Last Guardian

by David Gemmell

  “Hear me, Lord. I have done your bidding.”

  Pendarric’s face shimmered before him. “The scrolls,” he said. “Read them.”

  The Parson lifted a section of gold foil and unrolled it. “I cannot make out the symbols,” he said.

  “I can. Discard that one. Take another.”

  One by one the Parson opened the foils, his eyes scanning the curious sticklike symbols. At last, when he had finished, he looked into the eyes of God and saw that they were troubled.

  “What must I do, Lord?” he whispered.

  “Bring the Sword of God to the earth,” Pendarric told him. “Today. There is a peak to the south. Climb it—but first lay your stone upon the body of the priest beside you. Place it on his blood. There it will gather strength. When you have climbed the peak, lift the stone and call upon the sword. Bring it to you. You understand?”

  “Yes,” answered the Parson. “Oh, yes. My dreams fulfilled. Thank you, Lord. What then must I do?”

  “We will speak again when you have obeyed me.” The face disappeared.

  The Parson laid his stone on the bleeding chest of the priest, watching as the blood seemed to flow into it, swelling its veins. Then he took it once more and rose.

  From outside came the sound of more gunshots. He ran through the hallway and down the steps and leapt to his horse. Ignoring the reptiles, he galloped back to the main gateway and on to fulfill God’s wishes.

  Shannow ran from the room when the first shots sounded, pushing past Amaziga and taking the steps two at a time. The courtyard was deserted except for the two horses tethered there. More shots came from the temple building, and Shannow drew his pistols and advanced across the courtyard. A reptile ran into view with a rifle in his hands. As Shannow’s pistol came up, the reptile spotted him and swung his weapon to bear. Shannow’s gun fired; the creature spun back into the wall and fell to his face on the stones.

  The Jerusalem Man waited for several seconds, watching the entrances, but no other reptiles came in sight. He ducked past the fountain and ran across the open space to the rear of the temple, where a wooden door blocked his access. Lifting his foot, he crashed it against the lock, and the door burst inward. A shot splintered the wood of the frame as he dived through and rolled to his left. Bullets hissed and whined around him, ricocheting from the mosaic floor. As he came to his knees behind a pillar, he heard the sound of running feet from the right. Twisting, he leveled his pistols … three reptiles died. He watched the Parson run from a doorway to the left; two Daggers moved aside to let him pass, and Shannow killed them both. A shell tore through the collar of his coat, and he returned the fire but missed. Then he was up and running for a second pillar as bullets hissed by him. A Dagger ran into his path with his knife raised. Shannow shot twice into the beast’s body. All around, the reptiles were running for the great doorway.

  Silence fell within the temple as Shannow reloaded his pistols and stood silently. Amaziga appeared in the doorway, Nu and Oshere with her, and ran to the room from which Shannow had seen the Parson emerge. The Jerusalem Man returned his guns to their scabbards and followed them. Within the small chamber Nu was kneeling with Amaziga beside a dying priest. He was old and white-bearded, and his chest was stained with blood.

  “I am the leaf,” whispered the priest as Nu lifted his head and cradled him.

  “God is the tree,” Nu responded softly.

  “The circle is complete,” said the man. “Now I will know the Law of the One, the circle of God.”

  “Now you will know,” said Nu. “The streams flow into the rivers, the rivers into the sea, the sea into the clouds, the clouds into the streams. The rich earth into the tree, the tree to the leaf, the leaf to the earth. All life forms the circle of God.”

  The dying priest smiled. “You are a believer. I am glad. Your circle goes on.”

  “What did they want? What did they take?” asked Amaziga.

  “Nothing,” answered the priest. “He read the sacred scrolls and summoned a demon. The demon told him to bring the Sword of God to the earth.”

  “No!” Amaziga whispered.

  “It is of no matter, Chreena,” said the priest, his voice fading. His head fell back in Nu’s arms; the shipbuilder gently lowered the body to the floor and rose.

  “They were fine words,” Shannow told him.

