The Sword Bearer (21 page)

As they fished Mab would from time to time glance at the partly completed walls. "They work with skill. The castle will be a great one," he told John. "It could keep armies of Matmon out. But it will be of little value in facing our own particular danger. Stone fortresses cannot keep out evil."

On one occasion as they talked together about the Changer the topic of John's door came up, the door through which he had entered the land. "You saw it again," Mab said, "and if I am not mistaken, you saw it from the outside. That could be important"

John frowned. "I'm trying to think," he murmured. "It was when Gutreth and Bildreth first captured me. There was a number on the door—345. And the door was gray, like it had been painted. I've no idea what it was made of. Not wood. I'm sure it wasn't wood. Metal maybe."

Mab frowned. "345?" he repeated. "It sounds significant But why? There's something about the number . . ." He continued to frown, shaking his head now and then. Several times after that they returned to the topic. But Mab was unable to make anything of the mysterious number.

They would also talk of the tower and of the mysterious Garden Room where the Regents lived. "I don't see how you can have a
garden
inside a tower," John said.

But Mab only replied, "I know you pretended not to be surprised, but you did see the large rooms inside the Gaal trees. So why not a garden in a tower?"

The Matmon were not the only workers. In addition to lumber, Aguila and her eagles brought immense supplies of stores which had to be organized and taken care of. Aguila did more despite her continual pain and discomfort from her encounter with Old Nick Yet she worked without complaint. Throughout their time on the island, as each evening fell she brought their nightly feast. Just as their weariness had been melted away during the difficult days of their journey, so now on the island their limbs were strengthened and their spirits lifted. Every night their voices rang with songs and their bodies swayed as they danced with abandon under the stars.

Mab never joined the dances. Always he would turn and stare at the gap in the stars over the swamp, wondering when evil would break through it again and what would happen when it did. John, whose heart was now much lighter than it had once been, would laugh and dance until he was too tired to go on. But when the dances were over he would sit and think about Grandma Wilson and brood, sometimes tearfully, over the problem of his missing father. Yet as time passed he did this less and less.

The Matmon seemed to thrive on the hardest of labor. They sang as they worked. When they were not singing they would laugh and talk without ever slowing their pace. Sometimes John would watch them, and at other times he would engage in incomprehensible exchanges with Folly.

The tower and the Scunning Stones remained objects of wonder for the Matmon. They would stare entranced at the tower for minutes at a time, touching the masonry, examining the joints of the stones and shaking their heads at the marvel of workmanship that so greatly exceeded their own.

To them too the mystery of the Garden Room was a constantly recurring theme. They would look up at the upper windows, wondering whether the Regents would one day look out from them. They began to call the structure the Tower of Geburah, sensing a mysterious connection between it and John's sword. Still later they began to refer to the island as the Island of Geburah.

The Scunning Stones sadly became the scene of a tragedy. There were still a number of the Matmon who had never drunk of the wine of free pardon. These rebels, as they were called, worked well on the walls. But they tended to prefer their own company, and their leader continued to be the Matmon prince, Goldson. John had long since ceased to spend time with them. So he felt uneasy when one day he found three or four of them laughing with Goldson around the Scunning Stones.

The energy that pulsated from the stones had convinced most of the company of the truth of Mab's account of them. But Goldson laughed at the notion of their being dangerous. "They're safe enough," he said. "If there are such beings as Regents,
they
will be in no danger. They will sit on them and look very powerful. And we will be impressed because we've all been led to believe there
is
danger."

For a moment it looked as though he was about to sit on one of the stones himself, but one of his followers was quicker, leaping on to the seat of one of the stones with a merry shout.

But his merriment lasted only a moment. A surge of energy seemed to envelop him and his clothing burst into flames. The small group around the stones stood transfixed in horror as the unfortunate being screamed with pain and terror. Then he shuddered convulsively and grew scorched and blackened. A moment later his flaming corpse tumbled sickeningly at their feet. No one ever again doubted the power of the stones, and many weeks passed before John could get the picture of the horrible event out of his mind.

