Gaal the Conqueror (35 page)

She stared into space and said nothing for a while. Then just
as John began to wonder whether he ought to make some
rejoinder, she continued, "It changed when I met Gaal. He
treated me like I was-clean? I even began to feel clean. He
was the first person I learned not to be scared of. He told me I would be rid of fear forever one day."

"You are now," John said.

"How do you mean?"

"When we broke from the crowd to run for the altar-why
did you run faster than me?"

"I just wanted to be where Gaal was. I knew he must be hurt
bad, or else killed, and I just wanted to be near him."

"You weren't scared-I mean of the crowd-or of being near
someone dead?"

"No-why should I be?"

"Well, that's what I mean. You didn't used to be like that.
What gave you the courage to run to the altar? I thought I'd
have to drag you there."

"I love him. When you love someone you just want to be with
them."

"Then I guess that's it. Mebbe you can't love-I mean really
love-and be scared at the same time."

Eleanor said nothing. Her face, still wet with tears, was the
face of a girl whose thoughts were far away.

Later when the sun had set and the first stars of evening
began to make their appearance, they saw a strange figure
coming across the grass toward them. At first it looked like a
small hunchback, but as it drew close they could see that it was
a matmon carrying a huge bundle. John was the first to realize
who it was.

"Bomgrith-is that you?"

"Greetings, my lord. I bring good tidings. Yet I fear to come
to where you are, even though those cursed reds of our race
who-"

Billingrath rose and stood beside John. "I speak as a cursed
redhead!" he said.

Bomgrith froze, standing as still as the monoliths surrounding the temple and the altar. His bundle dropped to the ground.
For several seconds the two stared at each other, Bomgrith's face a study of perplexity and embarrassment, and Billingrath's
stern and set. Finally, Billingrath grinned and said, "It is well,
cousin. The sight of the valor of the Lord Gaal has won my
heart. It was hard for me to admit my folly, but the young Lord
John has taught me that Gaal will rise from the dead-though
that I will believe when I see it. As for the altar-it holds no
danger for you or anyone. I am no god-nor are any of us
here."

Once he had joined them Bomgrith seemed a little overwhelmed by Pontificater and still somewhat uncertain of Billingrath, whom he knew only too well. But he was too excited with
the events of the day to retain his stiffness. The widow Illith and
her son were safe and well. The inhabitants of Bamah had
made sure they had food, blankets and utensils before leaving
the city. Most were encamped in the woods and fields surrounding the city and a few in caves. Most exciting of all was the
change in the Bamah inhabitants. "They begin to remember
now some of the things that happened to them in their enchantment," Bomgrith said. "They say it is like remembering a
forgotten dream. They also recall all what happened today, and
many are grateful to the lamb who has delivered them. But
some never left the city and others talk of returning here, saying there will be no earthquake. They are on their way back to
the city now. And on those who never left but stayed, the same
stupor has settled. They are back to their dreaming."

It was quite dark when Bomgrith left. The bundle he had
carried contained food, drinks and blankets, but even though
they had eaten nothing since their early breakfast, they felt no
hunger and did not touch the food until his departure. Even
then they ate little. They sat around the form of Gaal wrapped
in the blankets Bomgrith had brought. At first they talked excitedly about the change in Pontificater, teasing him as he grew
embarrassed. Then they discussed the day's events in detail.
Eventually Eleanor and Pontificater began to reminisce about the way in which they had come to know Gaal, their faces
glowing as they described events their memories conjured up.

In the end they grew too sleepy to talk and snuggled as
comfortably as they could among the bones and stones of the
altar. John and Eleanor settled themselves against Pontificater's
warm coat. ("I'm so glad he's lost his scales," Eleanor whispered.)

Before long only star song filled the silence. John disturbed
it with a slurred and sleepy comment. "I suppose the altar will
be safe enough in the earthquake."

"Ah, yes! Yes, indeed," a horsey voice replied. "There are of
course forms of construction that collapse during earth tremors, whereas other forms resist the shaking. One has to understand the relationships between ... " The monolog continued
for some time. But nobody was listening. John, Eleanor and
Billingrath were all asleep.

