Thorn
The Shepherd, Book III
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved
Chapter X
The heavens wore a flourescent rim as we surged through the gate, and abruptly halted en masse. Nothing stirred on the table land. Then the silhouette of a man could be seen lifting himself up. Slowly the others moved. A roar of cheers went up, and I was carried out with the tide.
With one final duty standing between myself and oblivion, I made my way toward the gatekeeper. I had determined to steal away, to shut the ox gate of the enemy. He was already at the side of the man-beast, who cowered with his face in the sod. The gatekeeper's shirt was shredded. Blood seeped from a ragged gash above his left eye. He was bent over the monster, embracing him.
"Not I!" howled the giant. "After all that I have done! It weighs upon my soul. It stifles the breath. I cannot be restored." He sobbed, and his great mass shook.
"But that can change," answered the gatekeeper. "I know the cure for this disease." The gatekeeper looked upward of a sudden, as if he had heard someone call out, though there was no sound. Then, he closd his eyes. After a few moments he nodded, laughing, "Your name is not Thorn!, but Hawthorn! The dragon has twisted it!"
"I will not deny it," replied the giant sheepishly. "Mother loved the flowers, so father braved the nettles."
"So you were born under these stars, of this world. You may belong to the family of the the Shepherd, if you wish." The gatekeeper straightened and wiped his brow. When he removed his hand, his blood glistened on Thorn's gauntlet.
"It is a sign!" hissed Bebaios, starting me from behind. The archons had come. They watched in wonder.
"A blessing returned for a blooding," said another.
"The token of the Shepherd," said the third.