“Go back to your rooms,” Bolswaithe said. “We will remain here until the Keep is secure.”
Shahrukh took a step back, but stopped. “Why did you come in the first place?” he asked. “Why seek our help?”
“We were lied to,” Tony said, “by the Dealmaker who helped your friend escape.”
“The Dealmaker?” Thawaret said. “He didn’t help Qianna escape. He didn’t rescue her. He loves her and she will soon be dead.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked.
“There are many kinds of love, and only one this creature can feel,” Shahrukh told him. “He loves Qianna like the tide loves sandcastles or fire loves the savannah. Qianna will not survive him.”
“She was probably the payment the Dealmaker demanded for bringing you here,” Thawaret said.
“Payment from Isaurus?” Tony asked.
“From Tasha,” Bolswaithe said while his eyes twitched a little. Thomas had seen his eyes twitch before, cross-examining the information in his head. “Isaurus surrendered to Tasha in 1798 after she had cornered him in Grenada. She visited the Keep twice in this past fifty years alone. The last visit was a week after meeting Thomas. We need to examine everything she’s done in the last five hundred years,” Bolswaithe said. “We already updated all security protocols, but her hand goes deeper than that.”
“She planned all this?” Thomas asked. “To use me to free the Namtarii?” Tasha had first used him to fully transform into a Wraith and wake up Ormagra, and now she had used him to free the Namtarii.
“It appears so,” Bolswaithe said, “and maybe now she’ll truly try to kill you to stop you from finding the Book of Concord.”
“She will not kill him. She needs him. You’re not only a Cypher,” Shahrukh said. “You’ve seen a sign already, have you not?”
Everyone remained silent, not sure how to answer. Tony’s hand moved closer to the sword.
“Isaurus told us that a new world order would rise with the Book of Concord,” Thawaret said. “Tasha wants it for herself.”
“Why were you here?” Shahrukh asked. “Why take this risk? The Dealmaker can’t lie under contract, so why did he send you here?”
Thomas exchanged a look with Bolswaithe and Tony, and then began to tell Shahrukh everything about his grandfather and how they could trace him around the world.
The Acorn
“It is not only because of the blood bond,” Shahrukh said as he walked toward his room on the lower level of the Keep. Thawaret was walking by his side holding his arm. The Greenhouse was already full of fire teams, technicians, and builders, all dressed in bio-containment suits, and all looking ready to fire at the Namtarii at the slightest provocation.
Shahrukh entered his room and bid them inside. The room had no doors, but it shielded them from the noise outside.
Thomas marveled again at the work Shahrukh had done in his room. This time the scenes depicted what Thomas had guessed was his early life before he became corrupted by Namtar’s power. The scenes were of pastoral simplicity—a wicker house by the side of a river, a mountain range illuminated by the early morning sun, and a boy dressed in a tunic sitting peacefully on a rock, watching the clear blue sky.
Thomas was reminded that even Shahrukh had been a kid once.
Shahrukh sat on his chair. “Your blood bond is very strong, but that is only the medium. The catalyst is your grandfather’s sword.”
“Gram?” Thomas had read the inscription on Ethiopothala Falls.
“‘Sister of Durandal and Joyeuse and forged of the same steel and temper,’” Shahrukh quoted. “Do you know what Durandal and Joyeuse are?”
“Roland and Charlemagne swords,” Bolswaithe said, “according to legend and ‘The Song of Roland.’”
Thomas had read the long poem; it was one of the required readings Mrs. Pianova had set for him in his “enhanced” World History courses that included the company’s own secret history. Charlemagne hadn’t been a Guardian, but most of his champions, knights, and advisors had been, including Roland, who had helped Charlemagne conquer the Saracens and apparently died becoming legend. In reality, he had moved to another assignment and helped copy the texts in Baghdad’s House of Wisdom and move them to Pervagus Mansion.
He had been a good friend of Muhammad ibn Mūāal-Khwāizmī the father of Algebra and inducted the Persian mathematician into becoming a Guardian in 828.
But after that, Roland had disappeared from history, even from the Guardians’ records.
