The Sword Bearer

by John White

  They were never able to explain how they escaped from the enchantment, but they declared that Nicholas the Goblin Prince was hunting them. He would bind the same spells on them again if ever he were to catch them. Everyone seemed to like the pair. They called the dog Itch, and the pig they called Grunt. The two spent a good deal of time on the wharf in the tunnel below the tower, watching for any sign of the Goblin Prince, so certain were they that he would attempt to visit the island by that way. Their best chance of escape, they thought, lay in spotting him before he spotted them.

  Tabby was the only other pet on the island. She had been a kitten when Bjornsluv had found her alone in the woods on the last part of their journey. But Tabby soon proved to be a one-woman (or rather a one-Matmon) cat and rarely was found far from Bjornsluv.

  It became clear long before the end of the first year that their original fears about the columm of darkness were unjustified. By the end of the year the column had narrowed to half its original width. Everyone had their own idea about what was happening, but nobody suggested that they stop building. Many of the Matmon felt that the Mystery of Abomination was deciding to leave as it observed the progress they were making on the castle walls. Mab's suggestion was more frightening. He thought that the opening had come because wicked powers had torn the skies apart to let in more evil from the outer darkness. It was now slowly closing because the evil had come through.

  For another year the building continued, while the opening into the outer darkness narrowed to a crack until it finally disappeared. The company in the castle made a huge celebration. Everyone except Mab and John (who tended to adopt Mab's point of view) believed they had a double cause for celebration—the successful completion of the buildings and the final retreat of the Mystery of Abomination. But before long their joy gave place to fear.

  It started with Itch and Grunt. On the day that the castle was completed everyone except the dog and the pig toured the castle walls and inspected the great rooms and halls of the castle itself. There was a keep, a large square tower that rose from the cliffs on the north side of the island, a little to the east of the Tower of Geburah. There Bjorn and Bjornsluv had their chambers above the royal rooms reserved for the coming Regents, whose home the castle would become.

  A large banqueting hall and ballroom filled a low building connecting the keep with a building in which were the kitchens, sculleries and servants' quarters. Stables and workshops were to the east in yet another low building. It was decided that they would continue to exercise and to breed the horses until things were more settled and stables could be built on shore.

  A new excitement seized them all, and they were filled with wonder as they inspected the work of their own hands. Itch and Grunt did not share the general enthusiasm, however. They spent the day on the rocky wharf beneath the tower, vigilant for any sign of the Demon Prince. Normally they would have joined the diners at the evening feast Though their table manners lacked the finesse of King Bjorn and Queen Bjornsluv, there was a certain piggish dignity with which Grunt delicately pushed his nose around his food and a positive elegance about the way Itch handled bones on a silver platter. But at the hour of feasting they failed to appear.

  Oso went in search of them, knowing where they would be. He returned holding two sorry specimens, one in each of his gigantic paws. Itch shivered pathetically and scratched himself constandy. And Grunt who had been a merry and mischievous sort of pig was drowsy and bad tempered. "They are bewitched," Vixenia cried as she looked at them.

  "Then that must mean . . ." Bjornsluv hesitated.

  "It must mean that the Goblin Prince has been around," her husband muttered grimly.

  "And that all their vigilance was in vain," Mab added.

  The incident dampened everyone's spirit and cast an air of gloom on what had begun as an enthusiastic celebration. But when a week passed without further incidents, the matter was almost forgotten. Unfortunately it could not be forgotten altogether for every day they had to encounter the misery of Itch and the somnolent stupidity of Grunt.

  The next thing that happened at first raised no suspicions. It was only weeks later that anyone realized its strange significance. Bjornsluv lost Tabby. The young cat simply disappeared. The only conclusion they could come to was that she must have fallen from the walls and drowned though everyone agreed the explanation sounded unlikely.

  Another cat, however, came on the scene, a very large and self-assured cat No one seemed to know exactly how or from whence it had arrived, and everybody assumed that "they" (meaning Bjorn, Bjornsluv, Vixenia, Mab and John) knew. But "they" were too concerned with other matters to worry about a stray cat, even a large and self-assured stray.

