by John White
"So that was it," Eleanor whispered to John. "Remember? That dream he kept having about the white mare!"
From the temple there was no sign of activity. Silence had blanketed the area. Even the vultures failed to destroy the tranquility.
"And Gaal?" Eleanor said. "Will he really come back to life?"
John shrugged his shoulders. "He said he would. But who knows?"
Eleanor's face was pale and drawn. Tears slowly filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She made no attempt to hide them or to wipe them away, and after a few moments she said, "He was kind to me. He made me feel like I was somebodysomebody and worthwhile. My dad-I mean some of the things he did to me-made me feel cheap and dirty. I've never told anyone an' I never will. Gaal just seemed to know. I thought it had been all my fault-but when I met Gaal. . ."
She stared into space and said nothing for a while. Then just as John began to wonder whether he ought to make some rejoinder, she continued, "It changed when I met Gaal. He treated me like I was-clean? I even began to feel clean. He was the first person I learned not to be scared of. He told me I would be rid of fear forever one day."
"You are now," John said.
"How do you mean?"
"When we broke from the crowd to run for the altar-why did you run faster than me?"
"I just wanted to be where Gaal was. I knew he must be hurt bad, or else killed, and I just wanted to be near him."
"You weren't scared-I mean of the crowd-or of being near someone dead?"
"No-why should I be?"
"Well, that's what I mean. You didn't used to be like that. What gave you the courage to run to the altar? I thought I'd have to drag you there."
"I love him. When you love someone you just want to be with them."
"Then I guess that's it. Mebbe you can't love-I mean really love-and be scared at the same time."
Eleanor said nothing. Her face, still wet with tears, was the face of a girl whose thoughts were far away.
Later when the sun had set and the first stars of evening began to make their appearance, they saw a strange figure coming across the grass toward them. At first it looked like a small hunchback, but as it drew close they could see that it was a matmon carrying a huge bundle. John was the first to realize who it was.
"Bomgrith-is that you?"
"Greetings, my lord. I bring good tidings. Yet I fear to come to where you are, even though those cursed reds of our race who-"
Billingrath rose and stood beside John. "I speak as a cursed redhead!" he said.
Bomgrith froze, standing as still as the monoliths surrounding the temple and the altar. His bundle dropped to the ground. For several seconds the two stared at each other, Bomgrith's face a study of perplexity and embarrassment, and Billingrath's stern and set. Finally, Billingrath grinned and said, "It is well, cousin. The sight of the valor of the Lord Gaal has won my heart. It was hard for me to admit my folly, but the young Lord John has taught me that Gaal will rise from the dead-though that I will believe when I see it. As for the altar-it holds no danger for you or anyone. I am no god-nor are any of us here."
Once he had joined them Bomgrith seemed a little overwhelmed by Pontificater and still somewhat uncertain of Billingrath, whom he knew only too well. But he was too excited with the events of the day to retain his stiffness. The widow Illith and her son were safe and well. The inhabitants of Bamah had made sure they had food, blankets and utensils before leaving the city. Most were encamped in the woods and fields surrounding the city and a few in caves. Most exciting of all was the change in the Bamah inhabitants. "They begin to remember now some of the things that happened to them in their enchantment," Bomgrith said. "They say it is like remembering a forgotten dream. They also recall all what happened today, and many are grateful to the lamb who has delivered them. But some never left the city and others talk of returning here, saying there will be no earthquake. They are on their way back to the city now. And on those who never left but stayed, the same stupor has settled. They are back to their dreaming."
It was quite dark when Bomgrith left. The bundle he had carried contained food, drinks and blankets, but even though they had eaten nothing since their early breakfast, they felt no hunger and did not touch the food until his departure. Even then they ate little. They sat around the form of Gaal wrapped in the blankets Bomgrith had brought. At first they talked excitedly about the change in Pontificater, teasing him as he grew embarrassed. Then they discussed the day's events in detail. Eventually Eleanor and Pontificater began to reminisce about the way in which they had come to know Gaal, their faces glowing as they described events their memories conjured up.
