The Last Guardian Read Online Free PDF Page B

patrolling the streets, and if he was caught, he would be dragged to the prison buildings at the center of the city and tortured. He would be dead by dawn, his head impaled on a spike above the gates. Nu shivered. The sound of distant thunder rumbled above the city of Ad, and a jagged spear of lightning threw momentary shadows across the cobbled street.
    Nu waited for several seconds, calming himself. His faith had carried him this far, but his courage was nearly exhausted.
    “Be with me, Lord Chronos,” he prayed. “Strengthen my failing limbs.”
    He stepped out onto the street, ears straining for any sound that might warn him of the approach of the Daggers. He swallowed hard; the night was silent, the curfew complete. He moved on as silently as he could until he reached Bali’s high-towered home. The gate was locked, and he waited in the shadows, watching the moon rise. At the prearranged hour he heard the bolt slide open. Stepping into the courtyard beyond, he sank to a seat as his friend shut the gate, locking it tight.
    Bali touched a finger to his lips and led the dark-cloakedNu into the house. The shutters were closed, and curtains had been hung over the windows. Bali lit a lantern and placed it on an oval table.
    “Peace be upon this house,” said Nu.
    The smaller Bali nodded his bald head and smiled. “And the Lord bless my guest and friend,” he answered.
    The two men sat at the table and drank a little wine; then Bali leaned back and gazed at his friend of twenty years. Nu-Khasisatra had not changed in that time. His beard was still rich and black, his eyes bright blue and ageless beneath thick jutting brows. Both men had managed to purchase Sipstrassi fragments at least twice to restore their youth and health. But Bali had fallen on hard times, his wealth disappearing with the loss in storms at sea of three of his prize ships, and now he was beginning to show the signs of age. He appeared to be in his sixties, though he was in fact 80 years older than Nu, who was 110. Nu had tried to acquire more Sipstrassi, but the king had gathered almost all the stones to himself, and even a fragment would now cost all of Nu’s wealth.
    “You must leave the city,” Bali said, breaking the silence. “The king has signed a warrant for your immediate arrest.”
    “I know. I was foolish to speak against him in the temple, but I have prayed hard and I know the Great One was speaking through me.”
    “The Law of One is no more, my friend. The sons of Belial have the ears of the king. How is Pashad?”
    “I ordered her to denounce me this morning and seek the severing of the knot. She at least will be safe, as will my sons.”
    “No one is safe, Nu. No one. The king is insane, the slaughter has begun … even as you prophesied it. There is madness in the streets, and these Daggers fill me with terror.”
    “There is worse to come,” Nu told him sadly. “In my prayer dreams I have seen terrible sights: three suns inthe sky at one time, the heavens tearing, and the seas rising to swamp the clouds. I know it is close, Bali, and I am powerless to prevent it.”
    “Many men have dreams that do not presage evil days,” said Bali.
    Nu shook his head. “I know this. But my dreams have all come true so far. The Lord of All Things is sending these visions. I know he has ordered me to warn the people, and I know also that they will ignore me. But it is not for me to question His purpose.”
    Bali poured another goblet of wine and said nothing. Nu-Khasisatra had always been a man of iron principles and faith, devout and honest. Bali liked and respected him. He did not share his principles, but he had come to know his god, and for that gift alone he would give his life for the shipbuilder.
    Opening a hidden drawer below the table, he removed a small purse of embroidered deerskin. For a moment he held it, reluctant to part with it; then he smiled and pushed it across the table.
    “For you, my friend,” he said.
    Nu picked