Stones Of Power - The Complete Chronicles Of The Jerusalem Man Part 94

Archer was shocked, but he nodded. 'You knew?' 'I see her in you,' said Shannow. And turning the horse, he rode slowly from the town.

Amaziga Archer was waiting for him by the stream. The black woman had changed little since Shannow had last seen her and, like himself, she seemed untouched by the pa.s.sage of the decades. Her hair was still jet-black, her face unlined, her almond-shaped eyes dark and l.u.s.trous. She was wearing a grey shield shirt and a riding skirt of leather. Her horse was a grey gelding of some sixteen hands.

'Follow me,' she ordered him, then headed up over rocky ground, her mount splashing along the shallow stream. They rode in the water for almost half an hour before she turned the gelding to the right, urging him up a steep bank. Shannow followed, his mount struggling on the greasy slope.

'They will see where we emerged,' he said. 'A skilled tracker will not be fooled by our route.

The stream is not swift-running and the hoof-marks will be there for some days.'

'I am aware of that, Shannow,' she said. 'Grant me a little respect. I spent the last hour before your arrival moving back and forth in the water, emerging at no fewer than seven banks. Added to that, where we are about to go no man - save one -could follow.'

Without another word she rode on, heading towards a high wall of rock. The ground was hard, and glancing down Shannow saw that they were moving along an ancient road paved with slabs of granite.

This was the road to Pisaecuris,' she told him, 'a major city of the Akkadians. They were descended from the peoples of the Atlantean empire, and flourished thousands of years ago.'

Ahead of them was a series of ruined buildings, and beyond that a circle of great stones.

Amaziga Archer rode through the ruins and dismounted at the centre of the circle.

Shannow stepped from the saddle. 'What now?' he asked.

'Now we go home,' she said. From a deep pocket in her skirtshe took a small golden Stone.

The air shimmered with violet light and Shannow's horse reared, but he calmed him swiftly. The light faded. Beyond the circle there was now a two-storey house built of red brick and painted timbers, with a slanted roof of black slate. Before it was a garishly painted and highly elaborate carriage; it had windows all around and rested on four thick, black wheels.

'This is home,' she said coldly, interrupting his examination of the object. 'I wish I could say you were welcome - but you are not. There is a paddock behind the house. Release the horses there. I will prepare some food.' Tossing him the reins to her grey, she walked into the house. Shannow led the horses to the rear of the building, unsaddled them and freed them in the paddock. Then he returned to the front door and tapped lightly on the wood.

'For G.o.d's sake,' she said, 'you don't need to observe the niceties here.'

Stepping inside, he saw the most remarkable room. It was fully carpeted in thick grey wool, upon which stood four padded armchairs and a couch covered with soft black leather. From the ceiling hung a curious lamp of gla.s.s, no larger than a wine goblet, from which came a light so bright it hurt his eyes to stare at it. There was a fire blazing in a stone hearth but the coals, though they glowed, did not burn. On a desk by the far wall was a curious contraption, a box, grey on three sides but with one black side facing towards a chair. Wires extended from the rear, running down to a small block set in the wall.

'What is this place?' asked Shannow.

'My study,' said Amaziga. 'You should be honoured, Shannow. You are only the third man to see it. The first was my second husband, the second was my son, Gareth.'

'You married again. That is good.'

'What would you know about it?' she snapped. 'My first husband died because of you. He was the love of my life, Shannow. I don't suppose you'd understand that, would you? And because of you and your demented faith my home was destroyed, and I lost my first son. I didn't think there was much more you could do to hurt me. Yet here you are, large as life.

The new Elijah, no less, and your twisted values have become enshrined in the laws of your bizarre new world.'

'Is that why you brought me here, lady?' he asked softly. 'So that you could blame me for all the evils of Man? Your husband was killed by an evil man. But your people died because they followed Sarento, and he was behind the h.e.l.lborn War. It was he, not I, who turned the Daniel Stones to blood and brought destruction on the Guardians. But then you know all this. So unless you want to blame me for every storm and drought, every plague and pestilence, pray tell me why you asked your son to guide me to you.'

Amaziga closed her beautiful eyes and drew in a deep breath, which she released slowly.

'Sit down, Shannow,' she said at last, her voice more mellow. 'I'll make some coffee, then we'll talk.' She moved to a cupboard on the far wall and removed a brightly coloured packet. Shannow watched as she tipped the contents -small dark stones -into a gla.s.s jug.

She flicked a switch and the jug whirred, grinding the stones to powder. This she poured into a paper container set atop a second, larger jug. Seeing him watching her, she smiled for the first time. 'It's a drink that is popular in this world,' she told him. 'You may prefer it sweetened with milk and sugar. It will take a little time.'

