Gaal the Conqueror

by John White

  They stopped to peer upward.

  "What she says is true, my lord."

  "Yeah. You're right. But let's go just a bit farther."

  "Why?" Eleanor asked.

  "Well, obviously they're magical sort of steps, and presumably they have a purpose."

  "Perhaps a sinister purpose."

  "I suppose. But Gaal told us to take the adventure that came to us. I think this must be what he meant."

  In the end they proceeded to the very last stair, almost at the apex of a vaulted ceiling. They stared at the step without stepping on it. Around them the dim and intricately carved arches of the ceiling seemed ready to swallow them. "Well, we might as well-" John said, and placed his right foot on the last step. Instantly the scene changed.

  All three of them were inside a room. In some mysterious fashion they had passed through a door without ever seeing it. Shelves lined the walls bearing old, leather-bound volumes and scrolls of yellow vellum. A long wooden table, dark, heavy and intricately carved, filled the center of the room. Chairs of carved black wood surrounded the table. A carpet covered the floor, wonderfully woven in brilliant colors, bearing a design of what seemed like Arabic letters and stars. The carvings on the chairs and table seemed to repeat the designs.

  Lying on the table face up was a picture in a gold frame. At least it looked like a picture, but they stared in bewilderment at it when they drew closer. "It's not finished, obviously," John said.

  "Then why is it already framed?" Eleanor asked. "That frame is valuable. It's-it's not gilt-it's like beaten gold-over wood or something. And the canvas has been stretched. That's what the lady does who comes every summer to the lake to paint."

  Authentio looked grave. "There is magic in it, my lord. It is exceedingly powerful magic. I can sense it." He turned the picture over and saw that it had a chain with which to hang it.

  "But who would ever want a picture with nothing on it but dark gray paint?" John asked.

  Eleanor shook her head. "Beats me," she said.

  Slowly they circled the room, looking at the bookshelves and pulling down some of the leather-bound volumes. The books were impossible to read, for the language and the letters were strange. Some of the pictures were frightening. "They're books of spells and magic, my lord," Authentio murmured. "If this should be the library of Shagah the sorcerer, the books represent the secrets of his power."

  John drew down a volume and blew the dust from the top of it. Them as he opened it he gave a cry, half of fear and half of wonder. A man six inches tall, a miracle of miniature perfection, rose out of the pages to face them.

  "Dad! Dad!" John was almost screaming.

  The little image of Ian McNab seemed not to hear. He was wrapped in the darkness of a winter night and seemed to be pacing to and fro across a miniature patch of snow, breathing frostily and flapping his arms around his body for warmth. Eleanor and John were transfixed.

  "That's just how he was when ... you know, I think that's how he is now-I believe we're actually seeing Black Sturgeon Lake-Oh, Dad, Dad!"

  There was the sound of a heavy step at the door of the room, and as they looked up the volume snapped shut and replaced itself on the shelf. At the same time they found themselves moved instantly (by powers they later concluded must have resided in the treasures) to a place of hiding beneath the table. Instantly, the door-the very door through which they themselves had passed moments before without realizing they had done so-opened, to admit the man they dreaded, Shagah.

  They could not see him, but guessed with uncanny accuracy that it was he. Only Eleanor caught a glimpse of the black robes as he stepped past the table. John held his breath, hoping against hope that the wooden chairs surrounding the table would cover their presence. They had not chosen to get under the table, and they would look ridiculous if Shagah were to find them there. With swift strides Shagah passed on the far side of the table along the length of the room, opened a door at the far end of the room and passed beyond, leaving the door partly open.

  "He never saw us," Eleanor whispered.

  "This is the most extraordinary adventure I have ever known," Authentio whispered back. "How great is Lord Gaal!"

  John was thinking hard. "Let's wait here a bit. I've a feeling we're supposed to be here somehow."

  From the far room came the sound of voices, two of them. One was warm and deep, and the other was one John also recognized. "Lord Lunacy!" he breathed. "Shhh!"

