'I don't think they could see the planes. I think the Sipstrassi was originally programmed to hold the objects in another dimension, invisible to us. Only when the power began to drain did they become visible.'
Shannow shook his head. 'I do not understand any of this, Amaziga; it is beyond me. Planes?
Stasis fields? Computers? But I have been having strange dreams lately. I am sitting in a crystal bubble inside a giant cross high in the sky. There is a voice whispering in my ear; it is someone called Tower and he is telling me to assume a bearing due west. My voice — and yet not my voice
— tells him we do not know which way is west. Everything is wrong… strange. Even the ocean does not look as it should.'
'The crystal bubble, Shannow, is the cockpit of a plane. And the voice you heard was not from someone called Tower, but the Control Tower in a place called Fort Lau-derdale. And the voice that was yours — and yet not yours — was dial of Lieutenant Charles Taylor, flying one of five Navy Avenger torpedo-bombers on a training run. You can still see them in formation close to the missile. Trust me, Shannow. Stop the Parson.'
He rose. 'I don't know that I can. But I will try,' he told her.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Beth McAdam awoke with her head pounding, her body sore. She sat up — and saw the two men who had dragged her from her cabin. Grabbing a rock, she pushed herself to her feet. 'You slimy sons of bitches!' she hissed. The taller of the men rose smoothly to his feet and moved towards her. Her hand flew up, with the rock poised to smash his temple, but he blocked the blow with ease and backhanded her to the ground.
'Do not seek to annoy me,' he said. His hair was chalk-white, his face young and unlined. He knelt beside her. 'You will come to no harm, you have the promise of Magellas. We merely need you to help us to complete a mission.'
'My children?'
'They are unharmed. And the man Lindian struck was only unconscious — there was no lasting damage.'
'What is this mission?' she asked, tensing herself for a second attack.
'Do not be foolish,' he advised her. 'If you choose to be troublesome, I will break both your arms.'
Beth let the rock fall from her fingers. 'You ask about our mission,' he continued, smiling. 'We are sent to despatch Jon Shannow. He holds you in some esteem and he will give himself up to us in return for your safety.'
'In a pig's eye!' she retorted. 'He'll kill you both.'
'I do not think so. I have come to know Jon Shannow; to respect him — even to like him. He will surrender himself
'If you like him, how can you think of killing him?'
'What has emotion to do with duty? The King, my Father, says Shannow must die. Then he will die.'
'Why don't you just face him — like men?'
Magellas chuckled. 'We are executioners — not duellists. Had I been instructed to face him on equal terms, then I would have done so — as would my brother Lindian. But it is not necessary and therefore would constitute a foolish risk. Now we will proceed with — or without — your willing help. But I do not wish to break your arms. Will you help us? Your children need you, Beth McAdam.'
'What do you want me to say?'
'That you will stay with us — and not try any more foolishness with rocks.'
'I don't have a lot of choices, do I?'
'Say the words anyway. It will make me feel more relaxed.'
'I'll do as you say. That good enough for you?'
'It will suffice. We have prepared some food and it would bit our pleasure if you joined us for a meal.'
'Where are we?' Beth asked.
'We are sitting in one of your holy places, I believe,' answered Magellas, pointing to the star-filled sky. Several hundred feet above them, glistening silver in the moonlight, hung the Sword of God.
Amaziga Archer sat alone after Shannow had gone. On her desk now were the Sacred Scrolls guarded by the Dianae. Her husband Samuel had spent four years teaching her the meaning of the symbols, which resembled the cuneiform writings of ancient Mesopotamia. For the main part the gold foils were covered with astrological notes, and charts of star systems. But the last three -
including one missed by the Parson — contained the thoughts of the astrologer Araksis.
Amaziga read the words of the first two and shivered.
There was much here that was beyond her, but it tallied with ancient legends concerning the doom of Atlantis. They had found a great power source, but had misused it, and the oceans had risen up, the continent been buried beneath the waves. Now Amaziga understood. In opening the Gates of Time, they had altered the delicate balance of gravity. Instead of spinning contentedly around the sun, the earth was exposed to the gravitational pull of a second sun, and perhaps more.
The earthquakes and volcanic eruptions outlined in Araksis' scrolls were merely indications of a tortured world, pulled in opposing directions and teetering on its axis. The earthquakes now were exactly the same; with two colossal suns in the sky, the gravitation drag was causing the planet to tremble.
Shannow was right: the imminent fall of Atlantis represented a deadly danger to the new world.
One of the great mysteries the Guardians had never been able to solve was the eye-witness accounts of the Second Fall, when ten thousand years of civilisation were ripped from the surface of the planet. Those eye-witnesses had spoken of two suns in the sky. Amaziga had been educated in the theory that what had been seen was, in fact, a nuclear explosion. Now she was not so sure. The gold scrolls spoke of a gateway to a world of flying machines and great weapons.
The circle of history? When Atlantis fell, did it drag the twenty-first century with it? And what of the twenty-fourth… What of now? Dear God, was the earth to fall again?
The dusk breeze was cold against her skin. Rising, she drew the heavy curtains and lit the lanterns on the wall. What is it about our race, she wondered, that leads us always along the road of destruction?
Returning to her desk, she picked up the last scroll and traced the words under the dim, golden light of the lanterns. Her eyes widened.
'Sweet Jesus!' she whispered and taking her pistol, she ran from the room and down the stairs to the courtyard. Nu's mare was still tethered there and she climbed into the saddle and raced through the city. Beyond the main gate the lions were feasting on the bodies of the reptiles; they ignored her and she lashed the mare into a gallop.
Shannow did not follow the Parson at speed. The stallion was weary and in need of rest; also, the light was failing and he knew he would be too late if any mishap should befall the horse. The Jerusalem Man swayed in the saddle. He also was tired; his mind reeled with all that Amaziga had told him. Once upon a time the world had been a simple place where there were good men and evil men and the hope of Jerusalem. Now all had changed.
The Sword of God was just a weapon created by men to destroy other men. The crown of crosses was planes from out of the past. So where was God? Shannow lifted his water canteen and drank deeply. Far ahead he could see the outline of the Chaos Peak. As the clouds parted he saw the Sword, glittering like silver in the night sky.
'Where are you, Lord?' said Shannow. 'Where do you walk?'
There was no answer. Shannow thought of Nu, and hoped the shipbuilder had returned home safely. The stallion plodded on and dawn was breaking as Shannow angled his mount up the rocky slope leading to the Chaos Peak and the Pledging Pool. Glancing back, he could see in the distance a rider coming towards the Peak. Taking his long glass, he focused it and recognised Amaziga. The mare was all but finished, lather-covered and scarcely moving. Returning the glass to his saddlebag, Shannow crested the last rise. His eyes were burning with fatigue as he headed the stallion down to the Pool, then dismounted and gazed about him. The Peak reared like a jagged finger, and he could see the Parson almost at the last ledge. It was a long shot for a pistol.