The Last Guardian

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sharazad sat, seemingly alone, on a flat rock under the moonlight. The day had brought an unexpected pleasure: Nu-Khasisatra was here in this cursed land of barbarians. It had been a source of constant fury that he had escaped from Ad, and the King had been most displeased.

Seven of her Daggers had been flayed and impaled, and she herself had lost ground in the King's affections. But now — Great be the Glory of Belial — the shipbuilder was within her reach once more. Her mind wandered back to the man she had seen staring at her in the hovel that passed for a resting place. Something about him disturbed her. He was not handsome, nor yet ugly, but his eyes were striking. A long time ago she had enjoyed a lover with just such eyes. The man had been a gladiator, a superb killer of men. Was that it? Was the barbarian a danger?

She heard the rumble of the wagon coming through the trees and wandered to the crest of the hill, gazing down at the two men who drove it. One was young and handsome, the other older and balding. She waited until they came closer, then stepped out on to the path.

The older man heaved on the reins and applied the clumsy brake. 'Good evening, Frey,' he said climbing down and stretching his back. 'You sure you want to unload here?'

'Yes,' she said. 'Just here. Where is Scayse?'

'He couldn't come,' said the younger man. 'I represent him. The name's Steiner.'

What do I care what your name is, thought Sharazad. 'Unload the wagon and open the first box,'

she said aloud. Steiner loosened the reins of a saddled horse that was tied to the rear of the wagon and led the beast back a few paces. Then both men struggled with the heavy boxes, manhandling them to the ground. The older man drew a hunting-knife and prised open a lid. Sharazad stepped closer and leaned forward, pulling back the greased paper and lifting a short-barrelled rifle clear of the box.

'Show me how it works,' she ordered.

The older man opened a packet of shells and slid two into the side gate. 'They slide in here — up to ten shells; there's a spring keeps the pressure on. You take hold here,' he said, gripping a moulded section under the barrel, 'and pump once. Now there's a shell in the breech and the rifle is cocked.

Pull the trigger and pump the action, and the spent shell is ejected and a fresh one slides home.'

'Ingenious,' admitted Sharazad. 'But, sadly, after this load we will need no more. We will make our own.'

'Ain't sad to me,' said the man. 'Don't make no difference to me.'

'Ah, but it does,' she said, smiling and she raised her hand. From the bushes all around them rose a score of Daggers, pistols in their hands.

'Sweet Jesus, what the Hell are they?' whispered the man, as the reptiles moved forward. At the back of the wagon Clem stood horror-struck as the demonic creatures appeared, then backed away towards his horse.

'Kill them,' ordered Sharazad. Clem dived for the ground, rolled and came up firing. Two of the reptiles were hurled from their feet. More gunfire shattered the night, spurts of dust spitting up around Clem's prone body. His horse panicked and ran but Clem dived for the saddle, grabbing the pommel as it passed. He was half-carried, half-dragged into the trees, shells whistling about him.

'Find him,' ordered Sharazad and six of the reptiles loped away into the darkness. She turned on the older man, who had stood stock-still throughout the battle. Her hand dipped into the pocket of her golden skirt and she lifted out a small stone, dark red and veined with black.

'Do you know what this is?' she asked. He shook his head. This is a Bloodstone. It can do amazing things, but it needs to be fed. Will you feed my Bloodstone?'

'Oh, my God,' he whispered, backing away as Sharazad drew a silver pistol and stared down at it.

'I am surprised that the greatest minds of Atlantis never discovered such a sweet toy. It is so clean, so lethal, so final.'

'Please, Frey. I have a wife… children. I never harmed you.'

'You offend me, barbarian, merely by being.' The pistol came up and the shell hammered through his heart; he fell to his knees, then toppled to his face. She turned him over with the toe of her boot and laid the Bloodstone on his chest. The black veins dwindled to nothing.

She sat by the corpse and closed her eyes, concentrating on her victory. An image formed in her mind and she saw Nu-Khasisatra waiting unarmed and ready to be taken. But a dark shadow stood between her and the revenge she desired. The face was blurred, but she focused her concentration and the shadow became recognisable. It was the man from the Traveller's Rest -

only now his eyes were flames and in his hands were serpents, sharp-fanged and deadly. Holding the image, she called out to her mentor and his face appeared in her mind.

'What troubles you, Sharazad?'

'Look, Lord, at the image. What does it mean?'

'The eyes of fire mean he is an implacable enemy, the serpents show that in his hands he has power. Is that the renegade prophet behind him?'

'Yes, Lord. He is here, in this strange world.'

