The Last Guardian (35 page)

“I killed him,” said Shannow.

Her eyes grew cold, and her smile chilled Nu. “Now
that
has a familiar ring, Shannow. After all, how many stories are there concerning the Jerusalem Man in which he doesn’t kill something—or someone? Have you destroyed any communities lately?”

“I did not destroy your home base; Sarento did that when he sailed the
Titanic
. I merely blocked the power of the Mother Stone. But I will not argue with you, lady, or debate my deeds. I will leave now and seek the sword.”

“You must not, Shannow! You must not go near it.” The words hissed from her. “You do not understand.”

“I understand that the gateway between past and present must be closed. Perhaps the Sword of God will close it. If not, when the disaster befalls Atlantis, we could be dragged down with it.”

“The Sword of God is not the answer you seek. Believe me.”

“I will not know until I have seen it,” Shannow told her.

Amaziga’s hand came up from below the desk, and in it was a Hellborn pistol. She cocked it and pointed the barrel at Shannow. “You will promise me to stay away from the sword or you will die here,” she said.

“Chreena!” came a voice from the doorway. “Stop it! Put the pistol away.”

“You don’t understand, Oshere. Stay out of this!”

“I understand enough,” said the man-beast, moving clumsily forward and placing the silver tray on the desk. His deformed hand closed over the pistol, gently removing it from her grasp. “Nothing you have told me about
this man suggests he is evil. Why would you wish to harm him?”

“Death follows wherever he rides. Destruction! I can feel it, Oshere.”

She stood and ran from the room, and Oshere laid the pistol on the desk. Shannow leaned forward and uncocked it. Oshere eased himself into the chair Amaziga had used, his dark eyes fixed on the Jerusalem Man.

“She is under great strain, Shannow,” he said. “She thought she had found a way to cure me, but it was only a temporary respite. Now she must suffer again. She loved my brother, Shir-ran, and he became a beast. Now …” He shrugged. “Now it is my turn. Your arrival made her distraught. But she will gather her strength and consider what you have said. Now, have some wine and rest. I will see that your horses are taken to a field nearby where there is good grass. Through that door you will find beds and blankets.”

“There is no time to rest,” said Nu. “The end is near; I can feel it.”

Shannow pushed himself wearily to his feet. “I had hoped for aid. I thought the Dark Lady would be a person of power.”

“She is, Shannow,” Oshere assured him. “She has great knowledge. Give her time.”

“You heard Nu. There
is
no time. We will ride on to the sword, but first Nu needs to search the temple sanctuary.”

“Why?” Oshere asked.

“There could be something there that will help me return home,” Nu told him.

The sound of gunshots came from close by, followed by screams of terror.

“You see!” shouted Amaziga Archer from the doorway, pointing at Shannow. “Where he rides, death always follows.”

31

T
HE
P
ARSON
RODE
boldly into the clearing where twenty-three survivors of the Daggers’ force had gathered. Several were wounded, their scaled limbs bound. Others were keeping watch, rifles poised, for any attack from the bears. Holding the Blood Stone high, the Parson guided his mount in among his enemies and voiced the single word his God had commanded him to say.

“Pendarric,” he said as rifles were aimed at his chest; the guns were lowered instantly. “Follow me,” ordered the Parson, riding from the clearing. The reptiles took up their weapons, formed two lines, and marched out behind his horse. The Parson was exultant.

“How mysterious are the ways of the Lord,” he told the morning air. “And how great are His wonders.” On the plain before the city lions gathered in great numbers, padding forward to stand in the Parson’s path. He lifted his stone. “Give way!” he bellowed. A black-maned beast reared up in pain, then ran to the left. The others followed it, leaving a path through which the Parson heeled his mount.

He led the reptiles to the northern gateway and then turned in the saddle. “All who resist the will of God must die,” he declared. Confident that the awesome power of the Creator was with him, he entered the gateway. Beyond it he saw many people. None stood in his way; they gazed with frank, open curiosity as the marching
reptiles and the Parson rode on through white-walled streets.

A young woman with a child stood close by, holding the toddler’s hand. “The temple,” inquired the Parson. “How shall I reach it?” The woman pointed to a high domed building, and he approached it. The temple pillars were massive and close-set. He dismounted and walked up the long stairway with the reptiles behind him.

An old man moved out to stand before him. “Who seeks the wisdom of the Law of One?” he asked.

“Step aside for the warrior of God,” the Parson told him.

“You cannot enter,” the old man replied pleasantly. “The priests are at prayer. When the sun touches the western wall, then may your entreaties be heard.”

“Out of my way, old man,” the Parson ordered, drawing his pistol.

“Do you not understand?” asked the high priest. “It is not allowed.”

A shot echoed in the temple corridors, and the high priest fell back without a sound, blood pumping from a hole in his brow. The Parson ran into the temple, with the reptiles swarming after him. Taking their new master’s lead, they began firing on the priests, who ran for shelter. Ignoring the carnage, the Parson scanned the building, seeking the inner sanctum. There was a narrow doorway at the end of the long hall, and he ran to it, kicking it open. Within it was an altar, where another old man was hastily gathering scrolls of gold foil. He looked up and struggled to rise, but the pistol bucked in the Parson’s hand, and he fell. The Parson knelt by the scrolls and lifted his stone.

“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.”