The Sword Bearer

by John White

  "It is very strange," Vixenia mused. "Clearly the child is not lying. Yet his words explain nothing. He knows from whence he is, and the place must surely exist And it is his voice we heard. So far as we are concerned, he comes from a place unknown. In any case, has anyone ever seen a creature of this sort before—unless the magician is one of the same species?"

  Below them there was a stirring and an excited murmuring among the watchers. The cloud floated away from the sun, which broke over them warmly again. But Bjorn's face was impassive. "You say you came through a door from the

  Changer," he said. "What does this Changer look like?"

  John's depression deepened. "How do I know? I never saw him."

  "Were you lying then when you said you came from him?"

  John groaned. "It was all blue. And the ground was shaking. His voice was like an earthquake—but nice, really nice." He paused and frowned. "He even touched me. I couldn't see him because of the blue. Then he told me to go between the cherubim and pick up the sword before going through the door. And I already told you the rest." He experienced a tug of longing to feel the shaking again and a touch of the Changer's bottle drying his face.

  "And you no longer have the sword."

  John did not reply. He wished the questioning would end and that someone would offer him something to eat

  "Who told you to give us this story?" Bjorn persisted.

  John's knees felt weak. Suddenly he sat down. "I'm tired. I don't understand where I am. I've had nothing to eat or drink I'm sick of answering questions."

  "Who told you to give us that story?" Bjorn repeated.

  John sighed and lowered his head. "No one told me. It isn't a story. If it didn't happen, how did I get here? Maybe it was all a dream. But if so, then this is a dream too."

  "Stand up, child!"

  "No, I'm tired."

  "Stand up!"

  John raised his head and looked at King Bjorn. There was no exultation in him now, only weariness. He no longer cared about anything.

  "Go and eat coal," he said. Bjorn would understand his tone even if he did not understand the words.

  The queen had her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Be calm," she said softly. "The child understands no more than we ourselves. Whatever has brought him here is beyond his comprehension. His bewilderment is real." She paused and looked at John with compassion. "We must feed him or he will grow faint. If he is a runaway, then he ran away in another world than ours. There are legends about doors that connect with other worlds, and who knows but that he came through such?"

  Vixenia nodded. "Large as he is, he is no more than a cub. And there is something else. He named the name of Gutreth. And plainly he felt his weight. How did he know that name if he did not in fact encounter him? Where is Gutreth now?"

  But Bjorn was not listening. He turned to the small gathering of his Matmon followers and said, "Is there counsel from the rest of you? What are we to do with this child?"

  For several seconds no one spoke. The silence weighed heavily on the afternoon air. Then Bildreth rose slowly to his feet. "I may speak again, majesty?" His tone was humble, but his face contemptuous. King Bjorn nodded.

  "He has had traffic with the Mystery of Abomination, majesty."_

  "How do you know that?"

  "He told me so, majesty. He said that we could not keep him in a cave because he would call on the Mystery to release him. He said he could enter the presence of the Mystery whenever he chose."

  John stared sullenly at the cruel face. Plainly he was being accused of something. Who was this Mystery?

  "Is this true? Do you traffic with the Mystery?"

  "Is that another name for the Changer?" John asked. "I already told you I thought it was some kind of dream."

  "He traffics with the Mystery!" Bildreth cried. "I saw a pall of deep darkness moving into the rock to follow him into the cave!"

  Bjorn stared hard at John. "With whom did you speak in the cave last night?"

  Then a strange and dreamy mood fell over John like a net "Oh, him!" he heard himself saying. "He called himself the Lord Lunacy. His head went through the rocky ceiling, and his feet went through the floor. He touched me on my forehead and told me I was evil—you know, bad. And I suppose I am. I think I like being wicked."

  "The Lord Lunacy is one and the same as the Mystery," Bildreth shouted.

  The dreamy mood lifted from John as suddenly as it had descended on him. He glanced at Queen Bjornsluv to see that profound shock had taken all the merriment from her eyes. There was a haunted look on her face as she stared at him. Bjorn's own face was pale, his lips parted.

  For a long time no one either moved or made any sound. When the king spoke finally, his voice was unexpectedly filled with compassion and dismay. "I placed the executioner there to frighten you. It was never my intention to use him. A spy is one thing, but to traffic with the Mystery itself!"

