The Amulet of Power

by Mike Resnick

  “I acknowledge that you are the Expected One.”

  “All right,” he said. “You have been Forerunner to my Messiah. I will not harm you further today, and nothing can harm me. I’ll be leaving for the Sudan later this morning. It would be best if you never returned there, because if we should ever meet again I will consider you my blood enemy.” He stared at her and a fanatical glow seemed to spread across his handsome face. “You have the Mahdi’s solemn word on that.”

  And then Khaled Ahmed Mohammed el-Shakir walked out of the Grande Anse Church, his prize around his neck, ready to lay claim to the ownership of the world, and to cleanse the path to his throne with the blood of all who opposed him.

  34

  Lara picked up her pistols, then began walking to the Mercedes. On the way she encountered the pudgy priest, who was cautiously approaching the church.

  “Are you all right, my child?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I heard gunshots,” he said. “Dozens of them. Perhaps hundreds. I waited until I was sure they were done, and then—”

  “They’re done,” said Lara. He was about to continue toward the church when she blocked his way. “Father, you’re about to see a sight that will probably sicken and terrify you and will surely make you want to summon the police.”

  “Is someone—?”

  “A lot of someones,” she said. “I want you to remember that I urged you to get away to a place of safety.”

  “I remember.”

  “That advice saved your life, Father. Now I want you to return the favor.”

  He looked puzzled. “How?”

  “Don’t report what you see here for three hours,” said Lara. “Four would be even better. After that you can tell anyone you want.”

  “You are asking me to neglect my duty.”

  “Your duty is to the living,” said Lara. “That’s me—and I won’t remain among the living if you don’t help me.” She stared at him. “Will you?”

  He considered her request for an uncomfortably long moment, then finally nodded his agreement. “I’ll do as you ask.”

  “You’d be a lot happier not even going to the church for a few hours.”

  “If someone’s suffering or in pain, I must go to them.”

  “Nobody’s suffering anymore,” she said coldly.

  “Go,” said the priest. “Your three hours have already started.”

  She walked to the car without another word, got into it, and headed back to the Chateau de Feuilles. When she got there she found Oliver standing in front of the reception area, his Magnum tucked in his belt.

  “Where the hell were you?” he demanded as he walked up to the Mercedes. “And don’t give me any crap about the Amitie airstrip. You didn’t need your pistols to buy new clothes.”

  “You didn’t need a Magnum to eat your breakfast,” she responded with a smile.

  “Damn it, Lara, are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

  “It’s all but over,” she said. “Get in the car. I’ve got one last thing to do.”

  A moment later they were driving away from the Chateau again, this time toward the Valleé de Mai.

  “So what happened?” persisted Oliver.

  “I took care of business,” she replied calmly. “In another few hours, all the Mahdists and Silent Ones will know that Khaled Ahmed Mohammed el-Shakir has the Amulet, and then they’ll finally stop trying to kill me.”

  “Khaled Ahmed who?”

  “A renegade Mahdist traveling under the name of Kevin Mason Junior.”

  “Mason! He followed you here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And now he has the Amulet.”

  She smiled grimly. “Now he has an amulet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You said something on the flight here from Nairobi that got me to thinking, and I realized that Kevin was not who he said he was, that he’d rescued me and kept me alive for one reason and one reason only: the hope that I’d lead him to the Amulet. I knew by the time we touched down in Mahé that if I actually found the Amulet, he’d be waiting to take it away from me.” She paused. “Do you remember when I had Ibraham take me to a gift shop in Victoria?”

  “You bought an amulet?”

  “That’s right. No one knows what the real one looks like, just that it was bronze, and may have had a silver chain. They think it may have had a sword and a dagger emblazoned on it, but they’re not sure. So I went to the best artisan on the island and picked out an amulet—complete with sword and dagger—that could pass for the Amulet of Mareish.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “The reason I took such a long nap yesterday was that I had to plant the amulet in the middle of the night, when no one was around to see what I was doing. I drove out to Grande Anse, got into the church, put it under a cornerstone of the altar, and came back to the Chateau about two hours before sunrise.”

