Terrible Beast of Zor (3 page)

“I do not believe it,” Ferrod said, but his voice was weak.

“Yes, you do believe it. And I have come to make you an offer from the Dark Lord himself.” The dark man smiled suddenly. “I see that interests you. Do you think that he does not know what is in your heart?”

“No one knows what is in my heart.”

“No? What about this? If the king dies of his old
wounds and then the prince dies of sickness or disease or in the war, who would be the next king of Madria?”

A silence fell over the room.

“Do not be alarmed. I realize that to speak so would be treason as things now stand, but things will not remain as they are. Give your allegiance to the Dark Lord, and you two will rule over the kingdom. You will be regents of the Dark Lord and have all power—under him.”

Rondel talked on. His voice grew soft and steady and tempting. For some time the count and the countess listened to him.

Suddenly the dark stranger asked, “What is your decision?”

Count Ferrod swallowed hard. A question troubled him. “But what of the prince?”

“The prince must not stand in the way of your greatness. He is a fool, and everyone in the kingdom knows it. You are not a fool, Count Ferrod. Neither are you, Countess. You will not throw away what is being offered you on a worthless boy whose only talent is drinking and gambling and partying. Quick! Your answer. I will have it now. For once I leave this room, there will be no chance to change your mind.”

At that moment Grenda proved herself to be the stronger of the two. She took her husband’s arm, and she whispered, “We must do it, Ferrod. There is no other sensible choice.”

Count Ferrod studied his wife’s expression, then turned back to their visitor. “All right, Rondel. We accept your offer.”

Rondel laughed. “You would be a fool not to. Now, this is what you must do …”

G
olden sunlight spread over the emerald green waters, and white sand surrounded the inlet like a ring. Josh Adams came up from a deep dive, expelled his breath, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and then bobbed in the warm waters.

Suddenly, Sarah Collingwood shot up next to him and splashed water into his face.

“Watch what you’re doing, Sarah!” Josh protested. He reached out to duck her, but to his surprise she abruptly disappeared. The next thing he knew, he felt two hands close on his ankles, and he shouted, “Hey!” and then was jerked under.

Kicking himself free, Josh came to the surface, sputtering and spitting out the salty water.

Sarah came up laughing, a few feet away. At fourteen, exactly the same age as Josh, she was small and very pretty. Josh was tall, and he considered himself gangling and awkward. He hated being spindly, he hated being clumsy, and especially he hated being bested in anything by Sarah Collingwood.

Josh and Sarah had been friends for years. Even before a nuclear war had wrecked the earth and turned it into NuWorld, they had known each other. They had awakened from their sleep capsules to find the world they knew gone forever. NuWorld was filled with strange beasts, and the geography was completely altered. Josh had soon found himself leading the young people known as the Seven Sleepers, under the direction of their mentor
Goél. They were engaged in a war. It was to keep the Dark Lord from enslaving the inhabitants of NuWorld.

Sarah looked back at the shore where the other five Sleepers were playing with a kind of beach ball. “Race you to the beach, Josh,” she challenged, her eyes sparkling.

Josh treaded water, trying to think of some way to get out of the challenge. He knew that Sarah was a better swimmer, just as she was a better archer. In fact, Sarah was better at almost everything than Josh Adams was. Usually he tried to avoid a contest with her, but now he saw there was no escape.

“All right,” he said.

“Well, we have to make it a real challenge. What does the winner get?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said. He just wanted to get the race over with.

“I’ll tell you what,” Sarah answered. “The loser has to cook supper and serve the winner and everyone else at the table tonight.”

Josh hated moments like this. Thinking to gain a little edge, he suddenly kicked vigorously and threw himself into a stroke, yelling, “All right!” He put his head down, his legs thrashed the water, and he swam as hard as he could.

For a time, he even thought he might win. He had gotten a good start while Sarah was still getting ready. But then he saw that she was already pulling alongside. Another glance revealed that she was swimming steadily, doing a fine stroke, turning to take a breath of air every third stroke, and expelling it underwater. She swam smoothly and apparently without effort. As always.

Josh tried to imitate her. But suddenly, instead of
expelling air, he made a mistake and strangled as water ran up his nose. He floundered around, spitting and blinking, and by the time he got started again, he saw that all was lost.