'Where are we?' he asked.

'Arizona,' she said, leaving him none the wiser.

Crossing the room, she sat opposite him. 'I am sorry,' she said, 'for my angry words. And I do know that you are not wholly at fault. But equally, had you not entered my life my first husband would still be alive and so would Luke. And I cannot forget that I saw you destroy a world - perhaps two worlds. Millions upon millions of people. But Beth was right. You were not seeking to detonate the Sword of G.o.d; you did not even fully know what it was.'

Hot water began bubbling into the jug and Amaziga rose and stood by it. 'I am not religious, Shannow. If there is a G.o.d, then he is capricious and wilful and I want no part of him. So I find myself disliking you on too many counts to be able to handle.'

The bubbling noises from the jug abruptly ceased and Amaziga poured the black liquid into two ornate mugs. She pa.s.sed one to Shannow, who sniffed it apprehensively. When he sipped it, the taste was acrid and bitter, similar to Baker's but with more body. 'I'll get the sugar,' said Amaziga.

Sweetened, the drink was almost bearable. Tell me what you want of me, lady,' he said, putting aside the mug.

'You are so sure I want something?'

He nodded. 'I am not seeking another angry dispute, but I already knew that you held me in contempt. You have made that clear on a number of occasions. So, the fact that I am here means you need me. The question is, for what purpose?'

'Perhaps it was just to save your life.'

He shook his head. 'No, lady. You despise me and all that you believe I stand for. Why would you save me?'

'All right!' she snapped. There is something.'

'Name it, and if it is possible I will attempt it.'

She rubbed her face and looked away. 'You give your promises so easily,' she said, her voice low.

'And when I do, I keep them, lady. I do not lie.'

'I know that!' she said, her voice rising. 'You are the Jerusalem Man! Oh, Christ . . .'

'Just tell me what you want,' he urged her.

'I will tell you what I need from you, Shannow. You will think I am mad, but you must hear me out. You promise that?' He nodded and for a moment she said nothing, then she looked directly into his eyes. 'All right. I want you to bring Sam back from the dead.'

He stared at her in silence.

'It is not as crazy as it sounds,' Amaziga went on. Trust me on that, Shannow. The past, the present and the future all co-exist, and we can visit them. You know that already, because Pendarric's legions crossed the vault of time to invade our lands. They crossed twelve thousand years. It can be done.'

'But Sam is dead, woman!'

'Can you only think in straight lines?' she stormed. 'Supposing you were to go back into the past and prevent them killing him?'

'But I didn't. I do not understand the principles behind such journeys, but I do know that Sam Archer died - because that is what happened. If I went back and changed that, then it would already have happened and we wouldn't be having this conversation.'

Suddenly she laughed and clapped her hands. 'Bravo, Shannow. At last a little imagination! Good. Then think on this: If I journeyed back into the past and shot your father, before he met your mother, and then returned here, would I be alone? Would you have ceased to exist?'

'One would suppose so,' he said.

'No,' she said triumphantly. 'You would still be here. That is the great discovery.'

'And how would I be here without having had a father?'

There are infinite universes existing alongside our own, perhaps in the same s.p.a.ce.

Infinite. Without number, in other words. There are thousands of Jon Shannows, perhaps millions. When we step through the ancient Gateways we cross into parallel universes.

Some are identical to our own, some fractionally different. With an infinite number it means that anything the mind can conceive must exist somewhere. So somewhere Sam Archer did not die in Castlemine. You see what I am saying?'

'I hear the words, lady. Understanding is something else entirely.'

'Think of it in terms of the grains of sand in a desert. No two are exactly identical. The odds against finding twin grains would be, say, a hundred million to one. But then the number of grains is finite. It may be thirty trillion. But supposing there was no limit to the number of grains? Then a hundred million to one would be small odds. And within infinity there would be an infinite number of twins. That is a fact of life within the multiverse. I know. I have seen it.'

Shannow finished his coffee. 'So you are saying that in some world, somewhere, there is a Sam Archer waiting to be taken to Castlemine? Yes.'

'Exactly.'

'Then why do you not go back back and find him? Why is it necessary to send a messenger?'

Amaziga moved to the jug and refilled the mugs. This time Shannow sipped the brew appreciatively. She sat down and leaned back in the leather chair. 'I did go back,' she said, 'and I found Sam and brought him home. We lived together here for almost a year.'

'He died?'

She shook her head. 'I made a mistake. I told him everything and one morning he was gone, searching for what he termed his own life. What he didn't know was that I was already pregnant with Gareth. Perhaps that would have changed his mind. I don't know.