In the end they grew too sleepy to talk and snuggled as comfortably as they could among the bones and stones of the altar. John and Eleanor settled themselves against Pontificater's warm coat. ("I'm so glad he's lost his scales," Eleanor whispered.)
Before long only star song filled the silence. John disturbed it with a slurred and sleepy comment. "I suppose the altar will be safe enough in the earthquake."
"Ah, yes! Yes, indeed," a horsey voice replied. "There are of course forms of construction that collapse during earth tremors, whereas other forms resist the shaking. One has to understand the relationships between ... " The monolog continued for some time. But nobody was listening. John, Eleanor and Billingrath were all asleep.
Pontificater realized it before too long and stopped in mid sentence. Then he sighed. It had been a stupendous day for him, and he looked with wonder once again at his beautiful white form and at the marvel of his curving white wings. Then he looked at Gaal, and slowly he lowered his head and sighed again. "Are you dead-or are you sleeping?" he said, looking intently at the still and silent form. "Whichever it is, I for one will guard your silent hours."
Then he lifted his head and rose slowly to his feet, taking care that Eleanor and John settled gently as he eased away from them. Carefully spreading his wings he covered the four sleeping figures, keeping his head erect beneath the stars as he waited for morning.
John never saw the first light of dawn. It crept over the horizon in the same way that the glow of distant headlights on a lonely road warns you a car is approaching. But dawn crept with greater stealth than the light from a night-prowling car. And John never saw any sign of it because he was too bewil dered by what he did see.
It felt as though he was in the open air, and partly because of the hard floor he instantly remembered where he was. But what was the solid thing above him that blotted out the stars? Cautiously he rose to his feet. What had happened? He reached his hand upward to feel the strange ceiling above him and touched something soft. His puzzled fingers continued to explore.
"Don't do that. Please-stop at once! It awakens-ha! ha! ha!-the sensation usually referred to as tickling. Not-and about this I give you my most solemn assurance-not that I could be categorized as ticklish."
"What in the world-?"
"It is I, Pontificater, Ponty. You are beneath my pontificatering wing. It is my pontificater-ing wing that you are tick-er, poking. I will retract it." Pontificater folded his wing, and at the same time rose to his feet. Immediately the stars lit up again, and John realized what the ceiling above his head had been. "For the greater part of the night I stood while I was on guardlargely out of respect for the deceased. Toward morning as the cumulative effects of emotion and weariness took their full toll of me, I decided that no disrespect would be implied if I were to cover you all from a recumbent position. No offense, I trust.?"
But John was staring at Gaal, uncertain what it meant. Still sleeping, Eleanor and Billingrath lay among scattered bones, the slow rhythm of their breathing contrasting with the absolute stillness of Gaal's body. John and Pontificater stood on either side of it. "The ancient records give one reason to hope," Pontificater said.
"He said he would conquer death," John sighed. He stared dully and uncomprehendingly at the Keys of Torment and Death in Gaal's belt. Pontificater made no response. The two
of them continued to stand, affected by the stillness all around them. John saw no hope in the body in front of him. The more he stared, the more impossible it seemed that Gaal would ever be alive. It was finished. He felt a heaviness in his body, a heaviness that made him want to sit down. Suddenly he remembered back to when Ponty had been threatening to use his flames to burn the black dog. "Oh, don't be silly!" he had said. "Dead's dead. It can't be changed. You don't fool around with things like that."
Dead's dead. He stared unblinking at Gaal's body. Why had he sounded so confident when he had assured Billingrath that Gaal would rise from the dead? Nobody rose from the dead. It had never happened, and it wouldn't happen now. He was going to look a fool to Billingrath.
Yet old memories, like bubbles that rise to the surface of a pond, continued to float up from the depths of his mind. Was there really no hope? What about Aguila the eagle? Last time he came to Anthropos Aguila had been torn to pieces by the Goblin Prince-and Aguila had come back to life by the power that flowed with blue light from Mab's staff. But Aguila was a bird, and Gaal was a man. Humans were different. Yet then again, what about Eleanor? Eleanor was human. True-she had been in the form of a dog when she was burned to ashes. But she was human.
