The Sword Bearer (32 page)

The Regents smiled and stepped down from the Scunning Stones. Both of them sat on the grass among the Matmon, and suddenly smiles ran like spreading sunshine among them all. Fear and formality melted away. The questioning continued, but now there was laughter. The lady's sense of humor re-moved the last vestiges of stiffness, and before long the Regents had clearly become part of the strange family on the island.

Vixenia had slipped away, taking with her Matmon servants to prepare a feast to welcome the two Regents. "We must air the royal chambers for them," she told herself.

The open-air discussion continued, but John's thoughts had wandered. The talk about the Changer set him thinking about the Changer's breathtaking promise that he would meet his father. That night? Already it was late afternoon. How would it happen?

He was seized with a longing to be back in more familiar surroundings. His hand stole inside his tunic to finger the gold ring and the locket. Was he on the verge of unraveling their mystery?

Eventually the sun sank behind the tower. John remained in a solemn mood throughout the feast Vixenia had prepared. This was a pity because the feast was superb. Since Aguila's death, the nightly airborne table had never returned. But the feasts they had enjoyed so much had created a tradition, a tradition that Vixenia was determined they would always follow. And on this occasion, not only did they still have the wine of free pardon, but for the last time (though they did not then realize it) the fireflies attended.

Crowded round long tables placed end to end, they ate and drank as they toasted and welcomed the Regents. There were speeches, but more important there were songs, a song about the arrival of Mab and of the Sword Bearer, songs of the company's journey over the Northern Mountains, songs of the eclipse of the moon and their journey through the dark, a song about the Qadar and the lake of pitch, about the journey down the river, the sinking of the Tower of Darkness, the building of the castle, and finally, new songs about the battle with the efel spawn, the valor of Folly and of Aguila, and the rescue of Mab.

The Regents' eyes sparkled as the Matmon men clambered on the table to dance. The waning moon looked down on the courtyard, but beneath the canopy the firefly light created a magic that none of them would ever forget, even though they were never to see it again. John, though he knew he should enter into it all, was unable to do so. His thoughts were in turmoil.

He stole away to Bjornsluv's chamber where he knew he would find Mab resting on a couch. The old man looked no better. John had hoped the properties of the tower that had wrought so astonishing a change in Mab might have proved permanent. But it was clear that if anything he had lost most of the benefit even of Bjornsluv's ministrations.

The seer looked at him with perceptive eyes. "You seem troubled, Bearer of the Swift Sword," he said in a low voice.

"Yes, I am, Mab. And I'm puzzled."

"About your father, I imagine. I heard what the Changer said. I was glad—very glad he gave you the promise. But I shall be deeply sorry to lose you. You have brought me much happiness at the close of my life."

John sighed. "I wish I knew when I was going to see him. But Mab, it will soon be the tenth hour. Did he really mean
tonight ?
And in any case my father's in another world. . . ."

"Problems of that sort present little difficulty to the Changer."

They lapsed into silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. The look on Mab's face slowly became one of pain. Almost of bitterness. When he noticed it, John was troubled. He wanted to do something. To say something. But what?

"Mab, you—you look—you look
bad.
Can I get you anything? Let me get Queen Bjornsluv?" he said at last.

"No, John. There is nothing I need now—nor any way you can help." There was a long pause.

"Why not?" John asked.

"You know the prophesies, Sword Bearer. You know my life ends when the prophesies are fulfilled. The Regents have come. Only the Goblin Prince remains."

"No, no, Mab,
no.
It won't be like that. Don't worry about it."

But Mab was not worried. John was! He didn't want to admit what Mab knew. So he did his best to put it out of his mind. Still something else bothered John. He remembered some other prophecy, some unmet longing that Mab had wanted to happen. But the seer had said so little about
it.
Dare he say anything?

"Mab?"

"Yes, Sword Bearer?"

"Mab, may I ask you something?"

"Of course," but the voice sounded more weary than ever.

"Well, oh, but it's nothing. I'll ask you later."

Mab closed his eyes. Bitterness still clouded the tired and ancient face. John turned away, distressed. Two minutes later he crept from the room. Drowsiness overtook him when he reached his chamber. In spite of his agitation, he lay on his bed and fell asleep.

