Gaal the Conqueror

by John White

  He watched and listened open-mouthed for several minutes, sweating in the cold and shivering mightily. Eleanor whirled endlessly with a control and a skill that amazed him, so rapidly that she might have been wearing ice skates on a lake. Suddenly he snorted, then bit his lower lip and strode out of the bedroom toward the door of the cabin, or rather toward the part of the wall where a door would appear and open. "Open in the name of Gaal," he muttered fiercely. But nothing happened. "Then in the name of the Changer!" Still there was no response.

  Again and again he tried, speaking now softly, now loudly, sometimes pleading, sometimes yelling in anger. But the door never budged. In the end he beat his fists in a rage against the wall at the point where the door was supposed to be. "Let me out! Don't you understand? She's bewitched! The enchantment's got her."

  At times he would go back to the window and watch again as Eleanor leaped and whirled, singing her song with no sign of breathlessness. Then once again he would try to open the door. For almost three hours he continued alternately to watch her and to make more futile attempts to get out. Finally he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall and waiting for the morning, wondering what would happen to Eleanor.

  "It's her own fault," he muttered from time to time. "I was right after all. She can't say I didn't warn her." Eventually, in spite of the best intentions, he fell asleep, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall.

  It was broad daylight when he woke. Feeling woodenheaded and sawdust-mouthed, he scrambled awkwardly to his feet and stretched the kinks out of himself, wondering what he was doing on the floor. Then he remembered and turning to the door cried, "Open in the name of Gaal!"

  At once the door opened and he rushed to it, eagerly looking for Eleanor. Stumbling through it he cried her name, "Eleanor! Eleanor!" She was nowhere to be seen. He ran down to the pathway and turned in the direction from which she had emerged from the wood during the night. Then he stopped. "Which way would she go?" he wondered. Perhaps if he continued to shout, she might answer. "Eleanor!" Again and again he called her name, pausing and straining his ears to listen each time.

  "What is it?"

  John swung round to see her standing in the doorway. For a moment he stared at her, open-mouthed. "How did you get in?"

  "Get in? In here?"

  "Yes, how did you get in?"

  "The same way you did yesterday afternoon. What do you mean?"

  John shook his head. "I sat up half the night wondering how to get you inside," he said. "Didn't you see me sleeping on the floor?" He continued to talk as he made his way back to the tree. Then as he passed the threshold to enter it, he noticed that the jewels still lay outside the door. "She must have dropped them there again," he thought.

  A meal awaited them on the table-steaming porridge, honey, cream, oatmeal biscuits, fruit and milk. Eleanor sat down and stared at John who was still talking excitedly. There was a bewildered expression on Eleanor's face.

  "Look. Slow down. I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. Why were you yelling my name out there?"

  "You mean you don't know?"

  Eleanor shook her head. "Don't yell. I have a headache. I think I must have the flu or something. I feel awful. I had a dreadful night."

  "I'll say you did! You danced all night long!"

  "In my dreams anyway. It was awful." A strange look crossed her face. "How did you know what I dreamt about?"

  "It wasn't a dream, Eleanor. You were out there dancing. And I couldn't get to you. The door wouldn't open." He began to serve her porridge, talking as he did so, and describing all that had happened.

  "You must have been dreaming yourself. We must have been in the same dream."

  "No. It was no dream. If I was dreaming then I walked in my sleep too. But I wasn't dreaming, and the last thing I did was sit down out here and fall asleep. And that's where I woke up. I saw you all right!"

  Eleanor was playing with her food, hardly eating. "Well, I sure feel as though I was doing something energetic all night. I'm exhausted."

  "No wonder! I never saw anyone dance like that. It was crazy."

  Eleanor shook her head again. She spoke slowly and wearily. "I really don't know. It's all so vague-mixed up, sort of. But I ... I'm not going to be able to go on walking today. I thought it was the flu.. ."

  "It's Shagah, Eleanor. I'm sure the jewels you were wearing came from him. He's got some sort of power over you."

  "I don't think so. I left them outside."

