The Sword Bearer (14 page)

When he finally heard the voice, he stared in front of him at a green-gowned woman with flowing white hair. Though he heard no sound save that of her gentle voice, her presence itself was like a clap of thunder.

"What did you say?"

"I am not he, but I am here."

"Who are you?"

"Does that matter? I am Wisdom. My name is Chocma. He sent me."

"Who sent you? The Changer?"

"You were calling to him, were you not?"

John stared at her, speechless.

"I have come to teach you how you may restore Oso, the bear."

"Me? Restore him?"

The lady in green repeated her previous words without changing them. Power flowed from her like waves of heat from a furnace. But it was not heat. It was power. It made him feel dizzy.

"You can teach me? To restore Oso?"

"Even so, I come to teach you."

"How? Who are you? What do you mean, 'restore him'?"

"You may restore him either by the deep power or by the herbal remedies that the Changer has implanted in the earth around you."

A streak of stubbornness rose in John. In spite of all he had seen of strange powers he said, "I believe in science."

"Then doubdess you will choose the herbal remedies."

He continued to stare at her. "You mean he can be
cured?
With herbs? How?"

The lady turned and plucked a berry-laden twig from a bush behind her. From the folds of her dress she drew a wooden cup. Clutching the purple berries in her hand, she squeezed them, letting a few drops of juice run into the cup. "Here," she said, holding the cup out to John. "Find and squeeze these berries until the cup is filled with juice. Then moisten the lips of the bear with the juice until he tastes it. When he does so, he will open his mouth. Pour the juice down his throat, and he will be healed. It is sanavida, the juice from which the wine of free pardon is fermented."

John took the cup from her hand. "Sanavida?" he repeated. But the lady was gone. She had disappeared as mysteriously as she had first come. And the world seemed suddenly normal again. Yet changed. For she had impressed him deeply.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have said I believe in science." Would the berries work?

The drops of sanavida had barely stained the bottom of the cup. But around the small clearing by the cave mouth, John could see three or four bushes with similar berries. And after staring at them for a few moments, he approached the first. The berries were in clusters, surrounded by long and piercing thorns. He plucked a cluster of berries and squeezed a few drops into the cup as the lady had done.

It took him half an hour to fill the cup. Both his hands were badly scratched, sticky and purple-stained before he was through. When he licked them, the taste was bittersweet, but it startled him into wakefulness. It gave his body the same feeling you get when you've come out of a cold shower and have just rubbed down. The half-hour of squeezing seemed to last only one exciting moment The pain from his scratches did not trouble him.

But as he approached Oso, his wooden cup now brimming with purple juice, his excitement subsided a little. Were the glazed eyes still looking at him? The bear's head lay sideways on the sand.

He knelt, moistened his finger in the juice and rubbed it over the side of Oso's black upper lip. The lips seemed stiff and cool, and he shuddered a little as he touched them. Again he dipped his finger and again rubbed the lips. There was no response. He repeated the process a third time and then a fourth and again a fifth. On his sixth attempt, Oso again heaved a sigh. On the eighth try Oso rolled his head back and opened his mouth wide. John was exultant.

His hand shook as he held the cup over the gaping mouth. It was going to work. He was sure of it now. He tipped the cup carefully and poured its contents between Oso's jaws. A trickle of purple mingled with the bristly fur beside the lips.

Oso gulped. Coughed. Gulped again. Sneezed and coughed violently.

He half rolled over. Then his trunk hinged forward suddenly on his hips so that he swung into a sitting teddy-bear position, holding his great head between his forepaws and shaking it from side to side.

John was half laughing, half crying. "Oso! Oso! It's me, John. Are you all right? This lady came from nowhere and told me about the berries—sanavida she called them—"

"The devil! That demon had magic! Could have torn him to pieces! Wretched little thing! He shamed me."

"But you're all right now, Oso. The juice has made you well! I never thought it would work—"

"Shamed
me! I was a cub! A
cub!"

"But you're not a cub now! You're well!"

"Cub. Tiny cub. I'm shamed, shamed, shamed!"

