The Barren Land
The Shepherd, Book I
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved

Chapter XII

She approached me. "Forgive . . ." she uttered tentatively.

"Forgive who?" I countered.

"Thank you," she heaved out the words and ensconced herself about my shoulders. It was not the spiny clasp of the netherworld, but the pure embrace of a friend's love. My pulse fluttered and she removed herself.

"keeper!" a voice called out. Betwixt the crenellations I beheld a sentry pointing westward. "You see it not?"

The gatekeeper studied the horizon. "What?" He sounded perplexed.

"The darkening!"

I too examined the western sky, but saw nothing, and then, just the faintest discoloration. The aspect of the look out was sufficient to rouse us to mount and swiftly make for the gate. Once within, we left the horses to themselves and hurriedly ascended the rampart stair. We arrived above gasping for air, and when we gazed out we perceived a gathering blackness in the west. That is, all of us except the gatekeeper, who yet maintained that he saw no ill wind. Worse, the apparition was on the move. Within minutes it crept up and settled on us like the robe of death. It blotted out the light and muted our voices. Reason departed, and our human words commuted to feral exclamations of fear as we evacuated the parapet. The gatekeeper was left alone, thoughtful.

For the better part of the day, measured only by the water clock, we cowered in the inner rooms, lamps lit, while the gatekeeper retired to his study to search the Scroll of the Shepherd for the key to this foul event. The general mood was desperate. mentor attempted to convene prayer once or twice, but the words were hollow, like pebbles dropped into a well. There was even an undercurrent of blame directed at our newest member.

As evening approached the gatekeeper emerged and instructed us to make a fire in the yard at the place of meeting and to take our supper there together. I overheard a few jibes about the appropriateness of a picnic at this juncture, but I knew none would miss the chance he could present something of use.

When we had eaten and had settled on the grass, he addressed us. "I have been at the Scroll all day. I have also interviewed both Cassia and Nebiah separately." He paused, and there was a murmur or two of approval. "And what I have seen convinces me that no foothold has been established here." Now an agitated buzz went through the crowd. He held up his hand for silence. When he had it he continued,"The work of the Shepherd on our behalf is indestructible. And Cassia has made a clean break."

"Oh, yes?" someone shouted.

He turned to her. "Cassia, to whom do you belong?"

"I belong to the Shepherd. I am one of his," she said.

The gatekeeper stood fast, and seemed the only firm thing on that lawn at the moment. "The only answer, my friends, then, is that we have come under the influence of a lethal ruse, through which only an encounter with truth may undo."

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