"Yes, I have," Mathew said, as it finally dawned on him. "It's the dreams, isn't it?"
The Guardian inclined his head and smiled.
"You've been sending me the dreams?"
"In a manner of speaking. I could provide further details, but I fear the capacity to understand them would be beyond you at this time."
The condescending tone rankled him. "Really?" Mathew said. "Try me."
The Guardian took a breath and launched into a brief explanation of how he had been communicating.
"You're right, I don't understand," Mathew said, dejected.
He received a pleasant smile in return. What he did understand was the Guardian's explanation about the echo— the dreams, he remembered, had started four years earlier. The machine h?d been trying to speak to him.
The concept itself was overwhelming, but then, everything about the rings and Henderson was incredible.
"Look, I know the Ancients were a bit odd," said Collin, "but why stick a town way down here in the middle of the earth?"
"Come with me," said the Guardian. "It will make more sense if I show you."
He led them across the square, away from the shops and toward a one-story gray building. The giant crystal Mathew had seen on his first visit rose up and disappeared into the roof. It was in the shape of an octagon and was as smooth as glass. The closer Mathew got to it, the more he felt the echo's power growing in his body. A faint red light glowed at its base. All of them slowed as they passed it. They were heading down a street Mathew had not been on before and it ran directly away from the town center. Collin, walking with Father Thomas, slowed up to allow Mathew and Lara to catch up with him.
"Mat, I can see right through this fellow," he said, lowering his voice.
"I don't think he's lying," Mathew answered. "Some of the things he said make sense. In fact—"
"No. I mean I can actually see right though him. Look for yourself."
Mathew did look, and his mouth dropped, as did Lara's. All of them were unsure of what to do or say until Lara solved the problem.
"Sir," she called out. "May I ask you a question?"
The Guardian stopped and turned around.
"You're not really alive, are you?"
Father Thomas and Ceta stopped dead in their tracks.
"No, I am not alive at all," the Guardian replied. "I am an image, if you will... an interface between machine and people such as yourselves."
"An image," Father Thomas repeated, trying to digest the concept. "Do you mean you are an image of one of the Ancients?"
"One of the designers of the machine, to be precise . .."
Curious, Lara took a step closer. She reached out and touched the Guardian's face with her fingertips. There was a faint sizzling sound as her hand passed through his head and she pulled it back quickly.
"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"Not at all," he replied. "Follow me, please. We only have a short way to go."
The street led them into the darkened recesses of the cavern. They walked for five minutes then turned onto another street which ended at a metal catwalk with handrails on either side. A faint thrumming sound grew progressively louder the farther they went. The Guardian came to a halt and pointed. Stretching before them was the machine of the Ancients.
Like the giant crystal they had passed it was shaped like an octagon, and was so immense that Mathew couldn't see where it began. A series of orange lights pulsated up and down the shaft of the machine at regular in-
tervals. There were other catwalks below them, so many that he lost count after several seconds. The sight took him aback and all he could do was stare. The others had the same reaction.
"My God," Collin whispered.
"We are at Maintenance Level One," said the Guardian. "There are fourteen thousand others like it. The last level is 226 miles below us."
Collin shook his head and looked over the edge of the railing. "What makes it go?"
"The machine's energy source derives from the planet's magma. The answer to the question you asked earlier is that this town was created to house the workers and engineers who lived here. At one time over thirty thousand people were in residence."
"Amazing," said Father Thomas. "Is there a reason you're showing us this?"
The Guardian seemed offended by the question. "Most people find this fascinating."
"Indeed," said the priest, "but that doesn't answer why you've brought us here."
"There are a number of fascinating things in Henderson that I can show you if you wish. Is there other information you require of me?"
Mathew was aware the Guardian didn't answer the question, but his instincts told him not to press the matter just then. Their discussions with him lasted for nearly four more hours before they took a break. The Guardian walked back to the square with them and said they would find food waiting at the cafe. Before anyone could ask another question, he announced that he would return in one hour and promptly disappeared.
In retrospect, Mathew found the information he had provided invaluable. It was difficult to say which was more enlightening: who the Orlocks were and how they came to exist, or why all the rings did not work in the same way. He had long suspected the latter to be true. Each ring had its own peculiarities, which explained why the dragon's tail had passed through Teanna when they were in the Emerald Cavern. It wasn't something he was capable of.
After their dinner the Guardian reappeared and took them to the gray building where he showed them images of people long dead and a litany of events that had taken place in the shadows of history. In some form or fashion, almost all of it was related to the rings.
At Mathew's request, he displayed pictures of the eight members of the Ancients' Western Ruling Council. Their bodies long gone to dust, they stared back at him across the centuries. One in particular, a dark-haired woman with intense eyes, caught his attention, and he asked who she was.
"Elaine Lasker," the Guardian responded.
Mathew nodded slowly as another mystery was solved. Most of the writing engraved on the inside of his ring had been worn smooth over time, but he had always been able to make out the letters E and L.
