meaning for her now. It spoke of opposites coming together and a balance being struck, for it was made up of two other symbols, the ones for the Citadel and for Eden. The symbol below also spoke of reconciliation, though this one was far more personal. When she first saw it Liv thought it must refer to her in some sinister way, the Tau with a line cutting through it. Now she realized what it was. It was the Tau and the sword combined, her symbol and Gabriel’s together, creating something new entirely.
The baby wriggled and stretched in her arms, the hungry mouth searching for its mother. ‘What shall we call her? I was thinking maybe Kathryn,’ Liv said, referring to the wife of the man lying buried beneath the stone – Gabriel’s mother.
Gabriel smiled and kissed the top of Liv’s head. ‘It’s a good name,’ he said. ‘Do you know what it means?’
The baby girl yawned, unaware of the wonderful new world she had been born into.
‘It means “pure” …’
EPILOGUE
The sun shines and traffic flows freely down the great wide boulevards of Ruin, all signs of the quarantine that held the city in its grip for most of the previous year now gone. The people have returned, the dead are remembered and life goes on.
In the centre of the city, looming above it all, the Citadel remains as dark and silent as always. It has cast its long shadow here before there was a city and will do so after the city has crumbled to dust. But those who have held sway for so long inside it and spread their influence way beyond the physical shadow of the mountain are now gone. After thousands of years withstanding everything kings and emperors could throw at it in their attempts to crack open the walls and learn its great secrets, it was a virus, one of the smallest life-forms on Earth that brought the mountain down.
But life goes on for the Citadel too.
Today the embankment surrounding the mountain is filled with people and news cameras, there to witness its reopening. Cameras have already been inside, moving through the carved corridors to reveal to the outside world all that it wondered about for so long – the dormitories, the refectories, the great cathedral cave, all preserved exactly as they were when the monks lived there.
At the foot of the mountain, where the ascension platform used to rest, the mayor now gives a speech and the news cameras roam the crowd, capturing the excitement and anticipation of the first people to ride the newly installed elevators up the side of the mountain into what used to be the tribute cave. A man hangs back, hiding beneath a hat and behind dark glasses. He avoids the cameras, for he has nothing to share. He has been inside the mountain before.
A ribbon is cut and cameras flash, capturing the first elevator shooting up to the dark cave where more cameras are waiting to capture the looks on the faces of the first people to take this journey into a secret world few have ever known or seen before.
A tour guide leads them through the tunnels, explaining how the monks lived and recounting crowd-pleasing stories culled from the Citadel’s long and bloody history. The man in the hat listens from the back of the group, making mental notes when the guide deviates too far from the script he helped write so he can correct him in the debrief later.
He puts the dark glasses on again as the group steps out into the brightness of the garden and the guide tries his best to paint a picture of what the barren space might have looked like when everything flourished. He moves on quickly, sensing the crowd is not that interested, and heads back inside to the grand finale of the cathedral cave. But the man in the hat remains. He removes his sunglasses and stares at a spot by the firestone where the ground has been nourished by the ash of the fire. He walks over and squats down, removing his hat to fan the dust away from the thing he has seen. The dust blows away and Athanasius breaks into a broad smile at the miracle he has discovered. It is a green shoot rising up from the grey ground straight and sharp, like a model of the Citadel in miniature.
A new life. A new hope. A new beginning.
Acknowledgements
Writing a novel is a lonely process, particularly when you are grappling with the end of the world. For shining much needed light down into the dark of the first draft mines I would like to thank my agent Alice Saunders, who inspires, encourages and constantly nags me to do more exercise; Peta Nightingale who turns the first draft into something altogether more second draft and George Lucas at Inkwell Management who keeps the Sanctus flags fluttering in America.
At HarperCollins I am luckier than any writer deserves to be in having the legends that are Julia Wisdom in the UK and David Highfill in the US nudging, cajoling and supporting me throughout the lengthy process of turning an idea into a book. Loud applause must also be reserved for their sterling teams of editorial staff, designers, marketeers and sales folk. Particular thanks must also go to the long-suffering Emad Akhtar in the UK for his patience and professionalism in the face of the tightest of deadlines. I also owe a huge debt to everyone at ILA who continue to spread the Sanctus story to the four corners of the globe.
As ever, final thanks must go to my inspirational children, Roxy, Stan and baby Betsy Bean, as well as my wife Kathryn for all the love, support – and for doing all the nights when I needed to work. I love you all, though – obviously – in slightly different ways.
Simon Toyne
Brighton
February 2013
About the Author
In 2007 Simon Toyne quit his job and moved to France to fulfil a long-held desire to write a thriller. After a sleepless night crossing the Channel, he and his family abandoned a planned eight-hour drive to their new home and limped instead to the city of Rouen. It was the sight of the sharp spire of Rouen Cathedral piercing the pre-dawn sky that gave birth to the fictional Citadel of Sanctus.
Sanctus and The Key both became immediate bestsellers. To date they have been translated into 27 languages and published in 40 countries. The Tower is Simon’s third novel.
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Also by Simon Toyne
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Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Simon Toyne 2013
Simon Toyne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Source ISBN: 9780007391639
Ebook Edition © April 2013 ISBN: 9780007507481
Version 1
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Part I Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part II Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Part III Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Part IV Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Part V Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Part VI Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Part VII Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Simon Toyne
Copyright
About the Publisher