Gaal the Conqueror (39 page)

Authentio's voice sounded in the darkness. "Courage, my
lord. Gaal has sent us on the adventure. He will not fail us."

They struggled to their feet, stretched, stamped their feet on
the rock and then hunched their shoulders and stood shivering
for a moment. John was the first to act. He picked up the picture
frame. "Come on," he said. "We can't get out of it. We just have
to do it."

Wordlessly they made their way to the smaller curving stairway and wound their way up as quietly as they could to the level
of the tower until at last they saw the heavy door. Eleanor
gripped John's cloak from behind. Neither of them spoke a
word. John was breathing through his open mouth. He had
already retrieved the key, and as he held it pointing to the door,
wondering how he would find a keyhole, there was a gentle
click, and the door swung silently open.

Moonlight dazzled their eyes as it poured through the windows of the tower to illuminate a large room. In it they recognized the table from Shagah's library, surrounded by the same
chairs. Books and parchments crowded the shelves that lined
the walls. Clearly they were the very books that had drifted past
them, now neatly stacked on the shelves.

"That was quick," Eleanor whispered. "How did he do it?"

"Magic, I reckon. He doesn't seem to be around. I wonder
if he's upstairs."

They crept inside the room, peering cautiously into the shadows. John was still clutching the picture. "The room above this
one was empty when we came here last time," he breathed,
"and that's the room we're supposed to hang this in."

The silence around them was unnerving. "I hope he doesn't
know we're here," Eleanor whispered softly and tremulously.

"This place gives me the whim-whams," John murmured.
"I'm going to creep upstairs. Mebbe he's asleep. Mebbe there'll
be nothing to it." A stairway lined the wall to disappear through
the ceiling, and John led the way. He could feel the trembling
of his legs, and the sickening thudding of his heart. He hoped
that the other two would not realize his growing terror. Above
the ceiling they emerged into a corridor, also lit by the moon.
At the far end were more stairs and halfway down it a door.

Softly John turned the door handle. The door opened easily
and silently. The room was bare. More than this, moonlight fell
on a place on the wall where a hook seemed to issue an open
invitation to the picture frame under John's arm. His eyes flew
wide with joy and he grinned at Eleanor before tiptoeing into
the room. Eleanor and Authentio followed. Carefully John took
the chain with both hands and lifted it toward the hook.

"Congratulations!" A voice-cut the air like a knife. You have
done amazingly well! I had no idea you were so resourceful."
They swung round, John instinctively clutching the picture to
his chest. Shagah stood in the doorway.

They could not see Shagah clearly for he was in the shadow.
But there was no mistaking either the outline or the voice.
Carelessly, his arms extended, Shagah advanced toward John.
"You can give it to me now," he said. "It had to come back to
me. It always does."

John backed, his eyes riveted on the sorcerer. "It won't come
back to you this time," he breathed hoarsely. Still Shagah drew
closer.

`John-remember what you said! He can't touch you while
you've got the picture. It would kill him to touch you!" At that
moment Shagah stepped into the path of the moonlight. His
smile shone white. As Eleanor spoke it seemed to John that for
the merest fraction of a second a look of rage flashed across
the smiling face. But it was gone immediately, and the sorcerer
continued to advance.

John's heart seemed to be making efforts to burst out of his
chest. Nevertheless, he decided to stand his ground, gripping
the chain of the picture with all his strength. Shagah advanced
to within two feet of him and then stopped. "Thank you, John.
Now you can give it to me."

He was not sure that his badly shaking legs would support
him, but holding the picture against his body John took a step
forward. To his joy the sorcerer took a backward pace. John
advanced again, and again Shagah drew back.. But this time he
chanted as he withdrew, singing softly and sweetly in a strange
and foreign tongue. John found himself swaying. He felt dizzy.
Unable to take his eyes away from Shagah's, he grew confused.
His grip on the picture began to relax. The trembling in his
limbs subsided and he felt strangely soothed.

"Heed him not, my lord! He cannot harm you!" Authentio's
voice rang clearly. The drugging peace left John and he was
alert again.

Swiftly Shagah swung to stare at Authentio. "And whom have
I the pleasure of addressing?"

Authentio bowed gravely. "I am a servant of Gaal," he said.
"We come in his name, and by his directions. He bade us take
the adventure that came to us-which meant using your lordship's own magic to get us here."

Shagah looked at him pityingly. "He has evidently abandoned you to my mercy," he said.

Then John, who had stood shaking his head to rid it of the
last remnants of confusion, heard Eleanor's footsteps as she
darted across the floor and flung her body between John and
Shagah. "Run, John! Run to the hook and hang it up! He can't
stop you!" John jumped and a cry broke from his throat. The
spell was fully broken now. Alert and badly shaken he did as
Eleanor had said. Once again he gripped the chain in both
hands, raised the frame swiftly, and was about to suspend it
from the hook when before his startled eyes the hook sprang out of the wall to evade him. A merry peal of Shagah's laughter
rang out. Bewildered, John turned, and the hook replaced itself.

"This is indeed an entertaining game we are playing. For
how long would you like to play?" Shagah laughed. "All night?
All week? For a whole year? You know, John, you will get tired
of this game before I will. Time is on my side." Shagah's tone
was amused, patient and tolerant-all at the same time. There
was an air of quiet confidence about him that John found
disconcerting.

