Gaal the Conqueror (21 page)

He watched and listened open-mouthed for several minutes,
sweating in the cold and shivering mightily. Eleanor whirled
endlessly with a control and a skill that amazed him, so rapidly
that she might have been wearing ice skates on a lake. Suddenly
he snorted, then bit his lower lip and strode out of the bedroom
toward the door of the cabin, or rather toward the part of the
wall where a door would appear and open. "Open in the name
of Gaal," he muttered fiercely. But nothing happened. "Then
in the name of the Changer!" Still there was no response.

Again and again he tried, speaking now softly, now loudly,
sometimes pleading, sometimes yelling in anger. But the door
never budged. In the end he beat his fists in a rage against the
wall at the point where the door was supposed to be. "Let me
out! Don't you understand? She's bewitched! The enchantment's got her."

At times he would go back to the window and watch again
as Eleanor leaped and whirled, singing her song with no sign
of breathlessness. Then once again he would try to open the
door. For almost three hours he continued alternately to watch
her and to make more futile attempts to get out. Finally he sat
on the floor, leaning his back against the wall and waiting for
the morning, wondering what would happen to Eleanor.

"It's her own fault," he muttered from time to time. "I was
right after all. She can't say I didn't warn her." Eventually, in
spite of the best intentions, he fell asleep, sitting on the floor
and leaning against the wall.

It was broad daylight when he woke. Feeling woodenheaded
and sawdust-mouthed, he scrambled awkwardly to his feet and
stretched the kinks out of himself, wondering what he was doing on the floor. Then he remembered and turning to the door
cried, "Open in the name of Gaal!"

At once the door opened and he rushed to it, eagerly looking
for Eleanor. Stumbling through it he cried her name, "Eleanor!
Eleanor!" She was nowhere to be seen. He ran down to the
pathway and turned in the direction from which she had
emerged from the wood during the night. Then he stopped.
"Which way would she go?" he wondered. Perhaps if he continued to shout, she might answer. "Eleanor!" Again and again
he called her name, pausing and straining his ears to listen
each time.

"What is it?"

John swung round to see her standing in the doorway. For
a moment he stared at her, open-mouthed. "How did you get
in?"

"Get in? In here?"

"Yes, how did you get in?"

"The same way you did yesterday afternoon. What do you
mean?"

John shook his head. "I sat up half the night wondering how
to get you inside," he said. "Didn't you see me sleeping on the
floor?" He continued to talk as he made his way back to the
tree. Then as he passed the threshold to enter it, he noticed
that the jewels still lay outside the door. "She must have
dropped them there again," he thought.

A meal awaited them on the table-steaming porridge, honey, cream, oatmeal biscuits, fruit and milk. Eleanor sat down
and stared at John who was still talking excitedly. There was a
bewildered expression on Eleanor's face.

"Look. Slow down. I don't understand what you're trying to
tell me. Why were you yelling my name out there?"

"You mean you don't know?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Don't yell. I have a headache. I
think I must have the flu or something. I feel awful. I had a
dreadful night."

"I'll say you did! You danced all night long!"

"In my dreams anyway. It was awful." A strange look crossed
her face. "How did you know what I dreamt about?"

"It wasn't a dream, Eleanor. You were out there dancing. And
I couldn't get to you. The door wouldn't open." He began to
serve her porridge, talking as he did so, and describing all that
had happened.

"You must have been dreaming yourself. We must have been
in the same dream."

"No. It was no dream. If I was dreaming then I walked in my
sleep too. But I wasn't dreaming, and the last thing I did was
sit down out here and fall asleep. And that's where I woke up.
I saw you all right!"

Eleanor was playing with her food, hardly eating. "Well, I
sure feel as though I was doing something energetic all night.
I'm exhausted."

"No wonder! I never saw anyone dance like that. It was
crazy."

Eleanor shook her head again. She spoke slowly and wearily.
"I really don't know. It's all so vague-mixed up, sort of. But
I ... I'm not going to be able to go on walking today. I thought
it was the flu.. ."

"It's Shagah, Eleanor. I'm sure the jewels you were wearing
came from him. He's got some sort of power over you."

"I don't think so. I left them outside."

"Listen-you did have your jewels on. You were wearing
them as you danced."

`Just in my dreams," Eleanor said.

Neither of them felt much like pursuing their journey, for
both were tired. Eleanor's limbs began to stiffen later in the
day, and her headache continued. John dozed in the afternoon, and did not waken till evening. Curiously he still felt
sleepy after their evening meal, and for the second night in a
row went to bed early.

He woke sometime in the night. He had been dreaming, or thought he had. It was just that the dream was not the kind that
you can see things in. In fact it was in total darkness, consisting
only of a voice, a voice that repeated endlessly, "You have
forgotten the treasures. Use them if you would avoid peril....
You have forgotten the treasures. Use them if you would avoid
peril..."

Startled, he groped for the book which lay on a chair beside
his bed. "But what would I use it for?" he wondered.

