Bloodstone

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When the farmer seeds his field with corn he knows that the weeds will grow also. They will grow faster than his crop, the roots digging deep, drawing the nutrients from the land. Therefore, if he is wise, he patrols his field, uprooting the weeds. Every human heart is like that farmer's field. Evil lurks there, and a wise man will search out the weeds of evil. Beware the man who says, 'My heart is pure', for evil is growing within him unchecked.

The Wisdom of the Deacon Chapter XIV

The city was vast and silent, the shutters on open windows flapping in the early morning breeze, open doors yawning and creaking. The only other sound to break the silence was the steady clopping of the horses. Shannow was in the lead, Amaziga and Sam sharing the horse behind, with Gareth bringing up the rear.

The great south gate of Babylon was open, but there were no guards, no sentries patrolling the high walls.

The silence was eerie, almost threatening.

The streets were wide and elegantly paved, the houses built of white rock, many boasting colourful mosaics. Statues lined the avenues, heroic figures in the armour of Atlantis. Although Babylon was a relatively new city, many of the statues and ornaments had been looted from an Atlantean site, as had much of the stone used in the buildings. The riders moved on through an open market square with rotting fruit displayed on the stalls — brown, partly-collapsed apples, oranges covered with blue-grey mould.

Slowly they rode on, passing a tavern. Several bench tables were set outside the main doors, and upon these were goblets and plates of mildewed bread and cheese.

Not a dog or a cat moved in the silence, and no flies buzzed around the decomposing food. In the clear sky above them no bird flew.

Gareth eased his horse alongside the mount carrying his mother and Sam. 'I don't understand,' he said.

'You will,' she promised him.

On they rode, through narrow streets and out on to broad avenues, the hoofbeats echoing through the city. Shannow loosened his pistols in their scabbards, his eyes scanning the deserted homes. Ahead of them was a huge colosseum five storeys high — colossal, demonic statues surrounding it, images of demons, horned and scaled. Shannow drew back on the reins. 'Where now?' he asked Amaziga.

'Lucas says that beyond the colosseum's arena is a wide tunnel leading into the palace. The grounds beyond that contain the remnants of the stone circle.'

Shannow gazed up at the enormous building. 'It must hold thousands,' he said.

'Forty-two thousand,' said Amaziga. 'Let's go on.'

The central avenue led directly to the bronze gates of the main entrance; these were open, and Shannow rode through into an arched tunnel. Many doorways opened on to stairs to left and right, but the trio rode on, and down, emerging at last into what had been a sand-covered arena.

Now it boasted a new carpet. Corpses lay everywhere, dried husks that had once been human.

Shannow's horse was reluctant to move on, but he urged it forward. The gelding stepped out gingerly, its hoof striking a corpse just below the knee; the leg snapped and fell away.

Shannow looked around him as the horse slowly picked its way across the centre of the arena. Row upon row of seats, in tier upon tier, ringed the circle. Corpses filled every seat.

'My God!' whispered Gareth Archer.

'No,' said Shannow, 'their god.'

'Why would he kill them all? All his people?'

'He had no more use for them,' said Amaziga, her voice flat, cold and emotionless. 'He found a gateway to a land of plenty. What you see here is the result of his last supper.'

'Sweet Jesus!'

With great care they moved across the arena of death, and Gareth kept his eyes fixed on the distant entrance to yet another tunnel, wincing as dried bones broke beneath his mount's hooves. At last they reached the far side and Gareth swung in his saddle, looking back over the colosseum and its silent audience.

Forty-two thousand people, their bodies drained of moisture. He shuddered and followed the others down into the second tunnel.

The palace gardens were overgrown with weeds and bracken and only three of the old stones were still standing. One of these had slipped to the right, showing a jagged crack on its side. Shannow dismounted and forced his way through the undergrowth. 'Will the circle still. . work?' he asked, as Amaziga joined him.

'The stones are not important in themselves,' she told him. They were merely placed by the Ancients at points of great natural power.' Amaziga flicked the microphone into place and switched on the computer.

Shannow wandered away, eyes raking the wall surrounding the garden and the balconies that overlooked what was once a series of rose-beds. He felt uncomfortable here, exposed. One rifleman creeping along behind those balcony walls could kill them all.

Samuel Archer approached him. ‘I have had no time to thank you properly, Mr Shannow. I am grateful for your courage.'

Shannow smiled at the tall black man. 'I knew another Sam Archer once,' he said. 'I could not save him and I have always regretted that.' He glanced to the left, where Gareth Archer was sitting quietly lost in thought, his face a mask of sorrow. 'I think you should speak to him,' said the Jerusalem Man. Archer nodded.

