Wolf in Shadow

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gambion arrived two hours after dusk and advised his thirty men to make a cold camp while he scouted the entrance to Sadler's Trail. He took Janus and Evanson with him, leaving Burgoyne to point out the best camp-sites. Janus appeared to be in his early twenties, blond and lean, while Evanson was maybe ten years older and running to fat. The older man was soft-eyed and Gambion had no faith in him, but the younger had the look of eagles about him: sharp, sure and confident.

'They came about six days ago,' young Janus told them, 'but they missed the entrance to the pass.

We were all set up and there were only ten of them; we could have stopped them. It's unlikely they'll be back.'

'If Cade asked me to come here, then they'll be back,' said Gambion. 'Count on it.'

'Was it a message from Heaven?' asked Evanson.

'Cade says no, but I'm not sure any more.' He told them about the bear that had smashed its way into Cade's cabin, only to leave with a few biscuits.

'And you saw it happen?' asked Janus.

'As true as I'm standing here,' answered Gambion. He wiped a piece of towelling across his shiny bald pate. 'Damn, but it gets hot here.'

'The sun reflects off the white rock, especially at dusk. It'll be mighty cool in a few minutes,' said Janus. The men can fix a fire — no one could see it from the pass.'.

'Well, the three of you can go back into Yeager,' said Gambion. 'You'll be glad to see your folks, I don't doubt.'

'The other two can go,' declared Janus. ‘I’ll stay here. I know this land.'

'Pleased to have you.'

'If it's all right with you, I'll leave now,' said Evanson and Gambion nodded, dismissing the man from his mind.

Janus watched the big man, noting the cat-like movements and the sureness with which he carried himself.

'What are you staring at?' asked Gambion, sensing the other's hostility.

'I'm looking at a man who drove people from their farms,' said Janus evenly. 'And I was wondering why God would choose you.'

'Because I was there son,' said Gambion, grinning. 'You don't fight the Hellborn with a plough and this here's the work of men who know weapons.'

'Maybe,' said Janus doubtfully.

'You don't have to like me, boy. Just stand beside me.'

'Have no fear on that score,' said Janus. ‘I’ll stand as firm as any man.'

'I know that, Janus — I'm a good judge. Show me the killing ground.'

Together they strolled down the narrow slope which led to the cleft in the cliffs, opening on to the rich plain that flared from the mountains into the canyon. Once beyond the cleft, Gambion glanced back and the entrance had all but disappeared.

The mountains are young,' said Janus, 'probably volcanic in origin and the cleft was made by lava flow.'

'But a few men could hold it for quite some time,' responded Gambion.

'Depends on how anxious the enemy were to take it.'

'What does that mean?'

'Well, if they charge they can ride through the gap in a couple of seconds. Sure we could catch them in a murderous cross-fire, but once they're through they can spread out and circle us.'

'Then we don't let them get through,' stated Gambion.

'Easy to say.'

'Son, we don't have no choice. Daniel needs ten days to get all the people back into Sweetwater.

He says ten days to me, and I promised it. Ten days is what he'll get.'

Then you better hope they don't find us,' said Janus.

'Whatever it is, it will be the way God planned it.'

'Yes? Well, I don't believe in God.'

'After all you've seen?' asked Gambion, amazed.

'What have I seen? A band of Brigands and a lot of death. If you don't mind, Gambion, I'll put my faith in this here rifle and God can keep the Hell out of my way.'

The young man strode back to the camp-site and ordered Burgoyne to watch the pass. Burgbyne refused, saying he was going back to Yeager, and Janus turned to Gambion.

'Any of your men who can be counted on not to fall asleep?'

'Peck!' called Gambion. Take the first watch, I'll relieve you in four hours.'

'Why me?'

'Because I told you to, you son of a bitch.'

'Nice Line in discipline you have,' said Janus, sitting down and wrapping his blankets around him.

'Move yourself, Peck!'

'I'm going.'

'And don't go to sleep. Daniel is relying on us.'

'I hear you.'

