The Sword of Fire

EPILOGUE

Dirk Kruger couldn’t help noticing how the bravado he had felt back in Horak’s mansion when he’d lectured Hawke about the Oracle seemed much harder to muster when standing right in front of the man himself. Now, in the study of one of Wolff’s opulent residences his main impulse was to crawl away into a hole and never share his company again.

“You got the sword, Dirk. Very good.”

Kruger started to relax as he watched Wolff caressing the long, ancient blade; his face now reflecting the deep, blue glow that emanated from its hardened steel. “Yes, sir. It was a piece of cake.”

The Oracle had a file marked KRUGER on his desk. He thumbed through some of the pages, but the effort was perfunctory; only a fool would presume he hadn’t already studied the man standing opposite him. “I was impressed with you when you found the Lost City, and you have certainly shown me that you are able to deal with the ECHO team as well. This plus your successful retrieval of the Tinia idol has pleased me greatly. I have decided to keep you alive.”

Kruger swallowed hard and took a step away from the desk. He hadn’t realized the price of failure on this mission would have been his life, and now he hardly knew what to say, except: “Thank you, sir.”

Wolff nodded casually, but he had returned his obsessive gaze back to the sword. “You know what this sword means to me?”

“You said it would open a gateway?” Something about the way Wolff was staring at the blade had upset Kruger. He was an arms dealer — a thug at heart — and now his insatiable greed had led him into the service of this depraved monster. He thought of Faust with a shudder and started to wonder what he had done.

“You pay attention to my words. Also very good.”

A long silence followed, and Kruger worked hard to stay calm and keep his breathing soft and level.

“The Sword of Fire… Dyrnwyn, Excalibur — they’re all the same thing. This blade in my hands did not come from the western lands where you found it. Originally it came from the east. Did you know that?”

“No I did not, Mr Wolff.”

“You address me as Oracle, or sir.”

“Yes, Oracle.”

“That is, if you want to be part of all this.”

“Of course, Oracle.”

“This blade in my hands, arms dealer,” he said these last two words with contempt, “has the power I need to locate and open the gateway to the king’s tomb. Inside that tomb is something very critical to me and my mission… this pilgrimage I am on.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very critical indeed…”

The Oracle stared at the Tanit idol on the shelf behind his desk. Beside it were two new additions — Tinia and then Viracocha, the primordial deity of the Incan culture. Kruger recognised the idol of Viracocha. He had found it in the treasure haul he had stolen from Paititi back in Peru while Saqqal was obsessing over his Utopia plague. The second he saw it he’d known who to go to for a quick sale.

“I see, sir.”

He let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Oh, these idols! If you only knew what they meant, you would break down and cry right now, down on your knees like a man humbled before the very presence of the divine.”

“What do they mean, sir? Gold? Treasure?”

The Oracle laughed, but it quickly turned sour. “Treasure? You sad little man, is that all you can think of?”

“I’m sorry, Oracle.”

“You’re forgetting yourself, arms dealer.”

“Yes, sir — but why are the idols so important?”

The Oracle studied Kruger’s face for a few moments, and the South African wasn’t sure if asking him that question had angered him or pleased him. “The idols are not just golden likenesses of gods and goddesses, arms dealer. The idols are a pathway to a brand new future for mankind, but they will also unlock something terrible that will shake this world to its core.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“No, I know you don’t, and I doubt you have the intellectual capacity to process what I am talking about.”

Kruger felt a wave of anger rise in him. How dare this man talk to him like that? But then, was he a man? Before he could formulate something to say that might save face, the Oracle spoke again.

“You will use the Sword of Fire to locate and open the king’s tomb. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you will work with athanatoi, is that understood?”

Kruger didn’t know what to say. He was used to working with his own men — former soldiers, armes dealers, mercenaries and thugs. Now, Otmar Wolff was ordering him to complete a difficult mission with a bunch of idiot cultists who all thought they were Mr Anderson from the Matrix.

“Well?” The Oracle’s tone was severe.

Kruger knew immediately what to say in response. “Of course, sir.”

“Good… good.” The Oracle’s voice sounded as dry as dead wood on a salt flat as he turned the word over in his mouth. “A mighty battle is racing toward humanity, Arms Dealer. The fog of war will choke every last person in this world when the fighting starts, and it’s going to start soon. Very soon.”