Gareth looked up as the older man sat down on the marble bench beside him. 'Soon be home,' said Gareth. 'You'll like Arizona. No Bloodstone.'

'It is always hard to gaze upon the fruits of evil,' said Sam softly.

Gareth nodded agreement. 'Forty-two thousand people. Son of a bitch!'

'Do you study history, Gareth?'

'Battle of Hastings, 1066 AD; Second World War, 1939 AD; War of Liberation, 2016 AD,' said Gareth. 'Yes, I studied history.'

'I didn't mean the dates, son. You've just seen a multitude of the dead. Yet Genghis Khan killed ten times as many people, and Stalin murdered a hundred times more. Man's history is hip-deep in Bloodstones.

The dead that you saw chose to worship Sarento. They fed him their children, and the children of other races. Lastly they fed him themselves. I mourn for their stupidity, but there is nothing new about a leader who leads his people to destruction.'

There's a cheering thought,' said Gareth.

Amaziga joined them. 'Lucas says that we must wait four hours for a window home. It's almost over, Sam.'

Samuel Archer stared at her intently, noting the lines of anguish on her beautiful face. 'There is something else,' he said. She nodded and glanced round to look for Shannow, but the Jerusalem Man was gone.

'The Bloodstone is now in Shannow's world,' she said.

Gareth swore. 'Did we open the Gate?' he asked bitterly.

'Lucas says not. Yet the fact remains that it is free to reduce another world to dust and death.'

'You once told me about Sarento,' said Gareth, anger in his voice. 'You told me he wanted to see a return to the old world, hospitals and schools, care, love and peace. How could you be deceived by such a monster?'

Sam cut in. 'He did want all those things,' he said. 'He was a man in love with the past. He adored all aspects of twentieth-and twenty-first-century life. And he did care. Thirty years ago there was a plague.

The Guardians went out among the people with medicines and vaccines we hoped would eradicate it.

We were wrong. Many of us died. Yet still Sarento went out, until he himself succumbed. He almost died, Gareth, trying to help others. It was the Bloodstone that corrupted him. He is no longer the human Sarento we knew.'

'I don't believe that,' snapped Gareth. There must have been evil in him to begin with. You just couldn't see it.'

'Of course there was,' said Amaziga. 'As there is in all of us, in our arrogance, in our belief that we know best. But the Bloodstone enhances such feelings, at the same time as drowning the impulses for good.

You have no idea of the influence of such Stones. Even a small demonseed will drive a bearer to violence, unleashing the full force of the beast within Man. Sarento took into himself the power of an entire boulder.'

Gareth rose and shook his head. 'He knew the Bloodstone was evil, even before he did that. I'll not listen to excuses for him. I just want to know how we can kill him.'

'We can't,' said Sam, 'not while he has power. I used to believe that if we could deprive him of blood until he was weak and then attack him, we would have a chance to destroy him. Yet how would it have been possible? Whoever approached him would only feed him. You understand? He is invulnerable. He might have died here, on a planet drained of life. But now he is free to wander the universe, growing in power.'

There must be a way,' urged Gareth.

'If there is we'll find it, Gareth,' said Amaziga. 'I promise you that.'

Jon Shannow wandered through the deserted halls of Babylon, past columns fashioned from human bones and mosaics depicting scenes of torture, rape and murder. His footsteps echoed and he came out, at last, on to a balcony overlooking the garden. From here could be seen the original layout of the grounds, the walkways shaped like intertwined serpents, forming the number of the Beast. Nature had conspired to cover most of the walkways, and vines grew up over repulsive statues that ringed the six small pools. Even these were stagnant, and the fountains silent.

Shannow felt burdened by it all, the evidence of Man's stupidity laid out before him like an ancient map.

Why is it, he thought, that men can be inspired to evil more swiftly and powerfully than they can be inspired to good?

His heaviness of heart deepened. Look at yourself, Jon Shannow, before you ask such questions. Was it not you who put away the guns, pledging yourself to a life of pacifism and religion? Was it not you who took to the pulpit, and reached out your mind to the King of Heaven?

And what happened when evil men brought death and flames?

'I gunned them down,' he said aloud.

It was always thus. From his earliest days, when he and Daniel had seen their parents slain, he had been filled with a great anger, a burning need to confront evil head to head, gun to gun. Through many settlements and towns, villages and communities the Jerusalem Man had passed. Always behind him there were bodies to be buried.

