Gaal the Conqueror (24 page)

"Wow! Look at the way it shines!"

"Something's happening."

"But what?" They stared at the stone, fascinated by its glow.

"It's beginning to fade now."

"Think we should try again?"

"I don't know. I don't see a food hamper lying round anywhere. But, I'm not sure what's supposed to happen," John said.
"Last time it never happened immediately. It always happened
later, sometimes days later."

"But we need food now."

"Well, let's try again, and let's talk this time." They brought
their hands together again, concealing the stone, and John said, "We're hungry. Please could you send food. I mean we'll
get weak, and we're scared of getting trapped in the forest."

"And please send the food now," Eleanor added.

She removed her shaking hands and again they stared eagerly. But the glow had faded completely and with it their hopes.
"I remember now," John said. "You can only use each stone
once." Wearily they got to their feet. "But it did glow the first
time-and it glowed really bright."

"That's right, it did. It got hot too. Mebbe something actually
happened. But what?" Eleanor and John looked all round
them.

Suddenly John cried out, "Look!"

Eleanor also stared. "What are you staring at? I don't see
anything but a bunch of trees."

John pointed. "That one wasn't there before. It's a Gaal
tree!"

Eleanor's stare had been replaced by a look of bewilderment.
"But there's no point in taking up residence in a Gaal tree. Not
now. There just isn't time. You know that as well as I do."

"But there will,be food in it, probably enough for us to make
sandwiches for the rest of the journey!" And so it proved. There
was a hot meal on the linen tablecloth, and plenty of bread and
meats for sandwiches. They did not linger over the meal for
they dared not. Time was precious. And after packing as many
sandwiches as they needed, they set out once more, still fearful
but clinging now to hope.

They pushed ahead all day as fast as they could, fear lending
a kind of energy to their legs. To waste no more time they ate
and drank from their water bottles as they walked.

Darkness fell eventually, but even so they pushed ahead with
what strength they had. Mile followed mile with weary monotony. They even forced themselves to jog from time to time.
Somehow they managed to stay awake till dawn when they were
compelled by utter fatigue to sleep for an hour.

Though they awoke curiously refreshed, the day proved exhausting. Perhaps it was as well that their journey was sharply
downhill. That at least was easier than climbing would have
been. Even so things were difficult. The path they had been
following gradually disappeared, but since it had led them
down a steeply descending glen, they had no alternative but to
follow the glen down and to the east.

It was a miniature valley of incredible beauty. The stream
had by now become swollen by the springs and streamlets that
joined it, to tumble in a splendid series of falls over rocks of
every size. Sometimes it was a sheet of swiftly moving glass, at
others a wild and plunging horde of watery unicorns, their
manes flying with every leap. Vapor and gentle mists softened
the outlines of the trees. Moss clothed the trunks and branches,
while a carpet of thick green moss spread itself luxuriously over
logs and rocks, covering the earth as it descended in a sort of
wild staircase toward the lowlands.

"I wish we could stop to explore," John said.

Eleanor nodded. "It's absolutely gorgeous. But we mustn't."

They tried to hurry, but it was difficult. The ground was uneven, and descended steeply. Rotting tree trunks, boulders and
rocks, hidden as they were beneath the thick moss, caused them
from time to time to stumble through it into the bowels of a
rotting log, or to slither wetly and fall down a rocky slope or
over a large boulder as the moss tore free. Enchanting as the
valley might be, it became a nightmare to travel down. Eleanor's
"absolutely gorgeous" had become "absolutely awful" after two
hours of scrambling.

But the knowledge that this was their last chance of getting
out, and that with any luck it would be their last day in the
enchanted forest, kept them at it. Soon they were bruised and
battered from scrambling and falling, and their legs felt
rubbery. Even so they never stopped. They soon abandoned
speech. Their breath came in gasps.

What they did notice was a thin film of dust on the moss that
grew slowly thicker as the day wore on. They also noticed bird
calls. And as they did so, each of them independently realized
that the forest had been silent, except for the first hours they
had spent in it. Since then no bird had sung. Their hearts
quickened at the sound of twitterings through the trees, sensing
either that they must be approaching the edge of the forest or
that enchantments could no longer silence bird song.