Pontificater realized it before too long and stopped in mid
sentence. Then he sighed. It had been a stupendous day for
him, and he looked with wonder once again at his beautiful
white form and at the marvel of his curving white wings. Then
he looked at Gaal, and slowly he lowered his head and sighed
again. "Are you dead-or are you sleeping?" he said, looking
intently at the still and silent form. "Whichever it is, I for one
will guard your silent hours."

Then he lifted his head and rose slowly to his feet, taking
care that Eleanor and John settled gently as he eased away from
them. Carefully spreading his wings he covered the four sleeping figures, keeping his head erect beneath the stars as he
waited for morning.

John never saw the first light of dawn. It crept over the horizon in the same way that the glow of distant headlights on a
lonely road warns you a car is approaching. But dawn crept
with greater stealth than the light from a night-prowling car.
And John never saw any sign of it because he was too bewil dered by what he did see.

It felt as though he was in the open air, and partly because
of the hard floor he instantly remembered where he was. But
what was the solid thing above him that blotted out the stars?
Cautiously he rose to his feet. What had happened? He reached
his hand upward to feel the strange ceiling above him and
touched something soft. His puzzled fingers continued to explore.

"Don't do that. Please-stop at once! It awakens-ha! ha!
ha!-the sensation usually referred to as tickling. Not-and
about this I give you my most solemn assurance-not that I
could be categorized as ticklish."

"What in the world-?"

"It is I, Pontificater, Ponty. You are beneath my pontificatering wing. It is my pontificater-ing wing that you are tick-er,
poking. I will retract it." Pontificater folded his wing, and at the
same time rose to his feet. Immediately the stars lit up again,
and John realized what the ceiling above his head had been.
"For the greater part of the night I stood while I was on guardlargely out of respect for the deceased. Toward morning as the
cumulative effects of emotion and weariness took their full toll
of me, I decided that no disrespect would be implied if I were
to cover you all from a recumbent position. No offense, I trust.?"

But John was staring at Gaal, uncertain what it meant. Still
sleeping, Eleanor and Billingrath lay among scattered bones,
the slow rhythm of their breathing contrasting with the absolute stillness of Gaal's body. John and Pontificater stood on
either side of it. "The ancient records give one reason to hope,"
Pontificater said.

"He said he would conquer death," John sighed. He stared
dully and uncomprehendingly at the Keys of Torment and
Death in Gaal's belt. Pontificater made no response. The two
of them continued to stand, affected by the stillness all around
them. John saw no hope in the body in front of him. The more he stared, the more impossible it seemed that Gaal would ever
be alive. It was finished. He felt a heaviness in his body, a
heaviness that made him want to sit down. Suddenly he remembered back to when Ponty had been threatening to use his
flames to burn the black dog. "Oh, don't be silly!" he had said.
"Dead's dead. It can't be changed. You don't fool around with
things like that."

Dead's dead. He stared unblinking at Gaal's body. Why had
he sounded so confident when he had assured Billingrath that
Gaal would rise from the dead? Nobody rose from the dead. It
had never happened, and it wouldn't happen now. He was
going to look a fool to Billingrath.

Yet old memories, like bubbles that rise to the surface of a
pond, continued to float up from the depths of his mind. Was
there really no hope? What about Aguila the eagle? Last time
he came to Anthropos Aguila had been torn to pieces by the
Goblin Prince-and Aguila had come back to life by the power
that flowed with blue light from Mab's staff. But Aguila was a
bird, and Gaal was a man. Humans were different. Yet then
again, what about Eleanor? Eleanor was human. True-she
had been in the form of a dog when she was burned to ashes.
But she was human.

He sighed and shook his head. No, it was not possible. Eleanor probably never died. She must have been still living in the
ashes in some magical way. They were living ashes-or perhaps
the whole thing had been some kind of illusion. Gaal on the
other hand was as dead as the stone his body rested on. You
had only to look at his cold, still form to know it.