Did it make the world a better place, Shannow? he asked himself. Has anything you have done ensured a future of peace and prosperity? These were hard questions, but he faced them as he faced all dangers.

With honesty.

No, he told himself. I have made no difference.

Twice he had tried to put aside the mantle of the Jerusalem Man, once with the widow Donna Taybard, and then with Beth McAdam. Believing him to be dead, Donna had married another man. Beth had grown tired of Jon Cade's holiness.

You are a man of straw, Shannow, he chided himself. A year before, when Daniel Cade first moved to Pilgrim's Valley he had visited the Preacher in the small vestry behind the church.

'Good morning, brother Jon,' he said, 'you are looking well for a man of your years.'

'They do not know me here, Daniel. Everything has changed.'

Daniel shook his head. 'Men don't change, brother. All that happens is that they learn how best to disguise the lack of change. Me, I'm still a brigand at heart, but I'm held to goodness by the weight of public opinion and the fading strength of an age-weakened body.'

‘I have changed,' said the Preacher. 'I abhor violence, and will never kill again.'

'Is that so, Jonnie? Answer me this then, where are your guns? In a pit somewhere, rusted and useless?

Sold?' His eyes twinkled and he grinned. 'Or are they here? Hidden away somewhere, cleaned and oiled.'

'They are here,' admitted the Preacher. 'I keep them as a reminder of what once I was.'

'We'll see,' said Cade. ‘I hope you are right, Jon. Such a life is good for you.'

Now the sun broke clear of the clouds above Babylon and Jon Shannow felt the weight of the pistols at his side. 'You were right,' Daniel,' he said softly. 'Men don't change.'

Gazing down on the garden he saw Amaziga, Gareth and Sam sitting together. The first Samuel Archer had been a man of peace, interested only in researching the ruins of Atlantis. He had been beaten to death in the caverns of Castlemine. In this world the black man was a fighter. In neither had he won.

Amaziga said there existed an infinity of universes. Perhaps in one of them Samuel Archer was still an archaeologist who would slowly, and with great dignity, grow old among his family. Perhaps in that world, or another, Jon Shannow did not see his family gunned down. He was a farmer maybe, or a teacher, his own sons playing around him, happy in the sunshine, a loving wife beside him.

A whisper of movement came from behind and Shannow hurled himself to the left as a bullet ricocheted from the balcony, screaming off into the air. Spinning as he fell, Shannow drew his right-hand pistol and fired. The Hellborn warrior staggered, then tipped over the balcony wall. Drawing his left-hand gun, Shannow rose and ran back to the hall entrance.

Two Hellborn warriors were crouching behind pillars. The first, shocked by his sudden appearance, fired too swiftly, the bullet slashing past Shannow's face. His own left-handed gun boomed and the man was flung back. The second warrior reared up, a knife in his hand. Shannow's pistol slammed down, the barrel cracking home against the man's cheekbone, and the warrior fell heavily.

Shots sounded now from the garden. As Shannow ran through the hall, a rifleman leaned over the gallery rail above him. Shannow fired — but missed, the bullet chipping wood from the rail. He ducked into a corridor, turned left down a stairway and right into another corridor. Here he stopped and waited, listening for sounds of pursuit.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and two men ran down. Stepping out, Shannow shot them both, then ran for the garden. Halting in a shadowed archway, he re-loaded his pistols. There were no sounds now from the garden.

Guns in hand, he moved swiftly out into the sunshine, scanning the balconies.

No one was in sight.

Creeping silently through the undergrowth, he approached the circle of stone. The sound of voices came to him as he neared the circle.

The Lord has left us,' said a deep voice, 'and you are to blame. We were ordered to kill you and we failed. Now that we have you, he will come back for us.'

'He's not coming back,' Shannow heard Amaziga tell them. 'Can't you understand what has happened?

He's not a god, he's a man — a corrupted, ruined man who feeds on life. Have you not seen the colosseum? He's killed everyone!'

'Silence, woman! What do you know? The Lord has returned to his home in the Valleys of Hell, and there he has taken our people to enjoy the rewards of service. This is what he promised. This is what he has done. But my comrades and I were left here because we failed him. When your bodies bleed upon the High Altar he will return for us, and we shall know the joy of everlasting death-life.'

Sam's strong, steady voice cut in. 'I understand that you need to believe. Yet I also see that the demonseeds embedded in your brows are black now and powerless. You are men again, with free will and intelligence. And deep down you are already questioning your beliefs. Is that not true?'

Shannow heard the sound of a vicious slap. 'You black bastard! Yes, it is true — and all part of the test we face because of you. We will not be seduced from the true path.'