The bear continued to shake its head, unreachable in its bitterness. His body was well, but his spirit was crippled with humiliation. Suddenly John thought of Aguila. "What about Aguila, Oso! Aguila must be hunting it now! I'm sure she would hunt Old Nick and try to kill him if she thought he had hurt you! We must help her. She could be in danger!" He did not believe his own words, but he felt he had to say something to get the bear's mind off his shame.

The head-shaking stopped. Oso rolled over onto all fours. He shook himself, tested each limb carefully. "Come!" he said, finally. "We comb skies. Search shores." John sighed with relief. The crisis—at least this crisis—was over.

John thought Oso could not return by the way they had come. But the narrowness of the rocky passage proved no obstacle to the bear who leapt up the rock. John then found his own way through the narrow passage. Once on the shore, they began their search. But where to look?

For a long time their eyes vainly combed the heavens. Finally Oso said, "Alive she would circle and search for us. Therefore dead or hurt. If dead, she will wash on shore. We begin with northern shore."

It was slow and tiring work. There was no way in which John could keep pace with the bear. He stumbled far in Oso's wake. The beach was covered with rocks of uneven size. The bear would climb up a steep wooded slope from time to time to a higher point from which he could survey a whole stretch of shore. And John would barely catch up with him as Oso loped easily down again. Each time John would wearily ask if Oso had seen anything. And eventually Oso did.

"Up ahead. Quarter of a mile. Like a heap of bones."

This time Oso seemed in no hurry. Indeed it was John who led the way, Oso moving slowly and ponderously on all fours behind him. Soon John saw something, something dark and shapeless at the edge of the water, being lifted and dropped gently with each succeeding wave.

He quickened his pace to a half run. His eyes never left the thing at the water's edge, and so he tripped and almost fell several times. The nearer he came, the more his legs faltered and his strength failed him, less from physical weakness than from dread. For the mass was indeed a mass of feathers and bones that—he knew it without being told—once had been Aguila.

Eventually he stood before her, or before what was left of her, trembling and breathing hard. There had been hope for Oso. Oso had not been completely dead. But Aguila no longer existed. All that remained were water-logged feathers, many of them scattered about the beach, crushed, torn and distorted wings, and a twisted neck. The giant head lay apart, a few feet away, the beak open and one eye staring skyward. The bird had been savaged with inhuman ferocity.

A shadow fell over Aguila's remains, the shadow of a tall man. Slowly John looked up and found himself staring into the face of Mab, staff in hand, standing ramrod straight, his long white hair blowing in the breeze.

"So this is what you were dreaming about, John the Sword Bearer"

"Yes, well not this exactly—but it all came back when—"

"Yes, yes, I know. I was able to break into the dream myself just as you left. It is as well for you that I did."

John said nothing. He felt ashamed and dropped his head. He knew now that he should have told Mab of their scheme. Mab knew about magic, power and the Changer. He seemed to know more than any of them about these things.

"I repeat, it is a good thing for you that I did."

John had no idea what could be "well" or "good" about Mab coming now. How could anything change what had happened? Oso was already alive. Mab had had nothing to do with that But Aguila was dead.

A searing flash of blue blinded him. The dismembered carcass of the eagle came alive with liquid blue fire. For several seconds the light burned so fiercely that John could see only the barest outlines of the eagle's remains. He glanced up. Mab's face was alive with rage. From the staff he held up high there streamed a continuous arc of blue fire.

Then from Mab's throat came a roar, "Aguila, arise! Arise by command of the Changer! In his name I bid you, live again!" Flaming feathers and head were drawn to a center as by a magnet. The fire was molding, shaping, forming. It was hard to say what was fiery light and what was eagle. But suddenly it was over. The light was gone. The staff was lowered, and Aguila stood there, preening herself unself-consciously before Mab, John and Oso.

Aguila did not spend long preening her feathers. Suddenly she looked up. Her eyes were clouded with pain. It was clear that though she was alive, she would never be as she once had been. Her movements were stiff and awkward. For the rest of her life she would never be free from pain. She glanced in turn at John, at Oso and finally at Mab. There was a long silence between them as the waves lapped on the rocks. Finally Aguila croaked softly.