One thing that helped him was the arrival of a pig and a dog that had swum companionably together to the island, making their way into the tunnel below the tower. They told a tale of the cruelty and enchantment of a sorcerer whom they had displeased. The dog had been made to shiver and to itch, unable ever to be warm or to relax. And the pig had been put into an enchanted sleep.

They were never able to explain how they escaped from the enchantment, but they declared that Nicholas the Goblin Prince was hunting them. He would bind the same spells on them again if ever he were to catch them. Everyone seemed to like the pair. They called the dog Itch, and the pig they called Grunt. The two spent a good deal of time on the wharf in the tunnel below the tower, watching for any sign of the Goblin Prince, so certain were they that he would attempt to visit the island by that way. Their best chance of escape, they thought, lay in spotting him before he spotted them.

Tabby was the only other pet on the island. She had been a kitten when Bjornsluv had found her alone in the woods on the last part of their journey. But Tabby soon proved to be a one-woman (or rather a one-Matmon) cat and rarely was found far from Bjornsluv.

It became clear long before the end of the first year that their original fears about the columm of darkness were unjustified. By the end of the year the column had narrowed to half its original width. Everyone had their own idea about what was happening, but nobody suggested that they stop building. Many of the Matmon felt that the Mystery of Abomination was deciding to leave as it observed the progress they were making on the castle walls. Mab's suggestion was more frightening. He thought that the opening had come because wicked powers had torn the skies apart to let in more evil from the outer darkness. It was now slowly closing because the evil had come through.

For another year the building continued, while the opening into the outer darkness narrowed to a crack until it finally disappeared. The company in the castle made a huge celebration. Everyone except Mab and John (who tended to adopt Mab's point of view) believed they had a double cause for celebration—the successful completion of the buildings and the final retreat of the Mystery of Abomination. But before long their joy gave place to fear.

It started with Itch and Grunt. On the day that the castle was completed everyone except the dog and the pig toured the castle walls and inspected the great rooms and halls of the castle itself. There was a keep, a large square tower that rose from the cliffs on the north side of the island, a little to the east of the Tower of Geburah. There Bjorn and Bjornsluv had their chambers above the royal rooms reserved for the coming Regents, whose home the castle would become.

A large banqueting hall and ballroom filled a low building connecting the keep with a building in which were the kitchens, sculleries and servants' quarters. Stables and workshops were to the east in yet another low building. It was decided that they would continue to exercise and to breed the horses until things were more settled and stables could be built on shore.

A new excitement seized them all, and they were filled with wonder as they inspected the work of their own hands. Itch and Grunt did not share the general enthusiasm, however. They spent the day on the rocky wharf beneath the tower, vigilant for any sign of the Demon Prince. Normally they would have joined the diners at the evening feast Though their table manners lacked the finesse of King Bjorn and Queen Bjornsluv, there was a certain piggish dignity with which Grunt delicately pushed his nose around his food and a positive elegance about the way Itch handled bones on a silver platter. But at the hour of feasting they failed to appear.

Oso went in search of them, knowing where they would be. He returned holding two sorry specimens, one in each of his gigantic paws. Itch shivered pathetically and scratched himself constandy. And Grunt who had been a merry and mischievous sort of pig was drowsy and bad tempered. "They are bewitched," Vixenia cried as she looked at them.

"Then that must mean . . ." Bjornsluv hesitated.

"It must mean that the Goblin Prince has been around," her husband muttered grimly.

"And that all their vigilance was in vain," Mab added.

The incident dampened everyone's spirit and cast an air of gloom on what had begun as an enthusiastic celebration. But when a week passed without further incidents, the matter was almost forgotten. Unfortunately it could not be forgotten altogether for every day they had to encounter the misery of Itch and the somnolent stupidity of Grunt.

