The Sword Bearer (22 page)

For several minutes they argued, but in the end Mab had his way. But Vixenia was staring at the prophet "It worked before," she said slowly. "You came when I poured my longing through it Why don't we secure your safety with the one in my ear? My grandmother told me that whenever a grave need arose I was to tear one of them from my ears and pour my longing into its heart"

She paused and the circle of creatures watched her intently. "I was in despair when I used the first one and I am in despair still. I have seen the death, the darkness, the bitterness, the fear that is spreading among you all. Sir wizard, may I not use it to plead for your safety?"

"After all, there would be no harm in trying to invoke its silly magic, would there?" Poison purred gently. John stared at the cat and hated it. "It might, of course, confirm that old fables are nothing more than . . . old fables. But in that case poor, dear Vixie would merely have gained a bloody ear and lost a worthless bauble."

"—that had been in her family for generations," brayed Folly. "More haste gathers no moss, Poison dear. I mean, too many cooks live in glass houses, and all that, if you follow my meaning. You do, don't you?"

Mab raised his hand for quiet.

"The stone belongs to Vixenia, and no one will tell her what she is to do with it One stone in any case may be of little use. We may need several, and rumor has it that some lie among the bushes in the swamps, feared by the goblins who dare not touch them. I shall seek some there, but much as I appreciate your offer, Vixenia .. ."

"There is great danger in the swamps," Bjorn said, shaking his head slowly. "If protecdon is offered do not venture there without it, sir wizard!"

The prophet was standing, a deep frown on his face. Finally he shook his head. "I suspect the goblins there are more afraid of me than I of them. As for the Mystery of Abomination I suppose I will have to take my chances. And my staff is not without its powers."

The vixen had risen and was standing before him, inclining to him the ear with the moonlit stone. "Tear it out," she said in a low voice.

A stillness gripped the group. The seer shook his head. "No, Vixenia. I cannot"

"Do it!" Her voice was low and urgent "Do it before my longing fails me!"

He stared at her, horrified, but she stood rigid, waiting. "Do it!" she repeated, almost angrily. "Do it at once or it will be too late!"

The seer tore it from her ear and laid it between her feet Though her voice was low they could all hear her, "Protect him! Bring him back to us! Save us from the Evil One!"

Mab did not leave at dawn the next day, for by dawn it was clear that he was a sick man. Fever had him in its grip. His skin burned, his face was flushed, and as day succeeded day flesh fell from his bones and he grew weaker. Even though Bjornsluv was highly skilled in medicine, Mab would let no one attend him but John, instructing the boy how to mix the herbs he took for a remedy. The fever broke on the eighteenth day, and it took him eight more days to regain his strength.

At dawn, two days before the full moon, he left in the coracle. They watched him from the parapets until the coracle was too small to see. And for the rest of the day and part of the next no one could think of anything but Mab's safety.

The following afternoon John was sitting beside Vixenia, puzzling over the previous forty-eight hours when Folly approached them. The donkey knelt before John, trembling.

"He's coming," he announced.

"Who is coming?"

"The wizard. Mab. I saw his little boat. But it's still a long way off, and a bird in the hand is worth half a loaf of bread. I hope you understand."

He sighed and went on his way, but Vixenia had sprung to her feet "Quickly," she said. "Let us see if it truly is he!"

They ran up stone steps to the top of the castle wall, crossed to the parapets and stared out across the lake. A hundred yards away they saw a tiny coracle dancing on the waves in the afternoon sunlight The seer paddled it wearily toward them.

"He's making for the tunnel," Vixenia said. "I prayed that Mi-ka-ya would give him success. I hope he has reaped a harvest of pross stones. I little knew their power. We need more of them."

For several minutes they watched as the prophet approached. "What a gorgeous view," said John, staring at the water a hundred and fifty feet below them. For two years he had only grown to love the island more. Once or twice he waved, but Mab seemed unaware of them. At last Vixie turned from the parapet "Come," she said, "we must be there to meet him."

Folly trotted toward them again as they crossed the grass-covered courtyard and made for a large stone archway to the left of the Tower of Geburah. As if from nowhere Poison appeared, rubbing her head and neck alongjohn's leg, as though she had known him all her life. He was startled at her size. Her head was almost level with his knee.

