The prince nodded. “Are they from the spirit world?”
King smiled and shook his head. “They’re from another world out there,” he said, pointing up into the starlit sky. “Probably similar to our own, but with some vast differences.” He paused, trying to figure out how best to explain the next bit to someone with no concept of astrophysics or biology. “The Girtablilu had been…um, bred with a specific purpose in mind. They had been enslaved by another race…an empire that traveled to different worlds with the purpose of conquest.”
“Like the Assyrians,” Belshazzar said.
“Yeah, sort of like the Assyrians. And about three thousand years ago, this empire set their eyes on Earth. But they couldn’t breathe our air.”
The prince cocked his head inquisitively.
“Just trust me on that, will you?” King said, trying to head the next question off at the pass. “They couldn’t breathe our air, so they sent a vessel here that could turn our air into something they could breathe.”
“Only it crashed before they could do it.”
“Exactly. The ship could change the air, but the Girtablilu, in rebellion of their masters, had sabotaged it so it couldn’t fly. When it crashed, it spread its roots into the soil and attempted to proceed with its original mission, but the conversion was stopped before it could do any real damage.”
Daniel spoke up at this point. “I have already told you about the rebellion, as well as your ancestor, Nimrod’s, part in all this.”
The child nodded.
“Well,” King went on, “Just as the terraforming—air changing—device’s functions were automated—able to work without someone operating it—apparently so was the ship’s repair mechanisms. That liquid stuff we saw all over the ship? Those are really tiny, um, creatures. We call them nanobots in my time. Millions of mechanized creatures smaller than insects that constantly build and repair. It took them nearly three thousand years, but apparently they finally got the terraforming functions of the ship back online. They simply needed someone to enter the vessel to start the programming.”
“Which you did,” the prince said with a wry smile.
“Which I did,” King agreed. He went onto describe his encounter with Tiamat and the freeing of her hold on the scorpion men. “After I recovered,” he continued, “The Girtablilu shut down both the terraforming apparatus and the mechanism that powered the psychic control unit within Sereb-Meloch’s headdress.”
“Wait a minute,” Belshazzar said. “If the Girtablilu shut down the device that could help them breathe, how is it they seem to breathe our air just fine?”
King smiled at the question. The boy certainly had an analytical brain on his shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think I figured that out. After working with them these past two weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about how Namtar and Tiamba survived for so long in our world. I was also able to watch and study their physiology more closely, now that they weren’t trying to skewer me with their tails.” His hand moved to the non-existent scar on his abdomen where he’d been impaled. “Many creatures with exoskeletons—insects, crustaceans, spiders—do not breathe the same way that we do. They pull what they need from the environment around them through pores. Both alien species breathed this way, and I think it helps them survive in harsh environments.”
“There is something I am curious about,” Daniel said finally. “The Girtablilu treated you with such reverence. Such high regard. You said yourself that they knew the name you bore in your previous life. Did you ever discover why this is?”
King shook his head. “No idea. As you know, they are incapable of speaking, in the traditional sense. Just emotions and body language, as well as a primitive mental communication. They weren’t really able to answer any of my questions. The things I’ve just told you are pretty much pure speculation on my part.” He thought about the Girtablilu’s respect and admiration for him and he smiled. “I’ll probably never know.” Though, given his experience with time travel, he suspected his future self would likely discover the truth at some point.
The three sat in their camp, looking up at the stars for several long minutes. The air was warm, but not as fetid as it had been when King first arrived in Eridu. The damage done to the environment by the ship would take some time to heal, and so the temperature would remain slightly cooler than normal. King decided he could live with that.
Belshazzar broke the silence. “So what happens next?”
“Well, I imagine they’ll have the ship fully operational in a month or so,” King said. “Since the excavation of this place around my time didn’t reveal a huge spacecraft buried underneath, I’m willing to bet they’ll take off and head somewhere to enjoy their freedom.”
“No, not that,” the prince said. “I mean about us. About you? And about the heretic?”
King smiled. “I imagine Sereb-Meloch will be taken care of soon enough,” he said. “As for you, you’ll be heading back to Babylon with Daniel. Now that the threat is over, there is no reason for your grandfather to either kill you or use you to unseal the tomb.” He stood up, moved over to a large chest left by a general in Nebuchadnezzar’s army, and opened it. Reaching in, he pulled out a large piece of sackcloth containing Tiamat’s severed head. “Take this back to him. And tell him the man who did this to a goddess is watching over you. He tries to harm you in any way, this will be a reminder of what waits for him. You got that?”
The boy’s nose crinkled at the decaying smell already wafting from the cadaverous head. But he nodded slowly. “You’ll not come with us?”
King shook his head. “Best I don’t,” he said, picking up some of his gear and walking over to his horse. He began packing the horse down with everything he would need and looked back at the boy. “My life is...complicated.” And dangerous to mortals. He walked over to the prince and placed a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. “But I’ll check on you. I promise.”
Belshazzar, fighting back tears, slung his arms around King’s waist and hugged him with all his might. After a while, he released his grip and dashed away, out of sight. After watching the boy go, Daniel strode up to King with a smile.
