The Sword Bearer (19 page)

"Just for a moment," the musical voice replied tolerantly, "and then you will give it up forever."

John slipped the chain round his neck and instantly all was changed. The giant head was no longer that of the Lord Lunacy but the head of a great red dragon with nostrils spurting smoke on either side. John had become invisible. For around his neck without realizing what he was doing, he had placed the chain bearing the magic stone he had found in Old Nick's cave.

He knew immediately that he had been lied to and that he had been believing lies. All that he had been told now seemed cheap and hollow. A king? What absurdity would he believe next? Hate Mab? He had
not
been pretending about Mab. He liked Mab. Indeed he loved him—and was filled with rage and despair at the thought of his death.

"I hate you!" he screamed at the dragon's awful head. "I hate you, and I will never give you my ring and locket. I don't care whether the Changer exists or not I don't want to be a king, and I'll never serve
you!"

There was a roar of rage as the mouth of the dragon opened wide. Flames shot from its nostrils and John ducked beneath the stream of the flame on his left to get out of the dragon's way. He was just in tlme, for the head jerked forward and the jaws snapped together, consuming the couch on which he had been lying.

He stood to one side of the head with his back to the wall, shaking with uncontrollable rage and fear. He knew it could not see him. So for several seconds he stood perfectly still, making no sound. The head sank downward and disappeared. The carpeted floor became solid again. He was alone.

He wanted to remove the stone from his neck for now that the excitement was over he was appallingly aware of his failures and guilt. He knew the Lord Lunacy had lied to him. But he knew that some of the lies were only half lies. For he was evil. How evil? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

He realized that the feelings of shame and guilt would leave him if he removed the stone. But if he removed the stone he would become visible again. And if he became visible the Lord Lunacy would return. He had no choice. For the tlme being he must put up with the unpleasantness. He slid down onto his haunches and buried his face in his knees with a groan of despair.

Crouched invisibly against the wall, he lost all track of time. When he finally tried to stand, he was too stiff and cramped to move easily. He stumbled across the wide room to the window and peered out His head spun giddily. In the dim light of the dead moon he could see the surface of the swamp about two hundred feet beneath him. Smooth walls fell sheer from the window.

In books people escaped by tying their bedsheets together. But since the dragon had swallowed the couch, he had no sheets to tie. In any case there was nothing to tie them to. As for the carpet, it was heavy and circular, not the kind of thing you could tie knots in.

He looked round the room.
There was no door.
How did he get in? Through the window? He looked out again and this time, in spite of his mood, he snickered. If only he were a beautiful maiden with lots of hair...

Smoke was rising from the swamp again. Idly he watched as it swirled slowly, creeping in a rising tide up the tower wall. Soon it stretched like a sea, glowing dimly under the feeble stars as it rose and rose. For an hour or more he watched until it came right under the window. And there it seemed to stay, inviting him to plunge into it and swim.

Indeed he felt a wild desire to do so. He little knew that the smoke was there for that very reason, to lure him to his death. Had he removed the stone from round his neck he would not have seen smoke but the sparkling sea and an illusory boat As it was, he was pulled by an enormous urge to fling himself through the window. With a pounding heart he drew back The window spelled danger. He must get far from it.

Wearily he made his way to the middle of the room. The carpet was pleasantly soft. He stretched himself on it, cupping his invisible chin on invisible hands and staring at its intricate pattern. By and by his head grew heavy and he rolled onto his side, using one arm as a cushion for his head.

"Thank the Changer! I've made contact with you! I've been ill with grief!"

John sat up, startled. He was no longer invisible. Mab was standing in front of him and he flung himself at the old man.

"Mab! He said you were dead!"

"Dead? Goodness no! We were all close to it at times, but we're fine now. Mind the wine!"

"The wine?"

Mab was holding a silver cup above his head out of John's way.

"It's the wine of free pardon for you to drink When you wake up it will be beside you."

"When I wake up?"

"You're dreaming now. We both are."

"Oh. You mean it's one of
those
dreams?"

"Yes. I've never been able to transfer anything in them before, but I think this time . . . Anyway look out for the wine when you wake up."

"Oh, Mab, I'm so glad to see you. You really are alive?"

"Alive and well and on the island."

"Did the goblins attack?"

"They certainly did It was all over very quickly. We got out fast."

"Is everyone all right?"

Mab took a deep breath. "Two of the sentries were killed. Five more Matmon were wounded, but they're doing well." He smiled. Your friend Folly, king of donkeys, used his hoofs very effectively on our foes!"

He smiled down at John. "And now we must get out of here."

"In a dream?"

Mab shook his head. "That wouldn't work"

"Then how, Mab? How?"

"Sit down," Mab said.

They sat and looked at each other. Mab was smiling. "The Sword Bearer has yet to make the tower sink into the swamp."

John stared.

"Remember my prophecy? Listen:

'For then shall the tower of the Mystery wax great and an odor of death shall blow

Til the sword shall be free in the bearer's hand and the tower shall sink below.' "
"Yes, but—but I can't make it sink"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"You can drink the wine of free pardon, John. And if you do, not only will your sword be free but the tower will sink."

There was a long pause. John's lips were trembling so he bit them. "I think I'd like to," he said eventually.

"Listen," Mab replied. "You won't wake for three or four hours. By then I will have the coracle under the window of the chamber where you're imprisoned. I shall not call to avoid detection. Moreover you will not see me because the smoke and mist will still be present. Drink the wine. And as the tower sinks, your window will eventually reach the level of the swamp. At that point you climb out and I shall be waiting for you."