Shannow edged to the right to a break in the undergrowth and stepped out on to the walkway some fifteen yards from the Hellborn group. There were five in all, and each of them held a weapon pointed at his three companions. The Hellborn leader was still speaking. 'Tonight we shall be in Hell, with servants and women, and fine food and drink. Your souls will carry us there.'

'Why wait for tonight?' asked Shannow. The Hellborn swung to face him and Shannow's guns thundered.

The Hellborn leader was hurled back, his face blown away; another man spun back, his shoulder shattered. Shannow stepped to his right and continued to fire. Only one answering shot came his way; it passed some feet to his left, smashing into the stone head of a statue demon, shearing away a horn.

The last echoes faded away. Shannow cocked his pistols and moved to join the trio. Amaziga was kneeling beside Gareth. Blood was staining the olive-green shirt he wore as Shannow knelt beside him.

'Jesus wept, Shannow!' whispered the young man. 'You really are death on wheels.' Blood frothed at his lips and he choked and coughed. Amaziga pulled out her Sipstrassi Stone, but Gareth's head sagged back.

'No!' screamed Amaziga. 'Please God, no!'

'He's gone,' said Shannow. Amaziga reached out and stroked the dead boy's brow, then she turned her angry eyes upon the Jerusalem Man.

'Where were you when we needed you?' she stormed.

'Close by,' he said wearily, 'but not close enough.'

'May God curse you, Shannow!' she screamed, her hand lashing out across his face.

That's enough!' roared Sam, reaching down and hauling her away from him. ‘It is not his fault. How could it be? And if not for him we would all be dead.' He glanced at Shannow. 'Are there more, do you think?'

There were two inside I did not kill.' He shrugged. There may be others.'

Sam took Amaziga by the shoulders. 'Listen to me, Ziga. We must leave. What will happen if we activate the Gateway early?'

'Nothing, save that it uses more Sipstrassi power. And I have little left.'

'Is there enough to get us back?'

She nodded. A shot ricocheted from the walkway and Sam ducked, dragging Amaziga down with him.

Shannow returned the fire, his bullets clipping stone from a balcony.

'Let's go,' said Shannow calmly. Amaziga reached down to touch her son's face for the last time, then she stood and ran for the stone circle. Sam followed. Shannow backed after them, eyes scanning the balconies. A rifleman reared up; Shannow fired and the man ducked down.

Inside the circle Amaziga knelt behind one of the stones and engaged the computer. Shots peppered the ground around them. They're circling us,' said Shannow.

Violet light flickered around them. .

Shannow holstered his pistols and strode out on to the hillside above Amaziga's Arizona home.

Shannow sat on the paddock fence for more than an hour, oblivious to the blazing sunshine. The desert here was peaceful upon the eye, the giant saguaros seemingly set in place by a master sculptor. His thoughts swung back to the rescue of Samuel Archer. So much death! The girl, Shammy, and all the other nameless heroes who had followed Sam. And Gareth. Shannow had liked the young black man; he had a zest for life, and the courage to live it to the full. Even the sight of his twin's corpse had not kept him from his path — a path that led to a bullet fired by a Hellborn warrior who had seen the destruction of his race and not understood its meaning.

Amaziga's unjust anger was hard to take, but Shannow understood it. Every time they met it seemed that someone she loved had to die.

Sam strolled out. 'Come inside, my friend. You need to rest.'

'What I need is to go home,' Shannow told him.

'Let's talk,' said Sam, avoiding Shannow's gaze. The Jerusalem Man climbed down from the fence and followed the black man into the house. It was cool inside, and the face of Lucas shone from the computer screen. Amaziga was nowhere in sight. 'Sit down, Mr Shannow. Amaziga will be with us shortly.'

Unbuckling his guns, Shannow let the belt fall to the floor. He was mortally tired, his mind weary beyond words. 'Perhaps you should clean up first,' suggested Sam, 'and refresh yourself.' Shannow nodded, and leaving Sam he walked through the corridor to his own room and removed his clothes. Turning on the faucets he stepped under the shower, turning his face up to the cascading water. After some minutes he stepped out and moved to the bed where he sat down, intending to gather his thoughts, but fell asleep almost instantly.

When Sam woke him it was dark, the moon glinting through the clouds. Shannow sat up. 'I didn't realise how tired I was,' he said.

Sam sat down alongside him. 'I have spoken to Ziga. She is distraught, Shannow, but even so she knows that Gareth's death could not be laid at your door. She is a wonderful woman, you know, but headstrong. She always was incapable of being wrong — I think you know that, from past experience. But she is not malicious.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

Sam shrugged. 'I just wanted you to know.'