  Soon they began to worm their way carefully between the chairs to emerge from the table's shelter and to creep in silence to the door. John was the first to look through. A throne occupied the center of the room facing the far wall. It was illuminated, as was the rest of the room, by a large skylight above it. He could tell from the sorcerer's white hair and black velvet skull cap that it was he who occupied the throne. Beyond the throne, and rearing up to look down at him, he could discern the enormous head of a red serpent, a head that was at least twice the size of the throne, that bore open wounds. The serpent seemed only partly present. At times John could see through it.

  But he saw something else, and as he saw it his heart lifted. Immediately beside the door opening, and to his right, a tall and ornate carved screen provided a hiding place behind which they could listen to, perhaps even observe what took place. He beckoned to the others to follow. In seconds they had squatted silently with him, peering through the holes in the carved screen at the strange scene before them.

  "So you believe the Sword Bearer may be dead," the serpent said, staring down at the sorcerer. A sensation like an electric shock went through John's body.

  "You thought you sensed him in the temple, I know. But there has been no sign of him-or of either the dragon or the girl-since the incident with Pan."

  Eleanor squeezed John's hand silently.

  "You trust the pipes of Pan?" the serpent hissed gently.

  There was almost an arrogance in Shagah's tone as he replied. "My wounded lord, to whom I shall ever show gratitude and loyalty, you yourself taught me the arts by which even the god Pan became subject to me. He does my bidding. He does it perfectly. He has destroyed them both. Of this I am confident."

  "Yet the treasure is still not ours, and I sense it still exists in Anthropos. Indeed I have smelled it for days in and around Bamah. What say you to that, Shagah?"

  "I say that my lord is as perceptive as ever. Ah, my lord, Gaal may have won this round of the battle against you, but you will win in the end! And as for the treasure, it will be in my hands today. Like your lordship, I smell it. And I have made provision to draw it after me to Geburah. The spell is complete, the invocation uttered, the sacrifice-to your lordship of coursealready offered. The treasure will be in the Tower of Geburah today-under my control."

  "And if the children live still?"

  "If the children live still they will be drawn to their deaths in Geburah, the tower built by your former master." He laughed, and the laugh was deep and warm with macabre mirth. John shuddered.

  The snake looked down on the skull cap. There was no change in its expression. Finally it said softly, "Yes, my former Master-from whom I stole the Keys of Torment and Death, keys I no longer possess. You are quite right-my former Master and your own Maker."

  "Quite so. Soon to be our lamented former Master and Maker. The Changer changed, as it were."

  "Is that why you plan to move your quarters to the Tower of Geburah?" the snake hissed. "For if so I would remind you that the Changer has not yet been changed, and Gaal is at present very much alive-cursed be his name!"

  Shagah laughed long and merrily. Then he said, "Of course the move is not without risk."

  The two lapsed into momentary silence. Behind the screen the watchers carefully eased their positions. John's thoughts were still on Lord Lunacy and Shagah. Their conversation had appeared congenial. Neither the tone of their voices nor what they said was hostile. Yet the atmosphere between them seemed charged with hate. Why, John wondered, could the sorcerer seem
so cool and confident before the Lord of Evil? Before he had clearly been bullied by Lunacy.

  Shagah broke the silence. "For a Regenskind, Gaal's powers were extraordinary."

  "So are your own."

  "But mine have taken centuries of painful and dangerous labor to acquire. I have risked death at your own hands a thousand times."

  "You have done extraordinarily well, Shagah. You have come very far." The remark sounded more like a threat than a compliment. Yet the sorcerer seemed unperturbed.

  "The children could be your undoing yet," Lord Lunacy continued, swaying gently. "Somehow I am less convinced of their death than you are. The prophesies indicate that they are the ones who will imprison you in your own picture."

  "Time will tell." The atmosphere was electric.

  "You play the game well, Shagah. It is a joy to match wits with you. I trained you for my pleasure. Now tell me-why do you go today to Geburah?"

