Gaal the Conqueror (33 page)

"You deceived the first Regent. You have not deceived me."

"But I have defeated you. What else matters?"

"Not so. I am the last Regent, and I will give you a mortal
wound. You will live for a time, and you will know you are
defeated. It is not you who will defeat me. I am the one who
will defeat you. I live forever."

Then the bull roared yet more loudly, "Let us see!" Lowering
his head to the ground he rushed at Gaal. Gaal stood still as
the black mass pummeled the ground in its race toward him.
John lurched. Eleanor screamed. Suddenly the bull gored Gaal
with one of his horns, tossed him high in the air and watched
him disdainfully as he fell to the ground, to lie in unnatural
stillness like a crushed and broken thing. A roar swelled powerfully from ten thousand throats.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Eleanor shrieked.

Gaal lay inert on the ground. Again the bull lowered its head
and pawed the ground, breathing heavily. And again it rushed at the pathetic body on the ground, tossing it this time so that
it rose in an arc through the midday air to land on the top of
the altar. For the second time the air was filled with the clamor
of delight and of dismay.

The bull raised its head and shook it, opening wide its throat
and bellowing in triumph, "Now let the vultures pick at your
bones! Your words were brave, but your strength was feeble.
And as I have dealt with the Son, so shall I deal with the
Emperor himself!"

"I can't believe it! Gaal's dead! Or is he?" John cried in
distress.

Bomgrith elbowed him. "The Habesh matmon is pushing
through the crowd toward us," he said with quiet urgency. "He's
coming for you."

Afterward John could never decide why he acted as he did.
Ignoring the Mashal Stone and reaching with one hand to
seize Eleanor, he cried, "Come on-let's run for it-now!"

They burst into the open area that separated the crowd from
the altar. John headed directly for it. Eleanor, far from offering
resistance, leaped ahead of him. She was shouting. "I don't care
anymore! Let them do what they want. I'm going to Gaal!" They
ran madly and recklessly, yet so swiftly that they might have
been arrows shot by archers, flying over the uneven ground to
reach their target.

Behind them the red-haired matmon had also pushed
through the crowd in pursuit of them. Three of the matmon
who had driven Gaal from the temple also saw what was happening and ran toward them. The murmur in the crowd swelled
to a roar of excitement.

Hardly noticing the piles of human and animal bones scattered around the foot of the altar, John and Eleanor leaped up
the long stairway which zigzagged to its summit. They climbed
with astonishing agility, excitement lending an unwonted
spring to their steps. Once they reached the bone-littered top they stared in shock not at an inert and bloodstained body, but
of Gaal, standing, living, but sorely wounded. The altar was
large-more like a stage than an altar, and he stared at them
across the litter of bones, his face pale and sweat-soaked.

"Gaal-oh, Gaal!" was all Eleanor could say. John could not
speak.

Gaal turned and faced the temple. With determination he
said, "My death is upon me, but my task is not finished yet. Give
me your sword, John." John drew it from its scabbard, tendering him the haft. Gaal grasped it with surprising firmness. Then
lifting up his head he called in a loud voice, "The time has
come! Be what you are and were meant to be! Come, that we
might have done!"

His cry echoed strangely across the stone-encircled temple
grounds, and as it did so the figure of Pontificater the dragon
rose from the temple roof, stretching his great wings and whirling into the air high above the temple.

John gasped at the sight. "Look at him-look! See? He'she's changing! What's happening?"

It was true. As Pontificater began to cover the intervening
distance, the dragon's shape and color began to change. "He's
changing into a horse!" Eleanor almost screamed.

"A flying horse! Remember his dream-you know, the one
about the white mare?" John gasped.

Many matmon and Regenskind had spotted Pontificater, but
the children never heard the crowd. Nor were they aware that
their pursuers, four of the red dwarfs, were now standing behind them-not that the matmon were any threat. Astounded
to see the living figure of Gaal sword in hand, they seemed
unable to move. Only when they saw hurtling out of the sky
toward them the terrifying figure of a giant white-winged horse
did they tumble helter-skelter down the altar steps. Even John
and Eleanor ran to the edge of the altar, crouching, to get out
of the way.

Pontificater landed. He knelt among the litter of bones before Gaal, bowed his beautiful horse head and said, "My Master, I would serve you."

"That you shall, Pontificater!" Gaal said quietly. "Help me to
mount, John."

Pontificater lowered himself further, but even with his belly
on the altar the flying horse's back was still at shoulder height.
John was proud and more excited than he had ever been, yet
there were tears in his eyes as he made a stirrup with his hands
and hoisted Gaal on to the bare back of the winged horse.

