The Sword Bearer

by John White

  The lake bed, a world of rocky peaks and valleys, was visible in sharp detail, even though the water must have been anywhere between six and twenty feet deep. An occasional trout moved slowly among the valleys.

  "Aha! So you came!" Again needles seemed to shoot through John's body at the sound of the Lord Lunacy's deep voice. Swiftly he looked up, but the attention of the terrible presence was still focused on the lake bed. As he followed its gaze John perceived a man-sized creature swimming rapidly upward. A moment later Nicholas Slapfoot broke the smooth surface of the water.

  He seemed to float like a cork, a small cork when you compared him with the presence that looked down at him. His ugly little head and shoulders bobbed above the water, and John could see a scaly black body below.

  "So you came within yards of the Sword Bearer last night and you never saw him. That was careless of you."

  Old Nick shrugged. When he spoke it was as though he was saying something like, "I think it might rain tomorrow." What he actually said was, "I'll kill th' boy. We shall meet once more, and it'll be for th' last time. It'll be his last encounter with anyone!"

  John found it unnerving not to be near them but to hear that they were talking about him.

  "His last encounter, you say? Or yours? You will kill him'? Or he will kill you? You know what the prophecies say. Only a human boy can kill you. And this boy has apparendy been chosen to do so!"

  Nicholas Slapfoot replied by spitting. Then after a moment he said, "Why have you summoned me, O Lord? Why do you do me this honor of approaching my hiding place?"

  "The boy is to come here. He will come with the bear and the eagle. The bear will flush you out of your den and try to destroy you. The eagle will watch from above and will attack you as you escape the bear. But the boy—and his sword—will accompany them both. You must be prepared and on your guard."

  Suddenly the rock was empty. Old Nick's eyes shot hatred at it. "Let 'em come!" he muttered. "I shall kill 'em all!"

  And John awoke. Mab stood at his bedside, staring at him curiously. The funeral was over and it was late afternoon. "You were dreaming," he said.

  "Yes, I..."

  "I tried to enter your dream but I failed. What was it you dreamed?" Mab's voice was urgent.

  "I—it was very vivid. I .. ." But suddenly all memory of his dream had been wiped clean away. "I can still sort of feel it, but I can't remember what it was—"

  "Keep trying!"

  But try as he might, John could remember nothing. Even the feeling of the dream slipped through the fingers of his mind like water. Nothing remained.

  Mab's eyes were half closed. "I must enter your dream," he murmured, half to himself. "It can be done, and I think I know how."

  Later, feeling better, and wandering around the camp as the rain lifted and a watery afternoon sun eased its way slowly through the low, shifting clouds, John encountered the grizzly staring into the stream that flowed through the glade. By now he had lost all fear of him.

  "Hello, Oso, what are you looking for?"

  The grizzly settled to his haunches and looked at him. "Looking for fish. Not hungry though. Don't really need one. You all right?"

  John nodded.

  "You met Goblin Prince last night."

  "You know him too?"

  "Never met him. Everyone knows him. Bad lot. Very bad lot. Not surprised you couldn't kill him."

  John flushed. "I didn't get there in time," he said, suddenly ashamed and irritated by Oso's remark

  "Not your fault," Oso rumbled. "Prophecies say you'll get him. Sword Bearer, aren't you?"

  John nodded.

  "Like to get him soon?" Oso asked in the tone of someone issuing an invitation.

  A pang of fear shot through John, and for a few seconds a fierce struggle went on inside him. Part of him longed to prove to Mab and to the Matmon that as Sword Bearer he could perform acts of heroism. He suppressed his fears. "Yes, I'd love it!" he lied.

  Oso looked at him for several minutes. "Discuss it with Mab?" he asked suddenly.

  John remembered Mab's words about the sword being useless unless he drank the wine of free pardon. He shook his head, and his heart began to beat "We'd better not He might worry about me," he said, half elated, half terrified, feeling he was heading down a slippery slope but determined to show no fear.

  "Lives at the east end of Lake Nachash. No one can find the lair. Some kind of underwater cave. No one knows."