  The cat never walked. Rather, it modeled, modeled its sleek black coat for the benefit of anyone who wished to admire. It held its white head with sophisticated disdain on the end of its long black neck and waved its white-tipped tail sedately in the manner of a bored conductor. Everyone detested it—everyone except Folly, who became protective of the creature. They called it Poison because of its sarcastic remarks. John wanted to name it The Perpetual Sneer.

  But John, Vixenia and the Matmon royal pair were worried. Mab had had a dream and pronounced a prophecy. "The Mystery of Abomination is coming," he told them. "It will come during the night of the full moon to spread madness and death among those who expose themselves to the night air. And there are some who will not heed our warning and will do so."

  Thus was ushered in the final phase of their struggle against the Mystery. For on the night of the full moon, a cloud of impenetrable blackness rose over the swamp and stole across the lake to envelop the island fortress. Everyone remained inside the castle, fearing to expose themselves to the night air— everyone, that is, except for the followers of Prince Goldson. For though the prince himself had been obliged at Bjorn's insistence to remain in the royal chambers with Bjorn, Björns-luv and Rathson, his followers who had not drunk of the wine of free pardon defied Mab's warning.

  The remainder sat inside the building, oppressed with dismay and dread that their troubles seemed far from over. No one had realized that the rebel group was outside until against the background of the velvet silence they heard cries of pain and fear followed almost immediately by insane laughter.

  The laughter was the worst. It was the laughter of mad Matmon, doomed by stubborn folly. "We go to join the Mystery!" one of them screamed in merriment.

  Mab's wrinkled face was wretched as he listened. "The fools," he breathed, "the wretched, heedless fools! They will fling themselves into the lake from the castle walls. And then the Changer alone knows what will happen to them."

  King Bjorn's stubborn face was set in rage. "We shall fight back," he said. "Our former master shall not win so easily. We have a castle, and the Regents soon will join us. He will never master us!"

  19

  * * *

  The Fight

  in the Caνe

  The awful oppression passed soon after midnight. A full moon shone clear again. They searched the castle grounds for the rebel Matmon but found no trace. Though they stared long and hard at the dark waters below the castle walls, the lake kept its own secrets and told them nothing. The Matmon were never seen again.

  Since nobody was in a mood for sleep, Bjorn called for a counsel of war. No one had any suggestions as to how they might combat the Mystery, who according to Mab would return any time there was a full moon. Indeed the only glimmer of hope came from Mab himself.

  "I do not know how we can oppose the Abomination," he said slowly. "I only know that the stone in Vixenia's ear is what the ancients called a proseo comai stone—pross stone was the term they commonly used." He paused.

  Vixie nodded. "My grandmother called them pross stones."

  "At the beginning of time it is said that the Changer built a mountain of such stones," the seer continued, "and with the breath of his mighty winds he blew them far and wide like floating bubbles through all universes and all ages so t
hat whoever might wish to call on him for mercy and aid could do so. In my journeys from the island I have been searching for more, but I have found none."

  "There is the one in my ear," Vixenia said quietly.

  Mab ignored her. "I have hesitated—for too long now—to return again to the swamp. But I am sure I could find some there. With pross stones we may be able to do something. I could set out at daybreak and be back the next day."

  "If you survive," Bjorn added grimly. "No, wizard (or prophet, as you insist on calling yourself), we need you too much to take the risk"

  For several minutes they argued, but in the end Mab had his way. But Vixenia was staring at the prophet "It worked before," she said slowly. "You came when I poured my longing through it Why don't we secure your safety with the one in my ear? My grandmother told me that whenever a grave need arose I was to tear one of them from my ears and pour my longing into its heart"

  She paused and the circle of creatures watched her intently. "I was in despair when I used the first one and I am in despair still. I have seen the death, the darkness, the bitterness, the fear that is spreading among you all. Sir wizard, may I not use it to plead for your safety?"