  “So for all you know, the real Amulet was in the church, too,” said Oliver.

  “It’s not.”

  “What makes you so sure? Did you search the church before you hid the false amulet?”

  “I didn’t have to,” replied Lara. “I did my homework, and from all the mistakes he’d made, I knew that Kevin wouldn’t do his.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The church was built in 1903. Gordon died in 1885; he couldn’t have hidden it there,” she ended triumphantly. “Any questions?”

  “Just one.”

  “Ask away.”

  “I know you, Lara, and I know how good you are with those,” said Oliver, gesturing to her guns. “If you knew he was watching you, he couldn’t have taken you by surprise. . . . So why didn’t you shoot him?”

  “You’re not thinking clearly, Malcolm,” she said. “What do you suppose would have happened if I’d killed him?”

  “He’d be dead.”

  “And then what?”

  “You’re still a step ahead of me,” said Oliver. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

  “Nothing would have changed,” answered Lara. “Every Mahdist still would be out to kill me because they were sure I’d found it and killed him in a fight over it, and every Silent One would be out to kill me to make sure I never found it. This way Kevin—or rather, Khaled Ahmed Mohammed el-Shakir—becomes the lightning rod. Let them all think he’s got it and leave me alone.”

  “But if it won’t work . . .”

  “When it doesn’t work they’ll blame the legend, or they’ll blame Kevin—but they won’t blame me or come looking for me.”

  “That leads to another question. He’s clearly a dangerous man, so why didn’t he kill you?”

  “He thinks he’s got the true Amulet. It gives him total power over me, which means I can’t possibly be a threat to him. And,” she added, “both of us were without our guns. If he’d tried to get his weapon to kill me after I threw the fistfight, I’d have dispatched him with this.” She pulled the Scalpel of Isis far enough out of her boot for Oliver to see it, then pushed it back in.

  “So it’s finally over,” said Oliver. “What do we do now—give him a day’s head start and then leave for home?”

  “No,” she said. “Now we pick up the real Amulet—and we do it fast. I’m in a bit of a time bind. I have to get off Praslin before anyone reports what happened at the Grande Anse church.”

  “You sound like you know where the Amulet is.”

  “I’ve known since Khartoum.”

  “You never said a word about it, never confided in me,” said Oliver in hurt tones.

  “Let me amend that,” replied Lara. “I’ve known what to look for since Khartoum. I found it when we were driving around the island yesterday.”

  “You did? I don’t remember a damned thing.”

  “You didn’t know what to look for,” she said. “I did.”

  “What the hell did you see?”

  “We’re almost there
.”

  “We’re almost at the Vallée de Mai,” he said. “There’s nothing there but the coco de mer forest.”

  “Yes there is,” she said, pulling off the road and coming to a stop. “Here we are.” Oliver looked out and saw a very small stone building.

  “This?” he asked unbelievingly. “We passed it yesterday.”

  “This,” she said. “Take a look at the inscription above the door.”

  He read it aloud. “Church of the Chevalier, established 1856.”

  “No one uses it anymore, but it’s the only church near the coco de mer valley still standing from Gordon’s era,” said Lara. “If he was going to hide the Amulet in his Eden, this is the place. I spotted it yesterday, and checked the inscription late last night when I was planting the false amulet. This is the place, all right.”

  She pushed against the door. It creaked open, and a beam of sunlight shone through the dust and cobwebs. There was a cross on the back wall, a small altar just in front of it, four benches—she wouldn’t dignify them by calling them pews—and a pair of paintings of the crucifixion on facing walls to her right and left.

  “Tiny room,” remarked Oliver. He walked around it. “I don’t see a thing. Could you have been wrong?”

  “It’s here, all right.”

  “Where?”

