Gaal the Conqueror

by John White

  He went on to describe the strange vision he had on the way to the prison, and heard Eleanor gasp and murmur "You too!" as he did so. He repeated what Gaal had said about destroying death from the inside and concluded, "We feel like the rest of you about what has happened, and like you we don't understand. I hate it. But one thing is clear-this is the way he wants it to happen. He never even tried to escape."

  There were more questions about the black bull. "We don't know any more," Eleanor said. "He never explained. He just said we'd see it for ourselves when it happened."

  "It will happen tomorrow at noon-if it's like all the rest of the sacrifices," Bomgrith said. "And if it is like the rest, the whole city will be out to watch."

  That night at Widow Illith's John and Eleanor talked on and on, long after the widow and her son Authentio were asleep. "I thought they'd never get to sleep," Eleanor said, her smiling face lit by an oil lamp. "Wasn't it lovely to see their joy at being together again." She stared across at Authentio, who slept contentedly on the floor beside John's alcove-bed.

  "That guy's an optimist if ever I saw one," John said heavily.

  "You're right. And I hate to be gloomy when I see them so happy."

  "They're still in danger," John sighed. "They don't seem to care. Mebbe they don't realize-though you'd think they would."

  "I guess they're so used to living one day at a time."

  "Well, I'm not," John grumbled. "You know, I can't get Shagah out of my head. I thought when we first came to Bamah that we might be free of him. But now I can't stop thinking about him."

  "I know. I'm sure he would never give up."

  "And we're still supposed to get him inside that picture."

  Eleanor drew in a breath, and for a moment seemed as though she was about to say something. But the words never came. Instead tears crept down her cheeks. At length she said, "I know it's mean of me to think of it. After all there's Gaal to think about-and all these folk who've been so kind to us. Their own lives are in danger. But I want to get back-to our own world. And now..."

  John had been twisting his fingers together. "If Gaal dies, will we ever get back?"

  Though he had grown accustomed to being in Anthropos again, the memory of his father waiting on the ice on Black Sturgeon Lake had never really left his thoughts. "I wonder how long it's been in their time since we left," he mused. "I wish I knew." He sighed.

  "You know we're talking as if Gaal's death is the end of everything," Eleanor said. "It might be. But on the other hand it might not. Remember my `death'? And remember what he said about defeating death from the inside?"

  "I think that was just talk-I mean talk to encourage us-so we wouldn't be frightened."

  "I don't think so. What does it all mean? What will we see tomorrow?"

  "I don't know. And I don't really want to go," John said. "Do you? The thought of it makes me sick."

  "But we can't just leave him. We've got to be there!"

  "Sure-I know. Don't worry. But I hate the thought of it. What good will it do? It just makes no sense, no sense at all. Oh, dad-I wish I could talk to you."

  "At least you've got a dad-a decent one, I mean," Eleanor sighed.

  They continued to talk for some time, but eventually they drifted into silence, as outside dawn began quietly to chase away the shadows of the night.

  John had been dreaming of Shagah, a Shagah who pursued him down endless corridors. Finally the sorcerer had caught him and had seized him by the shoulders. He woke with a start. Bomgrith was shouting and shaking him.

  "Wake up, Sword Bearer, wake up! We are betrayed and our enemies are upon us!"

  Bewildered, he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared round the room. Widow Illith was scurrying about in panic, seizing items of clothing. Eleanor and Authentio were hastily strapping their sandals. Quickly he laced up his own. Bomgrith seized the widow by the shoulder, crying, "Hurry! Never mind your goods and chattels-we must fleel They are even now pouring into the passages. We have been betrayed! Come! Waste no time!" He seized John's elbow and pushed him roughly up the steps toward the trap door.

  "Who is it? Who's invading the passages?" John asked.

  Bomgrith ignored him. He followed John through the trap door, and paused to help the widow and Eleanor. Authentio followed. The widow insisted on carrying a heavy bundle and would let no one relieve her of it. Suddenly the terror of pursuit was upon them, and they hurried through a maze of corridors. Bomgrith led the way, pausing at each bend to make sure the way ahead was clear.