'I mean it, Peck.'

'Have a little faith, Ephram.'

Gambion lay back in his own blankets for about two hours, but he could not sleep. Finally he got up and moved off towards the pass, where he found Peck curled up and fast asleep between two boulders. He grabbed the man by his shirt collar and hoisted him upright; then he hit him in the mouth, smashing two front teeth. Three more blows and Peck was unconscious, his face bloody and swollen. Gambion took away his rifle and pistol and sat until dawn watching the plain.

Janus joined him there as the sun was rising. He stopped to look down at the unmoving Peck.

'Heavy sleeper?' he asked.

'Shut it, Janus. I'm not in the mood.'

'Calm down, big man. Go and get some rest. I'll take it for a few hours.'

'I'm all right, I don't need much sleep.'

'Do it anyway. If they come, there'll not be much time for rest during your "necessary" ten days.'

Gambion had to admit that Janus was right and that he was beginning to feel bone-weary. He passed Peck's rifle and pistol to Janus and hoisted the unconscious Peck to his shoulder, walking off without a word.

Janus remained where he was, watching a distant herd of antelope grazing on the plain. It was so peaceful here, he thought, so hard to imagine a war with blazing guns and sudden death. He had been working on his father's farm when the Hellborn had struck and his father had gone down almost at once, his head blown away. His mother had followed as she ran from the house. Then Janus had picked up his father's gun — a single-shot musket — and downed the first rider. The man flew from the saddle. Janus had dropped the rifle and, as the horse swept past, grabbed the pommel and vaulted on to its back, galloping away across the fields with bullets shrieking past him. The horse had been hit twice, but by the time it died under him he was into the woods and away.

Alone now, he could not even consider the future. He had wanted to many Susan McGraven, but she and all her family were dead, so he was told, killed by the same raiders who had struck his farm. Everything he knew was gone, everyone he had loved was dead.

He was nineteen years old, though he looked older, and he saw no future except to kill or be killed by the Hellborn. He had no faith in Daniel Cade and his visions. What little he knew of the Bible and its teachings negated any belief in Cade. Would God use a man like him, a killer and a thief? He doubted it. But then he doubted God. So what do you know, Janus, he asked himself?

Two hours later, a sullen young man relieved him and Janus moved off the ridge and down to the camp-site. On his way he passed a dozen men digging a broad trench across the trail and piling the earth in front of it. He saw Gambion directing operations and approached him.

'What's the idea?'

'If they get through the pass they'll be riding hard. This line ought to separate the men from the boys.'

True, but there's nowhere to run to. If you don't stop them here, you'll be cut to pieces.'

'I wasn't sent here to run, Janus,' said Gambion, turning back to the trench.

'Why are you doing this?'

'Why do you think?'

'I haven't a clue, Gambion.'

'Then I can't explain it to you.'

'I mean, what do you get out of it?'

Gambion leaned on his shovel, his heavy face showing signs of strain. He scratched his thick black beard and thought for a moment. 'I joined Cade a lot of years ago, and I never thought too much about what we were. Then God spoke to Cade and I realized it's not too late to change. It's never too late. Now I'm part of God's Army and I'm not going back. Not for plunder, nor Barta coin, nor goddamned Hellborn. Daniel says to stand here, so here I'll stand. They can send men, beasts or demons, but they won't pass Ephram Gambion — not as long as there's life in this old body. That make it clear to you, farmer?'

'It's clear, Ephram, but would you mind a suggestion?'

'Not at all.'

'Dig a second trench up there, and put a few men in it. That way, if you are overrun they can give you covering fire while you withdraw.'

Gambion followed the direction and saw a natural screen of rocks and undergrowth rising some twenty feet above their present position.

'You've a good eye, son. We'll do it.'

'How's your man Peck?'

Gambion shrugged. 'He went and died on me. But that's life, isn't it?'

'It's not an easy life in God's Army, Ephram.'

'Not by a long haul. We've no time for shirkers.'

'You mind if I get some sleep?'

