Dulled by years of labor, surrounded by troops, and conditioned to obey their Pharaoh and Gods without question, the men stood in line with little protest. Occasionally one wouldtry to bolt, to be cut down by the guards immediately and the body hauled to the top.
Not only were priests and workers among the condemned, but so were all those who had been caught in the desert to the west the previous day. The Libyan who had approached the sand dune was dragged up with chains around his ankles and thrown onto an altar. He had his head up, looking around as if noting all. When his eyes fell upon Excalibur in Asim’s hands, his calm demeanor suddenly changed and he struggled in the guards’ grip. As Asim drew the sword of the Gods across the man’s neck, the body convulsed, sitting straight up despite the blood pouring from the sliced arteries in his neck.
Asim stepped back in shock, Excalibur held up defensively. The two soldiers who’d brought the Libyan to the altar grabbed his shoulders.
The Libyan snatched each soldier’s neck and smashed their heads together, killing them. Asim used the opportunity to jab forward with the sword, the blade punching into the Libyan’s stomach.
An unearthly scream roared out of the man’s wide-open mouth. Khufu, behind a line of his Imperial guards, was less than ten feet away, watching the bizarre spectacle. The Pharaoh gasped in horror as Asim struck once more before the Libyan’s body was ripped apart from the inside. The tip of a tentacle punched out of the man’s skin from his chest.
The tentacle was gray and tipped with three digits that bent and twisted as they grasped for a target. The body of the Libyan was bent in an extremely unnatural manner as if the spine had been turned into a loose string. Asim swung the sword, severing the end of the tentacle. The end that fell to the stone shriveled as if baked, while the other slid back into the body. Then the priest stepped back, Excalibur at the ready.
“What was that?” Khufu demanded.
Asim jabbed the sword several more times into the body, but there was no movement. “Burn the body,” Asim ordered several of the Imperial guards. “Scatter the ashes.”
As they gingerly picked up the Libyan’s body, Asim walked over to the Pharaoh, sweat staining his robes. “The Ancient Enemy, my Lord. It must have escaped from the thing we saw yesterday.”
Khufu could only shake his head, the events of the past twenty-four hours threatening to overwhelm his sanity. “What kind of enemy is this?”
“It is the enemy of the Gods and our enemy.”
“How did it get in that man?”
“I do not know, my lord. I was told to watch for this by the apparition yesterday.”
“How did it survive? We saw the sky thing destroyed.”
“I do not know that either, my lord, but the apparition warned me it could. And it told me that the sword would kill it.”
Khufu looked at the blade in Asim’s hands. “That is indeed very powerful.”
“It was designed so that whoever wielded it could rule supreme,” Asim said.
Khufu nodded. A thing that one person could carry and that held such power held both great opportunity and great danger.
Asim signaled for the soldiers to continue to bring prisoners forward and he went back to his grim task. By the time the last worker was dead and the body unceremoniously tossed over the side to be burned, all four sides of the Great Pyramid were stained red. There was no repeat of what had happened with the Libyan.
Donnchadh estimated that at least five thousand had been slain on top of the Great Pyramid in less than four hours. She had watched through high-power binoculars throughout the entire bloody spectacle. Billions had died on her home world but that didn’t inure her to seeing so much bloodshed. She forced herself to watch as the high priest went to the Pharaoh. He handed the sword to his leader. The Pharaoh yelled orders to his soldiers that she could not hear at this distance.
“What are they doing?” Gwalcmai asked as soldiers hammered spikes into joints all along the edge of the top of the pyramid, between the limestone covering and the heavy blocks below. The first covering stone fell away, tumbling down the blood-soaked side of the pyramid.
“They’re destroying the signal,” Donnchadh said.
“The signal?”
“That thing is what drew the Swarm here,” Donnchadh explained. “The smooth surface, the angles, all work to reflect sunlight. It gives an immense radar signature. Large enough to eventually make it out of this star system into interstellar space.”