By late afternoon, to their great joy and relief, they broke
through the trees to a grassy slope overlooking a wide valley.
For a moment they stopped and stared. Golden light from the
setting sun was stealing up the mountainside facing them followed by shadows that gently herded the sunlight skyward.

"We made it!" John breathed, hardly daring to believe his
eyes. "We actually made it!"

"Well, let's get farther away from the trees," Eleanor panted.
"I don't want something rushing out from behind us and dragging us back."

When at last they sat down they became aware of a low and
steady sound like thunder. "Waterfall?" John mused.

Below them and to their right a river wound along the floor
of the valley to flow beneath what looked like a stone bridge.
Beyond the bridge and to their left the river could not be seen.
Instead a wide chasm opened up. John pointed to the bridge.
"I bet there's a waterfall there," he said.

"I bet that's the River Rure," Eleanor said.

John shook his head. "There aren't any waterfalls along the
Rure. Anyway, this river's flowing north. It must be if the waterfall's on that side of the bridge. The Rure flows south. It
winds up way in the south in a great big salt marsh."

"Then where are we and what is that river?"

"I've no idea. I don't know of any other big rivers. I guess
the whole country has changed since I was here."

They stared at the scene before them as they rested. "I wish I had field glasses," John said, his voice rising with excitement, "I think that may be Ponty just down by the bridge.
See him?" He pointed. "See that thing that looks like a big
rock jutting out of the ground to the right of the bridge-I
do believe that's him! It's a dragon anyway."

He struggled to his feet, cupping his hands around his
mouth. "Ponty! Ponty!" Echoes of his voice bounced back from
the valley walls. John called again, but there was no movement.
Only the echoes responded.

"It must just be a rock," Eleanor said. "Or else it's another
dragon. In that case we'd better be careful."

"Let's go see!"John replied.

It took them fifteen minutes or so to get down to the bridge,
and long before they did so, they were sure that the heap of
rock was indeed not a rock, but the sleeping dragon, curled up
in much the same fashion as they had seen him when he was
asleep in his cave. Excitedly they stumbled on trembling legs
toward the beast. The thunder of the waterfall increased as they
approached the bridge.

"He's fast asleep!" John cried breathlessly as he flopped on
the dusty earth beside the dragon. "Gosh, that must be some
waterfall, I wish we could get a glimpse of it."

"Look! He's crying in his sleep," Eleanor replied "He dreams
about a white mare that treats him like a son, and it makes him
cry. I wonder if he's having the same dream now?"

"He's talking in his sleep-I think. You can't hear properly
because of the waterfall. I'm going to listen closer."

"Careful. He might start breathing flames on you!" Eleanor
giggled.

John listened intently. There was an embarrassed look on his
face. "He's ... he's talking to someone he calls his mother. I
don't think I ought to listen."

Steaming tears were pouring from beneath the dragon's eyelids. Then the dragon opened his mouth wide, and the children both jumped as a scream, like the scream of a horse, pierced
the low thunder of the waterfall. With awkward, jerking movements Pontificater unwound himself and stood on his four feet.
For a moment he stared stupidly at John and Eleanor, and then
cried, "Ah, what a relief, what a reliefl Dear me, yes, what a
relief. I might have known you would get out. I have to get you
to Bamah by tomorrow. Every night I've had nightmares" (John
nudged Eleanor), "dreaming of the treacheries of enchantment. Well, well, well-I needn't have worried. As the ancients
would put it, nihil obstat, which means roughly, nothing could
stop you."

A dragon is far from hugable, but Eleanor threw her arms
as far round the scaly neck as she could reach, and Pontificater
nuzzled her hair with the point on his nose. They found that
conversation was not the easiest when competing with a waterfall, and Pontificater soon invited them to a cave he had discovered. He prepared food and shelter for them. It was rough
and simple, but once they had bathed in the river and had
eaten, they felt much better. The cave was quiet and free from
dust.

"What is all this stuff. I mean the dust?" John asked the
dragon.