  “They are part of the writings of the One. There is perfection only in the circle, Shannow; to understand that is to understand God.” Nu smiled and began to walk around the chamber, searching the carved walls, studying each projection. Shannow joined him.

  “What do you seek?”

  “I’m not sure. The stones would have been kept in this room, but I have no idea where—only the high priest knew, and he passed the knowledge to his successor.”

  The room was small and square, though the altar was circular. The limestone walls were splendidly sculpted with graceful figures with painted eyes and long, tapering hands that reached for the sky. Shannow walked to the altar and gazed down on the flat, polished surface. Engraved there and filled with gold leaf was a wondrous tree with golden leaves. He ran his fingers lightly over the surface, tracing the branches. The design was beautiful and restful to the eye. Around the rim of the altar birds were carved: some in flight, some nesting, others feeding their young. Again the principle was the circle from the egg to the sky. His fingers traced over the carvings, resting at last on the nest and the single egg. It moved under his fingers, and, taking a firm grip, he lifted the egg clear. It was small and perfectly white, but once it was in his hand it became warm, the color growing from white to cream, to yellow, and finally to gold.

  “I have what you seek,” he said, and Nu came to him and took the golden egg from his palm.

  “Yes,” Nu agreed, his voice low. “You have indeed.”

  “The stone from heaven,” said Oshere. “Wondrous. What will you do now?”

  “It is not mine to take,” replied Nu. “But if it were, I would return to my land and try to save my wife and children from the coming cataclysm.”

  “Then take it,” Oshere told him.

  “No!” cried Amaziga. “I need it. You need it. I cannot watch you change again.”

  Oshere turned away from her. “I … wish you to have the stone, Nu-Khasisatra. I am a prince of the Dianae. The high priest is dead, and I have the right to bestow the stone. Take it. Use it well.”

  “Let me have it just for a moment,” pleaded Amaziga. “Let me make Oshere well again.”

  “No!” Oshere shouted. “The Sipstrassi will not work against itself; you have seen that. It made me what I am. The power is too great to waste on a man like me. Can you not understand that, Chreena? I am a lion who walks like a man. Even magic cannot change what I am … what I will become. It does not matter, Chreena. You and I, we will see the ocean, and that is all I want.”

  “What about what I want?” she asked him. “I love you, Oshere.”

  “And I love you, Dark Lady … more than life. I always will. But nothing is forever, not even love.” He turned to Nu. “How will you find your way home?”

  “There is a circle of stones beyond what was once the royal gardens. I shall go there.”

  “I will walk with you,” said Oshere, and the three men left the chamber. Amaziga stayed beside the dead priest, staring at the golden scrolls.

  The circle of stones had been largely untouched by the centuries, though one stone had cracked and fallen. Nu walked to the center of the circle and offered his hand to Shannow.

  “I learned much, my friend,” he said. “Yet I did not discover the Sword of God as I was commanded.”

  “I’ll find it, Nu … and do what needs to be done. You find your family.”

  “Farewell, Shannow. God’s love be with you.”

  Shannow and Oshere walked out of the circle, and Nu lifted the stone and cried out in a language Shannow could not understand. There was no flash of light, no drama. One moment he was there … the next he had
gone.

  Shannow felt a sense of loss as he turned to Oshere. “You are a man of courage,” he said.

  “No, Shannow, I wish that I were. But Sipstrassi has made me what I am. Chreena used the magic of the stones to reshape me, but almost immediately I began to revert. She is a stubborn woman, and she would use all the stones in the world to hold me. Such a gift from God should not be wasted in that way.”

  The two men walked slowly back to the temple. Crowds had gathered, and the bodies of the slain priests were being carried from the building. “Why did they not fight?” asked Shannow. “There were so few of the enemy.”

  “We are not warriors, Shannow. We do not believe in murder.”

  Inside the temple Amaziga joined them, her face set and hard.

  “We must talk, Shannow. Excuse us, Oshere.” She led the Jerusalem Man back into the inner sanctum; the priest’s body was gone, but blood still stained the floor. Amaziga swung on him. “You must follow the killer and stop him. It is vital.”

