It will give me special pleasure to watch you deal with him. Please me in this, Shagah, and there will be no limit to the powers you enjoy."

  Instantly he was gone, and the sorcerer was left alone. He stared for a moment at the littered floor where books and manuscripts lay in confusion. For several minutes he cursed savagely, until a smile was added to the fear that still showed from his eyes. "You little know, my Lord Lunacy. Kill Gaal if you must. But the boy-and the treasure-will be mine. And I will
take them to the Tower of Geburah myself where neither the High Emperor nor you will be able to touch me. And though I wait ten thousand years, I by the treasure will conquer the world that is Anthropos. And you will perish, immortal though you may be."

  John said little during breakfast, but by the end of the meal he realized he had no other choice-he would have to go to Bamah. "How far is it?" he asked at length.

  "We'll have to walk, and it's about a month's journey southeast of here," Authentio said, "-at least at your lordships' pace-not far from the Great Bridge on the River Rure. My village is halfway between here and Bamah."

  "At our pace?" John asked as if he had been offended.

  "Authentio is a runner," Eleanor said. "He once did a fiveweek run. He runs from one end of Anthropos to the other carrying messages on behalf of Gaal. Gaal's enemies are always after him!"

  John looked enviously at Authentio's lean, muscular fitness. A month of walking! Well, the sooner they got started the better. It would have been pleasanter had Ponty been able to accompany them. Even though he irritated John, he was a reassuring sort of person to have around. But it was not to be.

  "My work here is ended," the dragon said solemnly. "It gives me a certain satisfaction to announce that I have fulfilled those very grave responsibilities that were entrusted to me, and have seen that the treasure is in the right hands. Gaal instructed me to report to him in Bamah when my work was done. I shall leave while there is still light."

  "Ponty, why can't you just carry us all? It'd be a lot easier than walking," John suggested.

  "Young sir," replied the dragon, "I am a dragon, not a public conveyance. I do not carry riders around as if I were a flying horse. In any case, my scales are hard and meticulously polished. Riding a dragon is nothing like riding a horse. How would you like to slide off my back and fall thousands of feet to your deaths?"

  It was not long thereafter that the dragon left, soaring into the clear morning air as they waved and shouted good-by. Authentio turned to John and Eleanor. "The journey to the plateau above us is rugged and steep," he said. "There are no paths, but once we are on the plateau it should not be difficult. We must leave as soon as possible. It will not take Shagah or his minions long to find us. After we reach my village, you two will have to go on to Bamah. Perhaps I will be able to come with you all the way-I'm not sure."