Read Online The Last Guardian by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page B

been. His comrade was shorter and more lean; both were wearing pistols. “Well, don’t let us stop you,” continued the big man. “Be on your way.”
    Shannow remained silent.
    “Are you deficient in hearing?” the second man asked. “You are not wanted here.”
    A small crowd had gathered in the background, and Shannow caught sight of Haimut and Klaus Monet. Of Deiker there was no sign.
    “That’s it; let’s help him on his way,” said the big man, stepping in, but Shannow’s hand shot up with fingers extended and hammered into his throat. He fell back choking, then sank to his knees. Shannow’s eyes fixed on the second man.
    “Be so kind as to tie my blanket roll to my saddle,” he said softly.
    The man swallowed hard and licked his lips, his hand hovering over the pistol butt.
    “Today,” stated Shannow, “is not a good day to die. A man should at least see the sun in the heavens.”
    For several seconds the man stood tensely; then he cast a nervous glance at his comrade, who was kneeling and holding his throat, his breathing hoarse and ragged. He knew he should grab for his pistol but could not make his hand obey him. His eyes flicked up to meet Shannow’s.
    “Damn you!” he whispered. His hand fell away from the gun, and he moved to the blanket roll, swinging it over the back of the saddle and tying it in place.
    “Thank you,” said Shannow. “And now see to your friend.” He stepped into the saddle and swung the stallion toward the north. The crowd parted, and he resisted the urge to glance back. This was the moment of greatest danger. But there was no shot. He angled the stallion down to where Frey McAdam’s wagon had been camped; it was gone.
    Shannow was angry with himself. There was no need to have shamed the men Deiker had obviously sent to see him on his way. He should have mounted and left as they had asked. Only pride had prevented him from doing just that, and pride was a sin in the eyes of the Almighty.
    That is why you cannot find Jerusalem, Shannow, he told himself. Your sins burden you down.
    There is no Jerusalem!
    The thought leapt unbidden to his mind, and he shivered. He had seen so much in these last few years, and his doubts were many. But what choice do I have? he wondered. If there is no Jerusalem, then all is in vain. And so the search must go on.
For what purpose?
For me! For as long as I search, then Jerusalem exists—if only in my mind. And that is enough. I need no more.
You lie, Shannow!
Yes, yes, I lie. But what does that prove? I must search. I must know.
Where next will you search?
Beyond the Great Wall.
And if not there?
To the ends of the earth and the borders of hell!
    Coming to the top of the rise, he turned west, seeking the pass through the mountains. He rode the deer trails for more than two hours before joining the main track, which was scarred by the rims of wagon wheels and the hooves of many horses. The rain had ceased, and the sun broke clear of the clouds. He rode more warily now, halting often and studying his surroundings. With the sun at its height, he stopped and rested in the shadow of a looming natural pillar of stone. It was cool there, and he read his Bible for an hour, enjoying the Song of Solomon. By midafternoon the Jerusalem Man had passed the mountains and was following a narrow track down into the valley beyond.
    To the west he could see the McAdam wagon following the wider trail that led into the town. To the north, beyond the buildings, the valley stretched for miles, ending in a huge wall that vanished into the distance. Shannow drew a long glass from his bags and through it scanned the wall. It was massive, and even at that distance he could make out the flowers and lichens sprouting between its great blocks. He transferred his gaze to the sky, seeking the wonders beyond the wall, but only huge white clouds could be seen gently rolling across the vault of heaven. Hitching himself around in the saddle, he focused on the McAdam wagon.