  “Why? What harm can he do?”

  “The sword must be left as it is.”

  “I still do not see why. If it serves God’s purpose …”

  “God, Shannow? God has nothing to do with the sword. Sword? What am I saying? It is not a sword, Shannow; it is a missile—a nuclear missile. A flying bomb.”

  “Then the Parson will blow himself to hell. Why concern yourself?”

  “He will blow us all to hell. You have no conception of the power of that missile, Shannow. It will destroy everything that you could see from the tower. For two hundred miles the earth will be scorched and laid bare. Can you comprehend that?”

  “Explain it to me.”

  Amaziga took a deep breath, trying to marshal her words. She was a Guardian and a teacher, her memory had been enhanced by Sipstrassi, and she could summon all the facts concerning the missile, yet none of them would help her explain it to Shannow. It was an MX (Missile eXperimental). Length: 34.3 meters. Diameter: 225 centimeters at first stage. Speed: 18,000 miles per hour at burnout. Range: 14,000 kilometers. Yield: 10 × 350 kilotons. Ten warheads, each with the capacity to destroy a city. How could she explain that to an Armageddon savage?

  “In the Between Times, Shannow, there was great fear and hatred. Men built awesome weapons, and one was used on a city during a terrible war. It destroyed the city utterly; hundreds of thousands of people were killed by that single blast. But soon the bombs were made even more powerful, and great rockets were constructed that could carry the bombs from one continent to another.”

  “How did the nations survive?”

  “They didn’t, Shannow,” she said simply.

  “And these bombs caused the earth to topple?”

  “Not exactly. But that is not important. The … Parson?… must not be allowed to interfere with the missile.”

  “Why does it stand in the sky? Why is it surrounded by crosses, if not from God?” he asked.

  “Come back to my rooms and I will tell you as best I can. I do not have all the answers. But promise me, Shannow, that when I have explained it to you, you will ride to stop him.”

  “I will decide that when you have explained it all.”

  He followed her to her chambers and sat down opposite her desk.

  “You know,” she said, “that this land was once below the oceans? Where we are now was once an area of sea known as the Devil’s Triangle. It acquired that name because of the unexplained disappearances of ships and planes. You understand about planes?”

  “No.”

  “Men used to … It was discovered that it was possible for machines to take to the skies. They were called planes; they had wide wings and engines that propelled them at great speeds through the air. What you will see clustered in the sky around the … sword, are not crucifixes or crosses but planes. They are trapped in some sort of stasis field … Dear God, Shannow, this is impossible!” She poured a goblet of wine from the pitcher on her desk and drank deeply, then leaned forward. “The Atlanteans used the power of a great Sipstrassi Stone and aimed it at the sky. Why, I do not know, but they did it. When Atlantis sank beneath the oceans, the power of the stone continued. It trapped more than a hundred planes and ships. It would have been more, but the field is very narrow; the power has been decreasing over the years, and the ships fell to earth. You can still find their ruined hulks out on the desert beyond the Chaos Peak. How it trapped the missile I can only guess. When the earth toppled for the second time, there were massive earthquakes. By then the weapons centers were run by computers, and they probably registered the enormous earthquakes as nuclear strikes and responded. That’s why the levels of radiation are still so high over most of the world. The earth toppled, missiles were released, and any opportunity of salvaging some remnants of civilization was gone. This missile was probably fired from somewhere in a country called America. It crossed the stasis field and has remained there for three hundred years.”

  “But surely the Between Timers would have seen—as we do—the planes hanging in the air. If they had such great weapons, why did they not destroy the stone?”

  “I don’t think they could see the planes. I think the Sipstrassi was originally programmed to hold the objects in another dimension that is invisible to us. Only when the power began to drain did they become visible.”