Collin asked which other people had visited the town. Teanna d'Elso was one, as Mathew already knew, but the revelation about the Orlock queen and Terrence Marek came as a shock. Father Thomas supplemented the answer by explaining who Marek was, and provided everyone with a quick history of the Sandresi.
While he spoke, the dome gradually changed from daylight to evening and ultimately to night. Stars came out and there was even a hint of moonlight on the horizon.
Collin looked up and shook his head. "They could have done a better job on the stars," he said through a yawn.
"That sentiment was shared by many of the people who once lived here," said the Guardian. "I assume you will all want lodgings."
No one objected, and he led them to a residential street and told them to pick any houses they wished.
* * *
It felt strange to be in someone else's home, Mathew thought as he and Lara walked through the rooms. They were far from empty. The occupants were long dead of course, but there were plates in the sink and even articles of clothing still hanging in the closets. It made it seem that whoever had lived there might return at any moment.
When they sat down on the couch together and she rested her head on his shoulder.
"This is such an odd place," Lara said. "I don't like it."
"Neither do I. We got a bit sidetracked today, but first thing in the morning I'll ask him how I can get my ring back and we'll leave."
"What do you suppose they were like?"
"I suppose they were people just like us." "Mmm," Lara said, snuggling closer and putting an arm around his waist.
The moments in his dreams when he held her in his arms, came back to him now, and he was afraid he would wake up and find her gone. Of course, he didn't. This was real.
They ki
ssed, and it was exquisite, filling his senses, as the years of separation melted away once again. So many emotions were surging through his mind, it was hard to separate one from another. He only knew that Lara was there, fresh and clean, and smelling faintly of flowers.
When they finally separated, she lay in his arms until their breathing slowed.
"Don't ever leave me again, Mathew," she whispered, looking up into his eyes.
"I won't."
"Ever," she murmured, drifting away.
She might have heard him say, "Never." Or she might have already passed into sleep. It didn't matter.
An hour passed, and then another, and Mathew lay there staring up into the darkness. He thought about a lot of things, of Collin in particular, and how his return must have affected him. He had caused his friend pain by coming back and turning his world upside down.
Collin would say nothing about it—of that he was sure. Their brief talk in New Raburn was all the conversation they would ever have on the topic. That was just his friend's way. In the morning Mathew decided that he would ask him to be Bran's godfather. Collin clearly loved the boy and he owed him that much.
Nor had he and Lara spoken about their living together for the last four years. They might one day, but for the moment, some things were better left unsaid.
There was enough light coming through the bottom of the door, Mathew studied Lara's profile. He loved the way she looked and the way she smelled. Cautiously, he pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. And then Lara's words, people just like us, came back to him. He disengaged her arm and got up as quietly as he could. There was a blanket in the next room that he got, covered her, and slipped quietly out the front door.
The silence and lack of movement on the street were the first things that struck him as he headed back toward the square. Thirty thousand people once lived here, the Guardian had said. He knew the Ancients had destroyed themselves and that their end came faster than any of them had ever imagined. It was frightening. Even with fifty thousand years of accumulated knowledge, they were still powerless to avoid what occurred. Their science, capable of creating miracles, had failed, and in the end it was their own dark thoughts that sealed the bargain.
"They were people just like us." He said the words aloud and kept walking.
The Guardian was waiting for him at the town square by the theater.
"You didn't answer Father Thomas's question earlier," Mathew said. "Why did you show us the machine?"
"Can you think of no reason?"
Mathew stared at him for several seconds. "No."
"Really? Perhaps the answer will come to you later."
"Who are you?" Mathew asked.
"I've already told you that."
Mathew thought for a moment. "You're not simply an image, are you?"
The Guardian smiled. "No . . . I'm quite a bit more than that."
"Who are you?"
"Think of me as an echo, Mathew. The real Malcolm Henderson died three thousand years ago. I'm all that's left of him. He designed this complex." The Guardian paused and looked around. "I was the last resident of this place."
"You didn't leave with the others?"
"I was murdered here ... by Elaine Lasker, or her subconscious thoughts, to be precise."
"Murdered?"
"Elaine was the chief administrator of the Meria Project. That was what this complex was called," he said, looking up at the dome. "We wanted to bring light to mankind; to free people from manual labor so that man could reach his true potential. It almost worked.
"When the deaths started, we knew that something was wrong. My team and I worked around the clock to identify the problem. Unfortunately, we weren't immune to what was happening. At first we thought the deaths were accidents, but it soon became obvious that they were really attacks, attacks that grew more and more violent. .. and open.
"I came to realize that all of the safeguards we had built into the rings were directed toward conscious thoughts. We neglected to account for what the mind did while we were asleep.
"I prepared a report on the subject to the Ruling Council recommending that we shut Meria down until the problem could be corrected, but by then it was too late. The East launched their attack on us without warning, killing millions, and our council responded. They thought their only option was to remove all restrictions from the rings and fight back.