There is something else, Sam.'

That's for her to tell you. I brought some clean clothes. Amaziga will be in the lounge when you are ready.' Sam stood and left the room.

Rested and refreshed, Shannow rose and walked to the chair where Sam had laid the fresh clothes.

There was a blue plaid shirt, a pair of heavy cotton trousers and a pair of black socks. The chest of the shirt was over-large, the sleeves too short, but the trousers fitted him well. Pulling on his boots, he walked out into the main room where Amaziga was sitting at the computer speaking to Lucas. Sam was nowhere in sight.

'He went for a walk,' said Amaziga, rising. Slowly she approached him. 'I am very sorry,' she said, her eyes brimming with tears. Instinctively he opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace. 'I sacrificed Gareth for Sam,' she said. 'It was my fault.'

'He was a brave lad,' was all Shannow could think to say.

Amaziga nodded and drew away from him, brushing her sleeve across her eyes. 'Yes, he was brave. He was everything I could have wished for. Are you hungry?'

'A little.'

‘I’ll prepare you some food.'

'If it is all the same to you, lady, I would like to go home.'

'Food first,' she said. ‘I’ll leave you with Lucas for a moment.'

When she had left the room Shannow sat down before the machine. 'What is happening?' he asked. 'Sam out for a walk, Amaziga playing hostess. Something is wrong.'

'You came through the window earlier than anticipated,' said Lucas. 'It drained her Stone.'

'She has others, surely?'

'No. Not at the moment.'

'Then how will she send me back?'

'She can't, Mr Shannow. I have the capacity to hack into. . to enter the memory banks of other computers. I have done so, and in the next few days papers will begin to arrive giving you a new identity in this world. I will also instruct you into the habits and laws of the United States. These are many and varied.'

'I cannot stay here.'

'Will it be so bad, Mr Shannow? Through my… contacts, if you like… I have amassed a large fortune for Amaziga. You will have access to those funds. And what is there left behind you? You have no family, and few friends. You could be happy in America.'

'Happy?' Shannow's eyes narrowed. 'Everything I love is lost to me, and you speak of happiness? Damn you, Lucas!'

'I fear I am already damned,' said the machine. 'Perhaps we all are for what we have done.'

'And what is that?' asked Shannow, his voice hardening. 'What is there that is still unsaid?'

Amaziga returned at that moment carrying two cups of coffee. 'I have some food in the oven. It will not take long,' she said. 'Has Lucas spoken to you?'

'He has. Now you tell me.'

Tell you what?'

'No games, lady. Just the truth.'

'I don't know what you mean. The power is gone. Until I find more Sipstrassi we are trapped in this version of the old world.'

'Tell him,' said Sam, from the doorway. 'You owe him that.'

'I owe him nothing!' stormed Amaziga. 'Don't you understand?'

'No, I don't understand, but I know how you feel, Ziga. Tell him.'

Amaziga moved to an armchair and sat, not looking at Shannow or Sam but staring down at the floor.

'The Bloodstone found a Gateway through to your world, Shannow. That's where he is now. It wasn't our fault. Truly it wasn't. Someone else opened a Gateway — Lucas will vouch for that.'

'Indeed I will,' said the machine. 'Amaziga transferred the files from the portable. I know everything that happened back in Babylon. Sarento passed through the Gateway while we were in the hills, camping at that deserted town. All I can tell you is that the Bloodstone is in the time of the Deacon. Your time.'

Shannow slumped down in a chair. 'And I can't get back there, to Beth?'

'Not yet,' said Lucas.

The Jerusalem Man looked up at Amaziga, 'What will I do here in the meantime, lady, in this world of machines? How will I live?'

Amaziga sighed. 'We have thought of that, Shannow. Lucas has arranged papers for you, under a new name. And you will stay here while we teach you the ways of this world. There are many wonders for you to see. There is Jerusalem. For this world is still twenty-one years from the Fall.'

'Twenty years, four months and eleven days,' said Lucas.

'We have that amount of time to try to prevent it happening,' said Amaziga. 'Sam and I will search for Sipstrassi. You will do what you did in Pilgrim's Valley — become a preacher. There is a church in Florida, a small church. I have friends there, who will make you welcome.'

Shannow's eyes widened. 'A church in Florida? Is that not where the Deacon is from?'

Amaziga nodded.

'And my new name?' he said, his voice harsh.

'John Deacon,' she told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Dear God!' said Shannow, pushing himself from the chair.