'You go right ahead.'

Janus left them and wandered on. He was hungry and ate some dried fruit before settling back into his blankets.

The day passed without incident, but just before noon on the second day, three hundred Hellborn riders entered the canyon. The man on watch, a youngster named Gibson, ran to fetch Gambion.

Janus came with him.

They're not just scouting,' said Janus. They're looking for something.'

'I agree,' muttered Gambion. ‘I’ll get the men set.'

'How are you going to place them?'

'Fifteen in the two trenches, the rest with us here.'

'A suggestion?'

'Go ahead.'

They won't be geared to charge straight away and they'll probably ride in slowly the first time.

Put every man we have overlooking the entrance — that way we'll hit them hard. The next time we'll have men in the trenches for when they really put the spurs in.'

Gambion chewed his lip for a while, then he nodded. 'Sounds good.'

He spread the men evenly across the pass, telling them not to fire until he did, but then to pour it on like there was no tomorrow. Afterwards he returned to squat beside Janus as the Hellborn moved across the canyon.

Within the hour a scout had discovered the cleft and was riding through it while the main body of horsemen waited outside. The Yeager men kept their heads down as the dark-armoured rider mounted the first slope. If he rode much further he would come in sight of the trenches, but he stopped and removed his helm. He was young, about the same age as Janus, and from where Gambion lay he could see that his eyes were blue. The rider wheeled his horse and rode back to the canyon and the Hellborn began to move. Gambion pumped a shell into the breech and waited, his mouth dry. Beside him, Janus nestled the rifle stock into his shoulder and took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. With half the riders inside, Gambion sighted on the leader and took in the slack on the trigger.

'Not yet,' whispered Janus and Gambion froze. The Hellborn moved on, and Gambion could hear the laughter from some of the riders who were obviously sharing a joke.

'Now,' said Janus. Gambion's rifle thudded back against his shoulder and then he was up on his knees pumping shot after shot into the rearing, bucking ranks of the enemy. The pass was alive with gunfire as rider after rider was swept from the saddle. Horses went down screaming, and the Hellborn turned and galloped from the pass. Volleys swept through them and then there was silence. Gambion rose to charge down the slope, but Janus grabbed his arm. They're not all dead.

Get the men to hold back.'

'Back to your positions!' yelled Gambion.

Most of the men obeyed him, but one youngster — oblivious to the commands — raced down the slope. A fallen Hellborn rolled and fired his pistol at point-blank range and the youngster stopped dead, gripping his belly. A second shot exploded his head. Janus lifted his rifle and killed the Hellborn.

Outside the pass Alik regrouped his men. He knew he should lead them straight back, but fear gnawed at him and he dithered. He did not want to risk such slaughter again so swiftly.

'How many lost?' he asked his deputy, Terbac.

The man cantered his horse along the line, returning some minutes later. 'Fifty-nine, sir.'

'We'll go in on foot.'

'With respect, a charge could carry us past them.'

'On foot, I said.'

'Yes, sir.'

The men dismounted and tethered their horses.

Back in the pass Janus watched them, his brow furrowed.

‘They're coming in again,' he said, 'but without horses.'

'What are they playing at?' asked Gambion.

They probably mean to secure the entrance and push forward slowly.'

'Can they do it?'

'It's possible, but unlikely. Move the men on the far side about thirty paces to the right.' Gambion shouted his orders and the men moved into position.

'What now?'

'Now we wait, and take as many as we can. If they've got sense, they'll wait till nightfall. But I don't think they will.'

The first Hellborn reached the cleft and ran for the rocks… He didn't make it.

But the third did, and that gave the enemy a chance to return fire. Gambion crept along the ridge and shot dead the marksman. The Hellborn retreated back to the canyon.

Gambion moved back alongside Janus, looking at him expectantly. The young man knew then that the command had passed to him and he grinned ruefully.

'Ask your God for a cloudless night,' he said.

‘I’ll do that. But what if it isn't?'

'A man will have to stay down there — someone with sharp ears.'