A sound from the next room caused him to hold his breath.
Eleanor! Was she leaving the tree again? He slipped out of bed
as quietly as he could. The sounds continued. Eleanor was up
and about. Quickly he pulled on the hose and cape that completed his dress. But no sooner did he move toward his bedroom door than he heard the sound of the outer door closing.
Eleanor had gone outside.

He seized the large book, burst through the bedroom door
and made as if to stride toward the outer door, but checked
himself with a startled cry. Sword in hand, and glowing red in
the darkness, a tall goblin faced him, guarding the outer door.
Its head was large and globular, but the face was the face of
a boar, the tusks long and menacing. Its body was a bear's body,
while its feet and legs were like the claws and legs of a giant
eagle. Its arms were the long arms of an ape, and from its
shoulders, monstrous bat wings rose. Vicious little boar eyes
gleamed at him.

Was this why the door had resisted his commands the previous night? Had the goblin power to intercept his command
before it could reach the door? Whatever the truth, the goblin
must go. But how? Was he to attack and kill it? Could he order
it away? He had killed many goblins, and in spite of the ferocious appearance of this one, he felt a strange lack of fear.
Deliberately he opened the book, and the room was flooded
with light.

The goblin was enraged rather than cowed. The creature began to move in his direction, the snout snuffling, its sword
raised, ready to strike. Plainly he must decide quickly. Suddenly
a memory came back to him, the memory of Mab and the
cohorts of Qhahdrun. What was it Mab had cried to dismiss
them forever? A picture of the stream bed in the deep gully
flashed into his mind, and he could hear Mab's voice crying,
"Avaunt! Avaunt! In the name of the Changer, avaunt!"

He took a deep breath. Then softly and deliberately he
hissed, "Avaunt! Avaunt! In the name of Gaal and of the
Changer, avaunt!" The blue light grew to frightening intensity.
John's eyes were blinded, so that he could see nothing. He
closed the book and laid it on the ground. Then slowly he
began to see the moonlight coming through the window, and
perceived the next moment that the room was empty. There
was no sign of the goblin.

But still the door resisted his command. The treasure. In his
dream he had been instructed to use the treasure. For the first
time he saw the outline of a keyhole in the door. The keyl
Would it fit?

He darted into Eleanor's room and rummaged until he
found it. Then with trembling fingers he inserted it. To his joy
it opened, but what he saw when he passed through it stunned
him. Eleanor was there, dancing as frenetically as she had
danced the previous night. But it was not at Eleanor he stared.
A gargantuan figure towered above her.

It was seated as a human being sits, yet the legs were the
shaggy legs of an enormous goat, and the feet were cloven
hoofs. The trunk was that of a naked humanoid giant, and
horns rose from the shaggy head. The creature played wild
music on a shepherd's pipe, blowing exquisite allurement
through lips that were full and sensuous. "Pan!"John breathed
softly. "It's Pan. Shagah has called him down. But I thought Pan
was dead."

Eleanor was totally oblivious of the bestial presence, for the music controlled her hypnotically. Her eyelids were sealed, and
her movements, though rapid, were alluring. For a few momentsJohn watched, fascinated. Then, startled, he realized that
his limbs were beginning to respond. With a strong effort of will
he broke a dreamy spell that a moment later would have swept
him into a passionate pas de deux with her.

He knew what he must do. The control had to come through
the jewels Eleanor wore. Therefore he must snatch them from
her and trample them underfoot. He did not know why he was
so certain, but he knew he was right. He crouched, waiting for
a chance to spring. But no sooner would the dancing feet come
near him than they would whirl away again. So he tried to
follow her, darting to and fro with his hands held out in a half
embrace. Had he been visible he would have looked for all the
world like a basketball player on the defending team.

His opportunity came at last, and he leaped to knock the
coronet from her head, making a wild leap to stamp on it as
it began to roll toward the water. It crumpled beneath his foot,
and to his amazement he saw by the moonlight that it was
nothing more than the faded crown of wild flowers that Eleanor had discarded in favor of the jewels. Of the jewels cut like
flowers, and of the gold in which they had been set there was
no sign. Anxiously he glanced up at Pan. Had he seen what
John had done? But the god's eyes were almost closed, as if
entranced by the music that poured from the pipes, so that he
seemed unaware of what had happened.

It proved more difficult to secure the necklace and the bracelets. Eventually in his blundering attempt to follow her complex
movements John collided with Eleanor and she fell. He was at
her throat in an instant, tugging at the necklace, which broke
as he tugged, turning into a limp chain of faded flowers, just
as the coronet had done.

Again John glanced up at Pan. The music had stopped and
the god was rising up on his shaggy goat-limbs, his thick lips wreathed in a smile. Eleanor, too, was struggling to her feet.
John seized her wrists, inserted his fingers inside the bracelets
and pulled downward with all his strength. Instantly the air
around them flamed with blue light. Booming through the forest came a voice that cried, "Great Pan is dead! The Lord of
Life is come! Great Pan is dead!"

The light blinded John again, but his ears were functioning well. He could hear a more haunting music and distinguish
another voice that sang:

John's eyes cleared. He was kneeling in the moonlight, facing a kneeling Eleanor. From his hands dangled two chains of
faded flowers. The god Pan was gone.