  He shook his head wonderingly, his lips still parted as he stared in amazement at John. "So young," he mused. "Yet such a knowledge of evil! Young sir, you will have to die. You have left us no choice." His mouth remained open, and from time to time he shook his head as if he was stunned. Finally he drew in a deep breath, sighed and said wearily, "Seize him! Lead him to the executioner's block!"

  There was a murmuring and a stirring among the animals and Matmon, all of them rising to their feet If John had been watching Bildreth's face, he would have seen that it registered a smile of triumph. But at that moment John's arms were seized and he found himself being hustled unceremoniously forward. The royal trio had also risen. All three stared at John in horror as he passed them.

  Though he was startled, John felt no fear. Rather, he seemed to be bathed in warm self-pity. Somehow it insulated him from reality. He was forgotten by the Changer, friendless, forlorn and rejected by an uncaring father. He was also hungry and thirsty and no one cared. A sob shook him and tears rolled down his cheeks. He found that he was no longer walking but that his feet were trailing along the ground as he was half carried, half dragged toward the tree stump that served as an executioner's block.

  He was flung down to kneel before the tree stump. His body fell forward and his head dropped across it He was vaguely aware of a commotion around him. Then came a silence, and into that silence King Bjorn's voice rang grimly.

  "Executioner! Sever his head from his body!"

  The executioner took a firmer grip on the handle of his axe.

  7

  * * *

  The Prophet

  and the King

  "Hold! Hold still! Stay your hand, executioner!" Bjorn's voice rang loudly across the glade.

  He was staring, startled, at a giant eagle that swept across the treetops toward them. The vast spread of its wings filled him with dread. From one of its claws hung the ancient figure of Mab, while from the other a donkey and a Matmon were suspended, dangling like dolls. Instinctively the Matmon began to flinch as the monstrous bird swooped menacingly toward the glade. And when it landed the ground trembled.

  Mab and the donkey both struggled to their feet, while the Matmon remained motionless on the ground. Mab turned and looked up at the eagle. "My thanks, good Aguila! You have done well," he said. The eagle ruffled her feathers and began to preen herself.

  "Whence come you, wizard? And who are these?" Bjorn cried. Slowly John raised his head and stared uncomprehendingly at the strange scene. He was still wrapped in the warm self-pitying dream, little realizing the danger in which he found himself. But he recognized Mab, and he could see that the donkey was Folly, the donkey on whom he had pinned his hope of rescue from the cave. The eagle's wings were folded and her head rose to half the height of the trees, dwarfing Matmon and terrifying the horses.

  Mab raised his right hand which clutched a large wineskin. "I bring the wine of free pardon your majesty requested," he said coldly. "And here," raising the belt from which the Sword of Geburah hung, "is the Sword Bearer's sword. I found it buried in the earth by the bo
dy of this sorely wounded subject of your majesty. I recognized it from my dream."

  John glanced at the Matmon lying between the giant eagle's claws and saw that it was none other than Gutreth. The Matmon's face was deathly pale. His clothing was bloodstained and a gaping wound crossed his forehead.

  Folly brayed loudly. "Wheels within wheels! Wheels within wheels!" he cried.

  Bjornsluv stared hard at the donkey. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked.

  The donkey brayed again. "I was deceived, your majesty. Wheels within wheels! Your subjects Bildreth and Gutreth bade me in the name of Mi-ka-ya to accompany them into the forest last night. They said they were to capture a servant of the Mystery. Ah, the treachery of it! Wheels within wheels! A stitch in time—if your majesties take my meaning. People who live in glass houses gather no moss."

  Bjorn interrupted impatiently. "Spare us your proverbs. What happened in the forest? Bildreth informed us that singlehand-edly he captured this servant of the Mystery." He stared at John, a worried frown on his face. For once Folly spoke sense.

  "One who is the Sword Bearer appeared through a door bearing the number 345, a mysterious door that stood alone in the forest. It moved, and for a second blue light lit the forest as—" He paused, startled, as he stared at John. "—as he who now kneels before the executioner's block and who is the Sword Bearer, came through it bearing in his hand the sword you now see. A stitch in time is like apples of gold in baskets of silver."