  "Listen-you did have your jewels on. You were wearing them as you danced."

  `Just in my dreams," Eleanor said.

  Neither of them felt much like pursuing their journey, for both were tired. Eleanor's limbs began to stiffen later in the day, and her headache continued. John dozed in the afternoon, and did not waken till evening. Curiously he still felt sleepy after their evening meal, and for the second night in a row went to bed early.

  He woke sometime in the night. He had been dreaming, or thought he had. It was just that the dream was not the kind that you can see things in. In fact it was in total darkness, consisting only of a voice, a voice that repeated endlessly, "You have forgotten the treasures. Use them if you would avoid peril.... You have forgotten the treasures. Use them if you would avoid peril..."

  Startled, he groped for the book which lay on a chair beside his bed. "But what would I use it for?" he wondered.

  A sound from the next room caused him to hold his breath. Eleanor! Was she leaving the tree again? He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could. The sounds continued. Eleanor was up and about. Quickly he pulled on the hose and cape that completed his dress. But no sooner did he move toward his bedroom door than he heard the sound of the outer door closing. Eleanor had gone outside.

  He seized the large book, burst through the bedroom door and made as if to stride toward the outer door, but checked himself with a startled cry. Sword in hand, and glowing red in the darkness, a tall goblin faced him, guarding the outer door. Its head was large and globular, but the face was the face of a boar, the tusks long and menacing. Its body was a bear's body, while its feet and legs were like the claws and legs of a giant eagle. Its arms were the long arms of an ape, and from its shoulders, monstrous bat wings rose. Vicious little boar eyes gleamed at him.

  Was this why the door had resisted his commands the previous night? Had the goblin power to intercept his command before it could reach the door? Whatever the truth, the goblin must go. But how? Was he to attack and kill it? Could he order it away? He had killed many goblins, and in spite of the ferocious appearance of this one, he felt a strange lack of fear. Deliberately he opened the book, and the room was flooded with light.

  The goblin was enraged rather than cowed. The creature began to move in his direction, the snout snuffling, its sword raised, ready to strike. Plainly he must decide quickly. Suddenly a memory came back to him, the memory of Mab and the cohorts of Qhahdrun. What was it Mab had cried to dismiss them forever? A picture of the stream bed in the deep gully flashed into his mind, and he could hear Mab's voice crying, "Avaunt! Avaunt! In the name of the Changer, avaunt!"

  He took a deep breath. Then softly and deliberately he hissed, "Avaunt! Avaunt! In the name of Gaal and of the Changer, avaunt!" The blue light grew to frightening intensity. John's eyes were blinded, so that he could see nothing. He closed the book and laid it on the ground. Then slowly he began to see the moonlight coming through the window, and perceived the next moment that the room was empty. There was no sign of the goblin.

  But still the door resisted his command. The treasure. In his dream he had been instructed to use the treasure. For the first time he saw the outline of a keyhole in the door. The keyl Would it fit?

  He darted into Eleanor's room and rummaged until he found it. Then with trembling fingers he inserted it. To his joy it opened, but what he saw when he passed through it stunned him. Eleanor was there, dancing as frenetically as she had danced the previous night. But it was not at Eleanor h
e stared. A gargantuan figure towered above her.

  It was seated as a human being sits, yet the legs were the shaggy legs of an enormous goat, and the feet were cloven hoofs. The trunk was that of a naked humanoid giant, and horns rose from the shaggy head. The creature played wild music on a shepherd's pipe, blowing exquisite allurement through lips that were full and sensuous. "Pan!"John breathed softly. "It's Pan. Shagah has called him down. But I thought Pan was dead."

  Eleanor was totally oblivious of the bestial presence, for the music controlled her hypnotically. Her eyelids were sealed, and her movements, though rapid, were alluring. For a few momentsJohn watched, fascinated. Then, startled, he realized that his limbs were beginning to respond. With a strong effort of will he broke a dreamy spell that a moment later would have swept him into a passionate pas de deux with her.

