Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) (29 page)

“What's wrong?” Tony demanded. “Cure him!”

“There is no sickness to kill,” Shahrukh said. “Nothing to cure. His own body is doing this.”

Tony brought up his sword again.

“Trying to help him would kill him,” Shahrukh repeated softly, not showing any fear at the sword. “Never again.”

“It’s rheumatoid arthritis,” Bolswaithe informed them. “It's an autoimmune disease. The Doctor had it under control until today. Maybe the power of the Aesculapius Cane or King Seryaan can help him.”

Jean Luc stood up and flexed his wing. “Are you okay, big guy?” Tony asked.

“Nothing a visit to a flux well won’t fix,” Jean Luc said. “But we lost two brothers today.”

“We’ll take Charles and Vincent’s remains to rest in Versailles,” Henri said sadly. “They fought well and performed their duty. They deserve to go back home.”

“We’ll make sure.”  Bolswaithe lifted Elise and placed her into Jean Luc’s arms. “Take them back. There are medical teams waiting for them at the Keep's entrance.”

“And what about you?” Henri asked, glancing at Shahrukh and Thawaret.

“We can’t leave yet,” Bolswaithe said. “The moment Thomas leaves, the protocols come into effect and the Keep blows. We need to repair and seal it again. There are repair teams in transit already.” 

Henri nodded and both grotesques retraced their steps toward the entrance of the Keep, leaving them alone with the Namtarii.

“Why help us?”  Thomas asked. Thawaret held Shahrukh by the arm; she nodded at the book they had shown Tony.

“We know everybody we have killed, everyone who has died and suffered because of us and the other Namtarii. We all carry their pain. We always shut the knowledge in the back of our consciousness.”

“Through isolation from humanity we became corrupted,” Shahrukh continued. “By inflicting pain and death we became monsters. By acknowledging our acts we hope to regain some of what we’ve lost.”

“You think that curing Elise will atone for the millions you’ve killed?” Tony spat.

“Atonement is impossible,” Shahrukh said, “but maybe a new understanding of our place in this world can be attained.”

Tony placed his sword at Shahrukh’s throat, but the Namtarii didn’t flinch. “Go ahead, Della Francesca hound,” Shahrukh said. “I would welcome it.”

“Tony…” Thomas placed a hand on the sword. “We are not executioners.”

Tony seemed to fight the urge of killing, and he finally lowered his arm. The rhythmic sounds of a helicopter came from outside. A team of engineers and builders were disembarking on the island.

“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 Thomas 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?”