The Sword Bearer (9 page)

"And it was he who bade you capture this John who now wears the sword?" Bjorn pointed at John, and Gutreth started as for the first time he saw him.

"Yes, sire. He is indeed the one whom we captured."

"And the sword?" Bjorn asked.

"We buried the sword two leagues from here, your majesty," he said.

"And it was there that we found them," Mab interrupted. "As we journeyed back from the north, Aguila the eagle with her keen eyes saw Folly bending over a wounded Matmon. And it was Folly who told us where the sword had been buried. Bildreth had tried to kill Gutreth, that he might become the Sword Bearer himself."

"It is even so," Gutreth continued. "Bildreth, my companion, wanted to have the sword. He did indeed try to kill your servant."

His hands rose to where the wound had been and his fingers probed unsuccessfully to find it 'Your majesty, I have done a great evil—"

But Bjorn's eyes were searching the group of Matmon. "Then Bildreth is lying. Bildreth—" he said sharply, "where is he?"

But Bildreth was nowhere to be seen. For at the sight of the eagle's descent with Folly and Gutreth hanging from its claws, he had stolen into the forest to flee. Quickly Bjorn sent a search party to capture him.

The Matmon king then turned to the kneeling Gutreth. His eyes narrowed as he stared at him. "It is easy to repent when the game is up," he said. "How do I know that yours is a true change of heart?"

Gutreth's head bowed low. "Your majesty ..." he faltered.

"Those whose stomachs retain the wine of free pardon," Mab interposed, "those who absorb it and do not reject it are changed. They know evil and good. And they reject the evil. Your majesty may rest assured that this one will be a loyal servant, both of your majesty and of the Changer. I am presuming, of course, that it is still your majesty's wish to serve the Changer." There was a hint of scorn in Mab's voice, but Bjorn ignored it.

"I need every follower I can get," he mused thoughtfully. He stared at the kneeling Matmon for a full minute. Then he said, "Raise your head, Gutreth son of Gyndror. Now do you swear by the bones of your ancestors that you will be true to me to the death?"

The Matmon's face was white and drawn. His eyes were fixed on those of the Matmon king. He drew in a trembling breath and in a barely audible voice said, "I will be true to you, sire. I swear it by my ancestors' bones."

King Bjorn continued to hold the Matmon in his level gaze, almost as though by an act of will he was willing the loyalty of his subject. Finally, he said, "Then rise from your knees. You are pardoned. Henceforth you will flee at the very approach of the Mystery of Abomination!"

Gutreth stood, bowed low, then stood erect. "Your majesty is gracious far beyond my desserts," he said in a trembling voice, before turning slowly to join the group of watching Matmon, his legs shaking a little as he did so.

John had watched the proceedings with a growing sense of the danger through which he was passing. He could see Gutreth's agony and terror. And though he still felt a little sorry for himself, his mounting anxiety was driving self-pity away. He stood by the tree stump on which his head might still be severed. He glanced at the hooded executioner, now leaning nonchalantly on his axe, and shuddered. Surely Bjorn would let him go, now that the magician had so clearly shown him to be the true Sword Bearer. Then he saw that Bjorn's keen gaze had turned on him.

"We now know that he is what he says he is—the Sword Bearer," he said quietly, the troubled look still on his face. "What we do not know is whether the Sword Bearer remains loyal to Mi-ka-ya. It would be better for him to remain as our captive until we are sure of him."

"The prophecies are clear enough," Mab returned evenly. "The Sword Bearer is to slay the Goblin Prince, lieutenant and chief to the Mystery. His coming presages the arrival of the Regents. He is the destroyer of the tower that controls the planet. His loyalty is never in question. So much the prophecies make clear."

"I know nothing of prophecies, wizard," Bjorn said slowly. "But I know the child has been in contact with the Lord Lunacy—"

"A matter I have already explained," Mab interrupted testily. "I am myself a seer, a prophet I am insulted by those who call me wizard, sorcerer, magician. I am none of these. I serve the Changer. My powers are to do his bidding. And as for the Changer's prophecies—
they never lie.
You should know this if your intention to serve the Changer is real. The Sword Bearer is to remain loyal to the Changer!" He stamped his foot in irritation and seemed about to break into speech again. But he changed his mind and bit his lower lip.

