The Last Guardian (31 page)

“This is beautiful country,” said Scayse. “Godforsaken but beautiful.”

Shannow said nothing. He was scanning the horizon, seeking any sign of the reptiles. He and Scayse had passed through the gap in the wall and come across many tracks, but of the enemy there was no sign. Shannow was disturbed. As long as he knew where his enemy was, he could plan to defeat or avoid him. But the Daggers had vanished, the tracks seeming to indicate that they had headed for the woods to the west of the campsite.

“Not much of a talker, are you, Shannow?”

“When I have something to say, Scayse. There seems to be a meeting going on down there,” said Shannow, pointing to the center of the campsite.

“Well, let’s get down there. I don’t want decisions taken without me.”

Shannow walked ahead, leading the stallion. A sentry spotted them, recognizing Scayse, and the two men were ushered through a break in the perimeter wall. As the
Parson strode to meet them, Shannow saw that his face was flushed and his eyes angry.

“Trouble, Parson?” he asked.

“A prophet is not without honor, save in his own land,” snapped the Parson. “Where are the other men?”

“All dead,” replied Scayse. “What’s going on?”

Swiftly the Parson told them of the meeting and what he described as its satanic outcome. “It might have been different had you been here,” he told Shannow, but the Jerusalem Man did not reply; he led his horse to the picket line by the lake, stripped the saddle, and brushed down the stallion for several minutes. Then he fed him grain, allowed him to drink at the lakeside, and tethered him to the line.

Shannow wandered through the campsite seeking Beth McAdam. He found her by her wagon, sitting at a fire with Josiah Broome and Nu, her children lying asleep beside her, wrapped in blankets. “May I join you?” asked the Jerusalem Man.

Beth made a space for him beside her, but Broome stood. “Thank you, Beth, for your company. I will leave you now.”

“There’s no need to rush, Josiah. Where is there to go?”

“I think I’ll get some sleep.” He nodded to Shannow and walked away.

“The man does not like me,” said Shannow as Beth passed him a cup of Baker’s.

“No, he doesn’t. You heard what happened?”

“Yes. How are you faring, Nu?”

The shipbuilder shrugged. “I am well, Shannow. But your Parson is unhappy; he feels I am a devil’s disciple. I am sorry for him. He is under great strain yet has performed wonders holding the people together. He is a good leader, but like all leaders he has a belief that only he is right.”

A burst of gunfire came from the western woods more than a mile away. Shannow stood and gazed across the
open ground, but he could see nothing and the sound faded. Returning to his seat, he finished his drink.

“I think I know how I might get home,” said Nu. “The temple at Ad had an inner sanctuary where once a year the Elders would heal supplicants. They had Sipstrassi. If the end came suddenly, perhaps the stones are still hidden there.”

“A good thought,” said Shannow. “I am riding there myself. Come with me.”

“What do you plan to do there?” asked Beth.

“It is said—by the Parson and others—to be a city of beasts ruled by a dark queen. I shall go to her, tell her of the reptiles and the attack.”

“But she is evil,” protested Beth. “You’ll be killed.”

“Who is to say she is evil?” answered Shannow. “The Parson has never seen her. No one has come beyond the wall in years. I trust my own eyes, Beth McAdam.”

“But the beast back in the town, the lion-creature. You saw it. It was terrifying.”

“I also met such a creature when I was in need, Beth. He healed my wounds and tended me. He told me of the Dark Lady; he said she was a teacher who worked among the people of the Lion, the Bear, and the Wolf. I will not trust to rumor. I will make no judgments.”

“But if you are wrong …”

“So be it.”

“I will come with you, Shannow,” Nu said. “I need a stone. I need to return home. My world is about to die, and I must be there.”

Shannow nodded. “Let us walk a while. There are matters we must speak of.” The two men strolled to the lake and sat by the waters. “When we spoke on the hillside,” said Shannow, “you told me of the king and his evil. But you did not say his name. Tell me, is it Pendarric?”