  "You say that I do not know that the boy is dead, and I cannot afford to take risks. I shall be there to meet him should he arrive. From my divinations, divinations you yourself taught me, I perceive he would arrive-if indeed he were still before or just after the death of Gaal. That death has now passed-not altogether as planned. Therefore, if the children still live they will probably arrive today. And what a shock awaits them there!"

  "You will take your books and instruments with you?"

  "I will draw the contents of both these rooms after me, once I arrive, and I shall ensconce myself in all the rooms except the Garden Room."

  "Very good! A sorcerer's sorcerer whose spells have style! You will go there first and then call your furnishings to follow you. And you go today-indeed within moments." It was a statement, not a question, but Shagah nodded.

  "Your picture will go too? You know it is not entirely safe."

  "I know it is at once my refuge and my Achilles heel. My refuge because it enables me to `castle' myself for millennia. My Achilles heel, because I still face either Gaal or you when I awake."

  "Your Achilles heel is that once the picture is in the Sword Bearer's hands you will never take refuge in it. If you so much as touch it when he has it you will perish forever."

  "As you say, my Lord."

  "Let me try to fathom your thinking about Geburah. It is the gateway of power from the throne of the Changer. Correct?"

  "Correct." The answer came with confidence.

  "It is, therefore, a highly dangerous place for a headquarters."

  "Likewise correct"

  "Then your objective must be correspondingly important."

  Silence followed. After about two minutes Shagah answered, and this time when he spoke the malevolence in his voice was chilling. "My hope is to destroy the tower, to interrupt the flow of power. For that my arrangements are complete. Either now or centuries in the future, the tower will be destroyed."

  "Admirable. But what powers have we against a tower built by Himself? We are not dealing with any ordinary tower."

  "Quite so. But as you yourself know it can be destroyed by one of the human beings who so enchant him. It can be destroyed-or at least very seriously damaged by human treachery, by human unbelief. And if I wait ten thousand years I will find someone-someone of the household of the Sword Bearer, if not the Sword Bearer himself, in whom I can plant the seeds of treachery."

  "And then your power will be as great as my own?"

  "Never as great, Lordship. You know yourself that it would be impossible."

  "But you would have very great power."

  "If I do not meet my end."

  The serpent was smiling, its eyes glittering dangerously. "Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent! It has the bold simplicity of genius. There is more to you than I have given you credit for. Go then, and we will see which of us survives longer."

  The skull-capped head vanished, and the Lord Lunacy began to fade from view. As he did so he murmured, "But a greater genius and a greater boldness belongs to me. Checkmate will come in time, Shagah. You serve my pleasure well."

  For several minutes John, Authentio and Eleanor never moved, scarcely daring to breathe. "I think they've gone," John said at length. "Even the throne has disappeared. The room's empty."

  Carefully they made their way back through the first room. "Wasn't that something!" Eleanor breathed. "I mean about us being dead-"

  By this time they had reached the door that they had passed through without seeing. John tried the handle.

  "Made me feel great. But listen, I'm not sure how we're going to get out." By this time John, who had had no success with the door, was frowning and looking worried. "We mustn't get stuck in here," he murmured.

  "Let me try, my lord. Gaal would not imprison us here." He tried to twist the door handle with all his strength. "It's locked," he muttered.

  For the next hour, with increasing anxiety, they sought to leave Shagah's strange dwelling place. They searched for keys, tried the treasure key, tried kicking the door ("But not too hard in case we find ourselves flying through space. Remember we're up near the ceiling,") tried saying, "Open in the name of Gaal," and looked for an invisible step on this side of the door.

  Then it happened. The floor began to tremble. "Earthquake!"John cried.

  But it was no earthquake. "We're moving-and I think it's some sort of magic," Eleanor said breathlessly. The walls dissolved around them and stars appeared. Slowly things began to turn upside-down.

  "Oh, how great is Lord Gaal!" Authentio cried.