"Elaine and I quarreled on this point. She was in favor of removing the safeguards and I was vehemently opposed to it. You can guess the rest."
Mathew had heard bits and pieces of the story while" he was at the Abbey of Barcora, but this filled in a great many blanks. "So you changed the rings," he said.
"Eight of them, but not quite in the way the council wanted. In my time we had a system known as 'checks and balances.' It was designed to prevent any one branch of government from becoming too powerful. The echo is one of those—so is the ability to receive images about where your ring is located."
"You mean the cave."
"Correct."
Mathew nodded. "Can you help us get there?"
"I can."
"What about the door? In my dream there was something around it."
"Yes. Teanna set up an energy field to keep others away. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you how to remove it."
"Teanna," Mathew said, shaking his head. "It appears that you and I have something in common. She tried to kill me."
"I know," said the Guardian. "You may find that she has changed in some regards."
"I doubt it."
"Change, Mathew, is a fundamental. If people are not capable of change, then we wasted a great deal of time in building this. If there is no change, there is no hope."
"Do you think people have changed enough so the rings can be used?" Mathew asked quietly. "That's why you showed me the machine, isn't it?"
A faint smile appeared on the Guardian's face. "Come with me."
He led Mathew into a laboratory past the huge metal doors that once guarded the entrance. They were badly damaged. Mathew glanced at them as they passed trying to imagine what kind of power could have twisted them that way. He wondered if this was where the Guardian had died.
"Those things on the wall are called 'gauges,'" the Guardian told him. "They measure the machine's output—its power, if you will. Each one represents ten times the power of the one before it, and so on, and so on."
Mathew counted them. There were twenty in all, but only the one at the extreme left side of the room showed any movement.
"Please say your name out loud," the Guardian said. "What?"
"Say your name out loud please." "Mathew Lewin."
There was a second's pause before a mechanical voice in the console next to him repeated: "Recognize, Lewin, Mathew D."
"This room is the control center of the complex," the Guardian went on. "From here you can speak directly to the machine, as you have just done. The expression is not entirely accurate, but it will suffice for the time being. The commands are voice activated. To shut down Meria, you must say the following words in sequence: 'Override ... Henderson ... 68272 . . . Terminate operation.' "Can you repeat that?" "Yes, I think so," Mathew said repeating it. "You will be asked to say those words in the exact order I have just told you. After that, you will have thirty seconds to get to the transport pads before the power is cut. Do you understand?"
Mathew felt his pulse quicken. "I'm sorry, maybe I don't understand after all. If the machine shuts down, won't that destroy everything—all the knowledge?"
"Part of it would continue to function, and the knowledge might still be recovered at some point in the future. The rings, however, would cease their operation." "I see. Why don't you do it, then?" "Because that is not part of my instructions. When you recover your ring, you will need to decide if your people have changed enough to accept the responsibility that goes with them. My generation improved our science, but we forgot about improving ourselves. Perhaps this is no lon
ger the case; perhaps it still is. Only you will be able to determine that."
The implications of what the Guardian was suggesting were staggering. Who was he to decide mankind's fate? He'd spent four years searching for the ring, and now he was being handed a choice to destroy the very thing that made it work. It was too much.
"I don't want this," Mathew said, taking a step backward. The Guardian watched him. "No," Mathew insisted. "It's not my place." "Yours and yours alone."
"You're crazy. Don't you know what the rings can do?"
The words sounded dumb as soon as he said them. Of course the Guardian, or Henderson, or whoever he was, knew what they could do. He knew better than anyone else.
They talked for an hour, and during that time the Guardian did nothing to persuade him one way or the other. In the end it felt as if he were arguing more with himself than with an image of the long dead Malcolm Henderson. He wanted very much to get Father Thomas's advice.
"I can't decide any of this right now," Mathew said. "I need time to think."
"That is your prerogative. My program—my instructions in this regard—are now fulfilled."
"Great," said Mathew. He turned to go, but only took two steps before the Guardian stopped him. "There is more I have to tell you." Oh, for God's sake, Mathew said to himself. "See here, why don't I go and get Father Thomas, and you can tell him whatever you have to say. He's very good at this sort of thing."
One of the Guardian's eyebrows went up.
Mathew took a deep breath. "All right, fine."
"I showed you how the Orlocks came to exist for a reason. Like the machine, they were a failed experiment. Man's betrayal and their attempted extermination of the species are things that have stayed with the creatures over the centuries. Even as we speak, thousands of them are marching on the borders of Alor Satar along with soldiers from Vargoth and Coribar. Shakira's forces are legion—the greatest military force ever assembled ... more than a million in all."
Mathew couldn't believe his ears. "Are you serious?"
The Guardian's gaze became unfocused for a moment and then was clear again. "Gawl of Sennia moves from the south to intercept the creatures, and James Genet of Mir-dan strikes from the west. Nyngary and Cincar are marching from the east."
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0) Page 34