"What is it indeed?" he replied. "Well might you ask, Bearer
of the Sword. I am advised that it is all connected with the
earthquake. Apparently the great sorcerer Shagah, in his rage
against the northern tribes, attempted to sink the whole of the
North under the sea. I suppose he meant to drown them-and
anyone else who happened to live in that part of the world."

John stared open-mouthed at Pontificater. Eleanor said, "You
mean that was what the earthquakes were all about?"

"Well, he didn't really succeed, did he, Ponty?" John asked,
frowning.

"Apparently not. I gather that the whole continent north of
this point was to have slid beneath the ocean. This of course would have meant that I, Pontificater, along with both of you
(and, of course, countless other living beings) would have encountered a watery end."

"So what happened?" Eleanor asked.

"Well, the earthquake tilted the continent but did not submerge it."

"But what about all the dust?" John reminded him.

"Ah, yes. Patience is a virtue in which I find you singularly
lacking. I was coming to that. In Shagah's rage at having failed
to do all that he had hoped, rumor is that he flung his wand
from the seven-arched bridge (doubtless you noticed the construction?) into the river. At that point the earth opened up (I
believe that is the correct expression, is it not?), or shall we say
it descended several thousand feet. At any rate a chasm has
been opened up to the Northern Sea, so that the Rure now
flows north instead of south."

"Ponty-you mean this is the Rure?" John asked with rising
excitement.

"Indeed it is," Pontificater said.

"And I was right!" Eleanor exulted.

"Well, you must admit that rivers don't usually reverse their
flow. How was I to know?" John protested. "But, Ponty, what
about all the dust?"

"Ah, yes, the dust," Pontificater nodded. "The dust is very
interesting. I would presume it has something to do with the
incredible rending (it means tearing, you know), the incredible
rending of the rocks when the riverbed dropped several thousand feet. At any rate there was a dense cloud of dust hovering
over the area for three days until there was a bit of a wind to
drive it away."

"Wow!" John said. "That was some earthquake! It gives me
the creeps when I think of that guy's power." He shuddered.

Later as they sat together at the cave mouth and stared at the
river, John's mind was still on the earthquake. "Shagah," he said pensively, "has been after us ever since we set out." Pontificater nodded.

"I could do with a rest from powerful, magical beings," Eleanor said wearily. "Why doesn't Gaal just deal with Shagah himself?"

Pontificator shifted his weight restlessly. "The powers arrayed against Gaal are formidable," he said after a moment or
so. "As Authentio and I told you, Anthropos is ruled by the
Circle of Nine. Gaal has incurred the wrath of the Circle. He
has made unacceptable statements about his relationship with
the Changer, or, as some speak of him, with Mi-Ka-Ya. Lord
Lunacy claims to be the true Ruler of all. He calls himself the
Lord of Light and the Lord of Darkness, Lord of the Night and
Lord of the Day."

"He seems to have added to his titles since I was last here,"
John said.

The dragon continued, "At any rate it seems inevitable that
the Circle will imprison Gaal. I fail to see any other conclusion
to what is happening at the moment. I have also received instructions from Gaal to take you to Bamah. I tried to point out
to him that going direct to Geburah would be infinitely safer."
A wave of fear swept over John at the mention of Bamah.

Eleanor looked up. Her face was troubled. "What is happening in Bamah?" she asked. "And why isn't Gaal strong enough
to overthrow the Circle?"

"The, ah, the prophetic writings are somewhat, er, in dispute.
It is not at all clear what will happen to Gaal if we do not do
something to help him. As for what he has been doing, that is
part of the problem. He acts as though he has genuine authority from the Changer. For instance, you remember the people
you saw in the village?" John nodded, and the dragon continued. "All children on their eighth day of life are taken to the
temple in Bamah and made to pass through the Portals of
Death. When they emerge they are like you saw in the village mechanical and unthinking, forever under the powers of the
Circle."

"That's awful!" Eleanor shuddered.

"It would appear that Gaal has been touching such people
and commanding them to awake. His words are apparently
extraordinarily effective and this, as it were, flings a feline
among an avian species. The spell is broken. Hundreds, some
would even claim thousands, have been released in this way,
and are hiding in and around Bamah. The walls are tunneled
and many hide there. Others act as though they are still under
the spell and remain in the city."