  “Let’s find out.” Lara turned to the center of the room. “I made it this far. Are you going to help me the rest of the way?”

  “Me?” asked Oliver, puzzled.

  “No, not you.”

  Look before you, Lara Croft, whispered the non-voice.

  And suddenly the Amulet, the true Amulet of Mareish, appeared on the small altar, attached to a thin silver chain.

  “My God, there it is!” exclaimed Oliver, stepping forward.

  Lara reached out and grabbed his arm. “Stop.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “This is too easy,” she said. “Let me think for a minute.”

  “But you said the Amulet wants to be found. Here’s proof of it!”

  “But the Amulet didn’t hide itself. Gordon’s man did—and Gordon would have booby-trapped it, just in case someone from the Mahdi’s side ever found it.”

  “It was invisible,” protested Oliver. “Isn’t that protection enough?”

  “From you and me and even el-Shakir, yes,” said Lara. “But the Mahdists have enlisted sorcerers on their side, and for all I know so have the Silent Ones. I have a feeling invisibility doesn’t work on them.”

  Come, Lara Croft. Step forward. Touch me. Feel the power course through your body.

  “Just a minute!” said Lara. “Invisibility was the Amulet’s protection! Gordon would have sent it with a normal man. It’ll be booby-trapped the way a normal man would have done it back in 1885.”

  “But once he touched the Amulet he wouldn’t have been a normal man,” Oliver pointed out.

  “The Amulet’s still here,” replied Lara. “That means he never touched it. Gordon would have wrapped it thoroughly, in such a way that no part of it could ever come into contact with his man. Once he was here he probably cut the wrappings, or pulled a string and had the wrappings come away, still without touching it.” She stared at the Amulet. “All right, we know Gordon himself didn’t bring it here, and neither did Colonel Stewart. So it would have been brought by a Sudanese, probably a relatively unsophisticated man who had never been out of the country before. So how would he have protected it?”

  She walked slowly around the altar, studying it, trying to spot the trap.

  “Knives?” she mused. “Poison dust?” She grimaced. “I’m approaching it wrong. He wouldn’t know how to rig that. It’s got to be simpler.”

  She stared at the ceiling above the altar. “It looks intact. Nothing’s going to fall on me if I pick up the Amulet. And the walls are solid. Nothing’s going to shoot out of them.” She circled the altar again. “It wouldn’t be something like a mamba, or even a Deathstalker scorpion. He’d know they wouldn’t live that long.” She leaned over the Amulet and studied the surface of the altar. “Nothing rough enough to break the skin, and even if there was, how long could a poison retain its potency? He may not have been sophisticated, but he wasn’t stupid. Gordon would never have entrusted the mission to a stupid man.”

  She stepped back, still studying the Amulet.

  “All right,” she continued. “It’s not the ceiling. It’s not the walls. It’s not the surface of the altar. It can’t be the Amulet itself, because he never touched it. It’s not an animal or an insect. What’s left?”

  And then: “Of course! Malcolm, go outside and find me a long branch. Trim the leaves off it and bring it back.”

  Oliver left the church.

  I knew you would be the one. With your indomitable will and my limitless power, we will be the absolute rulers of the world. I will impart my secrets to you, and all shall tremble before us.

  Oliver returned with a stripped branch and handed it to her. She walked over to the altar.

  “Stand back, Malcolm,” she said. “I don’t know how far away we have to be. Not very, considering it’s rigged to kill someone who actually grabs the Amulet, but it doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side.”

  She held one end of the branch and reached out toward the altar, sliding the other end through the silver chain. She slowly lifted it up—and the instant it was no longer in contact with the altar, sharp spring-loaded spikes jumped out in all four directions.

  “Not bad for 1885,” said Lara. She pointed the branch toward the ceiling and let the Amulet slide down to her waiting hand. As her fingers closed around it, she felt a surge of power and energy such as she had never experienced in her life.

  “So we’ve finally got it!” said Oliver.