“Well,” Shahrukh said, “they used those swords, and they accomplished great things with them. But the swords weren’t made for them; they are much, much older. From the time when the Pantheons still played with men as toys. Those three swords were used by three great heroes. Durandal was made for Cuchulainn, Joyeuse for Ferdiad, and Gram for Conal Cernach.”
“That’s Irish Mythology, isn’t it?” Thomas knew the names, but he had only taken the Greek, Egyptian, and Roman courses so far and Pantheons actually scared the hell out of him. All those mythological creatures existed, from the lowest gnome to Lord Zeus sitting in Olympus. The world in antiquity had been ruled by the Pantheons and the most powerful had presented themselves as Gods to humanity, but mythological beings weren’t Gods, only highly magical creatures, attuned to the Magic of the Pillars and powerful beyond human comprehension. They had actually used humanity as slaves and playthings before the First Guardian received the Book of Concord and humanity began to understand and use technology. Little by little their powers waned as the balance shifted, and they had to leave the world behind and go to their respective pockets of reality, much like the Wraith had done, except that Pantheons were attuned to Life Magic, while the Wraith were to Chaos. Through the millennia their stories became legend, then myths, and while the world of humans moved on, they disappeared almost completely from human affairs.
“Irish, Celtic and Norse.” Shahrukh said. “The northern seas were the domain of the Aesir.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” Tony said. “Pantheons are dangerous.”
“And they haven’t meddled with the affairs of the world for a long time,” Bolswaithe said. “To give Morgan a sword seems incredible.”
“Then how can Grandpa be carrying Gram?” Thomas asked. Some fauns had been very close to the Pantheons in the past, especially with the Egyptian Pantheon, but as the Pantheons disappeared and the Fauns stayed in the world, those connections were lost. And the Fauns always knew the true nature of the Pantheons, unlike humans; they never considered them to be gods.
“That I don’t know,” Shahrukh said. “But I know that all three swords were forged by the same smith, Wayland, that he is in league with the Aesir, and that the swords were always given to powerful heroes.”
How could Grandpa have become a hero for the Gods of the Norse, Celt and Irish mythology? Names popped into Thomas’s head. Odin, Thor, Loki... Through his studies, he knew those beings existed, but to think that Gramps had actually reached them seemed impossible. “So you can’t break the bond?” he asked. “Grandpa will always be able to follow me?”
“I can’t; it is beyond my powers.” Shahrukh sighed. “But that’s not why the Dealmaker sent you to us.”
“Then why are we here?” Tony asked. He was becoming angrier at the Dealmaker's deceit.
“Because we can help you reach the Aesir.” Shahrukh nodded at Thawaret, and the female Namtarii pulled out a heavily adorned box from under Shahrukh’s bed and handed it to him. With outmost care he opened the box and pulled out a golden acorn, expertly chiseled in the purest gold. “With this….” he said as he showed them the gold trinket.
“What?” Tony was quite angry now. “What the hell are you trying to pull? You want us to reach the Aesir?”
“Not you,” Thawaret said and pointed at Thomas. “Him.”
“He can go to the Aesir and ask his questions,” Shahrukh said. “He can summon the guide with this.” He extended the golden acorn to Thomas, but Tho
mas didn’t take it.
“There must be another way,” Thomas said. He wasn’t thrilled with visiting the Aesir. Gods or not, they were venerated by the Vikings, and if there was one thing Thomas knew about Vikings was that they were a blood-thirsty lot.
“The other way is to kill your grandfather,” Shahrukh said.
Thomas felt his blood boil. He hated that everyone kept saying his grandfather needed to be killed. He reached out his hand; if it was between going to the Aesir and killing Gramps he would chose the way without blood.
“This is unexpected,” Bolswaithe said, and Thomas stopped short of grabbing the acorn. “We have to wait for the Doctor. No one has visited the Aesir for hundreds of years.”
“It’s crazy, Thomas,” Tony said. “This might also have been prepared by Tasha. How do we know it’s not a trap?”