'Take him. I want him here before me. You understand, Sharazad?'

'I do, Lord. But tell me, why are we no longer dealing with Scayse? I thought their guns would be of more use.'

'I have opened other gates to worlds with infinitely more power. Your barbaric kingdom offers little. You may take ten companies of Daggers if you wish, and blood them on the barbarians.

Yes, do it, Sharazad, if it would bring you pleasure.'

His face disappeared. Ten companies of Daggers! Never had she commanded so many. And, yes, it would be good to plan a battle; to hear the thunder of gunfire, the screams of the dying. Perhaps if she did well she would be given a command of humans and not these disgusting, scaled creatures from beyond the gates. Lost in her dreams, she ignored the sounds of distant gunfire.

Clem Steiner had been hit twice. Blood seeped from the wound in his chest, and his left leg burned as sweat mixed with the blood at the outer edges of the jagged wound. His horse had been shot from under him, but he had managed to hit at least one of the creatures giving pursuit.

What in the Devil's name were they?

Clem hauled himself behind a rock and scrabbled further up the wooded hillside. At first he had thought them men wearing masks, but now he was not so sure. And they were so fast… they moved across his line of vision with a speed no human could match. Licking his lips, he held his breath, listening hard. He could hear the wind sighing in the leaves above him, and the rushing of a mountain stream to his left. A dark shadow moved to his right and he rolled and fired. The bullet took the reptile under the chin, exiting from the top of its skull, and it fell alongside Clem, its legs twitching. He stared, horror-struck, at the grey, scaled skin and the black leather body armour. The creature's hand had a treble-jointed thumb and three thick fingers.

Jesus God, they're demons! he thought. I am being hunted by demons!

He fought for calm and reloaded his pistol with the last of his shells. Then he gathered up the reptile's weapon and sank back against the rock. The wound in his chest was high and he hoped it had missed his lung. Of course it has, you fool! You're not coughing blood, are you?

But he felt so weak. His eyes closed but he jerked himself awake. Got to move! Get safe! He started to crawl, but loss of blood had weakened him terribly and he made only a few yards before his strength was spent. A rustling movement came from behind him and he tried to roll, but a booted foot lashed into his side. His gun came up, but was kicked from his hand. Then he felt himself being dragged from the hillside, but all pain passed and he slid into unconsciousness.

The pain awoke him and he found he had been stripped naked and tied to a tree. Four of the reptiles were sitting together in a close circle around the body of the creature he had killed on the hillside. As he watched, one of the others took a serrated knife and cut into the chest of the corpse, ripping open the dead flesh and pulling clear the heart. Clem felt nausea overwhelming him, but he could not tear his eyes from the scene. The reptiles began to chant, their sibilant hissing echoing in the trees; then the first cut the heart into four pieces, and the others all accepted a portion which they ate.

Then they knelt around the corpse and each touched his forehead to the body. Finally they rose and turned to face the bound man. Clem looked into their golden, slitted eyes, then down at the serrated knives they aft held.

No glittering reputation for Clem Steiner, no admiring glances. No treasure would be his, no adoring women. Anger flooded him and he struggled at the ropes that bit into his flesh as the reptiles advanced.

'Behold,' said a voice and Clem glanced to his right to see Jon Shannow standing with the sun behind him, his face in silhouette. The voice was low and compelling, and the reptiles stood and stared at the newcomer. 'Behold, the whirlwind of the Lord goeth forth in fury, a continuing whirlwind: it shall fall with pain upon the heads of the wicked.'

Then there was silence as Shannow stood calmly, the morning breeze flapping at his long coat.

One of the reptiles lowered his knife. He stepped forward, his voice a sibilant hiss.

'You sspirit or man?'

Shannow said nothing and the reptiles gathered together, whispering. Then the leader moved away from them, approaching the Jerusalem Man.

'I can ssmell your blood,' hissed the Dagger. 'You are Man.'

'I am death,' Shannow replied.

'You are a Truthsspeaker,' said the reptile at last. 'We have no fear, but we understand much that men do not. You are what you ssay you are, and your power iss felt by uss. Thiss day is yourss.

But other dayss will dawn. Walk warily, Man of Death.'

The leader gestured to the other Daggers, then turned on his heel and loped away.

Time stood still for Clem and it seemed that Shannow had become a statue. 'Help me,' called the wounded man and the Jerusalem Man walked slowly to the tree and squatted down. Clem looked into his eyes. 'I owe you my life,' he said.

'You owe me nothing,' said Shannow. He cut Clem's bonds and plugged the wounds in his chest and leg; then he helped him dress and led him to the black stallion.