Sarah reached the beach several strokes ahead of him, pulled herself up, and stood waiting. “Where have you been, slowpoke? You must have taken a shortcut by way of China.”

Josh was disgusted with himself. He stalked up the beach toward the rest of the Sleepers, his back rigid with anger.

Sarah followed him, and, when they reached the others, of course she had to call out cheerfully, “Guess what? Josh has agreed to cook supper and serve us tonight. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I think it’s peachy!” The speaker was Jake Garfield, a thirteen-year-old with red hair and a pug nose. He punched Josh on the shoulder. “Mighty noble of you, Josh. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Josh glared at him and pulled away.

Dave Cooper, fifteen and handsome with crisp brown hair, was the oldest of the Sleepers. He winked at Sarah and said, “What did you do to make him agree to do that?”

Perhaps Sarah saw that Josh’s feelings were hurt and did not want to shame him further. She just said, “Oh, Josh likes to do things for us. You know that, Dave.”

“I never caught him at it.” Dave shrugged. “But if you say so.”

Abbey, the fourteen-year-old blonde with blue eyes, was lying on her back, sunning. Back in OldWorld she had been intending to become the winner of a beauty contest, perhaps even Miss America. But in
NuWorld there were no beauty contests. Instead there were dragons and fierce people and the Dark Lord. She raised her head from the sand and said, “Make my steak medium rare, will you, Josh?” Then she lay back and ignored everybody.

The remaining two Sleepers were a contrast. Reb Jackson was a tall fourteen-year-old with sandy hair and light blue eyes. He was burned by the sun and looked strong and athletic. He elbowed the small boy next to him and said, “What do you think, Wash? You think we should give old Josh a hand?”

Gregory Randolph Washington Jones, twelve, was the youngest of the Sleepers. He flashed a toothy smile at his big friend and said, “I guess so.” Then he said to Josh, “Sure. We’ll give you a hand, Josh.”

“I don’t need a hand!” Josh snapped crossly. “I said I’d cook the supper and serve everybody, and I will!”

“Well, you don’t have to bite his head off,” Reb said with some irritation. “He was just trying to help.”

Josh did not answer. Usually he was a very amiable young man, but Sarah had beaten him—again—and besides, he felt unqualified to be the leader of the Sleepers, anyway. Others, such as Dave and Abbey, were smarter. Jake could fix anything mechanical. Reb was an expert horseman, an expert with a rope. Wash could cook. Everyone could do something better than he could, and Josh had never understood why Goél had made him the leader in the first place.

He marched on back to the cabin where they had been staying for the past two weeks, muttering, “All right, I’ll fix supper. I can’t cook as good as Wash, but I’ll do the best I can if it kills me.”

The Sleepers were on a rare vacation. They had just come through an exhausting adventure, and Goél
had sent them here for a welcome rest. The ocean was just the place, and they had been enjoying the sandy beach, the swimming, the fishing.

As Josh entered the cabin and began preparing supper, he knew that he was behaving miserably. “I don’t know why I act like that,” he muttered. “I ought to be zapped.” Sometimes he simply could not throw off these bad moods.

He worked hard on the supper, having decided it would include baked potatoes, carrots, corn on the cob, and juicy steaks.

When the meal was finally ready, he walked to the door and stuck his head out. “Come and get it!” he yelled.

Immediately all the other Sleepers began rapidly coming toward the cabin. They filed in and washed their hands. When they sat down at the table, Wash said, “Mmmm! Sure does smell good!”

“Nice to have a servant to wait on us, too.” Dave grinned, winking across the table at Abbey. “I think you’ve found your calling, Josh. I vote that we let Josh do all the cooking from now on. And he’s a natural-born waiter besides.”

Josh glared. He had always envied Dave his good looks and his athletic ability, and now Dave’s teasing cut him.

Sarah glanced at his face. “I’ll help with the serving, Josh,” she said quickly.

“No, I lost the race, and I’ll pay the penalty,” Josh said shortly.