"Don't listen, John!" Eleanor's voice was contemptuous. She
was standing beside John now. In a low voice she hissed, "Try
to hang it again, now!" John again stretched the chain toward
the hook, and Eleanor leaped up to grab the hook and hold
it firmly in place. But to his horror John found he was no
longer in the Tower of Geburah at all. Moonlight, walls and
Shagah had all disappeared.

It was broad daylight. The sun was shining and a strong wind
was blowing. Most terrifying of all, John stood swaying perilously on the edge of a narrow ledge halfway down a precipice. He
was still holding the picture frame by its chain, dangling it far
above waves that dashed themselves against rocks hundreds of
feet below. From close by he heard Authentio's cry of terror.
Then there was Eleanor's voice saying, "What happened?
Where are we?"

He staggered back and leaned against the smooth rock wall,
lowering the picture gently but saying nothing. Eleanor, however, her wits about her, was rapidly taking stock She spoke
softly, almost in a whisper, "I don't know where he's magicked
us, but I bet he's still watching. He wouldn't let that picture get
out of his sight."

John hardly heard her. His mind was reeling.

"John, we can't be far away from the tower. Is that the lake
below?"

"Hm?"

"Is that the lake below?"

"I nearly fell over it. It was so close!"

"I know-but where are we?"

"I hate heights."

Something about the dead and mechanical quality in his
voice made Eleanor turn to look at him. His face was white and
his eyes blank and staring. "You O.K.?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"His lordship is ill, my lady. Look at his visage."

She touched him on the shoulder. "Here, give me the picture." Gently she tried to detach the chain from his hands, but
he held on tightly. She touched his hands and then his face.

"You're cold," she said. "Are you sick?"

John slid into a sitting position, leaning the picture against
his knees. Eleanor stared at him, a worried frown creasing her
forehead. Then, uncertain, she sat beside him, her face distressed and concerned. Absently her fingers dug into her left
shoe as though she were searching for something. A moment
later she took it off and shook it upside-down.

A small stone fell out. She replaced her shoe. Her fingers
toyed with the stone, and without thinking she tossed it over the
edge of the ledge. But it seemed to encounter an invisible wall
and fell vertically to rest on the outer edge of the ledge. The
expression on Eleanor's face changed to one of wonder as her
eyes widened.

"Are you guys O.K?" It was John who was speaking.

"Us? We're fine. It's you we're worried about. You look ghastly.,,

"I'm OX now, I think I can't stand heights."

"Yeah, I remember how you were at the chasm in the tunnel."

"Where are we?"

"Where are we indeed! I have been thinking a lot about
that." Eleanor nudged him gently, and then began to speak in a loud and rather unnatural voice. "I believe Shagah, by his
very great power, has transferred us in an instant to a remote
corner of the earth!" John and Authentio turned their heads
and stared at her. Surreptitiously Eleanor winked at each of
them in turn. "I am sure that we can find our way back again,
but perhaps the time has come for us to use the magic Gaal has
given us. Let us repeat together the words he taught us."

John's face, still rather pale, expressed bewilderment. Eleanor snuggled as close as she could to him, pressing herself
firmly against his side and dipping her hand into the pocket
where she knew he kept the Mashal Stone. Carefully she drew
it out with one hand, pulling the edges of John's cloak around
the picture as she did so. Then, as she solemnly began to drape
the chain of the Mashal Stone around their two wrists, she said
in a loud voice, "Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Hickory
dickery dock, the mouse ran up the clock, the mouse struck one,
the mouse-"

At that point they both vanished. More wonderful still-at
least John found it so-the three of them were instantly back
in the bare and moonlit room in the Tower of Geburah, still
facing the hook on the wall. He suppressed a gasp of surprise,
and for several seconds they both stood silent and invisible.
They could sense the sorcerer standing behind them. Carefully
John transferred the picture to his free hand. Now was his
chance to place it over the hook on the wall.

But Shagah had not finished with him. Before he could do
a thing another vision appeared beyond the wall. It was as
though they were looking through a wall of glass, and could see
snow and ice and snow-covered pines on a rocky shore. Ian
McNab stood facing them, blowing into his cold hands to warm
them, and stamping his feet on the hard ice. He seemed unaware that he was being observed.

John said nothing. He was sure something was wrong. But
Shagah's soothing voice said, "These must be trying days for you, John. I know how much you want to see your father again.
Well, look at him!"

John caught his breath in a gasp. How could Shagah see
them? They had the Mashal Stone on. "He must just assume
we're here," John thought. But he knew that the person he saw
truly was his father, and he also knew that he was seeing him
as he was in that very instant. He had not, however, forgotten
Shagah's treachery. John knew what he was expected to dosomething he had sworn never to do. He clenched his fists
determinedly, but he was powerless to prevent the storm of love
and longing that broke in his heart, its hurricane force sweeping his feelings in disordered tumult. Yearning possessed him.

"Call to him, John. He'll hear you!"

John took an angry breath, forgetting in his anger that Shagah still questioned his presence. "Do you take me for a fool?"
he spat. "I know what you're trying to do." Immediately he
realized his mistake. Shagah would now be certain they were
there.