‘I’ll do it.'

'You're the leader, you can't do it.'

'You're the leader here, Janus. I'm not too pigheaded to see that.'

'But your men don't know that. Send someone else.'

'All right. You don't think they'll come again today?'

'Not with any serious intent. I think we struck lucky, Ephram. I think there is a coward leading them.'

'You call being outnumbered ten to one lucky?'

'It's only eight to one now — and, yes, I'd call that lucky. If they'd started with a charge they could have cut through us and been on their way into Yeager by now.'

'Well, you keep on out-thinking them, son, and I'll be for ever in your debt.'

‘I’ll do my best, big man.'

Two days out from Castlemine, having found a gap in the mountains that allowed them to move west, Shannow and Batik found themselves in a cool valley edged with spruce and pine.

They stopped at the shores of a lake that sheltered beneath tall peaks and watered their horses.

Shannow had said little since they had buried Archer and Batik had left him to his solitude.

As the afternoon drew on, Batik saw a rider bearing down on them from the west. He stood and shaded his eyes against the falling sun and as the rider neared, Batik's eyes widened in shock.

'Shannow!'

'I see him.'

'It's Archer!'

'It can't be.'

The rider approached and slid from the saddle. He was a black man, over six feet tall and wearing the same style of grey shirt that Archer had sported.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen,' he said. 'I take it you are Shannow?'

'Yes. This is Batik.'

'I am pleased to see you. My name is Lewis, Jonathan Lewis. I have been sent to guide you in.'

‘In to where?' asked Batik.

'Into the Ark,' he replied.

'You are one of the Guardians?' asked Batik unnecessarily.

'Indeed I am.'

'Archer is dead,' said Shannow, 'but then you knew that.'

'Yes, Mr Shannow. But you made his passing more easy and for that we are grateful. He was a fine man.'

'I see you are armed,' said Batik, pointing to the flapped scabbard at Lewis' waist.

'Yes. Samuel could never see the point. .' He did not need to finish his sentence. 'Shall we go?'

They followed Lewis for more than two hours, turning into a wide canyon flanked by black basaltic rock.

Ahead of them lay another ruined city, larger than the first they had found before meeting Archer.

But it was not the city which caused the breath to catch in Shannow's throat. Five hundred feet above the marble ruins lay a golden ship, glowing in the dying sunlight.

'Is it truly the Ark?' whispered Shannow.

'No, Mr Shannow,' said Lewis, 'though many have taken it to be so, and in the main we do not disenchant them.'

The trio rode into the ruins, along an overgrown cobbled street to the foot of the mountain. Here Lewis dismounted, beckoning the others to follow. He led his horse to the rock and stopped to turn a small handle set within it. A section of the rock face then moved sideways leaving a rectangular doorway seven feet high and twelve feet wide. Lewis entered, Shannow and Batik leading their horses behind. Two men waited within the tunnel; they took the horses and Lewis led Shannow and Batik to a steel doorway which slid open to reveal a small room, four feet square and seven feet high. With the three men inside, the door whispered shut.

'Level Twenty,' said Lewis and the room shuddered.

'What's happening here?' asked Batik, alarmed.

'Wait for a moment, Batik. All will be well.'

The door opened once more, this time to a bright hallway, and Shannow stepped out. It was lighter than day here, yet there were no windows. All along the walls were glowing tubes; when Shannow reached up and touched one, it was faintly warm.

'You must have many Stones to produce this much magic,' said Shannow.

'We do indeed, Mr Shannow. Follow me.'

Another door opened before them and the three men entered a round room at the centre of which was a white desk in the shape of a crescent moon. Behind it sat a white-haired man, who stood and smiled at their approach. More than six-feet-six tall, his skin was golden, his eyes slanted and dark. His hair was long, sweeping out from the scalp like a lion's mane.

Lewis bowed. 'My Lord Sarento, the men you wished to meet.'

Sarento moved around the table and approached Shannow.

'Welcome, my friends. For my sins I am the leader here and I am delighted to welcome you.