'We did not know, Shannow,' said Amaziga, 'and it won't be the same. Sam and I will find Sipstrassi, then you will be able to return.'

'And if you don't?'

Amaziga was silent for a moment, then she looked up into his angry eyes. 'Then you must take your disciples and be on that plane on the day the earth falls.'

The Deacon stood outside the farm building and watched as Beth McAdam and Toby Harris led the horses from the paddock into the barn. You are still beautiful, Beth, he thought. And you did not know me. That hurt him. But then why should she, he asked himself. Only weeks before she had seen a relatively young man giving sermons. Now a long-haired ancient stood in her home, his features obscured by a thick white beard. Understanding did nothing to help the pain.

Shannow felt alone in that moment, and terribly weak.

Amaziga and Sam had kept in touch with him, keeping him up to date with their journeys and their search for the Stones. Sometimes they had believed themselves to be close, only to face terrible disappointment.

With eleven days left before the Fall, they had telephoned Shannow.

'Have you arranged the tickets?' asked Sam.

'Yes. Why don't you come also?'

'Ziga has found evidence of a Circle in Brazil. The architecture of the surrounding ruin is different from other Aztec finds. We will journey there, and see what is to be found.'

'May God go with you, Samuel.'

'And with you, Deacon.'

Shannow remembered the day the plane had emerged from time's dungeon and soared above the ruined tower of Pendarric. He had looked down, trying to make out the tiny figures below, hoping to see himself and Beth and Clem Steiner. The plane was too high and it flew on, making a landing near Pilgrim's Valley.

The temptation had been great in those early years to seek out Beth. But the shadow of the Bloodstone remained with him, and he gathered to himself clairvoyants and seers in a bid to pierce the veils of time.

Shannow had grown used to leadership during his days in Kissimmee, but the demands of forming rules and laws for a world took their toll. Every decision seemed to lead to discord and disharmony. Nothing was simple. Banning the carrying of weapons in Unity led to protests and violent disagreements. Every community had evolved its own laws, and unifying the people proved a long and bloody affair. The Unifier Wars had begun when three communities in the west had refused to pay the new taxes. Worse, they had killed the tax collectors. The Deacon had sent a force of Crusaders to arrest the offenders.

Other communities joined the rebels and the War spread, growing more bloody with each passing month.

Then, after two savage years, with the War almost over, the Hellborn had invaded. Shannow remembered his reaction with deep regret. He and Padlock Wheeler had routed the enemy in three pitched battles, then entered the lands of the Hellborn, burning settlements and slaughtering civilians.

Babylon was razed to the ground. No surrender was accepted. The enemy were butchered to a man -

not just to a man, Shannow remembered.

The Deacon had won. In doing so he had become a mass murderer.

Estimates of the dead in the two Wars reached more than eighty thousand. Shannow sighed. What was it Amaziga called you once, The Armageddon Man'?

Following the Wars the Deacon's laws grew more harsh, Shannow's rule being governed more by fear than love. He felt increasingly alone. All but one of the men who had travelled with him through time were dead. He alone knew of the terrible evil waiting to be unleashed on the world; it was an awful burden, dominating his mind and blinding him to the beginnings of Saul's betrayal. It would have been so different if Alan had survived.

Alan had been the best of his disciples — calm, steady, his faith a rock. He had died on Fairfax Hill in one of the bloodiest battles of the Unity War. Saul had been with him. They never recovered Alan's Stone.

One by one they died, three from diseases and radiation sickness left over from the Fall, but the others cut down in battles or skirmishes.

Until only Saul was left. All those years of wondering where the Bloodstone would strike and, had he but known it, the answer lay with Saul.

Who else in this area had the use of Sipstrassi? Who else could have opened the Gateway?

'You were a fool, Shannow,' he told himself.

Something moved beyond the fence! The Deacon's rifle came up and he found himself aiming at a hare which had emerged from a hole in the ground. Slowly he scanned the valley and the distant hillsides. The moon was bright, but there was no sign of movement.

They will come, though, he told himself. Tobe Harris moved alongside him. 'All the animals is locked away, Deacon. Save for my horse, like you ordered. What now?'

'I want you to ride for Purity,' Shannow told him. 'Padlock Wheeler is the man to see. Tell him the Deacon needs him, and every man with a rifle he can bring. Miners, farmers, Crusaders — as many as can be gathered. Tell him not to ride into the town, but to meet us here.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Go now, Tobe.'

Beth McAdam, her rifle cradled in her arms, came alongside in time to hear the order. 'We've seen nothing yet,' she said. 'What makes you so sure they are coming?'

