The Last Guardian

He acknowledged their obeisance, gestured them to follow him and strode to his rooms. Once there, he stood by the window and waited as the three warriors entered. Magellas was by far the largest, his black and silver tunic stretched by the enormous muscles of his shoulders and arms.

Lindian looked almost boylike beside him. Rhodaeul moved some paces to the right.

'Come,' invited the King. 'Meet your enemy.' He lifted his Sipstrassi, the wall shimmered and disappeared and they saw a man standing beside a tall, black horse. Another man was sitting close by. 'That is the victim you seek,' said the King. 'His name is Shannow.'

'He is old, sire,' said Magellas. 'Why are the Hunters needed?'

'Find him and see,' the King told him. 'But I do not want him killed from ambush, or destroyed from distance. You will face him.'

'It is a test then, Father?' asked Rhodaeul.

'It is a test,' the King agreed. The man is a warrior and I suspect he is — as you are — Rolynd. His disadvantage is that he was not fed with Sipstrassi strength while he was in the womb, nor tutored as you have been by the finest assassins in the Empire. Yet still he is a warrior.'

'Why three of us, Lord?' asked Lindian. 'Would not one suffice?'

'Most probably. But your enemy is a master of the new weapons — perhaps you will acquire something from him. To that end my reward will be great. The Hunter who kills him will become Satrap of the Northern Province of Akkady; his companions will receive six talents of silver.'

The three warriors said nothing, but the King could see their minds working. No unity of purpose now. No combined plan. Each of them was plotting to defeat not only Shannow but each other.

'Are there no questions, my children?'

'None, Father,' volunteered Magellas. 'It will be as you say.'

'I will watch your progress with interest.'

The three having bowed and left the room, the King sealed the chamber with his Stone and settled back on a silk-covered divan. The wall shimmered once more and he gazed down on the land of the Wall. At last Sharazad had begun to think; she had laid the seed of division within the enemy and was moving her troops to encircle them. He looked further, into the heavily wooded hills to the west of the refugees. Then he chuckled.

'Oh, Sharazad, if only I could tire of your, beauty. Yet again you conspire to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.' He touched the Stone and viewed the lands to the south. His body arched upright as he saw the distant city. As he stood, his pale eyes widening, his mouth was dry and for the first time in decades a lance of fear smote him.

'What demonic trickery is this?' he whispered aloud. Leaving the image shimmering, he summoned his astrologers. There were four men, all appearing to be in their middle twenties.

'Look, and tell me what you see,' ordered the King.

'It is the City of Ad,' said the leader, Araksis. 'Bring it closer, Majesty. Yes, it is Ad. But see the way the statues are worn and the roadways buckle. Move further south, Lord. Find the tower.' But there was no tower, only a barnacle-encrusted peak. For some time the Atianteans stared at the Sword of God. 'It is baffling, my Lord,' said Araksis. 'Unless someone copied the city, or…'

'Speak!' ordered the King.

'We could be looking at the city as it will one day be.'

'Where is the sea? Where are the ships?'

The astrologers looked at one another. 'Show us nightfall, sire, on this world.' The King touched his Stone and the astrologers grouped together to study the star-filled sky.

'We will return to the tower, Lord,' said Araksis. 'We will study more closely and report back to you.'

'By midday, Araksis. Meanwhile, send Serpiat to me.'

The King sat lost in thought, staring at the vision before him. He did not notice the arrival of the general, Serpiat. The man was squat and powerfully built, wearing golden armour and a jet-black cloak.

'Not good, sire,' he observed, his voice rough and grating, 'to allow an armed man easy access to your chambers.'

'What? Yes, you are right, my friend. I did not secure the chamber. But my mind was occupied with that,' said the King, pointing to the distant city. Serpiat removed his black-plumed helm and approached the vision. He rubbed at his beard.

'Is it real?'

'All too real. Araksis is returning here at midday, but when he left his face was white, his eyes frightened. It frightens me also. With the Towerstone we have opened gates to other worlds — and conquered them. But this… this is no other world, Serpiat. What have we done?'

'I do not understand, sire. What is it you fear?'

'I fear that!' shouted the King. 'My city. I built it. But where is the ocean — and where am I?'

'You? You are here. You are the King.'

'Yes, yes. Forgive me, Serpiat. Gather ten legions. I want that city surrounded and taken — all its records. Everything. Capture its people. Question them.'

'But this was to be Sharazad's realm, was it not? Do I serve under her?'

'Sharazad is finished. The game is over. Do as I ask and prepare your men. I will open a wide gateway three days from now.'

* * *

The Parson listened to the reports of his scouts. The southland was wide and open; there was evidence of past cultivation, and an incredible number of lion tracks on the plain before the city.

Several prides had been seen moving in the distance. To the east, he was told, there were other tracks, bigger, showing talon marks of prodigious size.

'Did you see any beasts?' he asked the rider.

'No, sir. Nothing unnatural, like. But I seen some big-bears — biggest I ever saw. High up in the timber country. I didn't get too close.'

They had camped by a kke where the Parson ordered trees to be felled and dragged to the lakeside, forming three perimeter walls. Within this rough stockade he allowed tents to be erected and cook-fires lit. The people moved through their chores like sleepwalkers. Many of the women had lost husbands in the attack on the town. Other men, who had chosen to go to church on that fateful morning, knew their wives and children had been butchered. All had lost. For some it was only a building, or a tent or a wagon. For others it was loved ones. Now the survivors were in shock.

The Parson gathered them together and prayed for the souls of the departed. Then he allocated tasks for the survivors — gathering wood for the fires, helping to erect tents, preparing food, scouting the woods for root crops, tubers, wild onions.

In the distance he could see the glistening towers of the Whore's city, and wondered how long it would be before her satanic legions fell upon them.

Bull's arrival with Faird was a surprise — yet even more surprising was his news of the meeting with Szshark.

'You spoke with one of the Devil's minions?' he said, aghast. 'I hope your soul was not burned.'

'He seemed…' Bull shrugged. '… honest, at least, Parson. He warned us to beware of the woman.'

'Don't be a fool, Bull. He is a creature of darkness and he knows nothing of the truth. His ways are the ways of deceit. If the woman has made us an offer, we must regard it as honest — if only because the demon says otherwise.'

'Hold on there, Parson. You didn't speak to him. I did. I kinda trust what he says.'

Then the Devil has touched you, Bull, and you are not to be trusted.'

That's kinda harsh, Parson. Does that mean you'd consider giving up the Healer to them creatures?'