“Yes. The king of kings. Is it important?”

“I owe the man my life. He saved me twice. He came to me in a dream three years ago and showed me his
sword, saying that if ever I saw it in life and had need of it, I should reach for it and it would come to me. When I fought Sarento in the cavern of the Mother Stone, I saw the image of the sword carved on an altar. I stretched out my hand, and the blade appeared. Later, when the cavern flooded and I was dying, Pendarric’s face appeared beside me, leading me to safety.”

“I do not understand all this, Shannow. What are you trying to tell me?”

“I owe him. I cannot go against him.”

Nu picked up a flat stone and skimmed it across the water. “There was a time when Pendarric was a good king, even a great one. But the sons of Belial came to him and showed him the power of Sipstrassi when fed by blood. He changed, Shannow. Evil swamped him. I have seen children hauled up by their ankles over the altars of Molech-Belial, their throats cut. I have seen young women slaughtered in the hundreds.”

“But I have not, though I know you speak the truth, because Pendarric told me he was the king who had destroyed the world. He will fall whatever I do or do not do.”

Nu skimmed a second stone. “I build ships, Shannow. I shape the keels, I work the wood. Everything in its place and its rightful order. You cannot start with the deck and build around it. It is the same with Pendarric. You and I are servants of the Creator, and He also believes in order. He created the universe, the suns and moons and stars. Then the world. Then the creatures of the sea. Lastly He placed man upon the earth. All in order.”

“What has this to do with Pendarric?”

“Everything. He has changed the order of the universe. Atlantis is dead, Shannow; it died twelve thousand years ago. Yet it is here, its sun shining alongside our own. The spirit Pendarric who saved you is yet to be. The king beyond is not yet him. You understand? The evil ruler
who is trying to conquer worlds beyond imagination has not yet met you. Only
after
the doom of Atlantis will he come into your life. Therefore, you owe him nothing. There is another thought, too, Shannow. You have already gone against him, and perhaps he now knows of you. Perhaps that is why he came to you three years ago. He already knew you, though you had no knowledge of him.”

“My mind feels like a kitten chasing its tail,” said Shannow, smiling, “but I think I understand. Even so, I will not go against him directly.”

“You may be forced to,” Nu told him. “If two ships are lashed together in a storm and one is holed, what happens to the other?”

“I do not know. They both sink?”

“Indeed they do. Then think on this, my friend. Pendarric has joined our two worlds together. There is a gateway to the past. What happens when the oceans rise?”

Shannow shivered and gazed at the stars. “In Balacris,” he said, “I had a vision. I saw the tidal wave sweeping toward the city—higher than mountains and black as the pit. I watched it roar. It was a terrible sight. You think it would pour through the gateway?”

“What would stop it?”

Both men were silent for a while, then Shannow reached into his pocket and removed the golden coin he had found in Shir-ran’s cave. He stared down at the engraving.

“What is it?” asked Nu.

“The Sword of God,” Shannow whispered.

Bull reined in his horse and listened to the sudden flurry of gunshots. He had followed the Daggers at a discreet distance, watching them climb to the timberline, guessing that their objective was to circle the campsite and attack under cover of darkness. He had been about to ride back
and warn the Parson when the shots shattered the silence. He glanced back at the distant camp with its twinkling fires. If he returned now, he would have little to report. He drew his gun and checked the loads, then with pistol in hand steered his horse into the trees. He rode slowly, following a deer trail, stopping often to listen. The wind was picking up, and the branches above him whispered and crackled. But every now and then the wind would drop, and then Bull thought he heard the sounds of roaring beasts. Sweat beaded his brow.

He pulled his hat from his head and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “You gotta be crazy, boy,” he told himself aloud, touching his heels to the mare’s side. She was a good cattle pony, mountain-bred for stamina and speed over short distances, but her ears were pressed flat against her skull and she moved skittishly, as if a scent on the night breeze had frightened her. The wind died, and Bull heard a terrible growling from ahead. He pulled on the reins and considered riding back; instead he dismounted, looped the pony’s reins around a branch, and crept forward.