  John's feeling of excitement increased. "Oh—I think I might know—it's coming back—my dream—yes, I dreamed about it! I dreamed about the place where his den must be!"

  Eagerly he described the way Old Nick had emerged from the water in his dream. Oso listened intendy. At length he said, "Could be two entrances—one land, one water. If Aguila took you, think you might spot it?"

  "Aguila?"

  "Flying, like . .."

  "Flying? On that big bird's back? I'd be scared—no I wouldn't. I don't mean that I'm not scared of anything. But how—?"

  "Coming tonight with supper. I'll talk. I'll arrange. Probably dawn tomorrow. Let you know."

  Oso stood, stretched, dropped to all fours and ambled away. John's head was spinning. Waves of fear came over him. What had he done? What if his sword was of no use? What if he fell off Aguila's back when they were flying? "Oso," he yelled in panic. But by then Oso was twenty yards away and apparendy did not hear him.

  "Oso!"

  The great creature lumbered on unheeding.

  "Never mind," John murmured shakily. "He'll think I'm scared if I ... well, I am scared. But I'm not going to be. It's a magic sword. It's sure to work And there's prophecy. I'm the Sword Bearer." Wasn't a prophecy always supposed to come true? If so, wouldn't he be safe? He—he John Wilson—was to kill the Goblin Prince so that the Regents would come. The thought of meeting Old Nick was still frightening, but it was going to be all right

  Or was it? What else was prophesied? He frowned. Then it came to him. When he killed the Goblin Prince, Mab was going to die. For both the coming of the Regents and the death of Mab would hinge on the slaying. Nausea twisted his stomach, and sweat cooled his forehead.

  John ate little at the magical and magnificently spread supper table. Indeed few of the company did; their spirits were low, too low to be lifted by soft firefly light and the gently flowing music. But the music did have the effect of taking his fear away and making him drowsy.

  "Be with you at dawn," Oso murmured as John was later trying to catch up with Mab on his way to the Gaal tree.

  John stopped. "But I don't know how to open the door," he said anxiously.

  "Slip sandals off!" Oso ordered.

  John obeyed, pushing the thongs down to loosen them and slipping them off.

  "When you close door," Oso said, "make sure one thong hangs through. At dawn, push above the thong." Then he ambled away—and John ran barefoot to overtake the old man.

  He slept lightly that night and awoke the moment he heard the gentle growl outside. He slipped from his bed, already dressed. As he buckled on his sword belt, he could see, sketched in moonlight, Mab's huddled form. The old man's breathing was soft and regular. He crept across the floor, picked up his sandals, noted the place where the one thong seemed to go through the wall and pushed. Silently the door slid open, and he stepped into the cool dawn.

  He felt uneasy when he saw the giant eagle so close, her neck lowered for him. Oso swung him up as high as he could reach to place him among the feathers between the wings. He sank into the softness, gripping the feathers with his sweating hands and noting the warmth that surrounded him.

  Oso left them, and before he knew what had happened he felt himself rising. Enormous wings spread on either side and they surged forward, soon to rise above the treetops and into the still dark sky.

  They were on their way. It was an errand of death—the death of Nicholas Slapfoot And John was going to kill him.

  "Cling with your claws to my neck feathers," the eagle shrieked. B
ut John was already clinging as if his life depended on it—as indeed it might have, though he showed no tendency to slide off.

  Soon they were high above the glade. Though the feathers half covered him, John enjoyed a clear view. Over the east the sky was rimmed with a haze of soft light Aguila circled until she faced south and east She then flew in a straight line.

  "Oso travels swiftly," she called to John. "He will arrive soon after we ourselves. He too has magical strengths."

  For a while she was silent. Then, "I am surprised that Mab allowed you to come. Sword Bearer or no, you are young." John said nothing.

  The flight was strangely quiet and smooth. The wind tugged at his hair and face as they drove forward. Aguila's wings shifted a little to catch the rising currents of air. Light spread slowly over the sky, and then the sun pushed splendidly over the horizon. The day was glorious. Trees poked through the mists below them. There was no great sense of speed. Rather they seemed to be sweeping in stately leisure far above the forest

  About midday they came to a lake with a rocky island and a stone tower at one end of the island. In another hour they reached the eastern end of the lake. The sun was now high.