Folly talked endlessly, braying from time to time. "How fortunate we are to have you with us, er, Sword Bearer John,
Sir
John, that is. Or ought I to have said Lord John? Your highness will pardon my failing memory. I know you told me which it was..."

"King
John," said Poison. "And his majesty does not suffer fools gladly."

"No, just
John,
"John said, irritated both by Folly's chatter and by Poison's incessant rubbing which made him stumble a coupie of times as he hurried to keep up with Vixenia. He was too polite to tell either of them to quit Instead he said, "There's Itch and Grunt lying in the grass."

He glanced at them curiously as the little party passed them, the pig slumbering contentedly in the sun, the dog scratching endlessly beside it. He wondered whether pross stones cured spells.

"Your majesty will, I am sure,.. ." Folly began.

John tripped over Poison and fell heavily. As he scrambled to his feet his face was red and he was inwardly furious with both Folly and Poison. He hurried after Vixenia and caught up to her as she passed beneath the archway. Beyond it broad steps curved down into the rock to emerge on a rocky platform beside the water. Several boats of various sizes were tied to iron rings in the rock. Dim red light illuminated both the cavern and a tunnel beyond it.

Folly clip-clopped behind John to stand on his left while Poison inserted herself in front of him, rubbing herself hard along his knees and purring contentedly. He felt an insane urge to kick her into the water but merely bit his lip in irritation wishing she would go away. Vixenia remained standing, tensely watching the tunnel from John's righL

Silence fell around them. Even Poison's purring died away. The placid water reflected the curved rock roof above their heads. On their left the tunnel opening looked like a perfect circle, its arch reflected flawlessly in the almost invisible water. An occasional drop of water would plop musically from the rock above onto the surface of the water below, breaking it into ripples. No one spoke. Only the drips broke the silence.

Poison's rubbing bothered John increasingly. In spite of his curiosity he stepped back a little to get away from her. She followed him complacently and continued to rub herself against his knees. "You'll hear him in a few seconds," she purred gently.

"How do you know?" John whispered.

"My ears are sharper than yours, and I can hear him already," she purred back.

Vixenia's ears had flicked forward as she half turned in the direction of the tunnel, and a moment later John could hear the distant sound of the splashing of a paddle as it echoed faintly from the tunnel. Poison ceased to rub, but to John's annoyance she curled herself contentedly over his feet, her head still raised, watching the tunnel opening. Four pairs of eyes stared at the dim circle as the rhythmic paddle splashes drew closer.

Finally John saw him. For a moment he was nothing more than a dim shadow, crouched and kneeling in the coracle. But as it emerged from the tunnel they could see him more clearly. Across the water, which broke into a hundred waving fragments of red and black, he called, "Hail, Vixenia! Hail, John! Hail, Folly! Hail, Poison!"

"Did you find any stones?" Vixenia barked in her eagerness.

The seer drew his dripping paddle inboard and rose gingerly to his feet, pointing as he did so to a small leather bag slung over his shoulder. "Four of them!" he said. "I had a fifth which was plucked from my hands by invisible fingers, but the four are safe."

A throbbing pain arose in John's shoulder. Then it seemed to him that one of his nightmares began to happen all over again. Just as the hands had come over the backyard door of the Smith's house in his dream in Pendleton, so now the fingers of a man's hand gripped the stern of the coracle while the fist of a second hand, a fist carrying a vicious iron hook, hung on beside
it.
Was John the only one to notice? The pain in his shoulder became excruciating.

"Behind you! Look behind you!" he cried. But the seer stared at him uncomprehendingly.

Two bare white arms attached to the hands began rocking the craft as a man's head and shoulders appeared between them. Pins and needles stabbed John's body. "Nicholas Slapfoot!" he screamed, for it was indeed the Goblin Prince. "Old Nick! Look out! He's climbing into the boat behind you!"

Vixenia had seen him by this time too. "It is the goblin!" she cried. "It is the Goblin Prince and he is behind you!"

