Gaal the Conqueror

by John White

  "We got it!" John cried. "Remember when we were listening to Lord Lunacy? This must be the picture that we' hang on the wall to bottle up Shagah. It's crazy! The thing's come right into our arms. It's going to be a cinch!"

  Slowly they gained speed, and continued traveling for an hour or so by which time every scrap of furniture had long since disappeared ahead of them.

  "I think that's Lake Nachash ahead," John said.

  "That is so, my lord."

  "Where's the island?" Eleanor asked.

  "We should see it in a minute-in fact I can see it already."

  Steadily they drew nearer to the island, and as they did so the sense of whirling stars and sky faded. They began to descend.

  "See it? That's the tower-the thing on this end of the island. You can see the keep just behind it and a bit to the left. The banqueting hall is behind that, and then come the kitchens and stables-all on the north side of the island. Gosh, it looks so different-there's ivy and stuff all over everything now."

  "We're going awfully fast," Eleanor said anxiously. "How will we land?"

  For a moment John did not answer. "I don't know," he said speaking rapidly. "I guess the magic will try to draw us inside the tower. What we'd better do is grab whatever we can before we get inside-if we get a chance to." The thought of being drawn into Shagah's immediate presence was unnerving.

  The island was little more than an enormous rock that rose in sheer cliffs from the lake. Stone walls and parapets crowned it. A circular stone tower dominated the west end of the island, hiding the other buildings from view as they descended. Seconds later they found themselves sweeping across a quarry below the tower.

  "We're going over the wall," John breathed. "Hang on to the picture, Eleanor. I'll grab the corner of one of the parapets if I can-and I'll hang on to your belt like grim death, Authentio. Mebbe you could hang on to me with your free hand."

  They were headed for the space between two parapets, a space from which arrows could be shot or boiling oil poured. Beyond the parapets was the top of the wall, wide enough to drive a cart, and beyond that again, more parapets that faced the courtyard. They reached the first set before they knew what was happening. John's extended arm slapped against the ivycovered masonry. He hung on with all his strength, his hand clutching a twisted branch of ivy. In a flash the momentum had swung them round to slam their faces against the inner side of the parapet. Stunned, winded and bruised, they dropped onto the surface of the wall.

  But the magnetic power of the spell was working still, dragging them slowly until they hit one of the parapets on the inner side of the wall, holding them there, trapped like the leaves and twigs a stream has abandoned. Slowly the power of the spell subsided, leaving them huddled against the wall, badly shaken, but uninjured. After a minute or so John groaned, "That wasn't much fun. You guys O.K.?"

  "I am well, my lord. Let us praise the name of Gaal!"

  "I think I'm O.K" Eleanor tried to stand.

  "Get down, you idiot!" John hissed. Quickly Eleanor ducked and crouched. She looked scared. "What are we going to do?"

  "I don't know-yet. Shagah probably doesn't know we're here-at least I hope he doesn't."

  Slowly they struggled to sit with their backs against the parapet. Eleanor inspected the picture frame which was still hooked to her arm. "There's a tiny chip off one corner. Otherwise it's OX Look, it has a brass plate on the lower edge. But there's nothing on it."

  "Probably for Shagah's name or something-you know, `Lord Shagah, Greatest Magician Ever' and the date. What shall we do? I need time to think. We don't want to walk up to the main door of the tower. Somehow we must get into the cave below it. We'll be less exposed there."

  He thought for a moment. "We can't use the steps down into the courtyard. We could easily be seen from the tower, but once or twice, when I was here before, I almost managed to climb up by scrambling up the angle between the tower and this wall. It's a very narrow angle and you could sort of press yourself between the wall and the side of the tower. And it's a spot that can't be seen from the tower. Now that there's all this ivy it should be a piece of cake to get down."

  It was not exactly a piece of cake, but neither was it impossibly difficult. John went first, the picture slung over his back with the chain for hanging the picture (a long one fortunately) round his neck. Eleanor followed. Authentio threw the treasure bag down and John caught it-more or less. It was very heavy and he dropped it, but the fall seemed to have done its contents no damage. Once down, they stood with their backs to the tower. "There's a stairway that leads down to the wharf just beyond here," John whispered. "Keep close to the tower wall and follow me."