"I am sorry," King Bjorn sighed wearily. "I do not doubt your wisdom. But I must be sure. Seize the Sword Bearer, guards, and chain him to a tree!"

The guards, who still stood on either side of John, reached out to take his arms. But in that instant John was deafened by a terrifying noise and blinded by a flash of brilliant blue light When he was able to see again, the guards were lying on their backs stunned, while Mab stood erect his staff held high and his eyes blazing. "Do not lay a finger on the Sword Bearer!" he cried. "If you wish me to aid you, you will leave him at liberty!" For a full minute nobody moved. The Matmon seemed stunned by the power that had burst from the wizard's staff.

John's heart was beating furiously. His breath came in frightened gasps. He glanced at Bjorn whose face was pale and set, his lips pressed tightly together. Bjornsluv's fists were clenched at her side, and Vixenia's brush was low on the ground. The guards began to climb uncertainly to their feet. Hardly knowing what he was doing, John snatched his sword from its scabbard, and instantly a low but penetrating hum filled all the glade, while from the sword came a flashing blue light that rivaled the light of the sun. The guards drew their own swords, looking to Bjorn for further orders. For several more seconds no one moved or spoke.

At last Bjorn said to Mab, "Unhappily I know not the extent of your powers, nor yet of his," nodding at John. "But understand, magician—or prophet if you must so call yourself—that I am responsible for the lives of this company. I do not wish to fight with you. I need your aid. Yet so long as I fear for the Sword Bearer's loyalty I must take precautions. Know, O magician—which surely is no different from prophet—that however much I fear your power, I fear much more the powers and malice of the Mystery. I must secure the Sword Bearer, even if it takes every Matmon in my company. So take him, guards!"

The guards eyed John uncertainly. John raised his flashing sword above his head and cast a desperate glance in the direction of the magician. And this time he saw the flash at its source, for from Mab's still raised staff twin lightning streaks of blue fire roared into the ground on either side of him.

"Entrust him to me if you cannot trust the prophecies!" Mab cried in anger.

"How do I know ... ?"

"You have seen my powers! They are greater than his! You would be in no danger, even if he were a follower of the Mystery, which he is not. No harm will come to the company if you commit him to my care."

Bjorn drew in a worried breath.

"And you will bring us to the island?"

"I will bring you to the island."

Bjorn paused. "And give us the wine of free pardon?"

"And give you the wine of free pardon."

This time there was a longer pause. Bjorn was frowning. At last he nodded. "Let it be so then." He glanced at the guards. "Sheath your swords," he said. And then he turned to John and said, not unkindly, "Go then to the magician, Sword Bearer, and do as he bids."

John discovered his legs were unstable columns of gelatin, as he stumbled, sick with relief, to where the seer was standing at the foot of the giant eagle. He hardly glanced at the sloping ceiling of white eagle feathers above his head, but as he looked up instead at the ancient face above him, he found himself staring into a pair of friendly blue eyes that were wrapped in wrinkles and lines of laughter, hooded by shaggy white eye-brows. The white hair from Mab's head tumbled over the shoulders of his blue velvet gown. "You must do all I say, for perils surround you," he said quietly.

John nodded, his throat too dry to speak.

"And the child must have food and drink," Bjornsluv cried, relief written large on her grandmotherly face. "I go to prepare something. He is but a child." She turned and strode energetically toward a small square tent at the edge of the forest which she shared with her husband.

The Matmon had come to life and were moving slowly here and there, relieved that the tension was at an end. The relief had softened even the hard character of the prophet, for suddenly he called again to the Matmon king, striding across the grass toward him with John at his side. "Food—yes—food! And wine of the best! Let us feast tonight as we make our plans for the journey. There will be perils enough ahead."

"Food? Alas, we have barely enough. And as for wine ..." Bjorn began.

Mab laughed, and turning his head to the gargantuan bird behind him, he called, "Aguila! A feast, Aguila! Fetch us a feast that is fitting for a company of kings!"