  "After all, there would be no harm in trying to invoke its silly magic, would there?" Poison purred gently. John stared at the cat and hated it. "It might, of course, confirm that old fables are nothing more than . . . old fables. But in that case poor, dear Vixie would merely have gained a bloody ear and lost a worthless bauble."

  "—that had been in her family for generations," brayed Folly. "More haste gathers no moss, Poison dear. I mean, too many cooks live in glass houses, and all that, if you follow my meaning. You do, don't you?"

  Mab raised his hand for quiet.

  "The stone belongs to Vixenia, and no one will tell her what she is to do with it One stone in any case may be of little use. We may need several, and rumor has it that some lie among the bushes in the swamps, feared by the goblins who dare not touch them. I shall seek some there, but much as I appreciate your offer, Vixenia .. ."

  "There is great danger in the swamps," Bjorn said, shaking his head slowly. "If protecdon is offered do not venture there without it, sir wizard!"

  The prophet was standing, a deep frown on his face. Finally he shook his head. "I suspect the goblins there are more afraid of me than I of them. As for the Mystery of Abomination I suppose I will have to take my chances. And my staff is not without its powers."

  The vixen had risen and was standing before him, inclining to him the ear with the moonlit stone. "Tear it out," she said in a low voice.

  A stillness gripped the group. The seer shook his head. "No, Vixenia. I cannot"

  "Do it!" Her voice was low and urgent "Do it before my longing fails me!"

  He stared at her, horrified, but she stood rigid, waiting. "Do it!" she repeated, almost angrily. "Do it at once or it will be too late!"

  The seer tore it from her ear and laid it between her feet Though her voice was low they could all hear her, "Protect him! Bring him back to us! Save us from the Evil One!"

  Mab did not leave at dawn the next day, for by dawn it was clear that he was a sick man. Fever had him in its grip. His skin burned, his face was flushed, and as day succeeded day flesh fell from his bones and he grew weaker. Even though Bjornsluv was highly skilled in medicine, Mab would let no one attend him but John, instructing the boy how to mix the herbs he took for a remedy. The fever broke on the eighteenth day, and it took him eight more days to regain his strength.

  At dawn, two days before the full moon, he left in the coracle. They watched him from the parapets until the coracle was too small to see. And for the rest of the day and part of the next no one could think of anything but Mab's safety.

  The following afternoon John was sitting beside Vixenia, puzzling over the previous forty-eight hours when Folly approached them. The donkey knelt before John, trembling.

  "He's coming," he announced.

  "Who is coming?"

  "The wizard. Mab. I saw his little boat. But it's still a long way off, and a bird in the hand is worth half a loaf of bread. I hope you understand."

  He sighed and went on his way, but Vixenia had sprung to her feet "Quickly," she said. "Let us see if it truly is he!"

  They ran up stone steps to the top of the castle wall, crossed to the parapets and stared out across the lake. A hundred yards away they saw a tiny coracle dancing on the waves in the afternoon sunlight The seer paddled it wearily toward them.

  "He's making for the tunnel," Vixenia said. "I prayed that Mi-ka-ya would give him success. I hope he has reaped a harvest of pross stones. I little knew their power. We need more of them."

  For several minutes they watched as the prophet approached. "What a gorgeous view," said John, staring at the water a hundred and fifty feet below them. For two years he had only grown to love the island more. Once or twice he waved, but Mab seemed unaware of them. At last Vixie turned from the parapet "Come," she said, "we must be there to meet him."

  Folly trotted toward them again as they crossed the grass-covered courtyard and made for a large stone archway to the left of the Tower of Geburah. As if from nowhere Poison appeared, rubbing her head and neck alongjohn's leg, as though she had known him all her life. He was startled at her size. Her head was almost level with his knee.

  Folly talked endlessly, braying from time to time. "How fortunate we are to have you with us, er, Sword Bearer John, Sir John, that is. Or ought I to have said Lord John? Your highness will pardon my failing memory. I know you told me which it was..."

  "King John," said Poison. "And his majesty does not suffer fools gladly."

