Gaal the Conqueror (30 page)

He did not have long to wait before he found out. He heard
sounds of scuffling and shouts from beyond the wall. Even
before John had time to reach the spot where Eleanor and her
captors stood, the group emerged from the gate, pushing Gaal
and Authentio ahead of them.

They seemed exultant, breathless, eyes full of gaiety and triumph, talking among themselves about how easy it had been,
looking curiously at Eleanor and Authentio. With Gaal they
were more cautious. Evidently he had offered them no resistance, but standing as he did, head and shoulders above the
tallest of the men, so powerful of frame and in no way cowed
by their presence, the captors seemed at first hesitant to do
more than push him gently toward Prodo Tehs and Eleanor.

Moments later Bomgrith was brought back in the hands of
his pursuers. John began to move and act purely by instinct, his
thoughts being too confused to serve him. He wanted to be
near Eleanor, and he wanted to be near Gaal. Carefully he
would ease his way among their captors, trying to get next to
one or another of them, but it was never possible for him to
touch them.

He touched their captors without even wanting to, bumping
now into one, then into another. At any other time it would
have been amusing. "Look where you're going!" one would say,
glaring at the nearest of his companions. At one point he trod
on the toe of one man, backed off quickly and bumped into
another. Only his agility saved him from being caught in the
middle as with cries of irritation they hit out at each other.
Quickly he took himself out of danger.

John wanted to speak, to let Eleanor know he was there and
that he would do something when he could. But he kept his mouth shut. He stared at Gaal, wondering to see him failing to
act with drama and strength in the crisis. And as he stared at
Gaal's face, the face turned, and the brown eyes looked directly
into his own. Gaal could see him!

While their eyes remained locked, something strange began
to take place. Ever so slowly a powerful blue light,seemed to
surround John. The scene around them faded, and he felt
giddy, almost as though his feet had left the ground and his
body were floating. He could still see Gaal but was only aware
of the eyes of Gaal staring into his own. He lost all sense of time
and place. The blue light began to fade, and the scene around
them had changed. They were back again beside Rapunzel's
tower with Eleanor. He knew he was seeing what had happened before, even as he watched it happen again. Yet he
played his part, just like an actor. Gaal was talking to him. "They
will capture me."

"The Circle?" John asked. He was asking the same question
he had asked more than two weeks before.

"Yes."

"And then you'll trick them and get away."

"No, it won't be like that. Rather, they'll kill me."

Once again, just as it had happened before, John and Eleanor stared at him blankly. After a moment John said, "You're
kidding. I mean, why would you let them? Aren't you more
powerful than they are?"

And again Gaal smiled and said, "As a matter of fact I am."

"I don't understand," John said.

"Perhaps my greatest power will be used to conquer deathto conquer it from the inside, so to speak."

It was like a dream. He saw Eleanor shake her head in a
bewildered fashion, and found himself protesting, his voice
rising squeakily. "You're sort of the same as the Changer. You
said so yourself. And the Changer isn't the sort of person that
you can kill. I mean he doesn't even have a body."

"But I have. I shall be killed as a lamb by my enemy, the Bull
of Bashan. On the day when it happens you will see me gored
to death by a great black bull. In fact-well, I'll not bother to
explain it now. You'll see for yourselves later on."

Then the blue light came again, and when it faded John was
back in Bamah staring at the crowd of captors with their four
prisoners. How long had his brief reverie lasted? The conversation had taken only a minute or so, yet he must have been
walking even while his trance had been proceeding, for they
were no longer where they had been before but were advancing through heavy iron gates into a prison courtyard. Quickly
John entered with them, and the gates clanged shut behind
them.

They were in jail-at least in the courtyard of a jail. Gaal
seemed to want it this way. Yet why? What did his talk of his
death mean? Death was death, wasn't it? John sighed. Nothing
made sense. But for the moment he would stick with the prisoners.

Bewildered, he followed them as torch-bearing goblins led
the prisoners from the courtyard through the doors of a stone
building. They conducted them down steep flights of steps into
darkness with damp and evil smells. The flickering torches revealed iron-barred cages, much like the cages they had encountered in the enchanted forest. Most were crammed with prisoners, many standing dull and silent, but some prisoners, among
them matmon and men who were obviously not under the
spell, rattled their cage doors and shouted at the goblins. Into
an empty cage they thrust Gaal, locking the gate behind him.
Much farther on, beyond a door of iron bars they thrust all
three of their remaining prisoners, Bomgrith, Authentio and
Eleanor, into an empty cage.

One of the goblins, hideous in form, its great balloonlike
head so disproportionate with its fragile plantlike body, appeared to be their captain. It bore a ring of keys and bade the others leave and lock the door behind them. They did so, leaving one of their torches in a holder on the cage door. Then
for a moment the goblin captain stared at them.