  John followed mechanically. Alarmed as he was, he still could not rid himself of sleep and was too befuddled to worry about the route they were taking. From time to time he glanced at Eleanor who also seemed confused. "That's what comes of staying awake and talking," he thought. Other Regenskind and a few Matmon joined them, sometimes overtaking them, sometimes being overtaken by them.

  Widow Illith panted, "Pray go-a little-more slowly. I cannot keep-up." The corridor echoed with the shuffling of many feet.

  Authentio seemed unruffled and at peace, so that when eventually speech returned among them, his words were cheerful and filled with hope. "Gaal will never abandon his servants!" he said at one point.

  Eleanor said, "But he's been captured."

  "Did you ever look into his eyes?" Authentio asked her.

  Eleanor looked startled. After a moment she said, "I think I know what you mean. But all the same ..."

  Bit by bit Bomgrith told them what he knew. "They arrested the gatekeeper of the Northern Gate last night," he said. "Some of the redheads seized the lodge and stayed there. We don't know just what happened. They may have tortured the gatekeeper until he told them where the entrance to the tunnel was, or the Habesh redheads may have discovered it themselves. Anyway, early this morning they were swarming in the tunnels and arresting people."

  "How did you find out?"

  "I heard them in the distance hammering at doors, and then saw what was happening. There was a bend in the corridor and several branching corridors round there, so I started hammering at doors myself and spreading the warning. Later I nearly ran into them, and overheard their talk as I hid. Then I thought of the Sword Bearer ..."

  Eventually they reached a crowd of people near an exit. A man at the opening was beckoning people through, three or four at a time, evidently as someone outside gave him the signal that it was safe to do so. Some carried kitchen utensils, and the man at the entrance urged them not to. "They will know you are of Gaal's party, know that you have just fled your homes if you appear with those. Extra clothes you might get away withbut not those things!" John heard him say. Some heeded him and dropped their utensils. Others left still clinging to them.

  Widow Illith said, "People picnic on the grass when there's a sacrifice. I've brought a blanket, a pot to boil water and bits of food. Those won't make anyone suspect us."

  When it was their own turn to emerge John was surprised to see that they were at the same point at which they had entered the night before, by the monolith in the ring of stones around the temple. Long shadows and horizontal shafts of light alternated to create a stunning early morning panorama. Already crowds were gathering for the spectacle of the noon-day sacrifice, so it was easy for them to mingle inconspicuously, shuffling and keeping their heads and voices low. Regenskind and matmon were wandering curiously inside the circle of stones, walking around the awesome altar and eyeing it wonderingly. Others were sitting in groups and breakfasting on the grass.

  At first they felt relief mingled with anxiety, anxiety lest they should even now be discovered, and relief that they had escaped from the tunnels without being caught. Makeshift stalls run by food vendors were being erected here and there. Some were already in operation. They bought food at one and sat down on the grass in their own small group.

  "I'm terribly sorry, I really am-I mean about the raid," Eleanor said, looking at the widow Illith. "Whatever will you do?"

  The widow's face was li
ned with care. "That I know not," she replied quietly. "Many a day have I waited for this to happen. They had to find us sooner or later, yet even now I can't believe it has happened. I lost my real home two years ago when I followed Gaal and had to go into hiding. And now. . ."

  Authentio's face was alive with joy. "Do not worry, my mother!" he said. "Today is to be a day of triumph! Gaal will make all things right."

  John said nothing. He felt a little ashamed as he listened to Authentio's confidence. But he was confused and fearful, hardly knowing what to think. Certainly Gaal had said he would die. But what had he meant about conquering death from the inside?

  "When will it be safe for you to go back?" Eleanor asked the widow.

  Bomgrith answered for her. "It will never be safe," he said. "Now they have discovered the tunnels we are all homeless. We must hide in the forests."

  "But we must see what happens to Gaal first," John said. "It shouldn't be too risky. After all, they wouldn't expect us to be having a picnic, or that we would want to watch Gaal being sacrificed."