But this time I'll get it right, Shannow. With your help.'

'Your son must be around twenty years old. How is it you have waited this long to try again?'

Amaziga sighed. 'He is eighteen. It took me.two years to find Sam again, and even in that I was lucky. I have spent the last decade in research, studying clairvoyance and mysticism. It came to me that clairvoyants cannot see the future, for it does not exist yet. What they can do is to glimpse other identical worlds - which is why some of their visions are so ludicrously wrong. They see a future that exists on another world and predict that it will happen here. But all kinds of events can change the possible futures. Finally I found a man whose powers were incredible. He lived in a place called Sedona - one of the most beautiful lands I have ever seen, red rock b.u.t.tes set in a magnificent desert. For a time I lived with him. I used my Sipstra.s.si Stones to duplicate his powers, and imprint them on a machine.'

She stood and walked to the black-faced box on the desk by the wall. This machine. It resembles a computer, but it is very special.' Amaziga pressed a b.u.t.ton and the screen flickered to life, becoming a face, a handsome man with red-gold hair and eyes of startling blue.

'Welcome home, Amaziga,' it said, the voice low and smooth, and infinitely human. 'I see you found the man you were seeking.'

'Yes, Lucas. This is Jon Shannow.'

Shannow rose and approached the box. 'You trapped the man in there?' he said, horrified.

'No, not the man. He died. I was away on research and he collapsed with a heart attack.

Lucas is a creation which holds all of the man's memories. But he is also something different. He is self-aware in his own right. He operates as a kind of time-scope, using both the power of Sipstra.s.si and the magic of the ancient Gateways. Through his talent we can view alternate worlds. Show him, Lucas.'

'What would you like to see, Mr Shannow?' asked Lucas.

He wanted to say Jerusalem, but he could not. Shannow hesitated, 'You choose,' he told the machine.

The face disappeared and Shannow found himself staring at a city on a hill, a great temple at the centre. The sky above was deep blue, and the sun shone with unbearable brightness.

A man was standing outside the temple, arms raised, and a great crowd was listening to him; he was dressed in golden armour, with a burnished helm upon his head. Sounds came from the machine, a language Shannow did not know, but the armoured man's voice was low and melodious. Lucas's voice cut in: 'The man is Solomon and he is consecrating the great temple of Jerusalem.' The scene faded, and was replaced instantly by another; this time the city was in ruins and a dark-bearded figure stood brooding over the broken stones. Again Lucas cut in: 'This is the King of the a.s.syrians. He has destroyed the city.

Solomon was slain in a great battle. There is, as you can see, no temple. In this world he failed. Do you wish to see other variations?'

'No,' said Shannow. 'Show me the Sam Archer you wish me to find.'

The screen flickered and Shannow saw a mountainside and a collection of tents. Several people were gathering wood. One of them was the tall, broad-shouldered man he remembered so well: Sam Archer, archaeologist and Guardian. He had a rifle looped over his shoulder and was standing on a cliff-edge staring down over a plain. Upon the plain was an army.

The day following this scene,' said Lucas, 'the army sweeps into the mountains, killing everyone.'

'What War is it?'

'It is the h.e.l.lborn. They have conquered and are now sweeping away the last remnants of the defeated army.'

The screen changed once more, becoming the handsome face with the clear blue eyes. 'Do I exist in this world?' asked Shannow.

'You did, as a farmer. You were killed in the first invasion. Sam Archer did not know you.'

'Who rules the h.e.l.lborn? Sarento? Welby?'

'Neither. The Bloodstone rules.'

'Someone must control it, surely?'

'No, Shannow,' said Amaziga. 'In this world the Bloodstone lives. Sarento drew it into himself, and in doing so created a demon with awesome powers. Thousands have died since to feed the Bloodstone.'

'Can it be killed?'

'No,' said Lucas. 'It is impervious to shot or sh.e.l.l, and can create a field around it of immense force. The Sword of G.o.d could have destroyed it, but in this world there is no missile waiting.'

The Bloodstone is not your problem, Shannow,' put in Amaziga. 'All I want is for you to rescue Sam and bring him back. Will you do it?'

'I have a problem,' he said.

'Yes, with your memory. I can help you with that. But only when you get back.'

'Why wait?'

She hesitated before answering. 'I will tell you the truth, and ask you to accept it. You would not be the same man if I returned your memory to you. And the man you will become -though more acceptable to me - would have less chance of success. Will you take that on trust?'

Shannow sat silently, his pale gaze locked to her dark eyes. 'You need Shannow the killer.'

'Yes,' she whispered.

He nodded. 'It lessens us both.'

'I know,' she answered, her eyes downcast.