  Strange silence brooded over the enormous courtyard. Weeds and grass rose waist high. It was obvious that nobody had lived there for years. Creeping plants clambered up every wall, smothering the buildings and blinding the windows. Only the tower had resisted them. Its walls of smoothest stone stood proudly naked. Its windows (though John and Eleanor did not know this yet) looked with a blank gaze on the courtyard.

  They hugged the wall of the tower and forced their way through tall weeds to the archway John had spoken of. A wide stairway led downward. It was hewn in rock, descending all the way to the level of the lake, and emerging in a cave. They stood on a platform of rock, where bollards and rusty iron rings spoke of boats that must once have been tied there. No source could be seen of the dull red light that lit the cave.

  "Where does that lead?" Eleanor asked, pointing to an archway at the end of the cave on their left. The water, smooth and still as glass, reflected the black opening so it appeared to be in the shape of an eye.

  "It looks different," John murmured. "I guess the surface of the lake is higher than I remember it. That opening leads through a tunnel to the lake. There's a gate at the entranceor there used to be-to guard the place."

  Strange feelings flowed over his body, and he shivered a little. Carefully he removed the picture frame from around his neck and set it against the wall. He walked to the edge of the rock overlooking the water and scanned up and down the cave. After a moment he said softly, "I killed Nicholas Slapfoot last time I was in this cave, and it was from here that Dad and I left for our own world again."

  Eleanor stared at John, her mouth open. "You mean you killed someone?" she asked. "You actually did-I mean-kill him?"

  "It, not him," John said. "You saw me kill the goblins. Well, it was just the same. Nicholas Slapfoot was a thing, not a person. He was the Prince of the Goblins. He had terrified me for a long time, and he-I mean it-was trying to kill me again when it happened. It was the sword that did it ..." For several minutes he stood staring at the far wall of the cave. Eleanor remained silent.

  At last he sighed and turned toward the others. "I suppose we ought to make some plans," he said. "We-or shall I say, Icould get in without being seen through the other door, of course."

  "The other door?"

  "There are steps that go up to a door in the tower, not the main door, but a little door at the top of some narrow winding steps. The only problem is-I don't know any way of opening it." His attitude to the adventure was changing. He was growing increasingly reluctant about the task that lay ahead. Only dogged will power enabled him to force himself to think about it at all.

  "Have you never been through that door, my lord?"

  John shook his head. "I've only been in the tower once. We could never get in when I was here last-until one day Mab and I found the main door open. That was the day the Regents came, and the red dragon, Lord Lunacy, turned into a serpent."

  Eleanor was frowning. "I've been thinking. Shagah must know something by now."

  "How do you mean?"

  "We've got the picture. That means Shagah doesn't have itand I bet it was the first thing he would look for. He's bound to suspect something."

  John drew in a breath sharply. "You know, you're right. Without the picture he's sort of in danger. That means our job will be that much harder. You know
he said he had a dangerous spell prepared. How the blazes are we going to get inside without getting caught? I wish there were some way of opening that door."

  Eleanor looked thoughtful. "You know, we've not come here by chance, and you keep reminding us that we are to take the adventure that comes to us."

  "Hm. We've come by Shagah's magic, and it looked awfully like chance to me."

  "Not by chance, my lord. The hand and eye of Gaal are in the matter somewhere."

  "We came because of a prophecy," Eleanor protested. "Somehow I think Gaal must know we're here-I agree with Authentio. What I mean is the door-there must be some way we can use it."

  "I'd sure feel easier going in by that little door than by the big door that leads into the courtyard."

  "Listen, John-you know how you got into the Gaal trees?"

  "You mean by a command?"

  "Yes. Why shouldn't it work here?"

  "Well, Gaal trees are Gaal trees. They're put there by Gaalor by the Changer."

  "And who put the tower here?"

