Destroyers of the Lost Garden (The Lost Garden Trilogy Book 3)

by K. T. Tomb

  “Still you go after our trees?” Jess queried as she attempted to punch and kick the body of the snake to no avail. It was like hitting solid rock.

  The snake opened its huge mouth as it attempted to swallow the tree whole. Jess ran up the snake’s back, trying to keep her balance as she slipped and slid on the slick surface. Just as the snake was about to clamp its jaws around the Tree of Life, Jess made it to the head. She grabbed the corner of the mouth and used her body weight to drag the mouth away from the tree. As the snake’s jaws closed she let go and fell to the ground. She twisted her ankle in the fall. The snake’s momentum carried it over to the Tree of Knowledge. When the mighty jaws finally closed, they had engulfed the entire Tree of Knowledge.

  “No!” shouted Jess, on deaf ears.

  As soon as the tree disappeared from view a bright red, orange, and yellow light appeared between the two ledges. It flickered as something familiar took shape. The flaming sword materialized and levitated in mid-air.

  “Never mind my last comment,” Knight said. “Be careful Jess. Know that I love you.”

  “I love you, Evan Knight. You have fulfilled your destiny. Now it is my turn,” she said. She wished she was as confident as she sounded.

  The snake was writhing in pain from swallowing the Tree of Knowledge. At the same time it tried to bite at the flaming sword to no avail. Every time it got close to it, the sword would pulsate and scare the snake off.

  Jess had only one way up to the sword. It was the same way she used when she moved its head away from the Tree of Life. She had to protect the tree at all cost. Every time she approached the snake it swatted at her with its tail. It was in agony and struck out blindly. After the first couple of times she ran back to Knight.

  “Evan Knight, I can’t do it. I can’t get to the sword. I have failed my sisters, you, Mother Daughter, and Eden.”

  She started to cry as Knight comforted her.

  “You haven’t failed anyone. You just have to get it, before the snake consumes everything in Eden. Think about your task, Jess.”

  Evan watched her as she buried her face in her hands.

  “Listen carefully,” Knight said. “You need to go up the snake’s back to get the sword. You can’t do that, because it’s a little nuts after eating the Tree of Knowledge. You have to use what you can to get to the sword. It’s simple physics.”

  She smiled and then grimaced.

  “I know what I have to do. Thank you, Evan Knight. You really are the Chosen One.”

  She sighed and ran toward the snake. She gritted her teeth with each step on the twisted ankle. She looked up at the sword and then the snake’s tail. She jumped up and into the path of it. It swatted her into the mountain about 40 feet away from the sword. She held her side and ran back to the snake, checking the location of the sword again. She jumped up toward the tail and it hit her into the mountain again. This time, she ended up at the base of the ledge. Her ears were ringing and she had a cut on her forehead.

  She would not be able to keep that up for long. Even a Daughter of Eve had her limits.

  Shala limped out of the forest and froze when she saw the snake.

  Jess ran at it again. Her ankle bothered more and more with each attempt. She jumped again and landed on the tail. It whipped around as she tried to hang on. She kept her eyes on the sword as her head started spin. She started to lose her balance, but she knew that it was all up to her. Jess knew she had to find (inside of her), what Evan had found inside of him in order to finish the task.

  She felt the tail whip up in the air. That was her chance. She saw the ledge that she needed to be on. Her head spun so much she almost fell off of the snake’s back but she knew it was her last chance; Eden would be lost if she couldn’t do it.

  Jess’ arms shook as she pushed herself off of the snake. She could barely see the ledge as she twisted her body for the right angle to land. Her back slammed into the mountain. She slid down and suddenly stopped. She was there.

  There was no time for celebration as she slowly stood to see the snake was finally getting its bearings. Her gaze went to the sword and then the snake; it was gearing up to eat both her and the tree. She cleared her mind and thought of nothing but the sword and Evan Knight.

  If this was to be her last battle, then she would die saving her beloved Evan. Nothing was worth more than that.

