The Sword Bearer (31 page)

They plunged into a thicket and found their feet on a narrow path. A cool, green dimness wrapped them round, chilling their perspiration and relieving the aches in John's limbs. But scarcely had they proceeded a dozen yards when Mab seized John by the shoulder, pushed him into a bank of green ferns and staggered toward a streambed on the far side of the path. "Hide!" he breathed. "And lie still!"

By now John had grown accustomed to the prophet's sudden instructions, for the years in Anthropos had taught him trust. For a moment he lay still. Then, curious, he peered through the screen of ferns in which he lay.

A scraping sound caught his ear, the sound of a great mass being dragged along the ground toward him. He raised his head but could see nothing. The sound grew louder. "Whatever it is, it's
big!"
he thought. "And it sounds as if it's coming along the path."

The dragging, scraping sound continued, accompanied by the intermittent sound of broken twigs and branches, and the sound of thrashing and smashing. A spasm of fear closed round his heart. What was it? What kind of place was he in? What hidden dangers lurked here?

Fighting his rising panic, he raised himself further in an attempt to see the source of the noise. His heart contracted. Twenty-five yards away he saw a twisting coil of vivid red. The dragon! The seven-headed dragon! What was he to do?

He eased himself back further into the ferns, until his feet met something solid. Twisting his head round, he saw it was a tree, an eminently climbable tree that invited him to ascend. In his panic he scrambled madly. Then as he peered through the leaves, he saw it clearly.

But it wasn't the dragon. Or was it? Could another set of jeweled red scales exist besides those of the dragon? For clearly the writhing creature bore the dragon's scales, yet it had neither wings nor legs as it twisted, thrashed and dragged its way through the copse. Nor did it have seven heads, but only one.

On its belly it groveled and suddenly John knew. It
was
the dragon. Something had happened to it something momentous. Then, to his horror, the serpent slowly coiled itself in rings, not ten yards down the path on which he had been pursuing.

Had it seen him? He was sure it could not have. Scarcely breathing, he watched it as it lay coiled, massive and immobile. What should he do? To cross the path to the streambed where Mab must still be lying would involve the risk of drawing the wrath of the snake on both of them. He would have to make a wide circuit to rejoin the prophet

Scarcely breathing and moving with more caution than he had ever before exercised, he descended from his perch. He tiptoed through the ferns away from the path, testing each step. A twig cracked explosively under his left foot and he froze, straining his ears for a full minute. But the only sound was that of his own fevered breathing. He moved more deeply into the copse. When he judged he was far enough away, he began to make his circuit to rejoin Mab. Such at any rate was his inten-tion. For half an hour he turned and twisted cautiously but with growing bewilderment Something had gone wrong.

He did not find the path again. Nor did he find the stream. Dismayed, he tried to retrace his steps, but before long he knew he was hopelessly lost His limbs were shaking and rivulets of sweat made his eyes smart Suddenly, scarcely knowing why he did so, he murmured, "Changer—help me. I don't know what to do."

Ahead of him there seemed to be more light He resumed his way forward and emerged a moment later into the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. But he had no time to enjoy the beauties of the place even if he had been disposed to do so. A blue mist came swirling from the ground, the same radiant mist that first had surrounded him in the cellar of the bookstore on Ellor Street And once more his fears subsided and he drew in a deep breath of relief.

The two figures approaching him through the mist did not frighten him. Soon he was able to see them clearly, for they stood two yards away, staring at him gravely. Both were draped in regal robes of fur, and their heads were crowned with circlets of gold bearing stones of white fire. The man was the taller of the two and with his left arm he drew the woman to his side. The expression on their faces spoke both of pain and of gratitude. John smiled at them and they returned his smile.

A gentle thunder echoed above him. "John the Sword Bearer, I commend the Regents to your care. You will conduct them from the tower and bid the company yield to them the allegiance that is their due. Tell the company that from the loins of these their Regents will come the Victorious One, the Vanquisher of Death and Destroyer of the Mystery of Abomination. He will slay him in personal combat Do you hear me, John-of-the-Swift-Sword?"

It was the voice of the Changer. And John said, "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. But. . . sir,. . . how do I get them out of the tower?"

Again the thunder rumbled. "The door to the Garden Room is behind you." And when John turned round, the doorway that had three hours previously been a long way up the hill was indeed behind him. Another doubt occurred to him. "Sir ... please, sir, I've lost Mab."

"He too is standing behind you." Relief flooded John. He turned again and saw Mab, a look of astonishment on his pale old face. He stood with his staff in hand beside the open door. John turned and moved toward him. But he paused and addressed the invisible Changer for the third time.

"Oh, and sir, please, sir .. ."

The thunder rumbled gently.

"You won't be angry, will you, sir?"

The silence that followed was unnerving, and John's words tumbled out of his mouth in haste. "Please, sir, you said something about you'd ... I mean, you were going to tell me about my father?"

The thunder was laughing, and John laughed too, though rather nervously.

"Your father, John-of-the־Swift-Sword, is safe and sound. Tonight you are to return to the world you came from. And tonight you will also find your father. Now begone! You have a task to perform. See that you perform it well."

The mist rose with thunderous echoes of laughter, leaving a clear and shining pathway to the door. John turned to the Regents, his eyes alight with excitement. Then remembering a school play he once had taken part in, he bowed deeply, and with an aplomb that later amazed him said, "Your majesties will please follow me through the doorway."

They walked solemnly along the corridors and down the staircases of the tower. John led the way followed by the Regents and then Mab. Once again the old man's strength had left him, and he lagged behind the others, stumbling weakly. They had already descended two of the stairways when the king spoke.