“You can’t know,” Shahrukh said, “but this is the reason you were sent to us. We hold the key and we know where the door is. All that is needed is for you to summon the guide.”
Thomas made up his mind, took a deep breath, and grabbed the acorn from Shahrukh. It felt strangely warm and very heavy. “We can’t wait for the Doctor,” he said with some courage. “We know what he’s going to say. Where is the gate, Shahrukh?”
“Thomas,” Bolswaithe said. “I don’t think I have the authority to approve of this.”
“But I do. I’m the leader of our team, and we can’t wait for the Doctor to recover.” Thomas turned to Shahrukh, but Tony was already standing between them.
“You’re not doing this, Thomas,” Tony said.
“I have to,” Thomas said.
“Not by yourself,” Tony countered. “I can’t let you go alone.”
“It’s their rules, Tony,” Thomas said. “And you know I have to do it now, because the Council of Twilight would argue that it would be far easier to kill Grandpa.”
“The Doctor would never approve such a thing,” Tony scoffed.
“Bolswaithe?” Thomas asked, already knowing what the robot would say.
Bolswaithe took a couple of seconds to answer. “No, not at first, he wouldn’t,” he said. “But as time progressed it would become the only option. As technology failed he would be forced to do it by the Council.”
Tony bit his lip, then stepped aside.
“Where is the gate?” Thomas asked again.
The Gate
They had to do six transfers to different cities before Bolswaithe felt it was safe enough to arrive at the real gate. The first four times Morgan and his entire team had followed them, but on the fifth time only an Elven Mage had appeared, checked for the Magic signature of the Oracle, then disappeared again through his own portal.
“Where are we?” Thomas asked as they left the Mansion grounds and entered a little town. He checked his wristpadd—it was 5:35 a.m. and the sun was just rising.
“Lancken-Granitz, Germany,” Bolsawithe informed.
The town was only a couple of streets long. Three Fire Teams dressed in civilian clothes accompanied them. They had left Henri taking care of his brothers’ remains and Mrs. Pianova in charge of the Mansion.
A warning flashed on their wristpadds, signaling the appearance of the Azure Guard Mage. The elf materialized from between two houses, and after taking a quick peek around to sense Oracle Magic, he walked back into the gate he had created.
“Well, that takes care of that,” Tony said, holstering the dart gun. “You think they’ll be back again?”
“I don’t see why,” Bolswaithe said. “There’s no Oracle Magic here, so why risk a confrontation?”
“I still think we should wait for the Doctor to wake up,” Tony said. “At least let him know what you’re doing.”
They had left both the Doctor and Elise in the medical ward. Elise had been quarantined and under observation. Neither of them had woken up from their stupor.
“The Doctor is undergoing surgery,” Bolswaithe said. “Actually, as many surgeries as his body can take. RA is not restricted to the joints. His lungs, his kidneys, and even his skin have been affected.”
“Will he live?” Thomas asked. The last he had seen him, a platoon of doctors and nurses were buzzing around the Doctor like flies—taking blood samples, checking his eyes and ears, his hands and spine. Some doctors were checking x-rays and talking about surgeries they needed to perform while others took notes behind them.
“He’ll live,” Bolswaithe said. “He’s strong.”
“And Elise?”
Bolswaithe took a little longer to answer, as if he were searching for the right words. “She’s out from any danger,” he said, “but she will be terribly scarred.”
Thomas remembered how the sickness had grown on her skin, on her arms, her neck, her face…each one of them would become a pockmark.
“There are always skin transplants,” Bolswaithe said, but they knew that Elise would never be same.
The fight against the Namtarii had cost them deeply.
“And you?” Tony asked Bolswaithe. “How are you?”
Bolswaithe had not said a word about what he had done to his prisoner in the Keep. Tony and Thomas had talked a little about it while Bolswaithe was checking the Doctor. The robot had been standing about twenty feet away, but Thomas knew that he had overheard their conversation, and how it had freaked them out to see Bolswaithe act so callously with a prisoner.
Even if the prisoner was a Namtarii.