  "Nevertheless we must watch for the redheads. If they should hear the way we converse at the moment they would know at once who we are-for the enchanted ones are slow of speech and dull of wit."

  For several minutes they ate, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes eating in silence. Shuffling Regenskind continued to fill up the grassy spaces, until the area around the altar resembled a great open-air theater with the altar as the central stage. Only the area in front of the temple remained vacant.

  Widow Illith spread out the blanket, inviting them in a dull voice to sit on it. Her movements from long practice were slow and clumsy, causing John to marvel at her skill in mimicking enchantment. She sent them for sticks to build a fire, and forcing themselves to move slowly they did so. Authentio brought water from a spring, and soon the pot was heating over the flames.

  "I don't think she's just faking enchantment," Eleanor murmured softly. "It's hit her hard-losing her home for the second time."

  "Just look at the food she's brought," John whispered, his head low in imitation of enchanted Regenskind. "We needn't have bought any. How did she snatch it up so quickly?"

  "She told me it would happen sooner or later, so she was always ready." Eleanor shaded her hand to look up at the temple roof. "Look!" she said after a moment, her voice rising in excitement. "Isn't that Ponty on the roof? I'm sure it is. It's days since we've seen him. Whatever would he be doing up there?"

  "Goodness knows," John said, staring in the direction Eleanor was pointing. "But it's him all right." His voice, like Eleanor's was alive with sudden exhilaration.

  "Speak more slowly and more quietly!" Bomgrith said.

  "But you know, even the people under the spell seem a bit excited this morning," John replied. "You can feel it in the air."

  Just then the sound of a bull's bellow echoed from inside the temple. The crowds by now were dense, and there was a general stirring among them at the sound. People scrambled to their feet struggling to see what was happening, and the five adventurers did the same.

  Suddenly there was silence. Gaal had emerged from the temple, walking slowly into the sunlight. Four Habesh matmon also emerged behind him, and at first it was difficult to know what they were doing. Faintly they could hear them shouting and making motions with their arms, almost as though they were driving invisible animals in front of them. "That's Gaal, isn't it?" Eleanor said, squinting a little, for the sun was in her eyes. "It looks almost as if they're scared of him."

  It was true. They continued to shout and to wave their staffs. One of them ran forward to strike Gaal from time to time. But he would jump back quickly, as though he were afraid Gaal might attack him. But before long he became bolder, striking brutally so that Gaal would stumble, before resuming his unhurried walk toward the altar. Yet as blow succeeded blow it took him longer to recover and stagger to his feet.

  "Oh, Gaal! I can't stand it!" Eleanor breathed. "Why do you let them?"

  "The brutes!" John muttered fiercely. "How dare they!"

  By now Gaal had almost reached the altar, and suddenly at the foot of the altar an animal appeared, an animal the like of which John had never seen. It was a bull of enormous strength and size, long-horned and black in color. Its bellowing rolled across the open space. At the sound of it and at the sight of its enraged pawing, the crowd jostled one another to back away. But it was at Gaal that its rage was directed.

  "I have come, 0 worker of miracles, to exact a price." John marveled that a bellow could be both a bellow and a sneer.

  "A price?" The voice was the voice of Gaal.

  "Exactly. The price you already owe me for the many you have taken from my service. And the price is your life. Your blood."

  Tension filled the crowd. Suddenly it seemed that even the enchanted Regenskind were listening with rapt attention. The widow Illith clutched the arm of Authentio, who quietly detached her clutching hand, folded her arm beneath his own and tenderly stroked the hand.

  Gaal was speaking. "I owe you nothing, and will pay you nothing."

  "Nevertheless, I will kill you." The bull's words were quietbut they could be heard as distinctly as the ticking of a clock in a dark room at night. "I will exact the price myself."

  "It is true that you will kill me," Gaal said. "You were a murderer from the beginning, and you are a murderer still. But when you kill me, it will be only as a knife kills a victim, a knife in the hands of a greater executioner. We both serve the interests of a higher justice-I willingly, knowing what I do, you as a fool and a liar."