  Shannow shook his head. “I do not understand any of this, Amaziga; it is beyond me. Planes? Stasis fields? Computers? But I have been having strange dreams lately. I am sitting in a crystal bubble inside a giant cross high in the sky. There is a voice whispering in my ear; it is someone called Tower, and he is telling me to assume a bearing due west. My voice—and yet not my voice—tells him we do not know which way is west. Everything is wrong … strange. Even the ocean does not look as it should.”

  “The crystal bubble, Shannow, is the cockpit of a plane. And the voice you heard was not from someone called Tower but the control tower in a place called Fort Lauderdale. And the voice that was yours and yet not yours was that of Lieutenant Charles Taylor, flying one of five Navy Avenger torpedo bombers on a training run. You can still see them in formation close to the missile. Trust me, Shannow. Stop the Parson.”

  He rose. “I don’t know that I can. But I will try,” he told her.

  32

  BETH MCADAM AWOKE with her head pounding and her body sore. She sat up and saw the two men who had dragged her from her cabin. Grabbing a rock, she pushed herself to her feet. “You slimy sons of bitches!” she hissed. The taller of the men rose smoothly to his feet and moved toward her. Her hand flew up, with the rock poised to smash his temple, but he blocked the blow with ease and backhanded her to the ground.

  “Do not seek to annoy me,” he said. His hair was chalk-white, his face young and unlined. He knelt beside her. “You will come to no harm; you have the promise of Magellas. We merely need you to help us complete a mission.”

  “My children?”

  “They are unharmed. And the man Lindian struck was only unconscious; there was no lasting damage.”

  “What is this mission?” she asked, tensing herself for a second attack.

  “Do not be foolish,” he advised her. “If you choose to be troublesome, I will break both your arms.” Beth let the rock fall from her fingers. “You ask about our mission,” he continued, smiling. “We are sent to dispatch Jon Shannow. He holds you in some esteem, and he will give himself up to us in return for your safety.”

  “In a pig’s eye!” she retorted. “He’ll kill you both.”

  “I do not think so. I have come to know Jon Shannow, to respect him—even to like him. He will surrender himself.”

  “If you like him, how can you think of killing him?”

  “What has emotion to do with duty? The king, my father, says Shannow must die. Then he will die.”

  “Why don’t you just face him like men?”

  Magellas chuckled. “We are executioners, not duelists. Had I been instructed to face him on equal terms, then I would h
ave done so, as would my brother Lindian. But it is not necessary and therefore would constitute a foolish risk. Now we will proceed with—or without—your willing help. But I do not wish to break your arms. Will you help us? Your children need you, Beth McAdam.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you will stay with us and not try any more foolishness with rocks.”

  “I don’t have a lot of choices, do I?”

  “Say the words anyway. It will make me feel more relaxed.”

  “I’ll do as you say. That good enough for you?”

  “It will suffice. We have prepared some food, and it would be our pleasure if you joined us for a meal.”

  “Where are we?” Beth asked.

  “We are sitting in one of your holy places, I believe,” answered Magellas, pointing to the star-filled sky. Several hundred feet above them, glistening silver in the moonlight, hung the Sword of God.

  Amaziga Archer sat alone after Shannow had gone. On her desk were the sacred scrolls guarded by the Dianae. Her husband, Samuel, had spent four years teaching her the meaning of the symbols, which resembled the cuneiform writings of ancient Mesopotamia. For the main part the gold foils were covered with astrological notes and charts of star systems. But the last three, including one missed by the Parson, contained the thoughts of the astrologer Araksis.

  Amaziga read the words of the first two and shivered.

  There was much there that was beyond her, but it tallied with ancient legends concerning the doom of Atlantis. They had found a great power source but had misused it, and the oceans had risen up and the continent had been buried beneath the waves. Now Amaziga understood. In opening the gates of time they had altered the delicate balance of gravity. Instead of spinning contentedly around the sun, the earth had been exposed to the gravitational pull of a second sun and perhaps more. The earthquakes and volcanic eruptions outlined in Araksis’ scrolls were merely indications of a tortured world pulled in opposing directions and teetering on its axis. The earthquakes now were exactly the same; with two colossal suns in the sky, the gravitational drag was causing the planet to tremble.