“Well done, my friend,” he said, holding out his hand.
King accepted the hand and shook.
“All right, old man,” King said. “Now it’s your turn. Before I left for Eridu, you mentioned you had something else to tell me, when this was all over. Let’s hear it.”
Daniel smiled up at him and chuckled. “Oh, that,” he said. “I was given a very specific message for you in a dream. Your betrothed and your daughter will both be well looked after until your return. You have nothing to fear. They are safely in his care.”
The news, coming from this man known the world over for his incredibly accurate predictions and wisdom, was almost more than King could bear. In over two hundred years, there had not been a day that went by where he hadn’t thought of Sara and Fiona in some way, praying to a god he hadn’t entirely been sure existed, that they would be cared for. That they would be watched over. And here the prophet Daniel was telling him in no uncertain terms…his prayers had been heard and answered. More than that, if he read between the lines, Daniel was telling him he would make it back to them, in which case, he’d be the one doing the watching over.
Smiling, he embraced the old man, then mounted his horse with a bit more of a spring in his step than before this adventure had started. As he spurred the horse forward and headed out into the desert, he entertained only a single thought: he had many years ahead of him before he would see them again, but knowing they would be safe until that time meant everything in the world to him.
28
The Fertile Crescent, 75 Miles West of Eridu, Eleven Months Later
Sereb-Meloch couldn’t stop shaking from within the pitch blackness of the cave. It had been nearly a year since the debacle at Eridu. Yet, he couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder. Couldn’t stop imagining every sound—every drop of water
falling from a stalactite—was the sound of stealthy footsteps coming for him.
If you do this, Sereb-Meloch relived the words Achelous had uttered, as Zaidu had prepared to remove the man’s head. I swear to the one and only God that matters... I will make you suffer more than you ever imagined possible.
And somehow, the man had actually survived decapitation and purifying fires. No mortal man could survive such destruction.
Achelous is not a man, Sereb-Meloch thought. Perhaps he is Enki. Or Enlil. He shuddered at his next guess. Or perhaps my soldiers were correct in speculating the foreigner to be the earthly incarnation of Marduk himself?
After all, Marduk had defeated his goddess once before. No one else could have been capable of such a feat. Certainly no mortal.
Achelous’s own words gave a clue as to his true identity. I swear to the one and only God that matters, he had said. He spoke of Marduk, hadn’t he? He was the greatest of all the gods, after all. Everyone, other than the deluded Hebrews, knew the truth of that.
A sudden rush of dread swept through the priest’s limbs, as he huddled over the abysmal fire he’d managed to strike up in the safety of his cavern. He’d angered the king of the gods. He’d earned Marduk’s wrath. Surely there was nowhere on Earth that he could hide from such a being.
And yet, he remained sequestered deep in the bowels of the mountains, living on the blind fish, insects and snails he managed to scavenge in the cave. He dared go out only at night and even then, for short treks in search of wood and other supplies he might need during the day. He’d become a bedraggled excuse for a man, a beggar whose cup was filled only by the natural world around him.
He threw the last remaining piece of wood on the fire and shivered. “What could be a worse torture than what I did to Achelous?” he mumbled, remembering the threat all over again. What horrible fate awaited him, if this god-who-resembled-a-man ever found him?
A strained giggle slipped unbidden past his lips.
What fate? What fate? What fate? he repeated in his thoughts.
The giggle intensified as he plucked a squirming slug from the fire and slid it into his mouth.
What will he do to me when he catches me?
What fate?
What fate?
The giggle avalanched into a deep throated fit of laughter. Sereb-Meloch knew he should be quieter. He might attract the attention of the gods. But he couldn’t help himself. Achelous’s words to him just before the axe had fallen across the man-god’s neck just wouldn’t go away.
I will make you suffer more than you ever imagined possible.
“Sereb-Meloch…”
The priest flinched, spinning around.
He was still alone.
A warbling shadow darted across the wall, tearing a scream from his lips.
“Behind you,” came a whispering voice.
He spun and found no one.
A tug on his head made him yelp and turn back in time to see a clean cut clump of his hair float down into the fire and curl in on itself.
“Achelous!” the priest shouted. “Finish this!” He knew his mind was faltering and longed for release, but he lacked the bravery to end his own life.
The tick of a rock falling turned him to the left.
The shadows moved.
The priest stood on shaking legs and walked toward the darkness. “Achelous! Take me now!”
Silence.
The shadows remained still.
He stood there for minutes, peering into the darkness.
Two eyes suddenly appeared, no more than two feet away. “Boo.”
Then they were gone, and as Sereb-Meloch screamed and screamed, his voice was joined by the laughter of a man who could not die. The priest fell to the ground, thrashing and wailing, knowing that his torment had only just begun.
AFTERWORD
Imagine, if you will, that George Lucas (or now, perhaps Mickey Mouse) knocked on your door and asked you to not only co-star in the next Star Wars movie, but also to have carte blanche to play in the creative sandbox and help develop the new direction his universe was going to take. Yeah, that’s kind of how I felt when Jeremy approached me about participating in the very first Jack Sigler Continuum book.