Lewis, fetch chairs for my guests.'

With Batik and Shannow seated, and Lewis sent to bring refreshment, Sarento leaned back on the table and spoke.

'You are a remarkable man, Mr Shannow. I have followed your exploits for a number of years: the taming of Allion, the hunting down of the Brigand Gareth, the attack on the Hellborn and now the liberation of Castlemine. Is there nothing that can stop you, sir?'

'I have been fortunate.'

'Fortune favours the Rolynd, Mr Shannow. Have you come across the name?'

'Archer mentioned it, I believe.'

'Yes, dear Samuel… I cannot tell you how much his death depresses me. He more than anyone is responsible for the growth in Guardian wisdom. But I was speaking of the Rolynd. A wondrous race were the Atlanteans; they conquered mysteries which still baffled our elders eight thousand years later. They were the fathers of magic — and they understood the gifts men carried. Some could heal, others could grow plants. Still others could teach. But the Rolynd were special for they were lucky; they carried luck like a talisman — a personal god who would step in whenever needed. And with the Rolynd warriors it was needed often. Warriors like you, Mr Shannow, who could somehow hear a stealthy assassin creeping upon them in the mist of a storm. The Atlanteans believed the gift was linked to courage. Perhaps it is. But whatever the cause, you have the gift, sir.'

Lewis returned and served a goblet of white wine to each of the men, then laid the pitcher on the table and left the room.

'You have great power here,' said Shannow.

'Indeed we do, sir. With knowledge comes power, and we guard the secrets of the old world.'

'But you also have the Stones.'

'What is the point you are making?'

'With all this power, why do you not stop the Hellborn?'

'We are not meddlers, Mr Shannow, though we have tried to guide this world for more than three hundred years. Men like Prester John Taybard and the man you knew as Karitas have been sent from here to educate the people of this continent — to lead them towards an understanding of what they are, and from whence they come. I have no army and if I did, I have no God-given right to change the destiny of the Hellborn. On the other hand, since the battle is unequal, I am willing to help you.'

'In what way?'

'I can give you weapons to take to Daniel Cade.'

'How will that help me kill Abaddon?'

'It will help you to do more than that; it will help you to beat him.'

Shannow looked into Sarento's dark eyes and stayed silent.

'What sort of weapons?' asked Batik.

Sarento gave an order to one of his men, who opened a hidden door in the far wall to reveal a firing range. At the furthest end of the first Une was a wooden statue, dressed in the armour of the Hellborn. Sarento stepped on to the range and lifted a bulky black weapon almost three feet long, which he handed to Batik. 'Pull back the bolt on the left, then aim it — but hold it steadily, it may surprise you.'

Batik sprang the bolt and pulled the trigger. The rolling explosion deafened them momentarily and the statue disappeared, its upper torso smashed beyond recognition. Batik laid the weapon gently to rest.

'Five hundred bullets a minute, moving at three thousand miles per hour,' said Sarento. 'Hit a man in the upper leg with just one and the hydraulic shock will drag his blood from his heart and kill him. You can destroy an army with ten of these and I'll give you fifty.'

‘I’ll think about it,' said Shannow.

'What is there to think about?' argued Batik. 'We could ride in and take Babylon itself with these.'

'Probably, but I'm tired. Is there somewhere I can rest?' Shannow asked Sarento.

'Of course,' was the reply, whereupon he opened a door which Lewis entered. 'Show our guests to suitable quarters. I will see you both in the morning.'

The Guardian took them to another level and into a T-shaped room containing two beds, a table, four chairs and a wide window looking out on a gleaming lake. Shannow moved to the window and tried to open it, but the lock would not shift.

'It does not open, Mr Shannow — it is not a window at all, but a light picture — what we call a mood-view.' He moved to a dial on the wall and turned it. The view mellowed into dusk, evening and finally moonlit night. 'Set it as it pleases you. I shall have food sent to you.'

Once the guardian had left Shannow lay back-on the first bed, his head pillowed on his arms.