Nicholas Slapfoot heaved himself in one swift smooth motion over the stern. Eagerly he grabbed at the leather pouch containing the pross stones. As Mab swung round, the coracle, already rocking, lurched and he fell. John had the sensation that the whole cave was turning. His heart was beating wildly. How in the world had Old Nick got there?

By now the drifting coracle was less than a yard from them. "Sword Bearer! Draw your sword and save him!" Vixenia called to John.

Poison hissed. "Stay where you are, majesty! Folly, now let us see your boasted courage at work! Into the coracle with you! Defend the magician!"

Folly brayed loudly and leaped wildly forward. But he leaped too far. His forelegs landed in the water beyond the boat while his hind hoofs caught the far side of it. rocking the coracle and Slapfoot more wildly than ever. Folly disappeared into the dark water with a huge splash.

Then John did kick Poison, as well as you can kick anything that is already sitting on your
feel.
Two years had added to his height and weight, and terrified or
not,
he plucked the sword from its scabbard He never noticed the blue light that throbbed from its blade but jumped immediately for the coraele.

By a miracle he landed in it without either turning it over completely or putting at least one foot through the leather. Feet widely spaced and sword held high, he stood rocking unsteadily and breathing heavily, face to face with Nicholas Slapfoot Old Nick's arms were raised high above his head. In what seemed to John like slow motion, the goblin swung the iron hook up intending to bring it down on John's skull. "I said I'd get you, young John," he spat at the boy, his black eyes flaming hatred.

But John was quicker. Ignoring the agonizing pain in his shoulder, he swung his sword in an arc at the hand that held the hook, and before he knew what had happened the blade had sliced through Old Nick's wrist with a sickening crunch. The hand fell into the water, slowly releasing its useless weapon as it did so.

With a scream of pain and rage the creature leaped at him. But from behind John came the sharp crack of blue lightning that struck the Goblin Prince in the chest with power, hurtling him into the water. John turned to see the prophet standing behind him, his staff held high.

"Did you do that?" he asked breathlessly.

Mab nodded. "Look over there!" He pointed with the staff.

John looked and saw the head of Nicholas Slapfoot rise above the waving black and red surface. He waved his mutilated stump at John and screamed again. "I'm coming back for you, young john. I'm coming back!"

Again the blue lightning streaked from the prophet's staff, and again the Goblin Prince disappeared beneath the water. They waited a full minute, but there was no further sign. "He will not return for a little while," Mab said with grim assurance.

John's knees gave way and he sat down in the coracle. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said. He was still gripping the pulsating sword, but his body was shaking. Gently the wizard pulled him to his feet. The coracle was bumping against the wharf. "Come," he said, "you'll feel better presently."

Vixenia was staring at them both. "The bag of stones," she said. "What happened to it?"

The strap around Mab's shoulder had been broken and the leather pouch no longer hung from it Vixenia peered into the coracle. "There," she said, "—down beside that rib ..."

John stepped shakily onto the wharf as Mab reached for the bag and tossed it on the wharf. Three perfecdy round stones that glimmered like opals scattered across the rocky surface. The seer collected them carefully and replaced them in the bag, but continued to grope around the wharf for the fourth.

John sat down and Poison leaned her heavy body against him. "You are a tremendous swordsman," she purred. "But look at that idiot, Folly!"

John looked. He had forgotten all about the donkey, who had swum to the far side of the tiny cavern and was scrabbling with his forehoofs on the rock wall opposite. "He-haw, he-haw! Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear! Help! Help! Where there's a will, there's no way out! Oh, what a fool I am! A fool and his money will both likewise perish—oh dear, as a fool I will die! Help! Help! Where
has
everyone gone?"

John scrambled to his feet, suddenly ashamed both of his weakness and his previous irritation with Folly. "Over this way!" he shouted. "Turn around, Folly! Turn the other way! You can get out over here!"

He had to repeat his instructions several times, but at last the bewildered donkey turned and swam toward them. Vixenia had her eyes fixed on the bottom of the coracle, and Mab was still groping on the wharf for the missing stone. "Perhaps it has lodged itself somewhere in your robe," she suggested. But all his further searches produced no result.