  She yelled as her body ached, and ran with everything she had toward the sword; launching herself from the ledge. It was all or nothing.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jess saw the snake open its jaws as she stretched for the sword. Her fingers grasped the hilt and she smiled as the snaked closed its mouth around her.

  It fell to the ground and coiled up while it faced Knight. He forced himself to stand up as he glared at the snake.

  “Come on, you son of a bitch! I will crawl down into your ugly gut and pull my woman out of there! Come on!”

  It was about to strike, when it’s underside started to glow red. Knight backed up against the base of the mountain. The snake appeared to be in pain and started to swing its head back and forth. It slammed its head several times into the ground as the red glow grew brighter.

  All of a sudden, the snake exploded. Pieces of snake flew in every direction. Knight hid his eyes from the explosion, but he was covered in snake guts.

  “Great. I will never get this stench off of me.”

  When he saw Jessima IL Eve standing in the middle of the carnage. Evan’s heart was filled with joy. She stood before him wielding the flaming sword just as she did in his painting. It was finally over.

  Epilogue

  Calisto, Shala, Madeira, Jess, and Knight sat with their backs up against the base of the mountain as they heard a helicopter getting close.

  Knight looked confused when he saw the Chinook that had taken Alexey out of Eden returning.

  Jess helped Knight up. All five of them walked slowly toward where the Chinook landed. The sliding side doors opened and Geronimo jumped out.

  “Hey, dudes! Wow. You guys look like shit. I’m kind of glad I was out there. I take it we won?”

  Knight bowed his head.

  “We had considerable losses, but yeah. I guess we did.”

  Boris Milek stepped out as well. He was smiling.

  “I would like to congratulate you on your victory. I too, have been victorious.” He stepped out of the way to reveal Alexey Konstantin and the Iranian pilot bound and gagged. “We will take our leave now.”

  Geronimo gently placed his hand on Knight’s shoulder.

  “Once you and Jess tie up your loose ends, we can be on our way.”

  Knight smiled at Jess. She smiled back at him.

  “You’re not coming back, are you?” Geronimo said, with less enthusiasm.

  “No, Geronimo. We’re not going back,” Knight said confidently. “Somebody has to get things back up and running around here.”

  That’s fantastic!” Geronimo replied sarcastically. “I’m going to miss you both.”

  Shala looked at Milek.

  “How do we know we can trust that the mortals will keep our secret?”

  Milek smiled.

  “The world appears to be a better place with you Amazons in it. We will not disclose your location.”

  “Daughters of Eve,” Jess corrected.

  Calisto smiled at Jess.

  “Actually we need a new Mother Daughter. I nominate Jessima IL Eve!”

  “I second the nomination!” shouted Madeira.

  Jess looked at Shala. “What about you Shala?”

  Shala glared at Jess. “I make it unanimous.”

  Jess embraced her sisters as she stared at Shala.

  “I feel that my first order of business is to find out who the traitor was.”

  Calisto walked up to Milek. “Would it be alright if we came with you? All we would need is a ride to the outskirts of any city.”

  “Yes,” Shala added. “We would like to see the world again. It’s been a v
ery, very long time.”

  Jess nodded. “Please leave the other helicopter here. We will have to get supplies from time to time.”

  “Agreed,” Milek said. We must go if we are going.”

  He got back into the helicopter.

  Calisto and Madeira also got in. They were excited to see the outside world. Right before Shala got in she leaned to Jess and said, “The traitor is dead, Jessima.”

  Geronimo hugged Evan tightly. “I got to tell you “Evan.” those guys in black are pretty cool.”

  “You know who they are, don’t you?” Knight responded.

  “Hell yeah!” replied Geronimo as he laughed. “But they picked up your tank from the hillside and helped me fry some Iranians. I owe ‘em. You and Jess take care. I have a great adventure to tell Molly about.”

  Jess was about to say something, but Geronimo continued, “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to leave out certain details.” He winked and gave Jess a bear hug.

  ***

  As the Chinook flew out of sight, Jess and Knight were alone for the first time.

