The Last Guardian

'Dear Father,' he began, 'lead me to the paths of righteousness. Take my body and soul. Show me the road I must walk to do your work, fulfil your word.' The Stone grew hot in his hand and his mind blurred.

A golden face appeared before him, bearded and stern, pale-eyed and regal. The Parson's heart began to hammer.

'Who calls on me?' came a voice in the Parson's mind.

'I, Lord, the humblest of your servants,' the Parson whispered, falling forward and pressing his face to the ground.

Miraculously the image remained before him, as if his eyes were still open.

'Open your mind to me,' said the voice.

'I do not know how.'

'Hold the Stone to your breast.' The Parson did so. Warmth enveloped him, and for a while there was peace and serenity; then the glow faded and he felt alone once more.

'You have sinned greatly, my son,' said Pendarric. 'How will you cleanse yourself?'

'I will do anything, Lord.'

'Mount your horse and ride a little way to the east. There you will find the survivors of the…

reptiles. You will lift the Stone and say to them: "Pendarric". They will follow you and do your bidding.'

'But they are creatures of the Devil, Lord.'

'Yes, but I will give them the opportunity to redeem their souls. Go to the city, enter the Temple, then call for me again and I will guide you.'

'But what of the Great Whore? She must be destroyed.'

'Do not seek to contradict me!' thundered Pendarric. 'In my own time will I bring her down. Go to the Temple, Nicodemus. Seek out the Scrolls of Gold hidden beneath the altar.'

'But if the Whore tries to prevent me?'

'Then kill her and any who stand with her.'

'Yes, Lord. As you bid. And the Sword?'

'We will speak again when you have accomplished your mission.' The face faded… the Parson rose.

All his anguish left him.

At last he had found his God.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Back at her cabin Beth was happily surprised to find no damage from the earthquakes. In the fields below there were still pits and chasms, and several trees had fallen; but on the flat ledge of the hillside where Bull had chosen to place the McAdam home, there was no evidence of movement at all.

The sandy-haired rider grinned at Beth. 'If you say "I told you so", Bull, I'll crack your skull,'

Beth said to him.

'Me? The thought never crossed my mind.' He tethered his horse and helped Beth carry the wounded Steiner into the house.

'I can walk, dammit,' Steiner grumbled.

'I ain't having those stitches opening again,' Beth told him. 'Now keep quiet.'

Bull and the children manhandled the furniture from the wagon, while Beth fuelled the iron stove and set a pot of Baker's to simmer. As dusk stained the sky, Bull rose.

'Best be getting back to Meneer Scayse,' he said. 'I reckon there'll be enough to do there. You want me to bring you anything tomorrow?'

'If there's anything left in the town, I wouldn't mind some salt.'

‘I’ll fetch it — and some dried beef. You're looking mighty low on stores.'

‘I’m short on Barta coin, Bull. I'll have to owe you.'

'You do that,' he said. She watched him ride off and shook her head, allowing a smile to show.

Now he wouldn't make a bad husband, she thought. He's caring, strong, and he likes the kids. But the face of Jon Shannow cut across the smiling image of Bull. 'Damn you for a fool, Shannow!'

whispered Beth.

Samuel and Mary were sitting by the stove, Samuel's head resting against the wall, his eyes closed. Beth walked to him, lifting him from his feet. His eyes opened and his head dropped to her shoulder. 'It's bed for you, snapper-gut,' she said, carrying him into the back room and laying him down. She didn't bother to strip his clothes, but removing his shoes she covered him with a blanket.

Mary came in behind her. 'I'm not tired, Ma. Can I sit up for a while?'

Beth looked into the child's puffy eyes. 'You can snuggle in next to your brother, and if you're still awake in an hour you can sit with me.' Mary grinned sheepishly and climbed under the blanket; she was asleep within minutes.

Beth returned to the main room and lit the fire, then walked out on to the porch where Bull had erected a bench seat made from a split log, planed and polished. She sat back and stared over the moonlit valley. The Wall was down everywhere, although some sections still reared like broken teeth. She shivered.

'Nice night,' observed Steiner, limping out to sit beside her. His face was pale, dark rings staining the skin beneath his eyes.

'You're a damn fool,' said Beth.

'And you're as pretty as a picture under moonlight,' he told her,

'Except for the nose,' she replied. 'And it's no good making up to me, Clem Steiner. Even if I let you, it would kill you for certain.'

There's truth in that,' he admitted. Beth continued to stare at the horizon. 'What are you thinking?'

he asked.

'I was thinking about Shannow — not that it's any of your business.'

'You in love with him?'

'You're a prying sort of fella, Steiner.'

'You are then. You could do worse, I guess — except I don't see you travelling the world looking for some city that don't exist.'

'You're right. Maybe I should marry you.'

'That's not a bad thought, Frey McAdam,' he responded, smiling. 'I can be right good company.'

'You've been hiding that light under a bushel,' she said sharply.

He chuckled. 'Come to think of it, that is a pretty big nose.' She laughed and her tension eased.

Clem stretched his wounded leg out in front of him and rubbed at it. 'Does Shannow know how you feel?' he asked, his voice low and serious.

Beth cut off a sharp retort. 'I told him — in a way. But he won't change. He's like you.'

'I've changed,' he said. 'I don't want to be a pistoleer; I couldn't give a damn about reputations. I had a father who beat the Hell out of me. He said I'd never make anything of my life and I guess I've been trying to prove him wrong. Now I don't care about that no more.'

'What will you do?'

‘I’ll find a nice woman. I'll raise kids and corn.'

'There's some hope for you yet, Clem Steiner.' He was about to answer when he spotted two riders angling up towards the house.

'Strange-looking pair,' said Beth. 'Look how the moonlight makes their hair seem white.'

* * *

Shannow was ill at ease as they rode. The dreams had unnerved him, but worse than that he had the constant feeling he was being watched. Time and again he would turn in the saddle and study the skyline, or alter the direction in which they travelled, dismounting before the crest of every hill.

But now the city was ahead of them, and still the feeling would not pass.

'What is troubling you?' Nu asked. 'We should have been at the city hours ago.'

'I don't know,' admitted Shannow. 'I feel uncomfortable.'

'No more than I feel, perched on this horse,' responded Nu.

A rabbit darted across their path and Shannow's guns swept up. He cursed softly, then flicked the stallion's flanks with his heels.

The city was protected by a great Wall, but the recent earthquakes had scored it with cracks.

There were no gates, but as they entered the city Shannow could see deep holes in the stones where hinges had once been placed.

'The gates,' Nu told him, 'were of wood and bronze, emblazoned with the head of a lion. And this entrance would take you through the Street of Silversmiths, and on to the Sculptors' Quarter. My home was close by.'