Wolf in Shadow

Lewis returned and served a goblet of white wine to each of the men, then laid the pitcher on the table and left the room.

'You have great power here,' said Shannow.

'Indeed we do, sir. With knowledge comes power, and we guard the secrets of the old world.'

'But you also have the Stones.'

'What is the point you are making?'

'With all this power, why do you not stop the Hellborn?'

'We are not meddlers, Mr Shannow, though we have tried to guide this world for more than three hundred years. Men like Prester John Taybard and the man you knew as Karitas have been sent from here to educate the people of this continent — to lead them towards an understanding of what they are, and from whence they come. I have no army and if I did, I have no God-given right to change the destiny of the Hellborn. On the other hand, since the battle is unequal, I am willing to help you.'

'In what way?'

'I can give you weapons to take to Daniel Cade.'

'How will that help me kill Abaddon?'

'It will help you to do more than that; it will help you to beat him.'

Shannow looked into Sarento's dark eyes and stayed silent.

'What sort of weapons?' asked Batik.

Sarento gave an order to one of his men, who opened a hidden door in the far wall to reveal a firing range. At the furthest end of the first Une was a wooden statue, dressed in the armour of the Hellborn. Sarento stepped on to the range and lifted a bulky black weapon almost three feet long, which he handed to Batik. 'Pull back the bolt on the left, then aim it — but hold it steadily, it may surprise you.'

Batik sprang the bolt and pulled the trigger. The rolling explosion deafened them momentarily and the statue disappeared, its upper torso smashed beyond recognition. Batik laid the weapon gently to rest.

'Five hundred bullets a minute, moving at three thousand miles per hour,' said Sarento. 'Hit a man in the upper leg with just one and the hydraulic shock will drag his blood from his heart and kill him. You can destroy an army with ten of these and I'll give you fifty.'

‘I’ll think about it,' said Shannow.

'What is there to think about?' argued Batik. 'We could ride in and take Babylon itself with these.'

'Probably, but I'm tired. Is there somewhere I can rest?' Shannow asked Sarento.

'Of course,' was the reply, whereupon he opened a door which Lewis entered. 'Show our guests to suitable quarters. I will see you both in the morning.'

The Guardian took them to another level and into a T-shaped room containing two beds, a table, four chairs and a wide window looking out on a gleaming lake. Shannow moved to the window and tried to open it, but the lock would not shift.

'It does not open, Mr Shannow — it is not a window at all, but a light picture — what we call a mood-view.' He moved to a dial on the wall and turned it. The view mellowed into dusk, evening and finally moonlit night. 'Set it as it pleases you. I shall have food sent to you.'

Once the guardian had left Shannow lay back-on the first bed, his head pillowed on his arms.

'What's bothering you, Shannow?' asked Batik.

'Nothing. I am just tired.'

'But those weapons. . Even your God would be hard-pressed to come up with a better miracle.'

'You are easily pleased, Batik. Now leave me to think.'

Batik shrugged and wandered around the room until Lewis returned with food. For Batik he brought a huge rare steak and green vegetables. For Shannow, there was cheese and black bread.

When they had consumed the food, Lewis rose to leave.

'Is there no water anywhere?' asked Shannow. 'I would like to clean the dust from my body.'

'How foolish of me,' said the guardian. 'Look over here.' As he spoke, he slid back the wall by the mood-view to reveal a cubicle of glass. Lewis reached inside and pressed a switch at which warm water jetted from a nozzle in the wall. 'Soap and towels are in here,' said Lewis, opening a wall cupboard.

'Thank you. This place is like a palace.'

'It was constructed from plans that existed before the Fall.'

'Did the Guardians build this place?'

'After a fashion, Mr Shannow. We used the Stones to recreate the magic of our forefathers.'

'Where are we now?'

'You are inside the shell of the Ark. Once we harnessed the Sipstrassi, we rearranged the interior to house our community. I think that was some three centuries ago; there have been some modifications since.'

Shannow sipped a glass of clear wine. He was bone-weary, but there was much he needed to know.

'I never really had a chance to talk to Archer about what you guard. Would you mind explaining?'

'Not at all. Our community exists to gather and hoard the secrets of Pre-Fall, in the hope of one day bringing it back. We have a library here with over thirty thousand books, most of them technical. But there are also four thousand classics in eleven languages.'

'How can you bring back what is past?' asked Batik.

'That is a question for Sarento, not a soldier.'

'And you believe you can help bring back civilization with guns that could kill five hundred men a minute?' said Shannow softly.

'Man is an inventive animal, Mr Shannow. Any weapon of death will be improved. Would you not sooner have the guns than the Hellborn? Sooner or later their gunsmiths will perfect them.'

'How many of you are there?'

'Eight hundred, including the women and children. We are a fairly stable community. Tomorrow I will show you around. Perhaps you would agree to meet Amaziga Archer — it will be painful, but I know she wants to hear of her husband's last hours.'

'He spoke of her at the end,' said Shannow.

'Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell her that.'

'Of course. Were you a friend of Archer's?'

'Very few people disliked Sam. Yes, we were friends.'

'His Stone turned black,' said Batik. 'It was very small.'

'He always over-used it; he treated it like a magic bauble. I shall miss him,' said Lewis with genuine regret.

'Was he the only guardian with a love of Atlantis?' asked Shannow.

'Very much so — he and Sarento, that is.'

'An interesting man. How old is he?'

'Just over two hundred and eighty, Mr Shannow. He is very gifted.'

'And you, Mr Lewis? How old are you?'

'Sixty-seven. Sam Archer was ninety-eight. The Stones are wondrous things.'

'Indeed they are. I think I will rest now. Thank you for answering my questions.'

'It was a pleasure. Sleep well.'

'One last question?'

'Ask it.'

'Do the Stones create your food for you?'

'They used to, Mr Shannow, but we needed the power for other and more important things. We now run a sizable herd of cattle and sheep, and we grow most of our vegetables.'

‘Thank you again.'

'Not at all.'

Shannow lay awake long after Batik was asleep. The mood-view was set to moonlight and he watched as clouds drifted across the sky, the same clouds time and again in relentless regularity.

He closed his eyes and saw once more the sundered statue, picturing a real man lying there with his entrails around him like torn ribbons.

Had Karitas possessed weapons such as these, the Hellborn would never have destroyed his village and young Curopet would still be alive.

Shannow rolled over and lay on his stomach, but sleep evaded him despite the softness of the bed. He was uneasy and tense. He swung his legs from the bed and moved to the water cubicle, stepping into the shallow basin and turning on the spray. In a tray to his right was a bar of scented soap and he scrubbed his skin, revelling in the heat of the shower. Towelling himself down, he returned to the mood-view and on impulse switched it to day and watched the sun hurtle into the sky.