  They were going somewhere, and certainly they were going "by magic," but the going was clearly not the same as when Mab had been there. The magic seemed less powerful. For one thing the journey was in slow motion, and for another, it was never very clear whether they were among the stars or were traveling swiftly up the Rure Valley on a sunny morning. They could see the two scenes at the same time, the one through the other, sometimes one scene clearer than the other.

  At first the city of Bamah lay like a map below them. For the first time they were able to see the terrible destruction the earthquake had produced. In the center of the city and on the broad expanse of the hilltop, the temple seemed to grow like a poisonous fungus. A circle of massive stones crowned the hilltop and surrounded both the temple and the altar that faced its main entrance. "It is an evil, evil place," Authentio said. "But it will never again rule us quite as it did."

  John tried to focus his mind on the Rure Valley, to see whether they would follow the Rure or the Nachash which connected to it. By focusing on the Anthropos scene he was not so likely to get dizzy. To focus on a whirling night sky full of stars and moons gave him the sensation that he was going head over heels again and again.

  Fortunately they were traveling together, so close together that Eleanor reached out to seize both John's and Authentio's hands. "What's happening?" she asked anxiously.

  "It's a sort of magic travel."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Gosh-I wish I knew," John said.

  "Who's-I mean who 'magicked' us?"

  John shook his head. "I don't know."

  "Surely it is Gaal who is doing it," Authentio protested.

  "I don't think so-it's just-I don't know just not quite right."

  For several minutes they floated silently over the sunlit Rure while the dark skies, heavenly bodies and a totally different sense of space whirled around and over them. "What's that?" Eleanor asked suddenly, pointing with her free hand."

  "It looks like a book. Gosh, I wonder ... "

  "And there's another-"

  "Look! There's a whole flock of them over there!"

  "A flock of books?"

  "Oh, a bevy, a school-whatever you like. But I did say books."

  In spite of her bewilderment and anxiety Eleanor giggled. "Anyway you're right. There are a lot of them."

  "They are the books of magic from the room that belongs to Shagah," Authentio said.

  "I wonder if.... No, that would be absurd, but it could explain-"

>   "What, my lord?"

  "Well, remember what Shagah said about drawing his things after him?"

  "Sort of," Eleanor said.

  "I got the picture of his going to the Tower of Geburah and then calling all his furniture to him by magic."

  "Goodness! Oh, my! Do you really think ... ?"

  "I'm not sure. But Authentio's right. Those do look like Shagah's books, and I think we're being drawn by Shagah's magic to Geburah. Talk about taking the adventure that comes to us! Anyway, it looks that way. We're beginning to follow the River Nachash. See? It joins the Rure right below us, and we're just beginning to follow the left fork-which is the Nachash."

  "You are not afraid, my lord?"

  "I don't know. I'd like to see Geburah again. We were there two years last time I was in Anthropos. It's where I really got to know Mab."

  "Is it far?" Eleanor asked.

  "Quite a ways-but I guess we're going fast, not as fast as when my-as when Mab did it."

  "Look! There's some shelving."

  "And cushions, and-sheets? No, curtains."

  All around them furniture, books, parchments, chairs, the large dining room table, and the golden throne were floating, seeming to pass in bewildering fashion among the whirling suns, moons and stars.

  "They're going faster than we are."

  "Yeah. Those first books are almost out of sight."

  "John! Quick! Look behind youl"

  John turned his head and shoulders. Ten yards or so behind them, moving in and out of the confusing shadows of the unreal night was the large picture frame. He tried to turn completely round to face it, but found himself turning round dizzily and pulling Eleanor and Authentio after him.

  "I can't stop turning!" he said as he released Eleanor's hand.

  They found themselves rotating helplessly around some central axis, sometimes with their backs to the approaching picture and sometimes facing it. Eventually it collided with them and it bounced off them. They gently approached it again as it managed to settle into the curve of Eleanor's free arm. Carefully she hooked her arm through the chain at the back of the frame.