  Knight looked concerned.

  “I’m honored I was helpful in fulfilling the prophecy. I’m just worried.”

  “About Shala?” Jess responded. “She got what she wanted. She is free to move about the world and explore it as she likes. I assume that will keep her busy enough.”

  “Yeah,” Knight replied, matter-of-factly. “I guess we can start with the repopulation now.”

  “Evan Knight!” she said, as she playfully slapped his shoulder.

  “One thing though, Jess,” he said. “When it comes to things like Eden…there always has to be a representative for good and a representative for evil. Good has you in its corner. So who’s the evil?”

  Jess said nothing as she kissed him.

  The End

  Thank you for reading the

  Evan Knight Trilogy

  I hope you enjoyed it.

  ~~~~~

  Also available:

  The Minoan Mask

  Chyna Stone Adventure #1

  by K.T. Tomb

  Available now!

  Amazon Kindle or Amazon UK

  Also available:

  The Swashbucklers

  An adventure novel by

  K.T. Tomb

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter One

  People say that James Brown was the Godfather of Soul, and that’s true enough. But if the Godfather of Soul had one soul in the world to thank, a kingmaker, then that would probably be Padraig McMillan. You’ve never heard of him, but if there was a major record label merger, or a genre defining development in soul, you could thank Paddy for it. Word had it that Gordy Jr. even sought his advice before starting Motown. Every time you heard a Supremes record, “Please Mr. Postman” by The Marvelettes, anything by Smokey Robinson, or the entire Marvin Gaye back catalogue; a couple of cents found their way to Padraig McMillan.

  The way Padraig told it, he’d bedded more famous singers than any money-man in Detroit; back when Detroit meant something other than dilapidated buildings and the ghosts of the motor industry. Of course, he said, he never allowed them to sleep with him before they cut the records; that would be unbecoming of a righteous man. That said; if they felt grateful enough after they were climbing the charts, he wasn’t going to turn down Diana Ross. Whether or not he had really made it with every female hit singer in Detroit was a secret that Paddy took to his grave at age 84. Naturally, the McMillan family members were sad, but the Old Man had been a hard-drinking cigar aficionado with a penchant for cocaine in his youth, so the only surprise was that he had lasted that long. Emphysema took him; this giant of Soul Music, who for a short decade or two was the coolest man on the face of the earth.

  Naturally, Manny McMillan, youngest of seven great-grandchildren, hated his fucking guts. It was bad enough, in his mind, to be the youngest in a family of vastly over-achieving all-star suck-ups but what was the point in being so ridiculously wealthy if all you did was go and toss it all away on getting a solid educational foundation’. It’s what his grandfather had told him every day for the last five years. His relatives a doctor, a lawyer, an assistant D.A, the vice president of an industrial equipment manufacturing company, an actor currently leading in an opera in Rome, and a major league baseball player. Only his baseball playing cousin, Ronnie, was remotely cool. That had nothing to do with him playing ball, baseball was for dorks. He was just a cool guy, didn’t give Manny any shit for living his life. Not like Gramps.

  Manny felt that, since he had a family- backed credit card, a life of ease was no less than deserved. At twenty-four years old, he had very few interests outside swimming, Xbox, parties and, of course, the one thing that he felt admiration for was his grandfather’s legendary prowess in the acquisition of beautiful women. His older sisters and cousins didn’t get it at all; they worked 60 hours a week covered in blood and gore, or neck deep in lawsuits. What’s the point when you had the means do what you want? The best thing about hearing the reading of the Old Man’s will, was that he would surely no longer be accountable to his parents for explaining the escalating credit card bills. He didn’t know if it would be property, cars, or just cold, hard cash, but he was sure he was in for a fortune.

  Manny, of course, was wrong.

  He sat slouched in the office of J. William Wright & Sons, lawyers to the McMillan family over the past half century, watching the first light winter in upstate New York settle on the windowsill. The somehow, still not dead, J. William Wright Sr. nasally reeled off a list of property, cars, cash, rights to Motown songs, stock options in at least two dozen blue chip companies, and some inexplicably valuable works of art by guys named Pollock and Rothko, there were pictures to illustrate what they were. Manny decided if these hacks could just paint a load of blocks and splotches, maybe he could do that. Art looked easy and chicks dig it. He was in a half daydream involving Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson, when someone calling his name brought him back to reality.