"Your name is John, I believe. John the Sword Bearer and John-of-the-Swift-Sword," the Regent said.

"Yes, your majesty," John replied over his shoulder. "At least, that's what they call me."

"You mean those are not your real names?" the lady Regent asked.

"They call me John-of-the-Swift-Sword because this," John touched his scabbard, "cut off the hand of Old Nick, the Goblin Prince."

"I see," the lady murmured mischievously. "You yourself did not cut the hand off. The sword cut it off. Was the sword in your hand at the time by any chance?"

John laughed. He was feeling at home with the Regents. "Yes, your majesty. I was holding the sword. But it, it sort of acted on its own ..."

"Remarkable!" she replied.

John was about to explain that his real name was John Wilson, but at that moment the four emerged from the open door of the tower, which closed with a boom behind them. They saw that the whole company had gathered in a circle below the Stones of Scunning in the courtyard. Heads turned and startled faces surveyed them at the sound of the closing door. One by one they rose to their feet. Beyond the company, the Scunning Stones were radiating waves of light and power.

John strode boldly forward. The Regents were now walking side by side, but Mab, whose face was gray, sat quietly on the grass. The Matmon parted ranks to let them pass. King Bjorn and Queen Bjornsluv bowed low while the Regents walked unerringly to the Stones of Scunning and sat on them.

For a moment a pale blue glow penetrated both of them so that like the stones they seemed to radiate soft blue light Then slowly the radiation subsided. A murmur of awe and delight swept the little company and a cheer rose which echoed from the castle wall. "It is the sign," Vixenia whispered. The stones had not harmed the Regents.

John turned to face the company, a little unnerved at the awe and the questioning looks on their faces. He saw Mab sitting on the grass and was dismayed at the exhaustion written on his face. He tried to remember what the Changer had told him, took a deep breath and said, "You can sit down if you like." Then he cleared his throat carefully and took another deep breath as he searched for the proper words in his mind. The silence was unnerving.

"The Changer commended the Regents to my care," he said. "He told me to conduct them from the tower and bid you . . ." he frowned slighdy, trying to remember the exact words, .. and to bid you, er, yield to them the allegiance that is their due."

His heart was thumping. It was unnerving to be stared at. Were they staring at him or at the king and queen behind him? Suddenly it was as though he were back in school. He felt for his glasses and had both hands up to the side of his face before remembering that he didn't have glasses anymore. Somehow his hands felt extra large, and he wondered where to hide them. He put them behind his back Embarrassed, he cleared his throat for the second time and took a third deep breath.

"The Changer told me to say that from the loins—I think that was the word—from their loins will come the Victorious One, the Vanquisher of Death and Destroyer of the Mystery of Abominadon whom he will slay in personal combat"

Was there anything more? He couldn't think of anything. But everyone was still staring at him. What was he supposed to do now? He could feel his face reddening. Things had gone quite well up to that point but now he felt lost and confused.

"That's all, I think" he concluded, feeling flustered. He strolled with embarrassed clumsiness, stumbling through the crowd to Mab, and sat down beside him. He hoped that somebody else would do something to break the awful tension.

The fur-robed man was already on his feet when John looked up. "We come to join you all in your struggle against the Mystery of Abomination," he said. "For the moment his attacks on you will cease. But he will begin his mischief again after a while for he hates the Changer.

"As for you, we know you. Only John-of-the-Swift-Sword and the seer. . ." He looked questioningly at Mab.

"Mab the seer, at your highness's service." Mab rose unsteadily, bowed slowly and sat down again.

"Only John and Mab were unknown to us. Vixenia we named and Bjorn and Bjornsluv likewise we named when the Changer brought them before us. They did not perceive us when that happened. We likewise named Oso and Tabby and many others." Another murmur of astonishment could be heard "The Changer has bidden us to rule over you."

"We are willing to acknowledge your sovereignty, sire, for you alone have dared to sit on the Stones of Scunning and live. Yet this Changer is a mystery to us." King Bjorn had risen to his feet. His tone was respectful but his manner was troubled. "Your majesty speaks as one who knows him. Do you indeed know him?"

"As well as a man can know of the Changer," the king replied.

"And what is he, sire?"

"He is the Unmade Maker, the Beginner without Beginning, the Changer who cannot be changed. What more can I say?"

"But that tells us little, sire. Does he have other names? Is it true that he is the same as Mi-ka-ya?"

The king hesitated. "He doubdess has many names," he replied after a moment, "for certainly there are many sides to his character. He will tell us more of his names in time."

"Is he animal, sire?" Oso asked curiously.

"Animal—no, he is not an animal."

"A Matmon?" Bjornsluv asked.

"No, not a Matmon either."

"Is he then a man?" King Bjorn asked

"Can a man make man?" the lady Regent asked. "No, the Changer is not a man. He is a
maker,
the maker of everything that ever was made, a maker made by nobody."

"What does he look like, your majesty?" Grunt inquired.

"Yes," Itch the dog barked eagerly, "can you describe him to us?"

A puzzled frown stole across the Regent's forehead. "I'm not sure whether I have actually seen him. He rides the winds," he said slowly. "We have heard his voice—like the thunder of a waterfall—but as for seeing him—can one
see
light? He is light, light that sees through a man yet makes him strong and joyful." Again he paused and then seemed to talk to himself. "Is he light or does he just dwell in light?"

No one spoke. Fear looked out from several pairs of eyes.

"We walked with him daily," the lady on the throne said after a moment, "until we failed to believe what he told us. Then we fled from his presence and hid. For we were confounded . . . Yet he clothed us in fur and appointed us to rule a kingdom. And together we will form that kingdom. His kingdom. From the midst of which will come the Victorious One."