  "Never mind apples. What about the door?" Bjorn asked sharply, still staring with uncertainty in his eyes at John.

  "Doubdess a door that led from the presence of the Changer himself!" interrupted Mab, whose eyes had taken in the hooded executioner and the kneeling John Wilson. "It would appear that your majesty was about to behead the hope of Anthropos. How can you expect the aid of the Changer when you plan to kill his servants?"

  "He is a servant of the Mystery! He told us so himself, wizard!" Bjorn countered.

  "He could have told you no such thing. For he has come from the Changer according to the prophecies. He is the Sword Bearer!"

  "He is an imposter!"

  "An imposter? We shall see!" Mab had placed the wineskin on the ground, but his left hand, which held the belt and the sword in its scabbard, was still raised. "This sword will find the bearer! He to whom it will be drawn is the true and only Sword Bearer."

  If it is possible for silent things to become more silent, then the Matmon did just that. Their bodies stiffened. Their eyes widened. Mab released the sword, and the crowd gasped as they saw it hang in the air. The magician looked at it intensely. Then he said, "Go sword! In the name of the Changer I command you—find your master!"

  For a moment the sword still hung in space. Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, it floated across the glade toward John. Hardly knowing why he did so, he rose to his feet. As the sword reached him, the belt curled round his waist and buckled itself. Once again the scabbard and the sword hung from his

  left side. Bjorn, Bjornsluv and Vixenia stared at him, stunned.

  "We were tragically mistaken," Vixenia murmured.

  "But he has spoken with the Lord Lunacy," Bjorn spoke quietly, a troubled frown creasing his forehead still. "He told us so himself. He even seems proud that he is evil!"

  "You know nothing," Mab said wearily, picking up his staff and the leather wine bottle. "Doubtless the Lord Lunacy searched him out, trying either to confuse or to destroy him. The Lord Lunacy well knows that the coming of the Sword Bearer presages the doom of the Goblin Prince! It is even foretold that he will cause a tower that controls the earth and the planets to sink beneath the swamp!"

  He turned to stare at the unconscious Matmon who was lying on his back with his mouth open. "Now let us see what this creature can tell us!"

  He removed a cap from the mouth of the bottle. He then stooped and squirted a few drops of the wine of free pardon between Gutreth's parted lips and then replaced the cap. John, whose self-pity was subsiding slowly, watched him. He was beginning to take more interest in what was happening. He recalled the tussle in the darkness with the Matmon. He also remembered Gutreth's protection from the blow Bildreth had been about to give him. What would become of Gutreth? The Matmon's eyelids fluttered. Slowly he sat up, then shook his head bemused. And as John watched him, he saw his gaping wound close and disappear. A look of comprehension stole across the Matmon's face, and he rose to his feet. For a moment he hesitated. Then he strode toward Bjorn and knelt before him.

  "I come to ask your forgiveness, sire!" he said.

  "Forgiveness? Forgiveness for what?" Bjorn asked quietly.

  "Forgiveness for having broken my vows to you by continuing to serve the Mystery of Abomination!" Gutreth's words were sharp and clear.

  "Your majesty's servants Bildreth and myself went last night at the bidding of the Mystery to capture the Sword Bearer, who was to emerge from a magical door in the forest. We thrust him into a cave and robbed him of his sword. All this we did at the bidding of the Mystery."

  "You say you did this at the bidding of the Mystery?"

  "Yes, sire!"

  "Then you admit you had traffic with him?"

  "To my great shame, yes, sire!"

  "And it was he who bade you capture this John who now wears the sword?" Bjorn pointed at John, and Gutreth started as for the first time he saw him.

  "Yes, sire. He is indeed the one whom we captured."

  "And the sword?" Bjorn asked.

  "We buried the sword two leagues from here, your majesty," he said.

  "And it was there that we found them," Mab interrupted. "As we journeyed back from the north, Aguila the eagle with her keen eyes saw Folly bending over a wounded Matmon. And it was Folly who told us where the sword had been buried. Bildreth had tried to kill Gutreth, that he might become the Sword Bearer himself."

  "It is even so," Gutreth continued. "Bildreth, my companion, wanted to have the sword. He did indeed try to kill your servant."

