The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [270]
She sank again into the chair at the table. “But that's impossible. Travis Wilder destroyed the gate. There's no way to cross between the worlds now.”
“I hate to appear rude, but once again you're wrong. You see, Earth and Eldh draw closer to each other every day. One day, sooner than you think, perihelion will come. And with it will come great peril as well.”
Her head throbbed, and the scotch burned in her stomach. “What do you mean? What sort of peril?”
The computer let out another chime, and an image appeared on the screen. Deirdre's eyes locked on it. The image was dark and grainy. It showed two figures in black prowling down a narrow urban street, moving toward the camera.
“This photograph was taken three days ago,” came the smooth voice through the phone.
Deirdre touched the screen. “What is it?”
“Allow me to magnify it for you.”
The image expanded to take up the entire screen. Deirdre saw them clearer now. The two figures wore black robes that fluttered behind them like shadows. The final pixels rearranged themselves, and Deirdre clutched the phone.
Instead of faces, masks were nestled within the cowls of their robes. The masks were made of gold, like those stolen from a sarcophagus in a mummy's tomb, gazing forward with serene, deathless expressions.
“He's dead,” she said into the phone, voice hoarse. “The sorcerer. I saw the gorleths tear him apart. He's dead.”
“And now more have come to take his place.”
“But what do they want?”
A faint hiss emanated from the phone. For a terrified moment she thought he was gone, then his voice spoke again.
“I am not yet certain what it is they want. However, it has something to do with the approaching perihelion. They are waiting for something, planning, though for what I cannot say. Only one thing is certain: This is all far from over.”
Deirdre could sense it—he was going to hang up. “Please,” she gasped. “Tell me more.”
“Not just now. I am at great peril telling you what I already have.”
“Why are you in peril?”
A pause. Then, “There are those who would not be pleased if they knew I was aiding you. You must be wary of them. They could have agents anywhere.”
Deirdre stood again, running her free hand through her hair. “Who do you mean? Please, help me.”
“Good-bye, Miss Falling Hawk,” came his polite, accentless voice through the phone. “It may be some time until we speak again. But when the time comes, I'll be in touch.”
There was a click as the phone went dead in her hands. At the same moment the image of the figures in black robes and gold masks vanished from the computer screen, replaced by the picture of the keystone. Deirdre set down the phone with a shaking hand, then moved to the window and pulled back the curtains. She gazed into the night, but all she saw was darkness and her own ghostly reflection staring back at her.
Here ends The Gates of Winter, Book Five of The Last Rune. The ultimate secret of the connection between Eldh and Earth will be revealed in Book Six, The First Stone.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARK ANTHONY learned to love both books and mountains during childhood summers spent in a Colorado ghost town. Later he was trained as a paleoanthropologist but along the way grew interested in a different sort of human evolution—the symbolic progress reflected in myth and the literature of the fantastic. He undertook this project to explore the idea that reason and wonder need not exist in conflict. Mark Anthony lives and writes in Colorado, where he is currently at work on the next book of The Last Rune. Fans of The Last Rune can visit the website at http://www.thelastrune.com.
ALSO BY MARK ANTHONY
Beyond the Pale
The Keep of Fire
The Dark Remains
Blood of Mystery
PERILOUS DESTINY
“I have to go north to Gravenfist Keep,” Grace said. “I'm supposed to stop the Pale King from riding forth when the Rune Gate opens. But I don't know how I'm possibly going to do that. All I have is an old sword