He sighed and shook his head. No, it was not possible. Eleanor probably never died. She must have been still living in the ashes in some magical way. They were living ashes-or perhaps the whole thing had been some kind of illusion. Gaal on the other hand was as dead as the stone his body rested on. You had only to look at his cold, still form to know it.
For some minutes he stared at the keys on Gaal's belt, the Keys of Torment and Death. Were they perhaps the very ones Lord Lunacy previously wore? If so what did it mean? He frowned, staring intently. Then without warning a shattering roar and blinding flash of light tore him away from his thoughts. Radiance blazed and the earth shook. The light was too intense for him to see anything. With it came that awful sensation in his body that told John clearly an earthquake was taking place. He staggered awkwardly, struggling to retain his balance and wishing the terrible blue light would go away. Even above the roar of the earthquake he heard Billingrath shout and Eleanor cry out in fear. Then he was flung on his face and wondered whether the world was coming to an end.
It stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun. The rumbling passed into the distance, and the light faded. John got to his feet. The light had gone, but his dazzled eyes saw nothing. He could hear the others getting to their feet. Eleanor said, "Will it start up again?"
For some reason he fell to his knees and groped with his hands, trying to feel where the body was. But all he could feel was a piece of cloth on the ground. Slowly his sight cleared. There in the fading starlight in front of him he saw Gaal's robe, lying in the same position as his body had lain moments before. The empty sandals rested exactly where his feet had been. The body itself had disappeared. "He's gone," John gasped.
But Eleanor cried, "Gaal! Gaal! You're alive!"
John swung round. Gaal stood before him, his body silhouetted by the rosy dawn. Silhouetted or not, there could be no doubt that it was he. There was even a faint blue glow from the sleeveless robe he wore, and his laughter rang out merrily with all the vigor of a man in the prime of life and health. As for the keys, he could see that they were gold and that they pulsed blue light. John flung himself at him, felt the solidity of Gaal's body as strong warm arms enfolded him. The faint smell of cedar came to his nostrils and the sound of Gaal's heart beat warmly in his ear. "Oh, Gaal! I couldn't-I didn't-"
"You didn't believe?"
"I'm sorry. I to. But you seemed so dead. Death's soer . . ." Gaal waited, and John looked up into his face. "Sooh I don't know-so real and so ... so ..."
"So permanent? Well, it won't be permanent anymore. In fact, it never was. As for you-at least we can say that you believed I would conquer death. Certainly you believed enough to tell Billingrath. And you stayed here waiting. That's the kind of belief that matters most."
Eleanor was clinging to Gaal's right arm while Billingrath stared with wide eyes. Pontificater's tremulous neighings could have been either an attack of hysterics or a paean of praise and exultation. All his dignity gone, Pontificater knelt in comic adoration.
Gaal said, "There is work for you to do. And it has to do-" he stared hard at John and Eleanor, "-with your enemy Shagah, the sorcerer who even now seeks your life. He glanced at Billingrath. "Perhaps it might be best if you were to take charge of events in the city. There will be some distress there, and I doubt that the Lord Lunacy will do much to help matters." He released John and took a step forward, placing his hands on Billingrath's shoulders. "I appoint you as my servant to do all that you may. My power and my wisdom will be with you!"
Shadows of bewilderment chased sunbursts of joy across Billingrath's face. "You are-you are-you are-"
Gaal laughed. "Indeed-as you yourself say-I am."
Billingrath shook his head, his face now alight with a joy no bewilderment could obliterate. He sighed deeply. "I have no words, my Lord. There is glory within me and all around me!" He gazed for a moment into Gaal's eyes, then turned and hurried down the steps on his way to the city.
"Go in strength!" Gaal called.
A cry rang out from somewhere below them, "My Lord, is that you?"