  His hands rose to where the wound had been and his fingers probed unsuccessfully to find it 'Your majesty, I have done a great evil—"

  But Bjorn's eyes were searching the group of Matmon. "Then Bildreth is lying. Bildreth—" he said sharply, "where is he?"

  But Bildreth was nowhere to be seen. For at the sight of the eagle's descent with Folly and Gutreth hanging from its claws, he had stolen into the forest to flee. Quickly Bjorn sent a search party to capture him.

  The Matmon king then turned to the kneeling Gutreth. His eyes narrowed as he stared at him. "It is easy to repent when the game is up," he said. "How do I know that yours is a true change of heart?"

  Gutreth's head bowed low. "Your majesty ..." he faltered.

  "Those whose stomachs retain the wine of free pardon," Mab interposed, "those who absorb it and do not reject it are changed. They know evil and good. And they reject the evil. Your majesty may rest assured that this one will be a loyal servant, both of your majesty and of the Changer. I am presuming, of course, that it is still your majesty's wish to serve the Changer." There was a hint of scorn in Mab's voice, but Bjorn ignored it.

  "I need every follower I can get," he mused thoughtfully. He stared at the kneeling Matmon for a full minute. Then he said, "Raise your head, Gutreth son of Gyndror. Now do you swear by the bones of your ancestors that you will be true to me to the death?"

  The Matmon's face was white and drawn. His eyes were fixed on those of the Matmon king. He drew in a trembling breath and in a barely audible voice said, "I will be true to you, sire. I swear it by my ancestors' bones."

  King Bjorn continued to hold the Matmon in his level gaze, almost as though by an act of will he was willing the loyalty of his subject. Finally, he said, "Then rise from your knees. You are pardoned. Henceforth you will flee at the very approach of the Mystery of Abomination!"

  Gutreth stood, bowed low, then stood erect. "Your majesty is gracious far beyond my desserts," he said in a trembling voice, before turning s
lowly to join the group of watching Matmon, his legs shaking a little as he did so.

  John had watched the proceedings with a growing sense of the danger through which he was passing. He could see Gutreth's agony and terror. And though he still felt a little sorry for himself, his mounting anxiety was driving self-pity away. He stood by the tree stump on which his head might still be severed. He glanced at the hooded executioner, now leaning nonchalantly on his axe, and shuddered. Surely Bjorn would let him go, now that the magician had so clearly shown him to be the true Sword Bearer. Then he saw that Bjorn's keen gaze had turned on him.

  "We now know that he is what he says he is—the Sword Bearer," he said quietly, the troubled look still on his face. "What we do not know is whether the Sword Bearer remains loyal to Mi-ka-ya. It would be better for him to remain as our captive until we are sure of him."

  "The prophecies are clear enough," Mab returned evenly. "The Sword Bearer is to slay the Goblin Prince, lieutenant and chief to the Mystery. His coming presages the arrival of the Regents. He is the destroyer of the tower that controls the planet. His loyalty is never in question. So much the prophecies make clear."

  "I know nothing of prophecies, wizard," Bjorn said slowly. "But I know the child has been in contact with the Lord Lunacy—"

  "A matter I have already explained," Mab interrupted testily. "I am myself a seer, a prophet I am insulted by those who call me wizard, sorcerer, magician. I am none of these. I serve the Changer. My powers are to do his bidding. And as for the Changer's prophecies—they never lie. You should know this if your intention to serve the Changer is real. The Sword Bearer is to remain loyal to the Changer!" He stamped his foot in irritation and seemed about to break into speech again. But he changed his mind and bit his lower lip.

  "I am sorry," King Bjorn sighed wearily. "I do not doubt your wisdom. But I must be sure. Seize the Sword Bearer, guards, and chain him to a tree!"

  The guards, who still stood on either side of John, reached out to take his arms. But in that instant John was deafened by a terrifying noise and blinded by a flash of brilliant blue light When he was able to see again, the guards were lying on their backs stunned, while Mab stood erect his staff held high and his eyes blazing. "Do not lay a finger on the Sword Bearer!" he cried. "If you wish me to aid you, you will leave him at liberty!" For a full minute nobody moved. The Matmon seemed stunned by the power that had burst from the wizard's staff.