For a moment Gaal looked down at them, his pale face grave.
"Are you sure you'll be O.K?" Eleanor asked hesitantly.

"Take heart," he replied. "Victory will soon be in my hands.
Don't be afraid. You will see me again once I have broken the
power of Death."

"But you're wounded," she said.

The merest suspicion of a smile stole into Gaal's eyes and his
lips twitched slightly, but he said nothing. Then he urged Pontificater to his feet. The great wings spread, gleaming a dazzling
white in the sun, and the horse sprung into the air. There was
a sudden outcry from the crowd. Then so quickly that neither
their eyes nor their minds could take it in, a hurtling mass of
red streaked above their heads. It was a winged red serpent that
lunged viciously at Pontificater and his rider as it flashed by. In
seconds, the red and the white, the serpent and the white-robed
figure on the horse, were spiraling upward, each struggling to
gain advantage.

`John! Where did it come from? What on earth is happening?"

John said nothing. His head was craned back like Eleanor's
as he followed the desperate maneuvering, the lunges, the incredible balance the wounded Gaal displayed as with the Sword
of Geburah he struck again and again at the snake.

John's fists were clenching and unclenching. "That's right, Gaal! Oh, good, good! That was beautiful-did you see how
he-?"

"I think the serpent's wounded."

The red creature fell away and downward, writhing as if in
pain. Then it spread its wings again, and for a moment it
seemed as though it was about to renew its attack. But it failed
to rise. The beating of its wings was weak and awkward. Gracelessly it struggled down to where the black bull had stood only
moments previously. Slowly it began to change. The wings fell
away. The serpentine body shortened and thickened, and grew
legs.

"Gosh-it was the black bull. It turned into-"

"It's Lord Lunacy. He must have different forms. Maybe he
can turn himself into anything," John said.

"Gaal's coming down with Pontificater."

With all the grace that the serpent had lacked, the winged
horse glided to a landing beside the bull. Pontificater knelt, and
Gaal slid from his back. The bull had also knelt, and its head
fell wearily forward. Sword in hand, Gaal surveyed it. He spoke
softly but his words were clear, seeming to float through the still
air to the most distant watchers with the greatest clarity. "Your
time has come," he said. "Your power has now been broken,
and death has lost its sting. For a little while you will make
trouble. But your dying is now beginning." The bull made no
sound.

Gaal placed his sword on the ground, strode to the bull and
placed his right foot on the creature's head. Then seizing the
horn nearest him he tugged at it, tearing it from the bull's head
and flinging it aside. The bull gave a roar of pain. He seized
the second horn and tossed it aside too. Then he returned to
Pontificater, picking up the sword which he raised above his
head. Lifting his head skyward he cried with a voice that must
have echoed among the invisible stars, "The task is accomplished! It is ended-done!" He released the sword and it rose of its own accord, flying upward to find its home in John's
scabbard.

For several moments Gaal stood looking at the watching
crowd. Throughout his battle with the snake he had seemed full
of surprising vigor and strength. But now the terrible effect of
his wounds became evident, and he began to sway in weakness.
Even so he remained in control. Quietly he sat down. Then he
lay down on the ground, as if he were merely tired and had
chosen to fall asleep.

For several minutes the bull stared stupidly at Gaal's reclining
figure. The crowd was silent. John's body ached with the tension, and Eleanor's eyes were wide and staring. The bull limped
a feeble pace or two toward Gaal. It lowered its head as it had
done previously-almost as though it was about to toss the body
with its absent horns. Then, seeming to change its mind it
turned toward the temple and faded into invisibility.

Anxiously the children surveyed the strange scene from their
vantage point on the altar. "Made himself invisible-huh?"
John muttered, referring to Lord Lunacy. "Probably gone back
inside the temple to lick his wounds. Gaal should have finished
him off once and for all."

Eleanor placed a hand on John's arm. "He's dead, John.
Gaal's dead. He said he would die and, and ... now he has.
Oh, what shall we do?"

They watched Pontificater lean over his dead master, lowering his head to nuzzle him gently. Then catching Gaal's leather
belt between his teeth he slowly raised the body, so that it hung
limply. Spreading his wings he took flight, circled the altar once
and then deposited his burden softly on the altar. Gaal's body
lay awkwardly, sprawling face down with one arm beneath it,
and the other doubled in an unnatural position. "It is fitting
that he should rest a while here," Pontificater said. "There was
an altar here long before the temple was built. It was a simple
altar in the old days, erected to make sacrifices to the High
Emperor."