"I am alive! How can it be? I am alive! I had trusted the keenness of my eye. I had trusted the sharpness of my claws and the magical powers in my wings. Oh, how he seized me, so little, yet so terribly filled with evil power ..." She shook violently standing among the rocks, her proud head bowed low.

"He pulled me down and down into the waters of the lake and began to tear my wings from my body and the flesh from my chest..."

There was no need for her to say more. All of them became aware, terrifyingly aware, how awesome were the powers opposing them. If the goblin Nicholas Slapfoot was as powerful as this, how great must be the power of the Mystery of Abominadon! Oso trembled John's throat was dry. Only Mab seemed certain of himself.

"Events move quickly," he said slowly. "Aguila's powers should have been more than a match for those of the Goblin Prince. Something has happened. The power of the evil ones has increased." He paused. "There can be only one explanation. The Mystery must now have transferred his headquarters here. He has begun to build his tower. He may even have completed it. Why have I been so slow to suspect it? And how can we find out? How?"

John and Oso stared at him. For several minutes he stood, his eyes clouded and his ancient forehead creased with concentration. Then he said, 'I
must know whether the tower is built.
Once it is completed he will be able to control the planets. And we cannot know unless we enter the swamp. Yet even if we were to enter it by using my staff our entry would be detected and our lives imperiled. Only by using the Old Way can we gain access unobserved. But who controls the Old Way now?"

He turned to Oso and Aguila. "Return, both of you, to the camp. Use your powers to get back with all haste. Let them know we are well but that our mission to the swamp could be perilous. Bid Vixenia and their majesties prepare for the journey as quickly as possible. We dare not lose another day."

Something about the way Mab spoke awoke a still greater fear in John. Oso seemed to have lost all his confidence. Enormous as ever, he stood like a humbled statue. Aguila shifted her feathers painfully. Mab addressed her directly.

"You can still fly. Leave at once. Tell them that for the present we are well. You and Oso are alive. The Goblin Prince has failed. Now go! Be on your way, both of you."

Aguila waited for no further instructions. She spread her wings stiffly and swept skyward in widening circles. Soon she was a distant speck receding into the northwest. Oso hesitated for a moment and then turned without a word, gathering speed as he loped into the trees.

John's fear had not abated. He was especially afraid of the swamp. He looked again at Mab. "How will we get back?" he asked. "With your staff? And what did you mean about the tower?"

"The prophecies speak of two towers—the Mystery's tower in the swamp and the Changer's tower on the island from which the Regents will emerge. The Mystery will concentrate all his power in his tower and project it outward to control the movements of the planets. He hopes by this to defeat the Changer's purposes for Anthropos."

"And will he?" John asked. "I mean will he do what the prophecies say?"

Mab frowned. "Their meaning is disputed," he said. "Certainly he will complete the tower. And just as certainly he will control the planets from it. But whether he will defeat the Changer's purposes for Anthropos .. ."

His voice faltered and he stared at John, his eyes hard. John flushed. Mab's eyes were twin accusations. "A good deal depends on the Sword Bearer," Mab breathed, his voice as soft as his eyes were hard, "for only the Sword Bearer can bring about the ruin of the Mystery's tower."

John's heart beat unpleasantly. He was sorry he had asked. Suddenly he didn't want to know anything more about the two towers. He even wanted to forget he was the Sword Bearer. The notion of bringing about the destruction of a tower was terrifying but too absurd to be true. He thrust it to the back of his mind. But Mab's eyes did not leave him. "We must go, you and I, to see this tower for ourselves if indeed it exists. And if it does we must know how soon it will be finished. I must take the risk of summoning the Guardian of the Old Way."

The old man struck the rocks with his staff, and a loud crack whipped the air. The rocks split and a chasm opened at their feet. Steps led down into a gloomy subterranean passage. At its head stood a tall blue-robed figure holding a naked sword with both hands above its head, as if about to attack them. The face was distorted with rage. "Who dares ... !"