Read Online Merkabah Rider: The Mensch With No Name by Edward M. Erdelac - Free Book Online
Authors: Edward M. Erdelac
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heavy iron before his eyes.
“Madre
de Dios,” someone whispered behind him.
Gersh
looked back. It was Trib. He was on his side, bathed in sweat and staring wide
eyed.
Gersh
looked down at the woman Marina. She was peering up at him in awe, holding her
boy and crossing herself.
Then
Gersh looked up at the ridge. The figures were scrambling over the cannon.
Gersh threw the cannonball aside and lifted up Marina and her boy to their
feet.
Wilkes
poked his head out from behind the rubble he’d leapt behind.
“Get
over here and get that man out of here!” Gersh roared at him, gesturing to Trib
as Marina scooped up her son and ran back towards the saloon.
Wilkes
came over and went into the hut. Gersh saw him hoisting the groaning Trib up,
when the cannon fired again.
Gersh
turned his attention back to the ridge, and saw the ball approaching as before.
The aim had been slightly corrected. There was little arch to its path. Now it
was headed straight for him.
He
was dimly aware of Wilkes and Trib limping away, when he opened his arms and
caught the second screaming cannonball between his hands with a grunt against
his chest. It should have blown a sizable hole in him and sent his arms and
legs to the compass points, but it was like catching a medicine ball or a
tossed sack of flour. The iron was hot, but it quickly cooled between his
calloused palms.
He
looked at it disbelieving, then turned his attention towards the ridge once
more.
The
silhouettes on the hogback were mounting their horses. Two came streaming down
the front, slaloming among the boulders.
He
tucked the cannonball into his elbow and beat his feat toward the single shack
still standing in the row of demolished outbuildings. He needed Rider.
* * * *
“I’m
your teacher’s favorite pupil, Rider,” said Sheardown.
“His
favorite pupil?” the Rider said. “Are their others?”
“Oh
yes. He made an offer, well, really an ultimatum to some of your brothers, you
see. An ultimatum he intended to give you, but you ran out to fight in that
silly war. Really, what is the lot of some dumb coloreds to you? They’re not
much better off now are they? At any rate, you mustn’t think he was entirely
merciless to the Sons of the Essenes. He gave them all the same chance. Join a
new order, or be destroyed. A few joined, most didn’t. Well, he had to
replenish the ranks so to speak, so he taught your techniques to others.” He
tapped his own breast, which glinted with a multitude of talismans through his
open coat. “Me, for instance.”
The
Rider wasn’t sure which revelation was worse; that the Sons of the Essenes were
completely eradicated, or that some of their number had actually escaped death
and joined the turncoat Adon.
“What
is this new order?”
“Nothing less than the saviors of humanity, Rider. We’re
ushering in a glorious new age. We will break the fetters at the Hour of
Incursion, and That Which Strains Against Its Chains
will swing wide the doors for The Great Old Ones. We will unleash hell and The
Great Dying will come upon the Earth, and all of us who aided its coming will
become as gods ourselves.”
His
eyes glazed for a moment, as if seeing some far off day, and he spoke like one reciting poetry ; “That thing is not dead which doth
exist eternally, and if the Strange Ones come, then death may cease to be.”
“What
does that mean?”
“You
needn’t concern yourself overly,” said Sheardown, leveling his pistol and
grinning again down the length of the barrel. “You’ll be long dead by then.”
“Wait…,”
said the Rider, hurriedly. “Tell me more. Like you said, I left before I could
hear the offer.”
“Forget
it, Rider,” Sheardown said. “Adon knows you too well to think you’d ever join
us now.”
* * *
*
Gersh thrust his head into the doorway of the shack.
There
was Dr. Sheardown, sitting in the same posture as Rider in the saloon, in a
similar circle etched in the floor. He did not
“Madre
de Dios,” someone whispered behind him.
Gersh
looked back. It was Trib. He was on his side, bathed in sweat and staring wide
eyed.
Gersh
looked down at the woman Marina. She was peering up at him in awe, holding her
boy and crossing herself.
Then
Gersh looked up at the ridge. The figures were scrambling over the cannon.
Gersh threw the cannonball aside and lifted up Marina and her boy to their
feet.
Wilkes
poked his head out from behind the rubble he’d leapt behind.
“Get
over here and get that man out of here!” Gersh roared at him, gesturing to Trib
as Marina scooped up her son and ran back towards the saloon.
Wilkes
came over and went into the hut. Gersh saw him hoisting the groaning Trib up,
when the cannon fired again.
Gersh
turned his attention back to the ridge, and saw the ball approaching as before.
The aim had been slightly corrected. There was little arch to its path. Now it
was headed straight for him.
He
was dimly aware of Wilkes and Trib limping away, when he opened his arms and
caught the second screaming cannonball between his hands with a grunt against
his chest. It should have blown a sizable hole in him and sent his arms and
legs to the compass points, but it was like catching a medicine ball or a
tossed sack of flour. The iron was hot, but it quickly cooled between his
calloused palms.
He
looked at it disbelieving, then turned his attention towards the ridge once
more.
The
silhouettes on the hogback were mounting their horses. Two came streaming down
the front, slaloming among the boulders.
He
tucked the cannonball into his elbow and beat his feat toward the single shack
still standing in the row of demolished outbuildings. He needed Rider.
* * * *
“I’m
your teacher’s favorite pupil, Rider,” said Sheardown.
“His
favorite pupil?” the Rider said. “Are their others?”
“Oh
yes. He made an offer, well, really an ultimatum to some of your brothers, you
see. An ultimatum he intended to give you, but you ran out to fight in that
silly war. Really, what is the lot of some dumb coloreds to you? They’re not
much better off now are they? At any rate, you mustn’t think he was entirely
merciless to the Sons of the Essenes. He gave them all the same chance. Join a
new order, or be destroyed. A few joined, most didn’t. Well, he had to
replenish the ranks so to speak, so he taught your techniques to others.” He
tapped his own breast, which glinted with a multitude of talismans through his
open coat. “Me, for instance.”
The
Rider wasn’t sure which revelation was worse; that the Sons of the Essenes were
completely eradicated, or that some of their number had actually escaped death
and joined the turncoat Adon.
“What
is this new order?”
“Nothing less than the saviors of humanity, Rider. We’re
ushering in a glorious new age. We will break the fetters at the Hour of
Incursion, and That Which Strains Against Its Chains
will swing wide the doors for The Great Old Ones. We will unleash hell and The
Great Dying will come upon the Earth, and all of us who aided its coming will
become as gods ourselves.”
His
eyes glazed for a moment, as if seeing some far off day, and he spoke like one reciting poetry ; “That thing is not dead which doth
exist eternally, and if the Strange Ones come, then death may cease to be.”
“What
does that mean?”
“You
needn’t concern yourself overly,” said Sheardown, leveling his pistol and
grinning again down the length of the barrel. “You’ll be long dead by then.”
“Wait…,”
said the Rider, hurriedly. “Tell me more. Like you said, I left before I could
hear the offer.”
“Forget
it, Rider,” Sheardown said. “Adon knows you too well to think you’d ever join
us now.”
* * *
*
Gersh thrust his head into the doorway of the shack.
There
was Dr. Sheardown, sitting in the same posture as Rider in the saloon, in a
similar circle etched in the floor. He did not
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