Gwalcmai frowned. “Why would these humans build such a thing?”
“According to the Wedjat, because the Airlia left the plans for them.” She knew that didn’t answer the real question that her mate was asking, so she continued. “The interstellar array on Mars was destroyed by Artad as he came into the system. Aspasia must have thought he could turn the tables if he could get a signal out to the Airlia Empire. Claim that Artad was the one who messed up. So this passive signal was designed by him long ago and the plans handed down. Except it brought not Airlia, but the Swarm. So now it must be destroyed.”
She was still watching, following the Pharaoh and his high priest as they went down the ramp and headed over to the Sphinx talking to each other.
You must decree that no one will write of this day’s events, my lord,” Asim said.
“What should I do with the sword?” Khufu asked. “Perhaps I should keep it in case we are attacked again.”
“It was the Master Guardian that stopped the Ancient Enemy craft,” Asim said, “not the sword. Without the facing, the pyramid will not be found by the Ancient Enemy.”
“How can that be?”
“I do not know, but it is what I was told. And what people may desire in the duats along the Roads of Rostau are secure in one form or another.”
“Why did you have to use Excalibur for the killing today and not your ceremonial dagger?” Khufu asked.
“The sword has another special power,” Asim said. “As you saw, it is the only thing that can kill the Ancient Enemy and the immortal.”
“The immortal?” Khufu stepped closer to the priest. “Someone has partaken of the Grail?”
“I very much doubt it,” Asim said, “but all who could have had access to the duats had to die.”
“I do not understand,” Khufu said.
“I do not either, my Lord,” Asim said. “I only do what the Gods command. The sword is the key that must be hidden away again.”
“Why did the Gods have us build that”—Khufu jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the pyramid—“if it would only bring enemies?”
“The Gods hoped it would bring their kindred Gods from the sky,” Asim said. The same answer he had given before, but Khufu felt despair.
“And now?” Khufu spread his hands wide. “Now what do I do?”
“You rule, my lord,” Asim said.
“What will I do with Excalibur?” Khufu asked once more.
“We will leave it in the sheath and return it to its place in the duats so that the Gods may have access to it when it is needed. When the Master Guardian is returned or needed again.”
Khufu unbuckled it from his belt and handed it over to Asim, who tucked it under his cloak. Then the high priest went into the Roads of Rostau.
Is the Wedjat prepared?” Gwalcmai asked after Donnchadh told him the high priest had disappeared underground.
“He’d better be.” She sighed. “He lost family members on the top of the pyramid today. He is more than ready to act.”
“Then it is time for us to go.”
Donnchadh was hesitant. “What if he fails?
“Then he fails.” Gwalcmai shrugged. “If the Airlia did not awaken for this threat, then they plan to sleep for a long time. So should we. These humans are not even close to being capable of revolting.” He put a hand on Donnchadh’s shoulder. “It is not time.”
A sim made his way down the stone corridor, scepter in one hand, Excalibur in the other. He paused, cocking his head, as if he sensed something was wr
ong. He waited several moments, then continued. When he reached the intersection, he turned right and came to a complete halt as a man stepped forward to confront him.
Asim held the sword in his good hand, across the front of his body, still covered by the sheath. “Kaji. I knew you would be about. Scurrying around like the rat you are.”
“Even a rat is better than being a slave,” Kaji said.
Asim spit at the other man’s feet. “You Wedjat. You have betrayed our ancient priesthood.”
Kaji shook his head. “We betrayed? Whom did we betray? The ‘Gods’ who left us to fend for ourselves? Who allowed our homes to be destroyed, our people killed? What did you perform today? How many people died today because of the ‘Gods’? How many more will have to die?”
“You are a Watcher,” Asim said. “You can do nothing according to the laws of your order. Get out of my way.”
Kaji’s jaw was set. “My three brothers, my six nephews. Two of my three sons. They died today on the pyramid.”