'What's bothering you, Shannow?' asked Batik.

'Nothing. I am just tired.'

'But those weapons. . Even your God would be hard-pressed to come up with a better miracle.'

'You are easily pleased, Batik. Now leave me to think.'

Batik shrugged and wandered around the room until Lewis returned with food. For Batik he brought a huge rare steak and green vegetables. For Shannow, there was cheese and black bread.

When they had consumed the food, Lewis rose to leave.

'Is there no water anywhere?' asked Shannow. 'I would like to clean the dust from my body.'

'How foolish of me,' said the guardian. 'Look over here.' As he spoke, he slid back the wall by the mood-view to reveal a cubicle of glass. Lewis reached inside and pressed a switch at which warm water jetted from a nozzle in the wall. 'Soap and towels are in here,' said Lewis, opening a wall cupboard.

'Thank you. This place is like a palace.'

'It was constructed from plans that existed before the Fall.'

'Did the Guardians build this place?'

'After a fashion, Mr Shannow. We used the Stones to recreate the magic of our forefathers.'

'Where are we now?'

'You are inside the shell of the Ark. Once we harnessed the Sipstrassi, we rearranged the interior to house our community. I think that was some three centuries ago; there have been some modifications since.'

Shannow sipped a glass of clear wine. He was bone-weary, but there was much he needed to know.

'I never really had a chance to talk to Archer about what you guard. Would you mind explaining?'

'Not at all. Our community exists to gather and hoard the secrets of Pre-Fall, in the hope of one day bringing it back. We have a library here with over thirty thousand books, most of them technical. But there are also four thousand classics in eleven languages.'

'How can you bring back what is past?' asked Batik.

'That is a question for Sarento, not a soldier.'

'And you believe you can help bring back civilization with guns that could kill five hundred men a minute?' said Shannow softly.

'Man is an inventive animal, Mr Shannow. Any weapon of death will be improved. Would you not sooner have the guns than the Hellborn? Sooner or later their gunsmiths will perfect them.'

'How many of you are there?'

'Eight hundred, including the women and children. We are a fairly stable community. Tomorrow I will show you around. Perhaps you would agree to meet Amaziga Archer — it will be painful, but I know she wants to hear of her husband's last hours.'

'He spoke of her at the end,' said Shannow.

'Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell her that.'

'Of course. Were you a friend of Archer's?'

'Very few people disliked Sam. Yes, we were friends.'

'His Stone turned black,' said Batik. 'It was very small.'

'He always over-used it; he treated it like a magic bauble. I shall miss him,' said Lewis with genuine regret.

'Was he the only guardian with a love of Atlantis?' asked Shannow.

'Very much so — he and Sarento, that is.'

'An interesting man. How old is he?'

'Just over two hundred and eighty, Mr Shannow. He is very gifted.'

'And you, Mr Lewis? How old are you?'

'Sixty-seven. Sam Archer was ninety-eight. The Stones are wondrous things.'

'Indeed they are. I think I will rest now. Thank you for answering my questions.'

'It was a pleasure. Sleep well.'

'One last question?'

'Ask it.'

'Do the Stones create your food for you?'

'They used to, Mr Shannow, but we needed the power for other and more important things. We now run a sizable herd of cattle and sheep, and we grow most of our vegetables.'

‘Thank you again.'

'Not at all.'

Shannow lay awake long after Batik was asleep. The mood-view was set to moonlight and he watched as clouds drifted across the sky, the same clouds time and again in relentless regularity.

He closed his eyes and saw once more the sundered statue, picturing a real man lying there with his entrails around him like torn ribbons.

Had Karitas possessed weapons such as these, the Hellborn would never have destroyed his village and young Curopet would still be alive.

Shannow rolled over and lay on his stomach, but sleep evaded him despite the softness of the bed. He was uneasy and tense. He swung his legs from the bed and moved to the water cubicle, stepping into the shallow basin and turning on the spray. In a tray to his right was a bar of scented soap and he scrubbed his skin, revelling in the heat of the shower. Towelling himself down, he returned to the mood-view and on impulse switched it to day and watched the sun hurtle into the sky.