  "Do you see anything?" Aguila screeched back at John.

  He peered down at the shores of the lake, and for a while, as Aguila crossed and recrossed its eastern end, wondered whether his dream had played him false. Then he saw tiny and circular, the seven green rocks now like seven tiny candles on a birthday cake.

  "There it is!" he shouted, pointing.

  Aguila saw the cove and dropped through the air like a piece of lead. John's breath left him, and for a few giddy moments he felt as though his stomach was still in the sky far above. They glided smoothly to the small sandy beach where the path led to the pine forest

  Aguila lost no time. "The land entrance to this lair must be close by. The path may lead to it. I shall look out for Oso and guide him here. He travels fast and should not be too far away."

  Then without more ado she spread her enormous wings and circled back into the sky, evidently expecting John to find the entrance to Old Nick's hiding place. But John was troubled. Would Nicholas Slapfoot be expecting him? Might there be a trap? Had the dream been just a dream or had what he dreamed really taken place? He shivered in spite of the warm sun.

  He had been there before. Everything was exactly as in his dream, if dream it was. The pale green rocks were still splotched with vivid orange lichen. The rocks among the trees still looked like sentries watching him suspiciously. Whether because the wind had dropped or because of something magic in the air around the cove, there was no wind. The water was glass smooth. The woods were silent.

  It was a silence that added to John's uneasiness. No birds sang. There was no sound of rustling leaves or creaking branches. Nervously he began to creep along the path which led him within yards to a cleft between moss-covered, fernsprouting rocks. The sand scrisched softly under his sandals, however lightly he trod.

  The cleft in the rock turned a corner. He could hardly squeeze through. "Old Nick would be too big to get through here," he thought. Ferns kept brushing his face. There was another turn ahead, and then he heard it—slap, slap, slap. Something—or someone—was coming.

  How he turned, he never knew. But turn he did, brushing past ferns, scraping himself against rocky walls and darting back around the corner. But where to hide? A large rock ahead seemed to invite him to climb. Somehow he thought he would be safer up high. His sword. He could use his sword. He scrambled quickly up, found himself on a flat surface ten or twelve feet above the forest floor and quickly lay down, looking back at the cleft in the rocks. Ferns crowned the rim of his rock and he could peer through them with little danger of being seen.

  And then he saw him. Nicholas Slapfoot. He saw Nicholas Slapfoot not wearing boots or clothes, but naked, his body covered with black scales and his feet large and webbed. He scuddered this way and that before slapping his webbed feet as he wandered deeper into the forest

  What was he doing? Where was he going? More important what should John do now?

  Confusion filled his mind. He began to wonder why he had come. He did not hate his father. He wanted to find him. What had all these strange adventures got to do with finding his father? Was there a Changer? Was it really nothing more than a dream? Nothing seemed to make sense. Yet he knew that Nicholas Slapfoot was to be feared. He also knew now that he had found one entrance into his lair. He could not imagine what good the knowledge would do, since a fifteen-foot grizzly could never squeeze between rocks to get inside the lair, wheth-er it was above or below the lake. And in any case, did Nicholas Slapfoot not expect the grizzly to come? Or had Nicholas Slapfoot left to escape?

  "I'll kill 'em all!" Old Nick had screamed in John's dream. No, he was not escaping. And John was at that point in no mood to tackle him, sword or no sword. He would wait till Oso and Aguila came to support him. And then he would kill Old Nick.

  He eased himself into a more comfortable position. Aguila might be back fairly soon. John would need to be where he could be seen. He looked up and was surprised to see clear sky above him. The rock was not hidden by the pines. Shafts of sunlight cut down through delicate curtains of leaves around him. The far corner of the rock was sunlit.

  Something made him think of the Changer and of the strange laughter that had united them as he left between the columns of cherubim. Indeed as he looked up at the sky he almost thought he could hear the laughter ringing again. At the thought his heart was warmed and his confusion dissipated.