The eagle spread her wings until they seemed to span the glade. Lazily she leapt upward, sweeping the great wings powerfully downward so that the wind rushed about their eyes and the branches of nearby trees bent and creaked. A moment later she was shrinking in size as she surged into the sky.

John should have been happy but he wasn't Bjornsluv had given him a meal that any boy would have enjoyed. He had feasted on cheese and sausages, fried bacon and eggs, hotcakes and honey, nuts and fruits of many variedes. He had then washed everything down with fresh, creamy milk.

But he was not happy. You would have thought that to be rescued from execution would have done something to his mood. But the relief of his rescue had lasted only minutes. Even the strange business of the Gaal tree had failed to shake him from his petulant self-centeredness.

Mab knew all about Gaal trees. He had invited John to "share his tree," and John had supposed that he was being invited to some kind of tree house. So when they had stopped at a large oak tree on the edge of the glade and Mab had said, "This is it!" John had stared up into the branches.

But Mab had raised his staff and talked to the tree in the name of the Changer. And as he talked, a door in the tree trunk had swung open. "In you go!" Mab had said to him. And John, shrugging his shoulders and trying to behave as if doors on oak trees were an everyday occurrence, stepped nonchalantly through.

To his surprise he found himself in a large and comfortably furnished room—a room that was larger on the inside than the trunk of the tree on the outside. But he was determined not to show his surprise. After all, the Sword Bearer ought to know all about Gaal trees. And since Mab seemed to take no further notice of him and did not bother to explain how something could be larger inside than out, John had to stifle his curiosity. But he felt resentful. Somebody, he felt, ought to explain things like this. Shouldn't the Changer have told him? But then, there was no Changer. Bitterness twisted his lips.

He had dozed fitfully on a couch for a little while, waking from a brief sleep to find Mab still silently perusing a parchment scroll.

I wish he'd talk to me," he thought Yet for some reason he could not explain, he was reluctant to break the silence himself.

He strolled to a window that looked out on the glade. As he did so, it occurred to him that no window had been visible on the outside of the tree. The more he thought about the matter, the more puzzled he became. He decided he would go out to see again what the tree looked like from the outside. "Perhaps if I go quietly he won't notice," he thought But when he turned to the door, there was no sign of it The room was a room without a door. Anger boiled inside him as he stared with hard eyes at the glade.

Mab was probably laughing at him. The Sword Bearer was still a prisoner, the prisoner of a wrinkled old man who did nothing but read a parchment scroll and mutter to himself from time to time. "He was very excited when he saw me in my dream," John thought resentfully. "Why does he ignore me now? After all, I am the Sword Bearer."

The remainder of the afternoon proved exceedingly boring. The monotony was broken only by the news brought from two Matmon that the search party sent to find Bildreth had returned empty-handed. This, of course, did nothing to improve John's mood.

But at last as the sun began to go down, Mab raised his head and said, "Aguila should be back soon. Let's go outside and see if we can see her. Sorry I've been busy with the records. Hope you've not been lonely."

John said nothing. "He's treating me just like a boy, and I'm the Sword Bearer," he thought. Mab crossed the room to where the door had been, and as he did so it not only reappeared but opened itself. "There you are!" he said cheerfully. "After you, young sir!"

Outside John stared at the tree trunk Once the door had closed again, the trunk became like any other tree trunk. There was no sign of either door or windows. But Mab was striding on across the glade, and he hurried after him, hardly noticing the warm sense of summer, which normally would have intoxicated him, and ignoring the crowd of Matmon the seer joined.

The Matmon all stared expectantly at the western end of the glade where the sun hung low on the trees. A clamor of cawing rooks could be heard above the Matmon talk, and from time to time a restless crowd of the birds would boil up over the distant trees.

But finally they saw what they were looking for. The powerful silhouette of Aguila, flanked by fourteen other eagles, seven on either side of her, moved steadily toward them, their wings driving rhythmically. They were large birds, though not nearly the size of Aguila, each carrying some load. But below Aguila was suspended the largest object of all. Excited chatter filled with speculation arose as to what it was. Finally as the giant eagle came closer, several voices cried, "A table! It's a table! She's bringing an enormous table!"