Asim took an involuntary step backward. “You took an oath to only watch.”
“I am done with being a Watcher. My surviving son will be the next Wedjat. The next Watcher of Giza, of the Roads of Rostau.”
“Still, you took an oath.” Asim took another step back.
“You know there are those beyond the Watchers,” Kaji said. “Those who act.” Kaji held up his hands, his fingers lacking the ring that was the symbol of the first rank of his order. “After opening a door to the Roads of Rostau I left my ring for my son to find.”
That struck Asim as hard as a blade. The priest held up the sword, but had not drawn the blade. “What good will it do to kill me?”
Kaji barked a laugh. “You’re not that important.”
“Then what—”
“Excalibur,” Kaji said. “It is theirs. And it is the key. I will take it.”
“You cannot. It is only for the Gods.”
Kaji indicated Asim’s wounds. “Have you ever looked at yourself? What has been done to you?”
“It is the price of service.”
“To what end?” Kaji’s voice shook. “To what end does your service go?”
“To get eternal life,” Asim said. “To partake of the Grail.”
“The Grail has been around since the dawn of time and we have never been allowed to partake!”
Asim’s voice fell to a whisper. “It will happen someday. If not to me, then to those who follow. But only to the true believers.”
Kaji took another step closer to the priest. He was in range of the blade, but Asim did not draw it. “Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps partaking of the Grail might not be a good thing?”
Asim’s eyes widened. He blinked as if he had just heard that the sky was red, his head shaking in disbelief.
“Excalibur,” Kaji said.
Asim shook his head more firmly. “It must be kept safe.”
“You think this place is safe?” Kaji didn’t wait for an answer. “The ‘Gods’ fight among themselves. Both sides know of the Roads of Rostau. It must be hidden from them or else we will have repeats of today’s disaster.”
“But the Ancient Enemy—” Asim began.
“Yes, the Ancient Enemy.” Kaji nodded. “Excalibur must be protected from the Ancient Enemy also. I saw what happened on the top of the pyramid. What makes you think that was the only enemy that survived?”
“The enemy was destroyed.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Kaji said. “I saw the Libyan taken by the Ancient Enemy in the desert to the west of here. More danger could be close by. The sword must be removed from here.”
Asim frowned. “What do you know of the Ancient Enemy?”
A strange look crossed Kaji’s face. “The legends—” His voice trailed off.
“How did you know to go out into the desert?” Asim pressed. “Why did—” Asim continued, but he didn’t complete the sentence, as Kaji slammed his dagger into the priest’s chest.
Asim fell to the tunnel floor dead. Kaji reached down and took the priest’s cloak, wrapping it around his own slender body, pulling the hood up over his head. He picked up Excalibur and the scepter. Then he headed toward the surface.
Khufu was alone on the roof of the Pyramid temple. The removal of the covering stones was complete about a third of the way down. People from all around were at the base, taking the limestone with them, as the Pharaoh had allowed it. They could build homes with the stone. It might as well serve some positive purpose. Several large rough blocks had been emplaced on top to keep the semblance of a pyramid and also hide the fact that something else had once been up there.
He heard his guards snap to attention below and turned. A slight figure came up the ladder onto the roof, moving with difficulty. He recognized Asim from his cloak and the sword in his hand.
“I thought you were taking that back underground,” Khufu said. “Have you had second thoughts?”
The figure came closer. Khufu gasped as the sword was drawn and the blade came across his neck. He could feel the chill of the metal against his skin.
“Are you insane, Asim?”
The man pulled his hood down, revealing his features.
“Who are you?”
“A man. Like you. My name is Kaji.”
Khufu stared into the man’s eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”
Kaji ignored the question. “Asim is dead. I killed him.”
Khufu looked back up at the defaced pyramid. The sword pressed tighter against his throat. He waited to feel it slice his skin. Now, for the first time in his life, Khufu felt his mortality, and knew that he was not the favored of the Gods, that he was just a man.
