The Last Guardian Read Free Page A

golden vents.
    Nu-Khasisatra strode to the steps and walked slowly toward the sacrifice stone. At first no one made a move to stop him, but as he drew nearer to the stone, a red-robed priest intercepted him.
    “You cannot approach the Holy Place,” said the priest.
    “What holy place?” countered Nu. “You have corrupted it.” He thrust the man aside and walked to the stone. Some people in the crowd had watched the altercation and now began to whisper.
    “What is he doing?”
    “Did you see him strike the priest?”
    “Is he a madman?”
    All eyes turned to the broad-shouldered man at the stone as he removed his blue cloak; beneath it he wore the white robes of a priest of Chronos. Temple guards gathered at the foot of the steps, but it was forbidden to carry a weapon to the Holy Place and they stood their ground, uncertain.
    Three priests approached the man at the sacrifice stone.
    “What madness is this?” asked one. “Why do you desecrate this temple?”
    “How dare you speak of desecration?” countered Nu-Khasisatra. “This temple was dedicated to Chronos, Lord of Light, Lord of Life. No blood sacrifice was ever made here.”
    “The king is the living image of Chronos,” the priest argued. “The conqueror of worlds, the lord of heaven. All who deny this are traitors and heretics.”
    “Then count me among them!” roared Nu, and his huge hands took hold of the sacrifice stone and wrenched it clear of its supports. Forcing his fingers under the stone,he lifted it high above his head and hurled it out over the steps, where it shattered. An angry roar rose from the crowd.
    Nu-Khasisatra leapt to stand on the altar base. “Faithless people!” he shouted. “The end of all days is upon you. You have mocked the Lord of Creation, and your doom will be terrible. The seas will rise against you, and not one stone will be left upon another. Your bodies will be dashed to the deep, and your dreams will be forgotten, even as you are forgotten. You have heard that the king is the living god. Blasphemy! Who brought the Rolynd Stones from the vault of heaven? Who led the chosen people to this bountiful land? Who dashed the hopes of the wicked in the Year of Dragons? It was Chronos, through his prophets. And where was the king? Unborn and unmade. He is a man, and his evil is colossal. He will destroy the world. You have wives and sons; you have loved ones. All will die. Not one of you listening to these words will be alive at the year’s end.”
    “Drag him down!” shouted someone in the crowd.
    “Kill him!” yelled another, and the cry was taken up by the mob.
    The temple guards drew their swords and ran up the steps. Lightning seared among them, leaping from sword to sword, and the guards, their flesh blackened, toppled to the stone. A great silence settled on the crowd.
    Smoke drifted up from the bodies of the guards as Nu-Khasisatra raised his hands to the heavens.
    “There is no turning back now,” he said. “All will be as I have told it. The sun will rise in the west, and the oceans will thunder across the land. You will see the Sword of God in the heavens—and despair!”
    He stepped down from the altar and walked slowly past the dead guards. The crowd parted before him as he marched from the temple.
    “I recognize him,” said a man as he passed by. “Thatwas Nu-Khasisatra the shipbuilder. He lives in the south quarter.”
    The name was whispered among the mob and carried from the temple, coming at last to the woman Sharazad.
    And the hunt began.

3
    F OR THREE DAYS Shannow traveled south, the trails winding ever down into a long valley of half-frozen streams and tall stands of pine, wide meadows and rolling hills. He saw little game but came across the tracks of deer and elk. Each day around midmorning he would halt in a spot shielded from the wind and clear the snow from the grass, allowing the stallion to eat while Shannow himself sat by a small fire reading his Bible or thinking about the journey