"One eeez woman, yessss? Feeemale eeez eeet?"

Eleanor's eyes gleamed with terror in the flickering torch
light. Authentio answered for her. "The lady Eleanor is a girl,
yes."

"Eeeeet weeeel tomorrow go to weeemen's jail. Yessss?"

There was no reply and the goblin continued to stare. Slowly
John drew his sword. Goblins were to be killed. They were not
like people. He lifted the sword which became visible, glinting
in the torch light as John lifted it high. At that moment the
goblin turned to leave, saw the sword and hesitated. In an
instant the blade swept down, bursting the frail bulbous skull.
The ring of keys crashed to the wet stone ground.

John stooped to pick up the jailor's keys, but quickly drew his
hand back. The goblin had flopped on the floor with the kind
of sploshing, slapping sound a very wet bath towel makes when
you drop it from a height. Then, more rapidly than snow on
a hot stove, and much less pleasantly, its body began to turn
into liquid. Cries of amazement broke from the three prisoners
in the cage.

"The sword-did you see the sword? It is a miracle!" Authentic cried.

"It might be-I is that you?" Eleanor said, a
tearful desperation in her voice.

"The goblin's dead!"

A foul stench arose from the liquefying body, so foul that by
comparison the general smell of rottenness in the jail seemed
fresh and sweet. The liquid bubbled until all semblance of goblin disappeared. John gagged and backed away. As he did
so he glanced behind him, seeing without being fully aware
what he was seeing, that there was another steel door in the
wall opposite the first one. Later the memory came back to him.

Torchlight reflected eerily from the foaming foulness on the
ground. But in two minutes there was nothing left but a dry
patch on the jail floor, from which a wisp of smoke rose. In the
center of the patch lay the bunch of keys the goblin had been
carrying. John seized them. They were surprisingly hot, and for
a moment or two he switched them rapidly from one hand to
the other.

"One good thing about goblins," he muttered savagely, "is
that when you kill them there's nothing left. No embarrassing
corpse to dispose of."

Eleanor recognized his voice. "I knew it was you!" she cried."
Thank goodness you're here! Do take the stone off-I want to
see you."

John was about to obey, but had second thoughts. "No-I'd
better not. Gaal said I only get to use it once more. In any case
we're not outside yet. Being invisible can be handy."

The cries of wonder and astonishment that had clamored
from the lips of Authentio and Bomgrith broke out afresh at
the sound of John's voice. They stared at the floating sword and
at a bunch of keys that danced a jingling dance between invisible hands. John sheathed the sword and it disappeared.

Eleanor said, "It's O.K It's John-I mean the Sword Bearer.
He's invisible, that's all. He wears a jewel round his neck and
it happens."

But John was staring at the shining face of Authentio. The
young man's ragged tunic could hide neither the sturdy proportions of his frame nor the nobility of his carriage. And in contrast to the rest of them joy poured out of him.

"You look happy, Authentiol But you're not half as happy as
I am to see you again!" John said.

Authentio shook his head in wonder. "Oh, invisible one," he
replied, "how can I not be happy when the spell of days has
been broken! It has been a dream-a very bad dream-but
now I am awake!"

"Your mother dearly wants to see you again."

"And she will! No prison can hold the spirit that Gaal has
released! How great he is!"

"Let us out, John," Eleanor pleaded.

"Why don't you just stay there until I go back to where Gaal
is, then if anyone should come-"

"Please, John. I can't stand cages anymore!"

There were several keys on the ring, and once the keys were
cool enough it still took John a couple of minutes before he
found the one that released the cage door. He had forgotten
the key in his pocket. First, they opened the iron door into the
area of the many crowded cages. A babble of talk from the
prisoners broke out as soon as they entered. How had they got
free? What were those keys doing floating along beside them?
The group was too concerned with finding Gaal to pay much
heed, but when they reached the cell where Gaal had been, it
was empty.

"Are you sure this was the one?" Authentic asked.

"I think so," John said. "Look there! Isn't that his cape?"
Purely from habit he pointed an invisible hand at a garment
lying on the floor, sublimely unaware that nobody could see
where he was pointing. But they all were looking. There was
more than a cape lying on the floor-there was also what
looked like Gaal's staff.

John grunted in disgust. "So much for Ponty's grand scheme
of my becoming invisible and rescuing Gaal," he muttered.

A matmon prisoner in the next cage had been watching them
intently. "They came for him straightaway," he said, "and they
came with much haste and excitement. Hardly had they left
him than they returned with high officials of the prison. The governor himself was with them."

They stared at the matmon who was shaking his head and
gripping the bars of his cage. There was a silence for a moment
and then a babble of questions from the followers of Gaal and
a babble of answers from many of the prisoners.