  “To my youngest grandson, Emmanuel,” the antiquated lawyer said. He looked like he was about to keel over from standing up so long. “I leave my briefcase and the contents therein.”

  Manny waited. Maybe the old buzzard had died on his feet, or he’d had a stroke mid-sentence. Nothing happened for a moment, and Manny was sure his heart had stopped beating in anticipation during the pregnant pause. The lawyer cleared his throat.

  “This concludes the last will and testament of Padraig Murray McMillan, recorded on this day…”

  Manny’s hearing was suddenly impaired by blood rushing into his ears. His heart had not stopped after all, actually it was now racing. Maybe the Old Man had left him something valuable in his case. Something special, that he didn’t want the other descendants to know about, in case they got jealous. Part way through his second daydream in as many minutes, he was again interrupted, this time by the perpetually disappointed face of his father. The rest of the family was getting up to leave. His father’s eyes were a little downcast, not that Manny could fathom why, having just inherited a private island and everything on it. He was graying at the brow and losing his hair at a staggering rate, though he was still on the right side of fifty and looking at him caused Manny to unconsciously run his hand over his own shaved scalp. He hoped he didn’t end up bald like that. His father was looking more like the aging Sidney Poitier by the day; his broad, wrinkled forehead jutted massively and what used to be a neck was more of a continuation of shoulders. Like his father, and Grampy Padraig, Manny shared their cruiserweight build. It was a constant reminder to him that he too would find himself going to seed early, unless he continued going to the gym and the pool.

  “Son, I know you’re not happy. Just give Gramps the benefit of the doubt. He was a smart man, smarter than you and I put together. Mr. Wright has the briefcase here.”

  His father sighed slightly. His gut sagged with the motion, reminding Manny to do some sit ups later.

  Man
ny forced a smile.

  “It’s okay, Pops. I’m sure he’s just playing around with me. I mean, he wouldn’t leave me out completely, right?”

  His father smiled the same smile as his son. Despite all the things the McMillan family was capable of doing better than most,faking happiness was not one of them.

  Chapter Two

  The briefcase was in decent condition, considering its apparent age. Manny could vaguely remember it being on his Gramps’ opulent yet stylish desk in his Hamptons residence, back when he could barely see over the mahogany lip. The leather had faded, and he could see where his grandfathers’ fingers had worn patches in it. Manny waited until he was at home -well, the apartment his parents paid the rent for, in Greenwich Village -before opening the clasps to inspect the contents of the case. He had been anticipating this day since he had been old enough to understand that money was what made the world go round. To his chagrin, there were no diamonds, bundles of cash, or keys to an Aston Martin in there. What Manny found instead, was a piece of carefully rolled yellowed parchment, and a rewritable DVD in a plastic sleeve.

  His name was carefully printed on it in marker. Padraig’s hands had shaken quite badly towards the end of his life, and it was evident here. The straight lines of the M and Y were terribly crooked. First, Manny unrolled the parchment, which was tiny, no bigger than his palm. It bore a crude drawing in ink. It looked like… a crappy cheap treasure map. Like the ones Manny and his brothers had made as kids, staining paper with old tea to get that worn out look. He had the urge to throw it in the fire he had going in the fire place, but settled for crumpling it a bit and tossing it on the couch.

  As he pressed the ‘open’ button on the DVD player and slid in the disk, Manny felt a little numb. When he clicked play on the remote, he wasn’t surprised to see his grandfather appear on the screen. He looked better than he had at the end, but still old. The video had been recorded probably a year ago; no, a year and a half, judging by the warm spring garden that could be seen over the shoulders of Padraig McMillan, as he sat at his formidable desk.