  John's eyes widened "Gosh! You could be right. The matmon (they're terrific builders) didn't build the tower. No one really knows-but there's something very unusual about it. I guess it's worth trying. Better still-I could try the key from the treasure bag again. But what do we do when we get inside?"

  Once again John drew in a deep breath. "I guess I could go alone and wear the Mashal Stone."

  "No. No. I want to come. In fact Authentio should come to."

  "We don't have to be invisible. We could wait till after midnight. Even Shagah must go to bed sometimes." Hope was growing in John's mind. "You know, there's something else. So long as we have the picture, Shagah can't touch us. Lord Lunacy talked about it. Apparently Shagah's own safety is bound up in the picture and the possessors of it."

  "That sounds too easy. You mean we could just walk in and stick it on the wall, and there's nothing he could do?"

  Sadly John shook his head. His reluctance had not diminished, and he was wishing the thing was over. "I guess there must be a catch somewhere-that was why he seemed so confident."

  The rest of the day passed slowly. They could think of no clear plan of action, and came to the unsatisfactory conclusion that they would have to wait till after midnight and then take their chances on the door at the top of the narrow staircase.

  They were hungry, without food and with no means of getting any. John talked about fishing, but it was talk he could not put into action. In any case they had no means of making a fire to cook the fish. From time to time one or another would climb part way up the stairway to see whether there was daylight still-and the daylight seemed to remain for longer than ever it had done before.

  But at last the darkness descended outside, and eventually they fell asleep despite the chill of the cold cave and the hard rock they lay on. John dreamed he was in the dentist's chair. They woke several hours later, almost as though someone had shaken them both by the shoulder. In fact John was sure that someone had, and always said so after. At any rate they were not only instantly but also fully awake. And scared. "I guess we've got to do it!" John breathed.

  Authentio's voice sounded in the darkness. "Courage, my lord. Gaal has sent us on the adventure. He will not fail us."

  They struggled to their feet, stretched, stamped their feet on the rock and then hunched their shoulders and stood shivering for a moment. John was the first to act. He picked up the picture frame. "Come on," he said. "We can't get out of it. We just have to do it."

  Wordlessly they made their way to the smaller curving stairway and wound their way up as quietly as they could to the level of the tower until at last they saw the heavy door. Eleanor gripped John's cloak from behind. Neither of them spoke a word. John was breathing through his open mouth. He had already retrieved the key, and as he held it pointing to the door, wondering how he would find a keyhole, there was a gentle click, and the door swung silently open.

  Moonlight dazzled their eyes as it poured through the windows of the tower to illuminate a large room. In it they recognized the table from Shagah's library, surrounded by the same chairs. Books and parchments crowded the shelves that lined the walls. Clearly they were the very books that had drifted past them, now neatly stacked on the shelves.

  "That was quick," Eleanor whispered. "How did he do it?"

  "Magic, I reckon. He doesn't seem to be around. I wonder if he's upstairs."

  They crept inside the room, peering cautiously into the shadows. John was still clutching the picture. "The room above this one was empty when we came here last time," he breathed, "and that's the room we're supposed to hang this in."

  The silence around them was unnerving. "I hope he doesn't know we're here," Eleanor whispered softly and tremulously.

  "This place gives me the whim-whams," John murmured. "I'm going to creep upstairs. Mebbe he's asleep. Mebbe there'll be nothing to it." A stairway lined the wall to disappear through the ceiling, and John led the way. He could feel the trembling of his legs, and the sickening thudding of his heart. He hoped that the other two would not realize his growing terror. Above the ceiling they emerged into a corridor, also lit by the moon. At the far end were more stairs and halfway down it a door.

  Softly John turned the door handle. The door opened easily and silently. The room was bare. More than this, moonlight fell on a place on the wall where a hook seemed to issue an open invitation to the picture frame under John's arm. His eyes flew wide with joy and he grinned at Eleanor before tiptoeing into the room. Eleanor and Authentio followed. Carefully John took the chain with both hands and lifted it toward the hook.