“He lied to you because he was lied to,” Kaji said.
“Lied about what?” Khufu asked, hoping to avoid this dark fate as long as possible, thinking that perhaps one of his guards might check on them, also knowing that hope was futile, as no one would dare interrupt the Pharaoh while he was consulting with his high priest.
“The Gods. The empty promises.” The sword was removed from Khufu’s throat and Kaji sheathed it, before hiding it under his cloak. “My Pharaoh—” Kaji pointed toward the pyramid. “That is what has been done to your people in the name of the Gods. Perhaps it is best if these Gods are not part of our lives. I will let you live if you give me your word as Pharaoh to rule as a man and not as a puppet to the Gods.”
Khufu swallowed and nodded, his confidence shattered by recent events. “Yes. Yes. I can do that. I will do that.”
“I do not believe you,” Kaji said simply. “Still, killing you will solve nothing, and in reality you have little choice now but to rule as a man. And there is doubt in your mind now. Perhaps that is all I can do here. Doubt is the seed from which one day may grow independence. The ability to think for ourselves. We have been lied to many times, by the Gods, by the priests. We must make our own truth.”
With that, Kaji turned and disappeared down the ladder. He made his way along the processional path, the guards keeping their distance, recognizing the cloak of Asim, the high priest, second only to the Pharaoh himself. Kaji maintained the strange gait of the priest until he reached the Lower Temple. Then he went by the priest’s path to the nearby Nile, where a small boat waited, manned by a young man who wore the medallion of the Watchers.
Set in the boat was a wooden box, three and a half feet long. The young man swung the top of the box open. Kaji placed the sheathed sword into the box, then closed the lid. He then handed the tube holding his report to the man. The boat slipped away into the night to make its long journey to deliver the report and sword.
Excalibur disappeared into darkness.
XI
1,500 B.C.: STONEHENGE
There was no flashing light as Donnchadh opened the top to her tube. She checked the timer and learned that one thousand years—as planned— had passed since she had gone into the deep sleep. The deck was still cold to her feet and she quickly dressed as Gwalcma
i once more was slower to rise. She had the computer online by the time he was dressed.
“Anything?” Gwalcmai asked as he sat next to her. He shivered. “We should have picked a warmer place to put the ship.”
Donnchadh ignored the comment. “Nothing intercepted from the guardians.”
“At least the Swarm hasn’t returned,” Gwalcmai said.
“Not for a harvest,” Donnchadh agreed.
Gwalcmai got to his feet and went to where his cloak and sword were hung. “I suppose we must go to Avalon.” He picked up the sword. “Do you think the Watcher is still there?”
“I hope so.” Donnchadh got her own cloak. “We shall soon find out.”
The town on the shore across from Avalon was deserted. And had been for a long time, to judge by the degraded condition of the few buildings that were still standing. There were no boats on the shoreline and the two stood in the light rain for several minutes looking up at the top of the tor. The tip was wreathed in mist but they could see that a stone building had been erected on the very top.
“I could build a boat,” Gwalcmai said.
“We have time, but not that much time.” Donnchadh moved off to the right, circling the island. “There.” She pointed at a clump of bushes. Tucked behind them, they could see glimpses of a small rowboat.
“It’s on the other side,” Gwalcmai noted.
“Would you rather build a boat or swim over and get that one?” Donnchadh asked.
“You could swim,” Gwalcmai suggested. “Or we both could.”
Donnchadh simply stared at him, waiting. Gwalcmai muttered something to himself as he stripped off his armor. Clad only in a loin wrap, he approached the dark water, shaking his shoulders from the chill. Gwalcmai let out a deep breath, then dived into the water. With powerful strokes, he made his way across the lake to the base of the tor. He emerged from the water, shaking it from him like a big dog. His long dark hair flew to and fro. He grabbed the rowboat, slid it into the water, and jumped on board. He paddled furiously, trying to stay warm, and was back across the lake in just a minute.
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