  He knew what he must do. The control had to come through the jewels Eleanor wore. Therefore he must snatch them from her and trample them underfoot. He did not know why he was so certain, but he knew he was right. He crouched, waiting for a chance to spring. But no sooner would the dancing feet come near him than they would whirl away again. So he tried to follow her, darting to and fro with his hands held out in a half embrace. Had he been visible he would have looked for all the world like a basketball player on the defending team.

  His opportunity came at last, and he leaped to knock the coronet from her head, making a wild leap to stamp on it as it began to roll toward the water. It crumpled beneath his foot, and to his amazement he saw by the moonlight that it was nothing more than the faded crown of wild flowers that Eleanor had discarded in favor of the jewels. Of the jewels cut like flowers, and of the gold in which they had been set there was no sign. Anxiously he glanced up at Pan. Had he seen what John had done? But the god's eyes were almost closed, as if entranced by the music that poured from the pipes, so that he seemed unaware of what had happened.

  It proved more difficult to secure the necklace and the bracelets. Eventually in his blundering attempt to follow her complex movements John collided with Eleanor and she fell. He was at her throat in an instant, tugging at the necklace, which broke as he tugged, turning into a limp chain of faded flowers, just as the coronet had done.

  Again John glanced up at Pan. The music had stopped and the god was rising up on his shaggy goat-limbs, his thick lips wreathed in a smile. Eleanor, too, was struggling to her feet. John seized her wrists, inserted his fingers inside the bracelets and pulled downward with all his strength. Instantly the air around them flamed with blue light. Booming through the forest came a voice that cried, "Great Pan is dead! The Lord of Life is come! Great Pan is dead!"

  The light blinded John again, but his ears were functioning well. He could hear a more haunting music and distinguish another voice that sang:

  John's eyes cleared. He was kneeling in the moonlight, facing a kneeling Eleanor. From his hands dangled two chains of faded flowers. The god Pan was gone.

  They rose late the next morning. John said his head felt as though it was inside a paper bag, and Eleanor complained of being "stiff and sore all over." The atmosphere was strained. Nothing had been said the night before when they faced each other outside. They had stared at each other wordlessly, until Eleanor turned and made her way into the Gaal tree, closing her room door behind her with never a word.

  In spite of their feelings they set out after lunch, and for the remainder of that day and for the following two days they continued to walk through the enchanted forest beside the stream. Eleanor remained silent about what had happened. She seemed pleasant enough, though often she looked worried. John, suspecting it had to do with the dancing and with the way he had torn off her jewels, tried to find out what was bothering her, but gave up after a few unsuccessful attempts. He realized there was no point in trying to introduce the topic of fear until Eleanor herself did.

  Toward evening they found a third note from Authentio pinned to a tree. It was weather-beaten and torn, and they had difficulty reading it. It told them that Authentio was sure that Shagah was focusing all of his attention on the northern forest ("He must mean that this is the northern forest," Eleanor said) and that it was essential that they be out of it in ten days, or they would have little chance of escaping from it at all.

  "Sounds grim," John murmured, folding the paper and stuffing it into a pocket in the fold of his cape. "I hope Authentio himself is all right."

  Their journey was clearly still dangerous. Twice during the first two days of walking they were challenged by further enchantments, once with an invitation from a wizard, and on the afternoon of the second day by a false Gaal tree. John recognized the wizard as a follower of Qhahdrun. The false Gaal tree was easy enough to spot. For one thing the door was open, and for another, the greek statue lady stood outside, inviting them to enter.

  Eventually Eleanor reintroduced the subject of fear. "Mebbe I was wrong about what happened in the garden," she said. "In fact I think I've known it ever since I came to. You know, after you tore off my jewels."

  Still John said nothing. By now they had resumed their way.

  "It wasn't just the jewels," she continued.

  "No?" John said cautiously.

  "Well, in a way it was. You must admit they looked absolutely terrific. I can't help but wish they could have been real."

  "Yeah."

  "But it was the feeling they gave me. I felt there was nothing I couldn't do-as though I was a bigger person, more important."