  "Congratulations!" A voice-cut the air like a knife. You have done amazingly well! I had no idea you were so resourceful." They swung round, John instinctively clutching the picture to his chest. Shagah stood in the doorway.

  They could not see Shagah clearly for he was in the shadow. But there was no mistaking either the outline or the voice. Carelessly, his arms extended, Shagah advanced toward John. "You can give it to me now," he said. "It had to come back to me. It always does."

  John backed, his eyes riveted on the sorcerer. "It won't come back to you this time," he breathed hoarsely. Still Shagah drew closer.

  `John-remember what you said! He can't touch you while you've got the picture. It would kill him to touch you!" At that moment Shagah stepped into the path of the moonlight. His smile shone white. As Eleanor spoke it seemed to John that for the merest fraction of a second a look of rage flashed across the smiling face. But it was gone immediately, and the sorcerer continued to advance.

  John's heart seemed to be making efforts to burst out of his chest. Nevertheless, he decided to stand his ground, gripping the chain of the picture with all his strength. Shagah advanced to within two feet of him and then stopped. "Thank you, John. Now you can give it to me."

  He was not sure that his badly shaking legs would support him, but holding the picture against his body John took a step forward. To his joy the sorcerer took a backward pace. John advanced again, and again Shagah drew back.. But this time he chanted as he withdrew, singing softly and sweetly in a strange and foreign tongue. John found himself swaying. He felt dizzy. Unable to take his eyes away from Shagah's, he grew confused. His grip on the picture began to relax. The trembling in his limbs subsided and he felt strangely soothed.

  "Heed him not, my lord! He cannot harm you!" Authentio's voice rang clearly. The drugging peace left John and he was alert again.

  Swiftly Shagah swung to stare at Authentio. "And whom have I the pleasure of addressing?"

  Authentio bowed gravely. "I am a servant of Gaal," he said. "We come in his name, and by his directions. He bade us take the adventure that came to us-which meant using your lordship's own magic to get us here."

  Shagah looked at him pityingly. "He has evidently abandoned you to my mercy," he said.

  Then John, who had stood shaking his head to rid it of the last remnants of confusion, heard Eleanor's footsteps as
she darted across the floor and flung her body between John and Shagah. "Run, John! Run to the hook and hang it up! He can't stop you!" John jumped and a cry broke from his throat. The spell was fully broken now. Alert and badly shaken he did as Eleanor had said. Once again he gripped the chain in both hands, raised the frame swiftly, and was about to suspend it from the hook when before his startled eyes the hook sprang out of the wall to evade him. A merry peal of Shagah's laughter rang out. Bewildered, John turned, and the hook replaced itself.

  "This is indeed an entertaining game we are playing. For how long would you like to play?" Shagah laughed. "All night? All week? For a whole year? You know, John, you will get tired of this game before I will. Time is on my side." Shagah's tone was amused, patient and tolerant-all at the same time. There was an air of quiet confidence about him that John found disconcerting.

  "Don't listen, John!" Eleanor's voice was contemptuous. She was standing beside John now. In a low voice she hissed, "Try to hang it again, now!" John again stretched the chain toward the hook, and Eleanor leaped up to grab the hook and hold it firmly in place. But to his horror John found he was no longer in the Tower of Geburah at all. Moonlight, walls and Shagah had all disappeared.

  It was broad daylight. The sun was shining and a strong wind was blowing. Most terrifying of all, John stood swaying perilously on the edge of a narrow ledge halfway down a precipice. He was still holding the picture frame by its chain, dangling it far above waves that dashed themselves against rocks hundreds of feet below. From close by he heard Authentio's cry of terror. Then there was Eleanor's voice saying, "What happened? Where are we?"

  He staggered back and leaned against the smooth rock wall, lowering the picture gently but saying nothing. Eleanor, however, her wits about her, was rapidly taking stock She spoke softly, almost in a whisper, "I don't know where he's magicked us, but I bet he's still watching. He wouldn't let that picture get out of his sight."

  John hardly heard her. His mind was reeling.