Gaal the Conqueror (19 page)

She stiffened and drew in a breath. "I'm scared, John. I'm
scared. I know I shouldn't be this way. Gaal took my fears away.
At least I thought he did-when I faced being frightened of the
dragon...." She paused and bit her lip. Her face seemed
pinched and slowly a tear trickled down one cheek. "I bet you
despise me. I'm yellow just like I used to be-a dog with its
tail between its legs." She paused. "Do we have to go on? I mean
couldn't we-well, couldn't we quit in some way? At first it was
like a game. Even when I was a dog it was not like this. This
is like real life, like my dad being drunk and chasing me with
a knife-and doing other things-worse things."

"I think what Gaal did was make you normal-like everybody
else. You're not the scaredy-cat you used to be. Anybody'd be scared of an enchanted wood. My dad says real courage is
going forward even when you're scared. Listen, I'm scared myself. Everyone's scared in situations like this. Gaal really did
something when you came back from being a dog."

Still trembling, Eleanor said nothing for a minute. Then she
said, "You know, that whole business of my being burned to
death and coming alive-it was real, wasn't it?"

"Of course it was!"

She shook her head miserably. "Then how come I'm like this
now? How come, John? How come? I'm just shaking, and I can't
stop."

John said no more. He squeezed her shoulders firmly, still
feeling awkward about doing so, and wondering whether she
drew any comfort from it or not. Then as he stared at her face
he saw for the first time that even through its veil of fear it was
beautiful. His heart swelled inside his chest. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said. "I know I messed it up the last
time-but I won't ever do so again."

She released herself gently from his grip and sat down, leaning her back against the rocky wall behind them. John sat as
close as he could beside her. He could feel the trembling of her
body. It was not the first time she had made any reference to
her life at home. Previously he had been too embarrassed to
raise the topic. Even at Ponty's cave he had only questioned her
about events in Anthropos and not about that awful night when
she had run out into the snow.

"Surely Gaal knows where we are," she continued. "I'm sure
he must know how we feel. If we decided to go back I think he'd
let us."

"Go back? Go back where?"

"To Canada."

John sighed. His thoughts were suddenly far away. "I bet my
dad's still on the ice."

But Eleanor's mind was still on Gaal. "He brought us here. I'm sure he'd let us go back if we asked him. He's not mean
or anything. Don't you think that we could just shout out for
help-that he could hear us-sort of by magic? And then we
could go home."

John's thoughts were focused on a picture of Black Sturgeon
Lake on a frozen winter night. "I wonder how long he's been
waiting-my dad, I mean. Boy, would I ever like to have him
here now." He paused and drew in a breath. "You know, I
shouldn't have said that. I don't really want him to come. You
see he'd die if he came here."

It was the wrong thing to say. Eleanor began to weep softly.
"This is a hideous place. It's so dangerous. I mean back in
Canada even when my dad-I mean, I could run-usually.
Here you never know what the danger is. Oh, John, let's not
go down there."

They stared below them. Steps had been cut in the rock,
zigzagging like the steps down a Chinese mountain. Beauty
flowed up from the beds where flowers of every season and
climate seemed to bloom at the same time-hydrangeas, daffodils, hyacinths, fuchsias, amaryllis, lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, begonias, hollyhocks, delphiniums, geraniums and a
hundred others, along with jacaranda trees, poinsettias, bougainvillaeas and other plants the children had never seen, all
in a riotous, incongruous but magnificent blaze of color.

John took one of Eleanor's hands in his. "It's all right," he
said. "It's going to turn out O.K Gaal wouldn't send us on a trip
like this if he thought we were going make a mess of it."

They must have sat for several minutes without moving. At
last Eleanor rose slowly to her feet, stared fixedly at the garden,
and said. "I'm sorry. You were right-I mean what you said
about real courage. I was going to insist we go back. But there's
really no place to go to, and I sure don't want to be with my
dad right now. I shouldn't have talked like that. I guess it was
the shock of seeing the garden-it just flooded over me sudden ly. Why don't you lead the way-slowly. If I see anything I don't
like I may still run!"

Once down in the garden they could walk side by side. "You
know that was courage," John said.

Eleanor dropped her eyes. Her face was still tear-stained but
a tremulous smile played on her mouth and a blush stole into
her cheeks. "How do you mean?"

"You. You coming down here even though you were terrified."

With slight nervousness Eleanor said, "Oh, I don't know. I
figured you were going to come this way anyway-so what the
heck!"

"All the same, it took guts."

"Thanks. But you were right. I mustn't let my fears rule me.
Courage is going ahead even when I'm scared." She paused
and took a deep breath. "You know, I've really only just noticed
how beautiful this garden is."

"You mean you didn't see it before?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Or at least, only for a fraction of
a second. Then panic hit." She laughed self-consciously. "I'd
love to pick a bunch of flowers," Eleanor said.

"Well," John replied, "don't forget Shagah. We're in an enchanted garden in an enchanted forest. So far we don't know
what or where the danger is. It could be in the flowers themselves. So I'd stay away from them."

For a while they walked in silence, marveling at the beautiful
arrangements of trees, flowers, intriguing rocky shapes and
statues. John wondered if one of the statues would come to life,
but said nothing so as not to alarm Eleanor. But a moment later
she stopped in front of a little ornamental tree bearing red
roses.