He sat at the table and poured a glass of water. All his life he had been both hunter and hunted, and he trusted his instincts. There had to be a cause for his uneasiness, and he was determined to find it before his next meeting with Sarento.

Sarento. He did not like the man, but that was no reason to judge him harshly. Shannow liked few men. . and the Guardian leader had been pleasant enough. Despite his words he had not seemed unduly distressed by Archer's death, but then the man had merely been a follower, and Shannow knew that the emotions of men whom the world thought great rarely ran deep. Humanity invariably ran a poor second to ambition.

Shannow relaxed his mind. In hunting one used peripheral vision to spot movement and it was the same with a problem. Staring at it head on often blurred the perspective. He let his thoughts roam. .

Karitas leapt from his subconscious — kind, gentle Karitas.

Hellborn Karitas, the father of guns.

Sent out by Sarento?

To serve Abaddon?

Shannow's jaw tightened. He knew little of Karitas' background, but had not Ruth told him that he gave Abaddon the secrets of firearms? And had not Sarento claimed he was a Guardian sent to instruct?

What game was being played here?

And why did the Guardians need cattle when their Stones could create such a palace of miracles within a ghost ship? Lewis said they needed the power for more important things. What was more important than feeding a colony?

Sarento had said that Shannow was Rolynd, which meant his knowledge of Atlantis was greater than Archer's. Why had he not shared it with the Guardian?

And lastly there was Cade: Cade the Brigand, Cade the killer, throwing his hat into the ring of war.

What right-thinking man would supply him with the weapons of empire?

Shannow had told Ruth that he was happy to hear of Daniel's actions, and that was true. Blood was thicker than water, but Shannow knew Cade better than any man alive. His brother was tough, and merciless. And if he had taken on the mantle of leadership, it would not be for altruistic reasons. Somewhere within the horror of war, Cade had seen the chance of profit.

He switched the mood-view to night and returned to his bed, where with his thoughts more settled he fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke Batik was already dressed and sitting with Lewis at the table. Before the Hellborn was a plate stacked high with eggs and bacon. Shannow dressed and joined them.

'Would you like some food, Mr Shannow? I am afraid Batik ate your ration.'

'I am not hungry, thank you.'

Lewis glanced at a rectangular bracelet on his wrist. 'Sarento is ready to meet you.'

Batik belched and rose. 'How are we going to get those guns to Cade?' he asked.

Shannow smiled and ignored the question. 'Shall we go?' he said to Lewis.

Once more out into the glowing corridor, Shannow slipped the retaining thong from the hammer of his right-hand pistol. Batik noticed the surreptitious movement and silently freed his own pistol. He asked no more questions but dropped back a pace, keeping Lewis ahead of him.

Inside the meeting room, Sarento rose and greeted his guests with a warm smile.

'Did you sleep well?'

'We did indeed,' said Shannow. 'Thank you for your hospitality, but we must be leaving.'

'It will take time to prepare the guns for the journey.'

'We will not be taking the guns.'

The smile left Sarento's face. 'You are not serious?'

'Indeed I am. You misread me, sir. There is only one dream in my life: to find Jerusalem. Sadly, I must first kill Abaddon. It is a question of pride and revenge. I am not part of the Hellborn war. If you wish guns to go to Cade, end some of your men.'

'Is that not a little selfish, Mr Shannow?'

'Goodbye, Sarento.' Shannow turned his back on the Guardian leader and moved to the door.

Behind him Batik Spread his hands and backed out into the corridor. Shannow stood by the elevator, Lewis joined them, and the Journey to the canyon floor was made in silence.

The horses were brought out and Lewis walked out into the bright sunlight with the two men.

'Good luck in your quest, Mr Shannow.'

Thank you, Mr Lewis.'

Shannow mounted and swung the stallion's head to the south. Batik cantered alongside him and the two rode in silence to the rim of the hills overlooking the ruined city and the golden Ark.