  "No, justJohn,"John said, irritated both by Folly's chatter and by Poison's incessant rubbing which made him stumble a coupie of times as he hurried to keep up with Vixenia. He was too polite to tell either of them to quit Instead he said, "There's Itch and Grunt lying in the grass."

  He glanced at them curiously as the little party passed them, the pig slumbering contentedly in the sun, the dog scratching endlessly beside it. He wondered whether pross stones cured spells.

  "Your majesty will, I am sure,.. ." Folly began.

  John tripped over Poison and fell heavily. As he scrambled to his feet his face was red and he was inwardly furious with both Folly and Poison. He hurried after Vixenia and caught up to her as she passed beneath the archway. Beyond it broad steps curved down into the rock to emerge on a rocky platform beside the water. Several boats of various sizes were tied to iron rings in the rock. Dim red light illuminated both the cavern and a tunnel beyond it.

  Folly clip-clopped behind John to stand on his left while Poison inserted herself in front of him, rubbing herself hard along his knees and purring contentedly. He felt an insane urge to kick her into the water but merely bit his lip in irritation wishing she would go away. Vixenia remained standing, tensely watching the tunnel from John's righL

  Silence fell around them. Even Poison's purring died away. The placid water reflected the curved rock roof above their heads. On their left the tunnel opening looked like a perfect circle, its arch reflected flawlessly in the almost invisible water. An occasional drop of water would plop musically from the rock above onto the surface of the water below, breaking it into ripples. No one spoke. Only the drips broke the silence.

  Poison's rubbing bothered John increasingly. In spite of his curiosity he stepped back a little to get away from her. She followed him complacently and continued to rub herself against his knees. "You'll hear him in a few seconds," she purred gently.

  "How do you know?" John whispered.

  "My ears are sharper than yours, and I can hear him already," she purred back.

  Vixenia's ears had flicked forward as she half turned in the direction of the tunnel, and a moment later John could hear the distant sound of the splashing of a paddle as it echoed faintly from the tunnel. Poison ceased to rub, but to John's annoyance she curled herself contentedly over his feet, her head still raised, watc
hing the tunnel opening. Four pairs of eyes stared at the dim circle as the rhythmic paddle splashes drew closer.

  Finally John saw him. For a moment he was nothing more than a dim shadow, crouched and kneeling in the coracle. But as it emerged from the tunnel they could see him more clearly. Across the water, which broke into a hundred waving fragments of red and black, he called, "Hail, Vixenia! Hail, John! Hail, Folly! Hail, Poison!"

  "Did you find any stones?" Vixenia barked in her eagerness.

  The seer drew his dripping paddle inboard and rose gingerly to his feet, pointing as he did so to a small leather bag slung over his shoulder. "Four of them!" he said. "I had a fifth which was plucked from my hands by invisible fingers, but the four are safe."

  A throbbing pain arose in John's shoulder. Then it seemed to him that one of his nightmares began to happen all over again. Just as the hands had come over the backyard door of the Smith's house in his dream in Pendleton, so now the fingers of a man's hand gripped the stern of the coracle while the fist of a second hand, a fist carrying a vicious iron hook, hung on beside it. Was John the only one to notice? The pain in his shoulder became excruciating.

  "Behind you! Look behind you!" he cried. But the seer stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  Two bare white arms attached to the hands began rocking the craft as a man's head and shoulders appeared between them. Pins and needles stabbed John's body. "Nicholas Slapfoot!" he screamed, for it was indeed the Goblin Prince. "Old Nick! Look out! He's climbing into the boat behind you!"

  Vixenia had seen him by this time too. "It is the goblin!" she cried. "It is the Goblin Prince and he is behind you!"

  Nicholas Slapfoot heaved himself in one swift smooth motion over the stern. Eagerly he grabbed at the leather pouch containing the pross stones. As Mab swung round, the coracle, already rocking, lurched and he fell. John had the sensation that the whole cave was turning. His heart was beating wildly. How in the world had Old Nick got there?