"I'm going to pick one," she said, her voice still shaking a
little.

John was about to warn her again, but he was still worried about wakening Eleanor's fears, so he changed his tack "You
know, it looks so perfect as it is. Why not leave it? You'll spoil
it if you pluck some."

But it almost seemed as though Eleanor had read his mind.
"I'm not going to let my fears rule me. Sure, I'm nervous. But
I can't let my feelings paralyze my whole life. I've got to face
things!" Her eyes were shining and she was breathing fast as
she reached forward with trembling fingers to pluck at a rose
stem. But the rose stem was woody and resisted plucking. "Oh,
oh!" she muttered pulling back her hand and sucking her finger. "Those thorns are sharp. Lend me your sword."

"Look, I really don't think-"

"Please, John, I'll only take one."

"But, Eleanor-"

"Please, John. Please!" her eyes implored. John had already
been tugging at his sword, but it resisted his efforts.

"It seems to be stuck," he said, frowning. "In any case-"

"Here, let me try!" Eleanor seized the hilt of the sword and
pulled with John. But after several attempts they both desisted,
for it was clear that the sword could not be shifted. Eleanor's
face was flushed. "I'm going to get it, even if I have to tear my
hands to pieces in the process!" she muttered fiercely, and
suiting her actions to her words she began to struggle once
again with the stem of the rose she had first tackled, bending
the stalk this way and that in an effort to break it.

John watched her uneasily. He felt something was wrong
with her battle with fear, but he could not put his finger on what
it was. Eventually Eleanor was successful, though the rose
(which was now pitifully battered) seemed hardly worth the
scratched and bleeding hands it had cost her. She stared at it
a moment and then tossed it aside in disgust. "Well, at least I
didn't give way to fear. Let's get going!"

Uneasily John followed her as she pushed forward toward
the narrow area that separated the sections, where the cliffs on either side came close together. In the next circle lawns surrounded a beautiful pool, beyond which lay a shallow rocky
basin into which a waterfall fell sheer from an opening in the
rocks above. From there the water flowed gently into the main
pool, where gentle islands of yellow water lilies clustered lovingly.

The path followed the edge of the pool round to where steps
ascended to the rocky basin. While they had been moving toward it the gentle thunder of the waterfall had formed a sort
of background music, adding to the charm of the garden. But
as they ascended the steps, the sound suddenly ceased. When
they looked up, they saw only the wet and glistening face of the
rock behind it, and just behind the point where the waterfall
had reached the rocky basin, a statue.

The statue reminded John of women he'd seen on Greek
vases in museums. It was of a Greek woman, her hair in the
same style as the vases, and wearing a robe sustained by a
broach above her left shoulder. And as they stared at it the
statue came to life. The hair turned to a rich brown, the skin
a blushing olive, and when the eyes opened they were warm
and dark. A smile lit up the woman's features. "Thank you for
wakening me," she said, staring at Eleanor.

Eleanor said nothing, but her face bore the sort of expression that says, "It's nice to meet you, but I think you must have
mistaken me for someone else."

"Yes, dear. It is to you I owe thanks," she said, still smiling
at Eleanor. "Your courage has given me life. And for you I have
a reward-a reward that will serve as a badge of courage. You
overcame your fears, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but I don't understa-"

"And in spite of your fears you plucked a flower, didn't you?"

"I-I-well, yes, I did. You see I knew if I let my life be
controlled by fear I, er, but I didn't mean to do any damage to
the garden. I hope I've not-"

"Of course not, my dear. That is exactly what I hoped you
would do. Now, just look at these!" She dipped her hand inside
her dress and pulled out an array of jewelry that sparkled in the
sun, flinging a million dancing colors at them. There was a
coronet, a necklace and two arm bands. "Come," she said,
"They're yours. The flowers you wear have faded. Each of these
stones is cut in the shape of a woodland flower. But they are
flowers that will never fade."

Eleanor stared, wide-eyed. "Who are you?"

"I am a servant of Faunus. Now come. Accept what I offer."

"Oh, really-I couldn't!" Eleanor protested. "I mean they're
real jewels. It wouldn't be right."

"My dear child, they belong to you. They're yours by right.
They have been waiting here since the dawn of time for their
true owner-the girl who would fight her own fears, conquer
them and waken me. It was so ordained. Fling away the flowers
that adorn you, and come!" She held them out to Eleanor.

John seized her arm. "Don't listen to her! It's a trap. Once
you take them we'll be in that cage again." Then addressing the
woman, "How do we know you're not just fooling us?"

The woman ignored him. Her glance was still on Eleanor,
and she laughed merrily. "He is seeking to arouse your fears,
dear. And neither he nor anyone else will ever be able to do
so again. You have conquered. Come and claim the reward!"

Afterward John blamed himself for not hanging on to her,
but who knows whether he could have? Eleanor did not wait
for more but stepped into the shallow water in the basin of
rock. Before he could stop her she had waded across to take
the glittering jewels from the lady's hand.

Instantly the garden vanished. The basin, the Greek lady, the
gleaming face of the wet rock-all were gone. They were standing once again in the forest beside the stream.