Pushing aside a thick bush, he gazed on a scene of carnage. The bodies of reptiles littered the clearing beyond, and giant bears were ripping at their flesh. At the center of the clearing he saw a flash of golden hair as the body of the woman Sharazad was dragged away into the night. Swiftly he did a count. There were some forty huge creatures there, and he could hear growling from all around him. He backed away, his pistol cocked.

Suddenly a colossal beast reared up alongside him. Bull rolled and put a shot into the gaping jaws that towered over him, but a massive taloned arm swept out, hammering him to the ground. He landed heavily but managed another shot as the beast moved in, its mouth spewing blood.

Szshark leapt from the undergrowth with a serrated dagger in his hand. He landed on the bear’s back, and the
knife plunged into the beast’s right eye. It fell with a great crash. Bull scrambled to his feet and ran back for the pony, the reptile moving alongside him. Reaching his mount, Bull scrambled into the saddle, dragging the reins clear. From all around him came the sounds of huge bodies crashing through the undergrowth. Szshark hissed and waited, his bloody dagger raised. Instinctively Bull stretched out a hand. “We’d best get out of here,” he shouted.

Szshark reached up, took the hand, and vaulted up behind Bull. The little pony took off down the deer trail as if its tail were on fire. They emerged onto open ground and galloped clear of the trees.

“Much good fighting,” said Szshark. “Many soulss.”

Bull dragged on the reins and glanced back. The bears had halted by the tree line and were gazing after them. He allowed the pony a short breather and then headed in a walk toward the campsite.

“I ain’t sure as how you’ll be too welcome, Szshark,” he said. “The Parson’s likely to boil you in oil.” The reptile said nothing, its wedge-shaped head resting on Bull’s shoulder. “You hear me?”

There was no movement, and Bull cursed and rode on. The sentries allowed him through, then saw his passenger. Word swept the campsite faster than a fire through dry grass. Bull climbed down, twisting to catch Szshark’s falling body. He laid him on the grass, then saw the awful talon cuts on his shoulders and back. Blood seeped to the ground as Szshark’s golden eyes opened.

“Many soulss,” he hissed. He blinked and looked up at the faces gazing down at him. His eyes misted, and his scaled hand reached up and took Bull’s arm. “Cut out my heart,” he said. “You …” The golden eyes closed.

“Why did you bring this demon here?” asked the Parson.

Bull stood. “They’re all dead, Parson, God be praised.
This one was Szshark; he rescued me back in the woods. There’s creatures there, damn big—ten, twelve feet tall. Look like bears. They wiped out the reptiles. The woman’s dead, too.”

“Then we can return to Pilgrim’s Valley,” said Beth McAdam. “Now, that’s what I call a miracle.”

“No,” said the Parson. “Don’t you understand? We were led here like the children of Israel. But our work is only beginning. There is the Great Whore to be destroyed and the Sword of God to be loosed over the land. Then, in truth, God will bless us, the wolf will lie down with the lamb, and the lion will eat grass like the cattle. Don’t you see?”

“I don’t want no more fighting,” declared Beth. “I’m going home tomorrow.” Murmurs of agreement came from the listeners. “Listen, Parson, you’ve done right proud by all of us. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead. I’m grateful—and I mean that. You’re always welcome in my home. But that’s where I’m going—home. I don’t know anything about this whore of yours, and I don’t care a damn about some sword.”

“Then I will go on alone,” said the Parson. “I will follow God’s path.”

He walked away from the group and saddled a horse. Shannow moved across to him. “Be sure of God’s path, Parson, before you attempt to ride it,” he said.

“I have the gift, Shannow. No harm will befall me. Won’t you ride with me? You are a man of God.”

“I have other plans, Parson. Take care.”

“My destiny lies with the sword, Shannow. I know it. It fills my mind; it swells my heart.”

“God be with you, Parson.”

“As He wills,” replied the other, stepping into the saddle.

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