The next thing that happened at first raised no suspicions. It was only weeks later that anyone realized its strange significance. Bjornsluv lost Tabby. The young cat simply disappeared. The only conclusion they could come to was that she must have fallen from the walls and drowned though everyone agreed the explanation sounded unlikely.

Another cat, however, came on the scene, a very large and self-assured cat No one seemed to know exactly how or from whence it had arrived, and everybody assumed that "they" (meaning Bjorn, Bjornsluv, Vixenia, Mab and John) knew. But "they" were too concerned with other matters to worry about a stray cat, even a large and self-assured stray.

The cat never walked. Rather, it
modeled,
modeled its sleek black coat for the benefit of anyone who wished to admire. It held its white head with sophisticated disdain on the end of its long black neck and waved its white-tipped tail sedately in the manner of a bored conductor. Everyone detested it—everyone except Folly, who became protective of the creature. They called it Poison because of its sarcastic remarks. John wanted to name it The Perpetual Sneer.

But John, Vixenia and the Matmon royal pair were worried. Mab had had a dream and pronounced a prophecy. "The Mystery of Abomination is coming," he told them. "It will come during the night of the full moon to spread madness and death among those who expose themselves to the night air. And there are some who will not heed our warning and will do so."

Thus was ushered in the final phase of their struggle against the Mystery. For on the night of the full moon, a cloud of impenetrable blackness rose over the swamp and stole across the lake to envelop the island fortress. Everyone remained inside the castle, fearing to expose themselves to the night air— everyone, that is, except for the followers of Prince Goldson. For though the prince himself had been obliged at Bjorn's insistence to remain in the royal chambers with Bjorn, Björns-luv and Rathson, his followers who had not drunk of the wine of free pardon defied Mab's warning.

The remainder sat inside the building, oppressed with dismay and dread that their troubles seemed far from over. No one had realized that the rebel group was outside until against the background of the velvet silence they heard cries of pain and fear followed almost immediately by insane laughter.

The laughter was the worst. It was the laughter of mad Matmon, doomed by stubborn folly. "We go to join the Mystery!" one of them screamed in merriment.

Mab's wrinkled face was wretched as he listened. "The
fools,"
he breathed, "the wretched, heedless fools! They will fling themselves into the lake from the castle walls. And then the Changer alone knows what will happen to them."

King Bjorn's stubborn face was set in rage. "We shall fight back," he said. "Our former master shall not win so easily. We have a castle, and the Regents soon will join us. He will never master us!"

The awful oppression passed soon after midnight. A full moon shone clear again. They searched the castle grounds for the rebel Matmon but found no trace. Though they stared long and hard at the dark waters below the castle walls, the lake kept its own secrets and told them nothing. The Matmon were never seen again.

Since nobody was in a mood for sleep, Bjorn called for a counsel of war. No one had any suggestions as to how they might combat the Mystery, who according to Mab would return any time there was a full moon. Indeed the only glimmer of hope came from Mab himself.

"I do not know how we can oppose the Abomination," he said slowly. "I only know that the stone in Vixenia's ear is what the ancients called a proseo comai stone—pross stone was the term they commonly used." He paused.

Vixie nodded. "My grandmother called them pross stones."

"At the beginning of time it is said that the Changer built a mountain of such stones," the seer continued, "and with the breath of his mighty winds he blew them far and wide like floating bubbles through all universes and all ages so that whoever might wish to call on him for mercy and aid could do so. In my journeys from the island I have been searching for more, but I have found none."

"There is the one in my ear," Vixenia said quietly.

Mab ignored her. "I have hesitated—for too long now—to return again to the swamp. But I am sure I could find some there. With pross stones we may be able to do something. I could set out at daybreak and be back the next day."

"If you survive," Bjorn added grimly. "No, wizard (or prophet, as you insist on calling yourself), we need you too much to take the risk"