For some minutes he stared at the keys on Gaal's belt, the
Keys of Torment and Death. Were they perhaps the very ones
Lord Lunacy previously wore? If so what did it mean? He
frowned, staring intently. Then without warning a shattering
roar and blinding flash of light tore him away from his
thoughts. Radiance blazed and the earth shook. The light was too intense for him to see anything. With it came that awful
sensation in his body that told John clearly an earthquake was
taking place. He staggered awkwardly, struggling to retain his
balance and wishing the terrible blue light would go away. Even
above the roar of the earthquake he heard Billingrath shout
and Eleanor cry out in fear. Then he was flung on his face and
wondered whether the world was coming to an end.

It stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun. The rumbling
passed into the distance, and the light faded. John
got to his feet. The light had gone, but his dazzled eyes saw
nothing. He could hear the others getting to their feet. Eleanor
said, "Will it start up again?"

For some reason he fell to his knees and groped with his
hands, trying to feel where the body was. But all he could feel
was a piece of cloth on the ground. Slowly his sight cleared.
There in the fading starlight in front of him he saw Gaal's robe,
lying in the same position as his body had lain moments before.
The empty sandals rested exactly where his feet had been. The
body itself had disappeared. "He's gone," John gasped.

But Eleanor cried, "Gaal! Gaal! You're alive!"

John swung round. Gaal stood before him, his body silhouetted by the rosy dawn. Silhouetted or not, there could be no
doubt that it was he. There was even a faint blue glow from the
sleeveless robe he wore, and his laughter rang out merrily with
all the vigor of a man in the prime of life and health. As for
the keys, he could see that they were gold and that they pulsed
blue light. John flung himself at him, felt the solidity of Gaal's
body as strong warm arms enfolded him. The faint smell of
cedar came to his nostrils and the sound of Gaal's heart beat
warmly in his ear. "Oh, Gaal! I couldn't-I didn't-"

"You didn't believe?"

"I'm sorry. I to. But you seemed so dead. Death's soer . . ." Gaal waited, and John looked up into his face. "Sooh I don't know-so real and so ... so ..."

"So permanent? Well, it won't be permanent anymore. In
fact, it never was. As for you-at least we can say that you
believed I would conquer death. Certainly you believed enough
to tell Billingrath. And you stayed here waiting. That's the kind
of belief that matters most."

Eleanor was clinging to Gaal's right arm while Billingrath
stared with wide eyes. Pontificater's tremulous neighings could
have been either an attack of hysterics or a paean of praise and
exultation. All his dignity gone, Pontificater knelt in comic adoration.

Gaal said, "There is work for you to do. And it has to do-"
he stared hard at John and Eleanor, "-with your enemy
Shagah, the sorcerer who even now seeks your life. He glanced
at Billingrath. "Perhaps it might be best if you were to take
charge of events in the city. There will be some distress there,
and I doubt that the Lord Lunacy will do much to help matters."
He released John and took a step forward, placing his hands
on Billingrath's shoulders. "I appoint you as my servant to do
all that you may. My power and my wisdom will be with you!"

Shadows of bewilderment chased sunbursts of joy across Billingrath's face. "You are-you are-you are-"

Gaal laughed. "Indeed-as you yourself say-I am."

Billingrath shook his head, his face now alight with a joy no
bewilderment could obliterate. He sighed deeply. "I have no
words, my Lord. There is glory within me and all around me!"
He gazed for a moment into Gaal's eyes, then turned and hurried down the steps on his way to the city.

"Go in strength!" Gaal called.

A cry rang out from somewhere below them, "My Lord, is
that you?"

John turned to see where the cry was coming from.

"It sounded like Authentio's voice," Eleanor said excitedly.
They could barely make out the figure of a man running and
stumbling toward them.

Gaal called to him, "Come, Authentio. I was beginning to
wonder when you would get here!"

Authentio (for it was indeed he) stopped running, and cried,
"Gaal! My Lord! I knew it! I knew death would never hold
you!" Peals of laughter began to pour from deep inside him,
filling the early morning air. Then he began to run again, and
soon he was with them, laughing, crying and seizing Gaal's
hands to kiss them as he fell on his knees before him. He bore
in his hands a leather bag that the children recognized at once.
"My Lord, my mother the widow Illith bade me bring these
things to you."