'There're more of them, Shannow. I don't know where they are.'

'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' said the Jerusalem Man, lifting Steiner into the saddle.

He mounted behind him and rode from the hills.

Sharazad watched as Szshark and his three companions loped into the clearing. She lifted a hand and waved the tall reptile to her; he approached and gave a short bow.

'You found the man?'

'Yess.'

'And killed him?'

'No. Another claimed him.'

Sharazad swallowed her anger. Szshark was the leader of these creatures, had been the first of the reptiles to pledge allegiance to the King. 'Explain yourself,' she said.

'We took him — alive, as you ssaid. Then sshadow came. Tall warrior. Ssun at his back. He sspoke power wordss.'

'But he was human, yes?'

'U-man, yess,' Szshark agreed. 'I go now?'

'Did he fight? What? What happened?'

'No fight. He wass Death, Goldenhair. He wass power. We felt it.'

'So you just left him? That is cowardice, Szshark!'

His wedge-shaped head tilted, and his huge golden eyes bored into her own. 'That word for Umanss. We have no fearss, Goldenhair. But it would be wrong to die for nothing.'

'How could you know you would die? You did not try to fight him. You have guns, do you not?'

'Gunss!' spat Szshark. 'Loud noisses. Kill very far. No honour! We are Daggerss. Thiss man.

Thiss power. He carry gunss. But not hold them. You ssee?'

'I see everything. Gather twenty warriors and hunt him down. I want him. Take him. Do you understand that?'

Szshark nodded and moved away from her. She did not understand, she would never understand.

The Death man could have opened fire on them at any time, but instead he spoke words of power.

He gave them a choice: life or death. As starkly simple as that. What creature of intelligence would have chosen anything but life? Szshark gazed around at the camp-site. His warriors were waiting for his word.

He chose twenty and watched them run from the camp.

Sharazad summoned him again.

'Why are you not with them?' she asked.

'I gave him thiss day,' he said, and walked away. He could feel her anger washing over him, sense her longing to put a bullet in his back. He walked to the stream and squatted down, dipping his head under the surface and revelling in the cool quiet of Below.

When the King of Atlantis led his legions into the jungles, the Ruazsh had fought them to a standstill. But Szshark had seen the inevitable outcome. The Ruazsh were too few to withstand the might of Atlantis. He had journeyed alone to seek out the King.

'Why have you come?' the King asked him, sitting before his battle tent.

'Kill you or sserve you,' Szshark answered.

'How will you determine which course of action?' the King enquired.

'Iss already done.'

The King nodded, his face stretching, baring his teeth. 'Then show me,' he said.

Szshark knelt and offered the King his curved dagger. The monarch took it and held the point to Szshark's throat.

'Now it seems I have two choices.'

'No,' said Szshark, 'only one.'

The King's mouth opened and a series of barking sounds disturbed the reptile. In the months that followed he would learn that this sound was laughter, and that it denoted good humour among humans. He rarely heard that sound now from Sharazad — unless something had died.

Now as he lifted his head from the water, a rippling of faint music echoed inside his mind. He answered the Calling.

'Speak, my brother, my son,' his mind answered.

A Dagger moved from the bushes and crouched low to the ground, his eyes averted from Szshark's face.

The music in Szshark's mind hardened and the language of the Ruazsh flowed in the corridors of his mind. 'Golden-hair wishes to attack the homes of the land humans. Her mind is easy to read.

But there are few warriors there, Szshark. Why are we here? Have we offended the King?'

'The King is a Great Power, my son. But his people fear us. We are now… merely playthings for his bed-mate. She longs for blood. But we are pledged to the King and we must obey. The land humans are to die.'

'It is not good, Szshark.' The music changed again. 'Why did the Truthspeaker not kill us? Were we beneath his talents?'

'You read his thoughts. He did not need to kill us.'

'I do not like this world, Szshark. I wish we could go home.'

'We will never go home, my son. But the King has promised never to re-open the gate. The Seed is safe, but we are the hostages to that promise.'

'Goldenhair hates us. She will see us all dead. There will be no one to eat our hearts and give us life. And I can no longer feel the souls of my brothers beyond the gates.'

'Nor I. But they are there, and they carry our souls. We cannot die.'

'Goldenhair comes!' The reptile climbed to his feet and vanished into the undergrowth.

Szshark stood, observing the woman. Her ugliness was nauseating, but he closed his mind to it, concentrating instead on the grossness of the language of Man.

'What you wissh?' he asked.

'There is a community close by. I wish to see it destroyed.'

'As you command,' he replied.