The Dark Lord's Demise (31 page)

Over and over Lisa repeated, "Gaal is not Lord Lunacy! Lord
Lunacy is not Gaal!" Kurt said, "Gaal is the True Shepherd! Lunacy
hates us! He hates Gaal! Gaal loves us!" Wes raised his palms up as
if he could ward off the huge chunk of sky that tipped and slid
down at him. He shouted, "Gaal is the Lord of Far and Near! Gaal
is the Lord of All Worlds!"

Alongside the descending fingers of sky dropped a speck of
white. It spiraled down and slipped among the knotted trees until it
landed on the only tiny open patch of ground. It was a bird, the
mildest and most harmless bit of Huff imaginable.

"The pigeon!" yelled all three Friesens at once. Any ordinary
bird would have taken off in fright. This pigeon was no ordinary
bird. It was their guide and helper sent from the Changer himself.

The pigeon hopped left and right. It cocked its head and looked
at them intently with deep golden eyes. It turned away and hopped
in the direction the trail should have gone. Its way was blocked by
advancing trees. Surely the tiny bird would be crushed.

But no, the woods slid back before it. Trees let go of each other
and revealed space between their trunks. Bushes diminished to
normal shape. Thorns shrank. The sky retreated above the forest
canopy. The air relaxed and eased the pressure on lungs and
heads.

Ahead of the little company the path opened up perhaps ten
paces. Shafts of sunlight shot through and laid bright patterns on
the ground. The pigeon fluttered from shadow to sun, shadow to
sun. Its white feathers alternately showed up bright white or gray.

They followed the pigeon. The path under their feet was clear
of roots and vines. No brambles reached out to snag them. As they
moved forward, the trail unfolded like a tunnel laid with a soft carpet of grass. Sometimes the bird flew ahead and lit to wait for them.
Sometimes it hopped. Now and then it cocked its head and studied
them. It did not smile, for a pigeon's face shows little expression,
but in its gentle way it beckoned and encouraged.

They took turns on the horse's back. For several hours they traveled without seeing more than a few yards of trail ahead. The bird
led them on at a good pace. The path opened up before them so
surely and constantly that they did not hesitate to follow.

On a long uphill stretch that curved gradually to the right, Lisa
was in the lead. Kurt was behind her, and Wes came last on Philo.
When the path leveled out, Lisa abruptly raised a hand to halt the
others. Wes and Kurt thought she wanted to rest after the long hill.
She really wanted to take a cautious look at the path ahead. It
looked different. She bent down to examine it while the pigeon
hopped in a little circle on a flat gray stone set into the ground.

"What's wrong, Lisa?" Kurt asked.

The pathway was no longer grass and dirt. It was bare and gray.
In fact, it was a series of level stones set into the earth much like flagstones in a backyard patio.

Kurt came alongside Lisa to examine the path. Excitement filled
him as he asked breathlessly, "Is that what I think it is?"

Lisa nodded. "It's the ancient stone pathway. Look how the
stones are carved with those strange curved lines like writing."

Wes slid off Philo and came up to inspect the stones. He traced a
finger along the lines of the first one and said, "You're right! This
leads straight south to Lake Nachash!" No one knew when or by
whom the ancient stone pathway had been laid. It had served
many travelers well, including the Friesens on a previous journey
in Anthropos.

Lisa pointed ahead. "Look! the forest is opening up!" As a stage
curtain parts for a great theatrical performance, the trees and
brush rolled back on either side to reveal a line of flat stones that
led straight away through the forest.

They swung along with fresh confidence. Kurt took his turn on
Philo while Wes and Lisa walked. Wes cautioned the others that
they would have to turn off the stone pathway at some point, since
it led to the northern shore and they needed to go around the lake
to reach the southern shore. On their way around the lake's western end, the going could be tough and the progress slow. For now,
however, they reveled in their good footing and fast pace.

When harsh croaks sounded high overhead, they didn't even
make sarcastic comments. Vulcanus wheeled above the treetops
with wings held in the familiar tilted V. The Friesens waved. The
vulture made a smaller circle and rasped out a series of short, guttural cries. The squawks formed into something like words, but he
was too high for them to hear. They motioned him down. He
whirled in such tight circles that they thought he would go into a
spin like a doomed airplane.

Then they understood his cries and went cold with fear. "Soldiers! Soldiers! Flee!"

Wes called, "Where?"

"Minutes behind you! Flee!"

"You mean Andron and Dominicus?"

The vulture folded his wings and plummeted through the treetops. He lit on a branch ten feet above them. It whipped down with the impact. As it snapped back up, he said, "Not them! They have
deserted! Never went back to Nephesh! Now a whole company
pursues you!"

The Friesens were stunned. Kurt asked, "But if they deserted,
how'd the queen know we got away?"

"Fools! Do you forget she has a band of eagles who patrol the
skies? They fly so high you did not notice them. They saw you leave
the camp after the dark lifted. They flew back to inform her." He
dipped his beak and for a maddening moment the children
thought he was about to preen himself. But he raised his head and
looked at them with bright red eyes. "I alone of the eagles have
renounced my loyalty to the queen. I see now who and what she is.
I have come to warn you. Flee!"

Lisa stammered, "But ... but we can't outrun them!"

Vulcanus flapped his gigantic wings. He called again "Flee!" and
took flight. He did not rise through the trees but flapped away a
few yards above the stone pathway. The children looked for the
pigeon. It was gone! For a terrible confused moment they stood
frozen on the gray stones.