  "They can both see me from above," he thought. "Aguila will be able to see me and perhaps the Changer can too. Maybe he does exist." He paused a little. "I must keep a lookout and wave if I see Aguila. We could all meet right here."

  He put the puzzle of how Oso could penetrate the lair out of his mind and for the time being ceased to worry about what Old Nick was doing. He would keep watch for the eagle. Carefully he looked around to make sure he could not be seen from below and to be sure that old Nick was no longer around too. But there was no sign of him. The ferns that sprouted round the edges of the rock would curtain his bed.

  The rock on which he lay was crinkly with soft dry moss. He lay back on it and gazed up at the blue heavens. He would have felt nervous and resdess, except that as he rolled onto his back to look up, something strange happened. He heard again, or thought he heard, the Changer's laughter far above. And the memory of that laughter, the laughter he and the Changer had shared together, the laughter that had seemed to link them, brought a sense of shame to him. He tried to put the matter out of his mind.

  The slow circling dot above grew larger as Aguila weaved downward, her wings stretched wide. A minute later she lighted on the rock beside John. "Oso is coming along the path," she said. "I told him where you were, and he'll be here soon."

  11

  * * *

  Oso and Aguila

  Attack

  The tension began to mount as they waited for Nicholas Slap-foot to return. Oso pattered on all fours to and fro on the rock. Sometimes he would raise himself to his full height and turn slowly, ponderously looking this way and that. Aguila sailed up into the sky several times. At last she turned, saying, "He comes. He approaches from the east. He will be here before we know he's upon us."

  Oso stepped with surprising grace from the rock to the ground; then he stood upright beside the rock, being partly covered by a wall of ferns. "Me first crack," he said. Then turning to Aguila he ordered, "You next."

  John dropped on his stomach, crawled forward and peered through the ferns. Aguila remained far above. Nothing moved. No birds sang. The unnatural silence began to oppress John again. He became conscious of his own breathing and his beating heart. He was only too glad to let Oso have the "first crack"

  Then came the dreadful sound as the slap, slap, slap of Old Nick's flipper feet began to break the silence. At first the trees hid him. When John eventually saw him, he seemed to be walking t
oward them with no concern, apparendy unaware of their presence, ignorant that a towering giant Oso was waiting to strike him down and kill him.

  John held his breath. He was fearful of what he would see, yet too fascinated to turn away. He desperately hoped Oso would kill his enemy for him. In less than a minute Old Nick had reached the rock turned his back to where Oso stood and stepped toward the cleft from which he first emerged.

  As he turned, Oso lifted himself to his full fifteen feet and with a terrible growl rushed forward, flashing one of his mighty forepaws downward as if to knock the creature to the ground. Yet even as he moved he shrank in size. Before John's eyes, he was transformed in the fraction of a second from a terrifying grizzly to a small and petulent bear cub, chasing behind the demonic form of Nicholas Slapfoot like a puppy stumbling after its master.

  Old Nick swung round with a laugh. He lifted the struggling little creature into his arms and disappeared into the cleft with him.

  Events had taken place too quickly for John to take it all in. One moment Oso had towered above the rock itself. The next, he was a small cub carried off by a scaly goblin whose laughter still echoed faintly from between the rocks. Then silence descended again.

  John was stunned. He was alone. Oso, Oso who had magical strength, was helpless before the powers of Old Nick Even the grizzly's weight and strength were useless—gone.

  John stared at the space between the rocks as if his staring could change matters, as if it could bring them both back again. What would happen? Would they come back? Horrified, he watched the truth take shape in his mind. A bear cub could never kill someone so formidable as Old Nick And if Oso could not kill Old Nick, Old Nick would certainly destroy Oso.

  John groaned, groaned from fear, from rage, from despair. He glanced up at the sky, once so reassuring with its echo of the Changer's laughter, now so bare and silent. Where was the Changer? Was he just a dream as Lord Lunacy had claimed? Was the laughter merely a hallucination? Where was Aguila? Had either seen what had happened? Would Aguila come back? Or would she from the skies hunt the evil demon herself?