'I've seen them, lady. Not here, I'll grant you. But I've seen them.'

The Deacon had been leaning on the fence rail. Now he straightened and staggered, weariness flowing over him. As he almost fell, Beth caught his arm. 'You're all in,' she said. 'Go and get some rest. I'll stand watch.'

'No time for rest,' he said. Tobe galloped away into the night. The Deacon drew a deep breath, then climbed to the fence and sat, resting his rifle on a post.

'Someone coming,' said Beth. The Deacon followed her pointing finger, but his old eyes could see nothing.

'Is it silver-grey?' he asked.

'No, it's a young man leading a woman. She's carrying a baby.'

They waited together as the two approached. As they neared, Beth said, 'It's Wallace Nash and Ezra Feard's daughter. What the Hell are they doing walking out here at this time of night?'

The Deacon did not answer. Instead he said, 'Look beyond them. Is anything following?'

'No. . Yes. Christ! It's a monster! Run, Wallace!' she screamed.

Shannow felt helpless, but he watched as Beth's long rifle came up. She sighted and fired. 'Did you hit it?'

he asked. Beth sighted again and the rifle boomed.

'Son of a bitch,' whispered Beth. 'Got it twice, but it's still coming!'

Jumping from the fence the Deacon stumbled towards the fleeing couple, straining to see the creature beyond them. His chest was tight and pain flared in his left arm as, heart pounding, he ran on. He saw the young man release his hold on the woman's arm and swing round to face whatever was chasing them.

Shannow saw it at the same time as Wallace Nash. It was huge, over seven feet tall, with blood flowing from two wounds in its chest. Nash fired his shotgun. The creature fell back. A second lunged out of the darkness and Shannow fired three times, smashing it from its feet.

'Get back!' yelled Beth. There are more of'them!'

Shannow's legs felt like lead, and all energy seemed to vanish. Wallace grabbed his arm. 'Come on, old man! You can make it!'

With the young man's help he backed away to the fence as Beth's rifle thundered. 'Into the house,' he wheezed. The house!'

Something hard struck him in the side. His body hit the fence rail, snapping the wood. Hitting the ground hard, he lost hold of his rifle but instinctively drew a pistol and rolled. A huge form bore down on him and he could feel hot, fetid breath on his face. Thrusting up with all his strength, he pushed the gun-barrel into the creature's mouth and pulled the trigger. The head snapped back as the bullet passed through the skull.

Beth took hold of his arm, dragging him clear of the dead beast.

All was quiet now.

The Deacon gathered up his fallen rifle and, together, they backed to the house.

The woman with the baby was sitting slumped in an armchair. Shannow pushed shut the door, dropping a thick bar into place to lock it. 'Check the windows upstairs,' he told the red-headed youngster. 'Make sure the shutters are in place.'

'Yes, sir,' said the boy. Shannow glanced around.

'Where are the people from the wagon?'

'Oh, my God, I forgot them,' said Beth.

Jeremiah's wagon was some two hundred yards from the farm buildings when the shots broke. The old man ducked, thinking at first that the shots were aimed at them. Meredith stood up on the driver's seat. 'I think they must be shooting rabbits,' he said. 'I can see a blonde woman with a rifle and an old man.

damn, I think it's that reprobate Jake.' 'I like the old boy,' said Jeremiah. 'Lively company.'

Meredith said nothing. The four oxen were tired now, and moving slowly, heads low. The ground beneath the wheels was soft from heavy overnight rain, and they were making little headway. Isis was still clinging to life, but she couldn't last much longer now, he knew, and he dreaded the moment when she was gone forever.

He saw Jake jump from the fence and run off, but his view was masked by the stone-built farm building.

More shots followed. The wagon entered the yard, then one wheel sank into a deep mud hole. Jeremiah swore. ‘I guess we're close enough,' he said.

A young woman came into sight, carrying a baby. She ducked behind the fence rails and ran on towards the house. A redheaded youngster came next, supporting Jake. Meredith would never forget the next sight. A huge beast reared up alongside Jake, an enormous arm clubbing the old man against the fence which shattered under his weight. As he fell Jake drew a pistol, but the creature leapt on him. In the fading light Meredith heard the muffled shot, and saw blood spray up like a crimson mushroom from the creature's head. The woman pulled Jake clear of the corpse and they made it to the house. The door slammed shut.

Several more of the creatures came into sight.

Only in that moment did Meredith realise the seriousness of their plight. It had been like watching a tableau, a piece of theatre. ' Get back inside,' hissed Jeremiah, twisting inhisseatand opening the front hatch to the inner cabin. The old man scrambled back, Meredith followed him. The hatch lock was a small brass hook.