  “Yes,” she said, still trying to adjust to the feeling. She held the Amulet up and stared at it. “It’s everything they said it was, Malcolm.”

  “I know,” said Oliver. “It seems to be calling out to me.”

  “You, too?” she said, surprised.

  “It’s like a magnet, drawing me to it,” he said, a strange look in his eyes. “Whoever possesses the Amulet will never have to worry about money again. Or enemies. He can have every woman he desires. The Mahdi knew nothing but the desert . . . but think of what it could do for its owner in Europe or America!”

  “That’s why Gordon hid it,” said Lara. “He wasn’t just worried about the Mahdi. He knew its power to corrupt any man or woman.”

  “Let me see it for a minute, Lara,” said Oliver, holding out his hand.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think that would be very wise.”

  “I’m not asking you,” he said. “I’m telling you.”

  “And I’m telling you no. It’s affecting you already, Malcolm.”

  Suddenly he pulled his Magnum out of his belt. “Don’t make me use this on you, Lara. I want that thing, and I’m going to have it!”

  “What’s happened to you?” she said. “I almost don’t recognize you any more!”

  “I’ll kill you if I have to!” grated Oliver. “Hand it over!”

  “Then you’ll have to kill me.”

  If she was counting on his innate decency to overcome the effect the Amulet had on him, she was mistaken. He pointed the gun right at her heart and pulled the trigger—

  —and nothing happened.

  He frowned and fired twice more. There were two more explosions of sound, and still Lara stood there facing him.

  He checked the Magnum, searching for the malfunction.

  “It’s not the gun, Malcolm,” she said. “As long as I’m in possession of the Amulet, you can’t kill me.”

  Something snapped inside Oliver, and with a roar of rage he launched himself at her. The force of his attack knocked her over. Ordinarily she’d have pulled out her Black Demons and dispatched him, or at least defended herself with the Scalpel of Isis, but she knew she couldn’t be killed, and she had no desire to kill a friend who’d gone
temporarily insane due to his proximity to the Amulet.

  She tried to get up, but he threw himself on her and began pummeling her with both hands.

  It hurts! she thought, surprised. I thought I was invulnerable.

  You are immortal, said the voice within her head. You cannot be killed, but that is all.

  “Great!” she muttered. “So I could spend the next five thousand years in a wheelchair!” And if Malcolm hadn’t aimed those shots at vital areas, I’d have three bullet wounds now.

  She tried to push Oliver off, but he was fighting with an energy born of madness, and he kept smashing his fists into her, right, left, right, left.

  And then, suddenly, he was lifted high in the air and hurled against a wall of the tiny church.

  Lara got to her feet and saw three of the huge, shambling sand creatures, the same that she had seen in the desert, approaching Oliver. He seemed to come out of his madness as they closed in on him, and began screaming in terror.

  Two of the sand creatures grabbed his arms, and the third reached out a huge hand and closed it around his head. They each pulled, and his arms and head came away from his body.

  Lara turned away in disgust, then realized that she was alone in the church with three supernatural beings that had just killed her friend. She looked to the door, but one of the creatures stood directly in front of it. There was only one window, and it was too small and too high for her to climb through it before they caught her.

  She knew from past experience that bullets wouldn’t stop the creatures. Maybe the wind might, but there was no wind inside the church. She had once thought water would be effective against them, but there wasn’t any water either.

  The three sand creatures approached to within ten feet of her, then eight, then five.

  She pulled the Scalpel of Isis out of her boot, prepared to sell her life as dearly as possible.

  “Come on!” she grated. “I’m ready for you!”

  But instead of attacking her, the three creatures knelt down in front of her.

  They are the Servants of the Amulet, said a voice deep inside her head. As they did with this man, so will they do with all our enemies.

  “There are a lot of Mahdists the world could do without,” she said softly. “Not to mention the Silent Ones.” And then, she added mentally, we’ll go after the murderers, the rapists, the child molesters. Then the terrorist states. And then . . .