"And what if you're not there?"

"Then I shall have perished. And you will perish too. But I shall be there. I fully intend to be."

The vision faded and he was alone and fast asleep.

John remembered his dream the moment he woke. His eyes were closed and he feared to open them. Would he find the cup of wine there? Had Mab's plan worked?

Fearfully he looked around. To his joy he saw a silver flagon beside him. He sat up, reached for it and raised it slowly. It was heavy. The wine inside was dark, and as he stared at it he remembered the night when he had spat it out, had thrown the wine in Mab's face and then flung the cup away.

What had it tasted like? He could not remember. It was not the taste that had bothered him. But what was it?

He raised the flagon to his lips and tasted. Powerful emotions tugged at his chest. He breathed deeply and tilted his head back, gulping the contents of the flagon greedily. The wine tingled in his mouth and throat. A warm fire flooded his body. He lay back, letting the flagon tumble onto the carpet. His shame and guilt at first seemed to be crushing him, but as the fires inside him burned on he knew he was being set free. Tears flowed from his eyes, and he let them flow. His arms and legs were shaking. The shame and guilt were evaporating, leaving in their place a huge contentment that swept over him in waves of fire and light He closed his eyes and let his whole body tremble.

It was a wonderful trembling. He wanted it to go on forever. He felt as though all his fears and angers and bitternesses were being shaken out of his bones. Something powerful was happening to him, powerful but gentle. "Changer—where are you? Changer! Changer!" He hardly knew why he was saying the words, yet they erupted from deep within him. The floor beneath him began to vibrate.

He opened his eyes and saw to his joy that the room was filled with luminous blue vapor. Gentle thunder began to rumble around him and the words the thunder formed were, "Get to your feet and pull out your sword, Sword Bearer!"

John cried, "Changer, O Changer! You came back!" He sat up, stood up and seized the hilt of his sword. As he pulled, the sword shot out, pulsing its own powerful blue light

"I never left you!" the thunder rumbled. "I have pursued you day and night"

John lowered the sword. "I thought... I thought you might not be real."

A thunderous roar rocked the tower, a roar that was infinitely more terrible that the dragon's roar. The roar eventually subsided into laughter, echoing through the universe before it sank into an earthquaking chuckle.

"Now," said the Changer, as the tower's shaking subsided. "Raise your sword and in my name, in the name of the Changer, bid this tower sink beneath the swamp forever."

The luminescent blue began to fade.

"Don't go away!" John cried in fear.

But the light was gone, and a small and gentle voice said, "I never go away. And if you go away, you will find me waiting for you, wherever you choose to flee. You cannot escape me."

John was still trembling. Nonetheless he raised his sword, still vibrant with blue light, saying, "In the name of the Changer I bid the Tower of Darkest Night sink beneath the swamp forever."

But nothing seemed to happen. The room was empty now and he was alone. "Are you there, Changer?" he asked nervously. But there was no reply. Again he bade the tower sink. And still nothing happened. So he said the words a third time. But this time he shouted and stamped his foot. And still, so far as he could tell, nothing seemed to be happening.

Dismayed, he sheathed his sword and hurried to the window. But there was nothing to be seen. The foul fog hid everything. Was the tower sinking? Slowly and silently perhaps? How would he ever know?

He moved back into the middle of the chamber. Perhaps he should draw his sword again and repeat the words a fourth time. Maybe he had said them wrong. He gripped the hilt of his sword and opened his mouth. But then another doubt occurred to him. If the tower was sinking and he was not at the window, then he would go down into the depths of the swamp with it.

He hurried back and perched on the ledge, peering down anxiously. He pulled the sword from its hilt again and raised it. "In the name of the Changer," he began. The mist was clearing, and dimly he perceived a shadow of something rising swiftly toward his window. "In the name of the Changer," he repeated.

"Sword Bearer,
leap now!"
came Mab's ringing cry. John lost his balance and tumbled, sword in hand. His ribs hit the side of the coracle in which Mab was waiting while his sword tumbled to the bottom of the boat. He never saw the pinnacle of the tower disappear nor heard the gende soughing of the swamp that slid over it.

He could perceive Mab's shadow in the dimness as the old man peered over the side of the coracle. "Sword Bearer, where are you?" The voice was agonized.

"I'm here, Mab,
here!"

Mab swung and looked into the boat.

"Where? Are you in the boat or beside it?"

"Mab, I'm here!"

Mab stared. "What witchery is this?" he said at length, groping toward John, his hand stretched out
.

"Mab, what's the matter? Can't you see? I'm
here!"
He grasped Mab's hands. Only when he saw that his own hands were invisible did he realize what had happened. He snatched his hands free and pulled the stone from around his neck.

"I'm sorry, Mab, I forgot. I'd put the stone on to hide from the Lord Lunacy, and then I forgot I was wearing it because in the dream I was visible. I didn't mean to startle you."

But Mab's arms were around him, holding him against his thin old frame, rocking slowly back and forth saying, "I nearly lost you! Praise the Changer! You're safe."

But then he seemed to recollect where they were. "We must get out of here," he said. "You can explain later. The tower may have sunk But the Mystery of Abomination is still about The sooner we leave the swamp, the better. Put your sword back in its sheath."

He raised his staff and it, like the sword, pulsed with blue light. The light grew stronger and separated from the staff, whirling and condensing slowly as it settled on the surface of the swamp. Mab stared, transfixed. A shape was being molded before their eyes.

"A pigeon!" Mab cried. And sure enough, a beautiful blue-gray pigeon stood before them.