'It won't hold them,' Meredith whispered.

'Stay silent,' urged Jeremiah.

A terrible scream rose from the oxen and the wagon rocked from side to side, the air filled with the sounds of howling and snarling. Meredith risked a glance through the narrow slit in the hatch — and wished that he hadn't. The still-struggling oxen were engulfed in a writhing mass of blood-spattered, silver-grey fur.

The rocking of the wagon continued for several minutes, then the two men sat quietly listening to the beasts feed. Meredith began to tremble, jerking with every snap of bone. Jeremiah put his hand on the doctor's shoulder. 'Be calm now,' he whispered.

Moonlight shone through the cabin's wide windows.

Meredith and Jeremiah crouched on the floor beneath the left window, listening to the sounds of their own breaths. Meredith glanced up. Moonlight was shining directly on to the still, paleface of Isis as she lay upon the bed, one arm outside the coverlet.

A grotesque face appeared at the window above her. Steam clouded the glass, but Meredith could see the long fangs and the oval eyes, and what appeared to be a red stone on the creature's brow. The snout pressed against the window; and both men heard the snuffling as it sought out the smell of flesh.

The wagon rocked again as a second beast came up on the right, pushing at the wood.

Meredith's mouth was dry, and his hands continued to tremble so badly that he felt the movement must be obvious.

Suddenly the window was smashed to shards, glass peppering the cabin. A taloned hand gripped the frame, hauling on it as slowly the creature pulled itself half into the cabin, directly over Isis. Its snout lowered, its nose snuffled over the face of the unconscious woman. A low growl sounded, then it dropped back to the yard.

A shot sounded, making both men jerk. The creatures outside howled, and Meredith heard the padding of their paws as they moved away from the wagon.

'What are we going to do?' whispered Meredith.

'Stay still, boy. Wait.'

They'll come back. They'll tear us apart.'

Jeremiah eased himself to his knees and looked through the hatch. With great care he moved back alongside the panic-stricken doctor. 'They've gorged on the oxen, Doctor. I think that's why it left Isis.'

Stepping over his companion, Jeremiah risked a glance from the right window. Meredith rose alongside him. The yard was empty.

'We've got to try for the house,' said Jeremiah.

'No!' The thought of going out into the open was more than Meredith could consider.

'Listen to me, son. I know you are frightened. So am I. But you said it yourself, to stay here is to die. The house looks solid, and there are people with guns inside. We have to risk it.'

Meredith looked down at the comatose woman. 'We can't leave her!'

'We surely can't carry her, Meredith. And she is beyond this world now. Come on, my boy. Just follow me, eh?'

Jeremiah moved silently to the rear of the cabin and unfastened the door latch. As usual it gave out with a creak as it opened. Gingerly he lowered himself to the ground and Meredith scrambled after him.

'Don't make any noise,' warned Jeremiah. 'We'll walk across, and hope to God the people inside are watching for us. You understand?' Meredith nodded.

The night was silent, and there was no sign of the creatures as Jeremiah drew in a deep breath and began to make his way across the thirty yards of open space that separated the wagon from the house.

Meredith was behind him. Then the young doctor started to run and Jeremiah set off after him.

'Open the door!' screamed Meredith.

A creature emerged from behind the barn, howled and set off after them, covering the ground with immense speed. Meredith managed to reach the raised walkway around the house, then stumbled and fell on the steps. Jeremiah came up behind him and grabbed for his arm, trying to haul him upright.

The creature was close, but Jeremiah did not look back.

The door opened.

Jake stepped into sight with two pistols in his hands. Meredith lunged upright, colliding with Jake and knocking the old man aside. Jeremiah was just behind him. Something struck him in the back and a terrible pain tore through him.

Recovering his balance, Jake fired twice. The creature was smashed back from the walkway. Jake hauled Jeremiah inside, and a woman slammed the door behind him. Meredith swung to see Jeremiah lying face down on the dirt floor with blood streaming from a terrible wound in his back. 'Why the Hell did you shout, boy?' stormed Jake, grabbing Meredith by his shirt.

'I'm sorry! I'm sorry!' Meredith pulled himself clear and knelt by Jeremiah, his hands trying to cover the gaping wound.

Jeremiah sighed and rolled to his side. Reaching up, he took hold of the doctor's blood-drenched hand.

'Don't. . blame. . yourself. You're a good. . man.'

And then he was gone. 'You pitiful son of a bitch!' said Jake.