Old Nick was calling. Old Nick was standing on the wharf under the tower. He held out a thin gold chain with John's ring and locket, and he was laughing hideously. "Come an' get 'em, young John!" he cried. "Yer dad'll never know 'oo you are if yer don't 'ave proof. 'Ow can yer convince 'im without these? Come an' get 'em, young John! I'm waitin' down 'ere for you."

He struggled into wakefulness and found he was sweating profusely. "Just a dream," he muttered, but he felt for the chain round his neck to be sure.

A cry of despair broke from his lips. Feverishly his fingers tore into the inner pockets of his tunic to be sure. But there could be no doubt. The chain bearing the ring and the locket, which had been with him night and day as long as he could remember, were gone. There was no sign of them.

John could hardly breathe. His heart, surging tumultuously, seemed to be pounding inside his throat. Rage made him trem-ble and sweat
His ring and his locket.
It was no dream. Old Nick had them, had them at that very moment, down on the wharf below the tower. He ran out of his room, down the stairs and across the lawn. In seconds he was on the wharf, his naked sword gripped in his right hand. At once an agonizing pain pierced through his left shoulder.

And sure enough, Old Nick was waiting for him. He was wearing his greasy black suit again, with the red neckerchief and the bowler hat In one hand he gripped a sharp and heavy iron hook while with the other he held out the thin gold chain from which John's treasures hung suspended. The smile twist-ing his lips could not conceal the triumphant malice flaming from his eyes. "Come on, young John. Come an' get 'em. Come like yer come fer th' football. I could've killed y' then. An' this time, ay,
this
time, lad . .." he held John's eyes in his, "I really am goin' to kill!"

Dull red light still permeated the rocky cavern. The water was mirror-smooth. The perfect circle of the tunnel arch and its reflection might have been a painted backdrop.

Staring at Old Nick and breathing heavily, John felt he was seeing him for the first time. "He's not a person," he thought "He's not even an animal. He's a thing—an evil—a
thing-evil
that has to be destroyed. And I'm supposed to destroy it"

The rage that was still growing inside him was now tempered by fear. He was no longer thinking of the ring and the locket only of the vile thing he must do away with. It was dangerous. Its easy victories over Oso and Aguila had proved that Yet he was going to do it The prophesies said so. He was to kill the Goblin Prince with his sword.

Before he knew it he was walking with catlike readiness toward Nicholas Slapfoot As he advanced the sword began to hum and to throb with blue light. The goblin carefully placed the chain around its neck and took a firmer grip on the hook, all the time keeping its eyes on John. Steadily the distance between them lessened.

"Don't ever let him come into physical contact with you," Mab had often warned him, and the words now hammered themselves through his brain. John stopped when they were five yards apart But when Nicholas Slapfoot sprang at him like a tiger, he was knocked on his back before he knew what had happened. Worse, the goblin was on top of him, crushing him with a weight which drove the oreath from his rib cage. His sword had gone from his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it on the edge of the wharf. He could reach it with his finger tips. The goblin was smiling down at him. "Ee bah gum, lad, that were right easy. I thought you'd give Old Nick a bit more compatishun than that. But it's just as well. We can 'ave a nice little chat now." The bowler hat had fallen, and his stringy hair hung untidily round his bald pate.

John's fingers were scrabbling for the sword. It turned a little, so that he could enclose the dp of the hilt with the ends of his fingers. But the strength seemed to have left his arms. He could not breathe.

"I'm sorry that it's come t' this, lad. I never like killing young lads. There's no pleasure in it But needs must. You'll appre-ciate that. I can't afford t' overlook what you plan t' do t' me, now can I?" John had pulled the hilt an inch or so closer and was straining to get his fingers round
it.
"Answer me, young John. It's rude not to answer when I'm askin' you a question. Y really don't expec' me t' overlook it, do you?" At last John had the hilt in his grip. His arm felt like a column of lead. But slowly he began to raise it "An' such a nice lookin' lad too. I'd 'av thought you'd 'av real nice manners." He began to raise the iron hook, smiling broadly.