Josh’s meal turned out to be all right. The steaks were properly done, the corn was tender, and the carrots and the potatoes were steaming hot. The only problem was the scowl on his face. Dave made it worse
by continuing to needle him until Sarah murmured, “Dave, please be quiet!”

“I was only teasing,” Dave protested.

“Well, you’ve teased enough, so hush.”

At that moment the door swung open. They all looked up, and every one of them let out an exclamation of surprise.

“Goél!” Sarah cried, her eyes sparkling. She jumped up and hurried to meet him.

The newcomer took her hands and looked down at her. “How are you, my daughter?”

Goél was a mysterious figure. He had strange powers. But he was good, and the Sleepers had learned to trust him for help and advice. He was a tall man with light brown hair and dark, deep-set eyes. His skin was tanned to a golden sheen, and he wore a simple gray robe with the hood thrown back.

The Sleepers were all on their feet by now, and Goél went around the room greeting each of them. Josh was last, and Goél said, “Well, Josh, and how are you enjoying your vacation?”

“OK,” Josh said gruffly. For some reason he felt embarrassed in Goél’s presence. “Why don’t you sit down, sire, and I’ll bring you something to eat?”

Goél’s dark eyes studied him. He knew Josh was upset. How did he know that?

“It appears that you have been the cook today, Josh,” Goél said. “Let us do this—you sit down now, and I’ll serve
you.”

Josh was shocked. “Oh, no, that wouldn’t be right!”

“Now do as I say,” Goél said. “Here, make Josh a place. All of you sit down and continue your meal, while I grill my good friend Josh Adams a nice steak. How do you like it, Josh?”

“Uh … medium well,” Josh murmured.

Goél busied himself at the stove. All the while, he kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking them about their vacation and what they had been doing. He even told them some of the activities that were going on in other parts of NuWorld.

When Josh’s steak was ready, Goél set it before him, saying, “There. I hope you like it.”

“But you don’t have to serve me, sire,” Josh protested again. “You are special. I ought to be waiting on
you—
because of who you are.”

Goél put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Remember, I’ve always said that true greatness is connected with serving. The truly special are not those who are waited on, but those who give themselves to helping others. What I have done will remind you all in days to come.” He continued to speak for some time about serving others. Then Goél laughed and said, “But enough of the sermon. Now I’ll have some of this good food myself.”

They continued eating and talking, and when all were finished, Goél leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “That was fine,” he said. Then he silently looked around, studying each face.

When Goél looked at people, Josh thought, it seemed he entered into their thinking. All the Sleepers said that. It was a peculiar thing. When they had a clear conscience, they could face him, and it was a pleasure. But when they had been involved in some activity that they knew would not please Goél, it was almost impossible to hold his gaze. Josh felt that way when his turn came.

But after looking each in the eyes, Goél smiled. “I imagine it wouldn’t be too hard for you to guess what I’m doing here.”

“I reckon not,” Reb spoke up. “You’ve got another job for us to do.”

“That’s right, Reb. I must interrupt your rest. Maybe someday I’ll come and not bring a hard task—but I’m afraid this time I do.”

Sarah said quickly, “We don’t mind, Goél. That’s what we’re here for. What mission is it this time?”

“There is a kingdom called Madria. It’s approximately a five days’ journey from here. The king and queen are faithful servants of mine, and they are in considerable difficulty.” He looked thoughtful. “They are surrounded by enemies. The nearby kingdom of Zor is occupied by savage people under the influence of the Dark Lord, who have been at war with Madria for some time. Now I fear that unless something happens, Madria will be lost.”

“What is it exactly you would like for us to do?” Josh asked, forgetting his bad mood for a moment.

“One thing that must be done,” Goél said, “concerns the young prince of Madria. His name is Alexander. He has taken a wrong turn in his life, and I would ask you to do what you can to change his ways.”

“How old is he, Goél?” Sarah asked.

“He is eighteen years old and a very fine looking young man.” He smiled at Abbey, saying, “I wish that he were as fine inside as he is outside.”

“What’s wrong with him, sire?” Wash asked.

“Unfortunately, he has been pampered all of his life. He is an only child, so perhaps it’s understandable, but Alexander’s parents made a sad and grievous error. It isn’t good for a young man—or a young woman—to have his own way all the time.