Wes ordered, "Follow Vulcanus!" Philo snorted his disapproval,
but when the children sprinted after the buzzard, he trotted
behind. Wes panted, "Let's all get on the horse! Throw away the
packs! No, we're still too heavy."

"I will try, Lot-d Wesley," the horse offered.

"You can't carry all three of us. Not far. We'll run as far as we
can, maybe ride you it ways." They were glad for smooth stones
beneath their feet. When they ran out of breath, they slowed to a
fast walk. They ran again. "My side hurts," Lisa gasped. "We can't
run all the way to the lake."

"Keep going," Kurt urged her-and all of them. "Gaal wouldn't
bring us this far and then leave us." He fell silent to save his
breath. Ahead the vulture's wings beat steadily over the pathway.

Suddenly Vulcanus doubled back and shot over their heads in
the direction from which they had come. "Keep going!" he
ordered. They ran on. In it minute he returned. "Not far behind!"
he squawked and flew ahead of them again.

Kurt stumbled. "I can't. I'm out of breath!"

Wes grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him along. "Come
on, we can do it. Look! The woods are opening up! We've reached
the lakeshore!"

'T'hey stumbled out of dense forest into a sunny open place.
They stopped to suck in air and look for the blue waters of the lake.
But they were not at the lakeshore. Instead they stood at the edge
of a clearing of long, yellowed grass and reddish stone outcroppings. The grass almost obscured the stone pathway as it cut
straight across and disappeared into the trees on the other side.

Lisa cried desperately, "Vulcanus! Where's Vulcanus?" A croak
answered her. Kurt pointed. "There, on top of that tree!" Halfway
across the clearing, a few yards off the path, towered a solitary
gnarled oak. Its twisted branches were heavy with glossy green
leaves. The dense foliage would have hidden the vulture if lie had
not perched (or rather slouched) at the very top of the tree. In the
low sun his dull black feathers flashed a burnished bronze.

Kurt found enough wind to run toward the tree and yell, "Vulcanus! How far back are they?"

"Into the oak!" the bird squawked from his high perch.

Kurt stumbled to a halt and peered upward. "What?"

"Into the oak! Into the oak!"

As Kurt hesitated, Wes ran full speed past him toward the tree.
He whooped, "It's a Gaal tree!" Lisa dragged the reluctant horse by
his lead rope. "Come on, Philo. It's a Gaal tree! We'll be safe
there."

"Young lady, have your senses left you? Horses cannot climb
trees!"

"No, no, not climb. Go inside. "

"I doubt that the tree has a hole large enough for the three of
you. You may try if you wish. I will hide in the woods."

"No, there's room for all of us. Come on!"

Wes stood at the foot of the oak. Its gray bark was deeply furrowed, its trunk massive, but it looked like an ordinary tree. When
the others had joined him, he drew in a deep breath and said,
"Open in the name of Gaal!"

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then a door in the trunk
silently swung open. No door had been visible before. It simply appeared. To enter the oak was as easy as going up one wooden
step. Philo followed Lisa, but his panniers wedged in the doorway.
She unbuckled them quickly and tossed them inside. The horse's
long tail had barely cleared the opening when the door swung
shut.

To anyone who has not seen a Gaal tree, the inside of the oak
would seem impossible. It was larger inside than outside. The children stood in a spacious, roughly circular room. Small divans,
tables with rustic knickknacks, chairs, pillows and soft carpet decorated the space. There was a fireplace with an ornately carved
wooden mantle, and in the hearth-almost unbelievable inside a
tree-a cheerful fire blazed. A winding staircase led to an upper
level. Upstairs, the children knew, there were bedrooms with fourposter beds piled with down pillows and comforters. Their skin
began to itch in anticipation of a hot bath. Each bedroom would
have a tub of steaming bath water ready, along with soap, towels
and fresh, clean clothes.

Right now something else held their attention. In the middle of
the room stood a large table laden with fresh fruits, figs, dates, oatcakes, dark bread, honey and jugs of milk. Their stomachs rumbled
as they realized their own hunger and thirst. Kurt said, "I'll have
some of everything except the honey. I've kind of lost my taste for
honey." They were laughing loudly when a snort from Philo interrupted them.

The horse stood with his head lowered, peering out a window.
He whinnied, "The soldiers! We are trapped!"

The children crowded around the window, which looked out
onto the clearing. Sunlight flashed off shields and sword blades as
two, then four or five, then a dozen soldiers burst out of the woods
and ran straight toward the tree.

The company of soldiers halted just outside the door of the Gaal
tree. They could not see any door. Neither could they see any windows, though four faces looked out anxiously from inside the tree.
The windows of a Gaal tree work only from the inside.

Vulcanus still perched in the uppermost branches of the oak.
The soldier in the lead shouted up at him, "Eagle! Have you seen
three children?" The buzzard preened himself but did not answer.
"You foul bird, the day is almost gone! "fell us!" Still Vulcanus was
silent. The soldier leaned one hand against the very door of the
tree and snarled, "You have seen them! I have no time for your
games. Where are they?"

The bird squinted down at the visitors and blinked his tiny eyes.
He extended his wings halfway, shook them and carefully folded
them again, first the left, then the right. The soldiers paced in circles, kicked stones, sliced the heads off wildflowers with their
swords and cursed all eagles. Their leader had had enough. He
roared, "Where are they?"