  John continued to make the kind of noises you make to let someone know you are still listening to them.

  "I just couldn't have cared less about my father. I seemed to have armor all round me."

  "You called it hate and said you hated him. Do you?"

  "I don't know. I feel ... mixed up inside when I think about him. It's true that I'm not scared of him like I used to be, but ..." She sighed a long sigh, then said, "When I think-oh, shucks I don't know what to think."

  They continued to walk in silence.

  "I don't hate him," she said at length. "I probably did when I was so scared of him, but not any longer. But I get awfully mad when I think about him sometimes. And I still wish he'd, well, like me-I mean in the way my mom does."

  "Doesn't he?" John asked. "Like when he's sober."

  Eleanor shook her head. "Mostly he acts like I'm not even there. And at other times he acts weird. But I don't want to talk about it. Listen, am I different than I was when I was wearing the jewels? I feel different."

  John nodded. "You sure are. I like you better this way."

  "But I don't like being scared."

  "Are you scared right now?"

  "No. But I got scared in the garden."

  "Yeah, I know. You were real scared then. I'm not sure why it was so bad, but I have an idea."

  "What?"

  "I think it was part of the enchantment. At the tower the enchantment was really aimed at me. But I think the garden one was aimed at you."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Well, I guess that Shagah must have known Gaal had dealt with your fear. You were a basket case before-like you said, a puppy with your tail between your legs. So before we went down into the garden, when you were sort of crazy with fearI think that was an enchanted fear." He paused and frowned in concentration. "Yeah, the more I think about it the surer I feel. But you know, even so you conquered it. The trouble was you went too far."

  "Hml"

  For several minutes they walked in silence. Eventually Eleanor said, "You mean about fear being useful sometimes."

  Again John nodded. "Danger should scare us. People who are never scared of danger must be dumb."

  "It's horrid to feel scared. I hate it!"

  "Of course you do. Everybody does."

  "Everybody except you. You don't get scared."

  "Oh, yes, I do! I already told you I was scared of going beyond your footprints in the snow. I knew what would happen. And I was scared."

  "O.K then. You were scare
d and yet you did the very thing you were scared of. How is that different from me plucking the rose?"

  "There was no need for you to pluck the rose. Especially in an enchanted garden. But there was a real need for me to step beyond those footprints. I had to find you. You had disappeared. You could have been in terrible danger. So I had to take a risk and come here."

  Eleanor held his arm and stopped walking, so that he was pulled around to face her. Her face was flushed. "I see what you were saying now. And thanks. I mean for coming. I'm not sure that I really realized before. Thanks. Thanks a lot."

  Her face, filled with tenderness, was close to his and a mixture of embarrassment and panic seized him. Hurriedly he detached his arm and turned to resume his way, hardly knowing why he did so, but saying, "Don't be a goose! It was nothing. Anyone would have done it."

  For another hour they walked, both seeming to be deep in thought. At length John said, "I can't help wondering about these, these enchantment things. The last two were pretty easy, but the first two caught us. In fact we nearly got caught at the pool where all the skeletons were. I wish there was some way of knowing beforehand."

  "You don't think Gaal arranges the enchantments?"

  "Well, no, obviously not. But he must know about them. And there's one thing they all have in common."

  "Oh?"

  "They're all, well, nice!"

  "Nice? Bread and water in a prison-nice? Skeletons by a pool? Dancing till your bones ache and not being able to stop?"

  John laughed. "In the end they're not, no. In any case I guess nice is the wrong word. But at first they all offered us something desirable. We were dying of thirst and the pool offered us a drink. I can't really explain the tower thing, but I know I just ached to touch it and climb it."

  Eleanor nodded. "And in the garden I wanted to get rid of fear-all of it-not just the part Gaal had taken away. The jewels were sure nice." She sighed a deep sigh.

  "But there's something else. Whatever it is they seem to offer always seems to deflect us from our purpose of getting through the wood quickly enough to do what we're supposed to do."