Awkwardly John was now lifting the sword. It was beyond Old Nick's range of vision. He managed to get it vertical, but then the strength left him and his arm fell drunkenly toward Old Nick.

The goblin screamed and fell sideways to John's left. At last he was free, but for a moment he could not move. He forced himself to roll toward the goblin and with a tremendous effort kept the sword pointed in Old Nick's direction. The sword met with resistance and the goblin screamed again. Leaning weakly on his elbow, John saw that the sword had penetrated the gob-lin's thigh, wounding it for the second time.

Their eyes were locked, each intent on destroying the other. They struggled to their feet simultaneously. And as they did so, the goblin swung the hook viciously at John. It caught the edge of his cape and tore it from his back, but the weight of the cape, which now hung from the goblin's hook, prevented Nick from using his weapon until he was able to snatch the garment from the point and fling it aside. By that time John was well on his feet and backing away.

Gone was Old Nick's bantering manner. John continued to back up, keeping the sword pointed at Old Nick, who was now clearly unable to sustain much weight on his left leg. "Good," John thought "At least he won't be able to leap at me."

All his fear was gone. He watched Old Nick like a hawk, wanting time to recover his breath and his strength. Old Nick's weight had crushed the feeling out of his limbs, but he could sense it tingling back There was no longer a smile on the hateful face as the goblin said, "Very well, young john. Let's see what y' can do with
this."

John backed up three or four paces, fearful of being rushed again, even though he knew it was unlikely. But nothing hap-pened.

"Look behind you, youngjohn."

Unwisely John did so and was stunned. Old Nick was ten yards behind him. And beyond him he saw Mab, leaning heav-ily on his staff, his face wet with the terrible effort of standing. Mab said, "Turn round again, John." And when he obeyed, Old Nick was exactly where he had been before. John hurled him-self to the cave wall, and stood with his back to it. Old Nick would not be able to get behind him there.

But a horrible surprise awaited him. There were now two Nicholas Slapfoots. Identical Nicholas Slapfoots, one on his left and the other on his right. And as he glanced from one to the other he perceived a third, five yards in front of him on the edge of the wharf. Not the smallest difference could be dis-cerned among them. A bowler hat lay a yard or two from each. Each protected and favored a wounded left leg. Each held a wicked-looking hook in his right hand. But when they moved, they did not each make the same movement or even move simultaneously. He now faced not one, but three assailants.

Were there really three? And if not which was the real Slap-foot? He had almost decided that the one who stood where their struggle had started must be the real one when the one in front of him said, "I'm comin' t' get you, youngjohn!" and stepped forward.

"Watch your sword, John!" Mab called softly. "It will vibrate and flash when you are near the real Slapfoot. The others are merely shadows. Ignore the voice. He can speak through any of them."

Four weapon-bearing figures froze into stillness. Though his shoulder still throbbed with pain John hardly noticed it. Mab spoke again. "I am not allowed to use my staff or any magic to help you. This is your own fight, a fight you must win."

Carefully switching his glance from one to the other, John pointed his blade at the Nicholas Slapfoot in front of him. Nothing happened. Again he turned it. this time to the Slapfoot nearest Mab. Again the sword registered nothing. But as he turned it to the goblin who stood where they had struggled together, a low hum was clearly audible.

"Ignore the others!
They cannot hurt you.
They do not exist." Mab's voice was low and urgent.

John's strength was fully recovered now, and crouching a little he advanced slowly and steadily toward the real Nicholas Slapfoot Old Nick's voice sounded from behind his right shoulder, and for a split second he almost turned. But remem-bering Mab's words he forced himself to keep his eyes looking in the same direction.

At first the goblin did not move. The hook was at his side. The throbbing sword gripped firmly in his right hand, John advanced to within four yards of Old Nick, then to three. But Old Nick suddenly backed away, and as he did so a figure rose from the shadows to come between them. John's mind spun and he gave a cry of bewilderment.
It was Grandma Wilson!
Old Nick had seized her and was holding her in front of him.

"Mind you. Don't 'urt 'er now, John. She didn't die, y' know. Th' doctor made a mistake. An' she's been 'unting you ever since. Th' Changer just sent 'er 'ere. But she will die if you come any nearer with that there sword." He released the old lady and began to back up.