“Later,” Bolswaithe said. “Let’s concentrate on the job at hand.” He stepped toward the gate.
Thomas and Tony exchanged a look of concern, but quickened the pace behind him.
“These are the Dolmens,” Bolswaithe said, walking into a grassy area and a copse of trees.
The Dolmens were formed with three or more large stones supporting a large, flat stone as the ceiling. Some of the stones weighed more than thirty tons. Europe and Asia were so littered with such structures that it was undeniable that they were handmade, but who made them, and, more importantly, how had they been made eluded scientists. Even the Guardians didn’t know how they had been built since the history of the Guardians went only as far as 5000 BC, and most of the Dolmens were thousands of year older than that.
“Shahrukh said to place the acorn on the guardian stone.” Bolswaithe led them through the site, the Fire Team Guardians spreading out around them. They reached three Dolmens circled with standing rocks.
“I guess this is the one.” Bolswaithe pointed at a large stone close to a tree.
Thomas pulled the acorn from his pocket. The golden trinket felt even warmer now than when he had first touched it. He rubbed it with his hand and looked at Bolswaithe. “Just place it here?” he asked. “No magic words? No ritual?”
“Shahrukh said nothing about Magic,” Bolswaithe said. “He just said to place the acorn where the guide would find it.”
Thomas checked the stone for a hole, or a nook of some kind, but he couldn’t find any. He looked back at Tony and Bolswaithe, but they seemed just as clueless. He hunched his shoulders and placed the acorn at the base of the stone.
“Now what?” he asked, taking a step back.
“We…wait?” Tony said.
About thirty minutes later, Tony had fallen sleep by one of the Dolmens. He had tried to stay awake as long as he could, but they had not rested since the Keep, and while Thomas had been protected by the others Tony had fought like a dervish.
Bolswaithe kept a quiet vigilance, while Thomas read as much as he could about the Aesir on his wristpadd.
The Aesir, the ancient Gods of Nordic legend—Odin, Thor, Loki, Balder, and Heimdall. Everyone had heard those names at one time or another, as well as of the famed Asgard, the place where they lived—their Mount Olympus.
The Aesir were one of the most popular Pantheons. Many books, comics, and even movies were devoted to the Aesir. The most famous of them was Thor, of course, the God of Thunder with his magical hammer.
Thomas had always been exposed to the Aesir,
because of his father. Dad always loved mythology and made sure to instill the knowledge, or at least expose Thomas to the old myths and legends. “They are a window to what humanity was all about in that time,” his father always told him. “What they believed, what they cherished, what those people aspired to be…they turned it into myth.” Thomas remembered thinking then that all Vikings aspired to be warriors. To be a good fighter was imperative, to die in bloody battle an honor, so much that those who died in battle joined Odin in the Halls of Valhalla to celebrate their deaths until the final battle at Ragnarok.
With access to Pervagus Mansion, Thomas had gone deeper into the Aesir than the myths the world knew. The gods depicted by the tomes in the Guardians’ care were more real, their godly mantle stripped away by the reality that they were just magical beings, creatures attuned to Life Magic and infused with Pillar Magic.
They actually seemed more human-like.
Like all other Pantheons, they had ruled parts of the world at one time and demanded obedience from humans and Fauns alike. The Pantheons had been almost omnipotent before the rise of technology, and some, like the Egyptian Pantheons, had treated humans like pets and slave forces. The Olympians treated humans more like playthings, an amusement. The Maya Pantheon had been especially bloodthirsty, their disregard for human life appalling.
Guardian scholars believed that the treatment of humanity by these great Magical beings was one of the reasons the Oracle had created the Book of Concord and given it to the Guardians.
With its knowledge of future events humans had begun to develop technology, understood Magic and science, and began to take control of the world.
It was noted in the Guardians’ chronicles that the Pantheons had to leave the world after merely six hundred years of Guardian guidance. Technology had tilted the balance to make the Aesir and the other Pantheons’ hold over humanity disappear. Their power waned and they faded from the world. Using their Magic resources, they created pocket worlds where they could continue to exist outside from the Earth.
Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) Page 23