  The bull roared so suddenly that John and Eleanor both jumped. It was hard to say whether it roared with rage or with laughter. "Justice? What is justice? Only power matters now." It raised its head and shook it slowly from side to side as though it marveled at Gaal's stupidity. "Even now you fail to grasp reality. You are not the victim of justice but my victim. Do you hear? My victim!"

  "Not so," Gaal replied quietly. "I am the victim of the One who must be true to himselfl He is the real executioner, and his alone is the sacrifice. You are nothing more than an implement in his hand."

  Bomgrith stood close behind John. "One of the reds was staring at you a moment ago," he whispered. "He has been walking up and down behind us. I think he suspects who you are. Don't move now. I'll keep watching him."

  John's heart missed a beat. "I'm going to get the Mashal Stone ready," he said quietly to Eleanor. "Give me your hand so that I can flick the chain round both of our wrists if anything happens." His heart began to pump in his chest, but he continued to stare at Gaal and at the bull.

  "Words, words, nothing but words!" the bull bellowed. "Your only weapons are the words that come out of your mouth. Justice is a word-nothing more. What can words do? I have power. You die because I choose to kill you. The game is over. You are between my hoofs. I have won! Do you suppose I do not know you, Son of the Emperor? Ho, ho! The son himself!"

  "You are forgetting something," Gaal replied quietly.

  "I never forget anything."

  "You forget that I am also the last Regent. As the Son I do not fight with such as you. You were my servant once. But I am not only the Son."

  The bull's eyes had narrowed to slits. It had ceased to paw the ground. "Well-and what of that?" it said.

  "You deceived and defeated the first Regent!"

  `Just as I have defeated you."

  "And so you have ruled his descendants as a tyrant."

  "Precisely."

  "So I have come as a Regent. I come to do what the first Regent failed to do-to overcome your tyranny and to undo what the first Regents did."

  The bull dipped its head in mock reverence. "And how will you do that, my Lord Last-Regent?"

  "You deceived the first Regent. You have not deceived me."

  "But I have defeated you. What else matters?"

  "Not so. I am the last Regent, and I will give you a mortal wound. You will live for a time, and you will know you are d
efeated. It is not you who will defeat me. I am the one who will defeat you. I live forever."

  Then the bull roared yet more loudly, "Let us see!" Lowering his head to the ground he rushed at Gaal. Gaal stood still as the black mass pummeled the ground in its race toward him. John lurched. Eleanor screamed. Suddenly the bull gored Gaal with one of his horns, tossed him high in the air and watched him disdainfully as he fell to the ground, to lie in unnatural stillness like a crushed and broken thing. A roar swelled powerfully from ten thousand throats.

  "Oh, no, no, no!" Eleanor shrieked.

  Gaal lay inert on the ground. Again the bull lowered its head and pawed the ground, breathing heavily. And again it rushed at the pathetic body on the ground, tossing it this time so that it rose in an arc through the midday air to land on the top of the altar. For the second time the air was filled with the clamor of delight and of dismay.

  The bull raised its head and shook it, opening wide its throat and bellowing in triumph, "Now let the vultures pick at your bones! Your words were brave, but your strength was feeble. And as I have dealt with the Son, so shall I deal with the Emperor himself!"

  "I can't believe it! Gaal's dead! Or is he?" John cried in distress.

  Bomgrith elbowed him. "The Habesh matmon is pushing through the crowd toward us," he said with quiet urgency. "He's coming for you."

  Afterward John could never decide why he acted as he did. Ignoring the Mashal Stone and reaching with one hand to seize Eleanor, he cried, "Come on-let's run for it-now!"

  They burst into the open area that separated the crowd from the altar. John headed directly for it. Eleanor, far from offering resistance, leaped ahead of him. She was shouting. "I don't care anymore! Let them do what they want. I'm going to Gaal!" They ran madly and recklessly, yet so swiftly that they might have been arrows shot by archers, flying over the uneven ground to reach their target.

  Behind them the red-haired matmon had also pushed through the crowd in pursuit of them. Three of the matmon who had driven Gaal from the temple also saw what was happening and ran toward them. The murmur in the crowd swelled to a roar of excitement.