You see, although I’m an author, I’ve been a fan of Jeremy’s stuff from the beginning. It was he, in fact, that inspired me to throw off the shackles of my own fears, forget about ‘dreaming’ about being a writer, and actually pursue my passion full force. After all, he’s come an amazingly long way since his humble beginnings self-publishing at Lulu.com (incidentally, the first place I started as well).
The point is, like so many of you, I’ve been a fan of Jack Sigler since I first read Pulse. I’ve followed his and the Chess Team’s adventures from day one, and I loved them. I thrilled at the other co-authored novellas, loving every word of them and never dreaming that one day, I might be chosen to be counted among them.
Then, one day, it happened. I got that e-mail. Jeremy graciously asked me if I’d be interested in co-authoring the first book of a new Jack Sigler series. Needless to say, I didn’t hesitate.
But here’s the most amazing part. It’s something that many of you might not know about Jeremy. Keep in mind, this is his world. His universe. His creation. His baby. If roles were reversed, I’d be the most ridiculously overprotective ‘parent’ in the world. I’d hover over the co-author, eyeing each word they typed suspiciously. I’d correct. I’d rebuke. I’d reign in any crazy notions the co-author might be considering, for fear that they were about to screw up my universe royally. Well, I have news for you. Jeremy is nothing like that. He was so gracious. So patient. And most importantly, he allowed me absolute freedom to play in his sandbox, however I saw fit. As a matter of fact, as I wrote my portion of this story, he asked me not to tell him anything about what I was doing. He wanted it to be a surprise. Wanted to enjoy the story much the same way as readers would. He allowed me unimaginable freedom to dabble…to torture King and to shape the direction the Jack Sigler Continuum series would take. Let me tell you, as a creative person, this is as mighty a feat as anything Jack Sigler could ever do. The trust he has in his co-authors is truly magnificent and unprecedented. But you know what? I think he knows it will pay off in the end…this trust.
So when you think about Jeremy Robinson, the author, you should also think of Jeremy Robinson, the amazing man. Of all the more influential authors I’ve met during my time as a writer, I can honestly say he’s one of the most humble…most sincere…and most down to earth guys you’ll ever get to know. And you know what else? He truly cares about you—his fans and his readers. He sees his mission as simple and straight forward: Make you smile. Make you thrill. Make you feel entertained and satisfied. That’s just the kind of guy he is.
—J. Kent Holloway
March 25, 2014
Click here for more info.
A NOTE FROM JEREMY ROBINSON
Dear Reader,
I wanted to take a moment to thank you for reading GUARDIAN. I hope you have enjoyed this slice of King’s journey into the past. If you did enjoy the book, please show your support by posting a review at your online retailer. E-book websites work on algorithms, meaning the more people review my books, the more the e-book retailers will recommend them to other readers. And the more people buy my books, the more I get to write them, which is a good thing for both of us (assuming you enjoyed the book). If we can get GUARDIAN moving off the virtual shelves, we might just see another of King’s adventures in the past.
Thank you!
—Jeremy Robinson
THE CURSE OF ONE-EYED JACK
By J. Kent Holloway
ONE-EYED JACK HAS RETURNED…
FBI crime analyst Kili Brennan has come to Boone Creek, in the Appalachian foothills of Kentucky, looking for her missing brother...looking for answers. Instead, she finds a world of suspicion and superstition. Locals say her brother, and a string of others, may have been killed by One-Eyed Jack-the fabled giant
guardian that protects the fantastic archaeological monument he was researching. As Kili's search intensifies, the danger escalates, and the only person that can help her is a man whose mysterious past might be just as frightening, and infinitely more dangerous, than the dark secrets she is determined to uncover. A man named Ezekiel Crane.
Praise for Holloway:
“Not since Preston & Child’s Agent Pendergast has there been a more mysterious, charming and fun to read sleuth as Ezekiel Crane. His mixture of southern charm, dark history and scientific know-how is intoxicating.”
—Jeremy Robinson, bestselling author of Island 731 and Omega
“Holloway skillfully weaves a back-woods tapestry of Sherlock Holmes with TV’s Supernatural and Justified into a thrilling Appalachian story of magic and mayhem. Join Ezekiel Crane, and bring your ten-demon bag for [this] Dark Hollows adventure.”
—Kane Gilmour, bestselling author of Ragnarok and The Crypt of Dracula
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Jeremy Robinson is the bestselling author of more than forty novels and novellas, including Island 731, SecondWorld, and the Jack Sigler Thriller series, including Prime, Pulse, Instinct, Threshold, Ragnarok and Omega. Robinson is also known as the bestselling horror writer, Jeremy Bishop, author of The Sentinel, The Raven and the controversial novel, Torment. His novels have been translated into eleven languages. He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and three children.
Visit him online at www.jeremyrobinsononline.com.
J. Kent Holloway is the author of six edge-of-your-seat paranormal thrillers and mysteries. A real-life paranormal investigator and ‘Legend Tripper,’ he explores the realms of myth, folklore and the unknown, in the southeast United States in his spare time. When not writing or scouring the globe for ghosts, cryptids and all manner of legends, he works as a forensic death investigator.
Jack Sigler Continuum 1: Guardian Page 13
