David Gemmell: The Last Guardian

'Now what?' he asked.

'Now we wait for a while, and then you go back to your men.'

'You think I won't come back?'

'You'll think about it,' she admitted. 'Then you'll realise just how they'll laugh when you tell them I held a gun to your instrument and forced you to mend my wagon. No, you'll tell them I was one Hell of a lay and you let me ride on.'

'They'll be fightin' mad,' he said. Then he grinned. 'Sweet Jesus, but you're a woman worth fightin' over! Where you headed?'

'Pilgrim's Valley,' she told him. There was no point in lying; the wagon tracks would be easy to follow.

'See those peaks yonder? Cut to the right of them. There's a trail there — it's high and narrow, but it will save you four days. You can't miss it. A long time ago someone placed out a stone arrow, and cut signs into the trees. Follow it through and you'll find Pilgrim's Valley is around two days beyond.'

'I may just take your advice, Harry,' she said. 'Mary, prepare some herb tea for our guest. But don't get too close to him; I'd like a clear shot if necessary.'

Mary stoked up the fire and boiled a kettle of water. She asked Harry if he took sugar, added three measures and then carried a steaming mug to within six feet of him. 'Put it on the ground,'

ordered Beth. Mary did so and Harry moved to it cautiously.

He sipped the tea slowly. 'If I'm ever in Pilgrim's Valley, would you object if I called on you?'

Harry asked.

'Ask me when you see me in Pilgrim's Valley,' she told him.

'Who would I ask for?'

'Beth McAdam.'

'Greatly pleased to meet you, ma'am. Harry Cooper is my name. Late of Allion and points north.'

He went to his horse and mounted. Beth watched as he rode east, then uncocked the flintlock.

Harry rode the four miles to the camp, his mind aflame with thoughts of the spirited woman. He saw the camp-fire and cantered in, ready with his tale of satisfied lust. Tying his horse to the picket line, he walked to the fire…

Something struck him in the back and he heard the. thunder of a shot. He swung, dragging his pistol clear and cocking it. Quint rose from behind a bush and shot him a second time in the chest. Harry levelled his own gun, but the hammer clicked down on the empty nipple. Two more shots punched him from his feet and he fell back into the fire which blazed around his hair.

'Now,' said Quint. ‘Now we all share.'

Nu-Khasisatra eased his huge frame into the shadows of a doorway, pulling his dark cloak over his head and holding his breath. His fear rose, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. A cloud obscured the moon and the burly shipbuilder welcomed the darkness. The Daggers were patrolling the streets and if he was caught he would be dragged to the prison buildings at the centre of the city and tortured. He would be dead by the dawn, his head impaled on a spike above the gates. Nu shivered. The sound of distant thunder rumbled above the City of Ad, and a jagged spear of lightning threw momentary shadows across the cobbled street.

Nu waited for several seconds, calming himself. His faith had carried him this far, but his courage was near exhausted.

'Be with me, Lord Chronos,' he prayed. 'Strengthen my failing limbs.'

He stepped out on to the street, ears straining for any sound that might warn him of the approach of the Daggers. He swallowed hard; the night was silent, the curfew complete. He moved on as silently as he could until he reached Ball's high-towered home. The gate was locked and he waited in the shadows, watching the moon rise. At the prearranged hour he heard the bolt slide open. Stepping into the courtyard beyond, he sank to a seat as his friend shut the gate, locking it tight.

Bali touched a finger to his lips and led the dark-cloaked Nu into the house. The shutters were closed and curtains had been hung over the windows. Bali lit a lantern and placed it on an oval table.

'Peace be upon this house,' said Nu. The smaller Bali nodded his bald head and smiled.

'And the Lord bless my guest and friend,' he answered.

The two men sat at the table and drank a little wine; then Bali leaned back and gazed at his friend of twenty years. Nu-Khasisatra had not changed in that time. His beard was still rich and black, his eyes bright blue and ageless beneath thick jutting brows. Both men had managed to purchase Sipstrassi fragments at least twice to restore youth and health. But Bali had fallen on hard times, his wealth disappearing with the loss in storms at sea of three of his prize ships, and now he was beginning to show the signs of age. He appeared to be in his sixties, though he was in fact eighty years older than Nu, who was one hundred and ten. Nu had tried to acquire more Sipstrassi, but the King had gathered almost all the Stones to himself and even a fragment would now cost all of Nu's wealth.

'You must leave the city,' Bali said, breaking the silence. 'The King has signed a warrant for your immediate arrest.'

'I know. I was foolish to speak against him in the temple, but I have prayed hard and I know the Great One was speaking through me.'

'The Law of One is no more, my friend. The Sons of Belial have the ears of the King. How is Pashad?'

'I ordered her to denounce me this morning, and seek, the severing of the Knot. She at least will be safe, as will my sons.'

'No one is safe, Nu. No one. The King is insane, the slaughter has begun… even as you prophesied it. There is madness in the streets — and these Daggers fill me with terror.'

'There is worse to come,' Nu told him sadly. 'In my prayer dreams I have seen terrible sights: three suns in the sky at one time, the heavens tearing, and the seas rising to swamp the clouds. I know it is close, Bali, and I am powerless to prevent it.'

'Many men have dreams that do not presage evil days,' said Bali.

Nu shook his head. 'I know this. But my dreams have all come true so far. The Lord of All Things is sending these visions. I know he has ordered me to warn the people, and I know also that they will ignore me. But it is not for me to question His purpose.'

Bali poured another goblet of wine and said nothing. Nu-Khasisatra had always been a man of iron principles and faith, devout and honest. Bali liked and respected him. He did not share his principles, but he had come to know his God — and for that gift alone, he would give his life for the shipbuilder.

Opening a hidden drawer below the table, he removed a small purse of embroidered deerskin. For a moment he held it, reluctant to part with it, then he smiled and pushed it across the table.

'For you, my friend,' he said. Nu picked it up and felt the warmth emanating from within the purse. Then he opened it with trembling fingers and tipped out the Stone within. It was not a fragment but a whole Stone, round as if polished, golden with thin black veins. He closed his hand around it, feeling the power surging in him. Gently he placed it on the table top and gazed at the bald, elderly man before him.

'With this you could be young again, Bali. You could live for a thousand years. Why? Why would you give it to me?'

'Because you need it, Nu. And because I never had a friend before.'

'But it is worth perhaps ten times as much money as is contained in the entire city. I could not possibly accept it.'

'You must. It is life. Trie Daggers are seeking you and you know what that means. Torture and death. They have closed the city and you cannot escape, save by the Journey. There is a gateway within the stone circle the princes used to use, to the north of the seventh square. You know it?

By the crystal lake? Good. Go there. Use these words and hold the Stone high.' He passed Nu a small square of parchment.

'The Enchantment will take you to Balacris. From there you will be on your own.'