John turned to see where the cry was coming from.
"It sounded like Authentio's voice," Eleanor said excitedly. They could barely make out the figure of a man running and stumbling toward them.
Gaal called to him, "Come, Authentio. I was beginning to wonder when you would get here!"
Authentio (for it was indeed he) stopped running, and cried, "Gaal! My Lord! I knew it! I knew death would never hold you!" Peals of laughter began to pour from deep inside him, filling the early morning air. Then he began to run again, and soon he was with them, laughing, crying and seizing Gaal's hands to kiss them as he fell on his knees before him. He bore in his hands a leather bag that the children recognized at once. "My Lord, my mother the widow Illith bade me bring these things to you."
"It's the treasures!" Eleanor breathed.
"And you may now return the key to join the book and the orb."
"The key? Oh, you mean the key!" John said, flushing as he took it from his pocket and returned it to the leather bag.
"I appoint Authentio the bearer of the treasures. He will accompany you to the Tower of Geburah where you will do battle with Shagah. Leave the treasure on the oaken table in the upper room-the room you once thought of as the Garden Room, John. Beneath the table you will deposit your sword in its scabbard. You will have no further use for it. When you have hung Shagah's picture in the room below the Garden Room, you will have defeated him."
John looked uncertain. "How will we find Shagah?"
"You will proceed to the temple, and take the adventure that comes to you. But I have my own business to attend to in the caves of Aphela and the Well of the Stillness of Death. These keys you see," indicating those on his belt, "have yet to lock some doors and open others. But for you it is time to go."
John longed to ask more questions, but something about the firmness with which Gaal spoke, sealed his lips.
Saying this, Gaal mounted Pontificater and soared into the air and out of sight. John, Eleanor and Authentio looked at each other a moment and then, without a word, as if they had all read each other's thoughts, began to move toward the temple.
Once inside they stared in awe. "I guess this is it," John breathed, "and I mean it. Shagah. Can't say I look forward to it."
"It's huge!" Eleanor whispered, referring not to Shagah, but to their surroundings.
"In my dream-the dream I had that night in the cave with Ponty-I couldn't find my way out of it," John whispered back. "But why are we whispering?"
"It's this place," replied Eleanor, still in a whisper. "It's the sort of place where you have to. It's the size of it, I think-like churches or the legislative building in Winnipeg or museums"
&
nbsp; Authentio spoke for the first time. "What is the staircase, my lord?"
"The staircase?" John said softly, frowning in bewilderment, "It wasn't there in my dream."
The staircase was certainly remarkable-if it could be called a staircase. What looked like barely visible plates of crystal seemed to float one above the other to form a spiral stairway winding up toward the vaulted ceiling far above them. The steps were totally unsupported, each apparently resting on an invisible cushion of air. It was a stairway invisible to all eyes except those with special powers to see (which the treasure seemed to impart to them all) and that could be trodden on or felt only by those who saw it.
"Let's see if we can climb it," John suggested. "Maybe it will lead us to Shagah."
"It doesn't look very safe, my lord."
John glanced sideways at Authentio. Their relationship seemed subtly to have changed. On the journey across the plateau Authentio had been the unquestioned leader. Now the young man seemed at a loss. John glanced at the stairway again. "Well, we can at least test it," he said.
After their experience at crossing the chasm, John and Eleanor might have been expected to avoid heights, but something, perhaps the knowledge that Gaal had conquered death, seemed to have warmed their hearts, giving them more than their share of courage. John tried the first step. "It's incredible! It's as steady as a rock. Try it!" First Eleanor then Authentio did so, finding his words true. "Come on! Let's see where it takes us to."
To keep their balance they needed to proceed slowly. Almost invisible steps added to the problem, making them a little giddy. The higher they climbed, the more unpleasant it was to look down.
"Do you think there's any point in going on?" Eleanor asked, when the ground began to look terrifyingly distant. "As far as I can see the steps just stop near the ceiling. They don't seem to go anywhere."