'What was that about, Shannow?' asked Batik as the men reined their mounts. 'I would have thought you would leap at the chance of using those guns?'

'Why? You think I am in love with killing?'

'For Cade — to beat the Hellborn.'

'I will not be used, Batik, in another man's game.' Shannow drew his pistol. 'With this gun I have slain many Hellborn. But is it mine? No, I took it from the body of an enemy. Tell me, Batik -

how long before the Hellborn capture one of those disgusting rifles? How long before they dismantle one and learn to make their own? They are not an answer to the war, they merely enlarge it. I am not a child to be mesmerized by a pretty toy.'

'You think too much, Shannow.'

'All too true, my friend. I think the Guardians are playing their own game. I think they created the Hellborn weapons and took them to Abaddon. And I think we were lucky to leave there alive.'

'Why did they allow it?'

'Surprise. They did not expect us to refuse.'

'How many more enemies do you expect to make in this quest of yours?'

Shannow grinned and his expression softened as he leaned over and grasped Batik's shoulder.

'Let me tell you this: one friend is worth a thousand enemies.'

Above them the spirit of Ruth soared away, her joy golden.

She sped south and west, passing Babylon and searching for the wagon carrying Donna Taybard, which she located in the foothills some four days' journey from the city. Donna lay in the back of the wagon with silver bands around her brow, wrists and ankles, and she seemed in a deep enchanted sleep. The bands puzzled Ruth and she floated closer to the comatose body, but a sharp tug pulled at her and she soared away. Steeling herself, she approached the body once more and found that the bands acted like a magnet, exerting power against her. She drew closer still, and the pull became painful, but at last she could see the shards of Blood Stone within the bands. She tore herself clear and flew to Sanctuary, her-knowledge complete.

Anger welled in her, and she understood at last the truth of the Blood Stones. It was not blood or life they drank, but ESPer power. The strength of the spirit.

Soulstones.

Donna Taybard's life was to flow on Abaddon's Sip-strassi, and her soul would enhance its power. Ruth's anger became fury.

A shimmering glow began in the corner of her study and she turned as the image of Karitas blossomed. She relaxed momentarily as he approached smiling, but suddenly his hands became talons, his face demonic.

He lunged. . but Ruth's fury had not ebbed and in an instant her hands came up, white tire streaming from her fingertips. The demon screamed and burned. The form of Karitas became a mottled, scaled grey under the heat of Ruth's anger, and the beast within writhed and died.

The stench of decay filled the room and Ruth staggered back. Windows appeared all around her and a clean breeze swept the room. She sensed the presence of Pendarric and the king appeared, dressed in a black tunic with a single silver star at one shoulder.

'I see you have learnt how to kill, my Lady.'

Ruth sat down, staring at her hands. 'It was instinctive.'

'Like Shannow?'

'I need no lessons at this time.'

'The beast was not Karitas. It was summoned from a gateway by a great force and you had no choice but to kill it. That does not negate what you are, Ruth.'

She smiled and shook her head. 'Had I truly the courage of my belief, I would have let it kill me.'

'Perhaps. But then evil would have the victory.'

'Why are you here, Pendarric?'

'Only to help you, Lady. My powers in this world are limited to words — a punishment for wreaking havoc during my time here, maybe. But you have power, and you must use it.'

'I will not kill again. Ever.'

'That is your choice, but you can end the dream of Abaddon without taking life. The Sipstrassi works in two ways — it uses power and it receives power. It must be nullified.'

'How?'

'You can find the way, Ruth. It is important that you find it alone.'

'I do not need riddles.'

'It is time to know your enemy. Seek him out — then you will know.'

'Why can you not just tell me?'

'You know the answer to that, Lady. As with your students, you do not take a child and place the power of the world in his hands. You lead him, encourage him to grow, to seek his own answers -

to develop his talents.'

'I am not a student.'

'Are you not, Ruth? Trust me.'

'If I destroy my enemies, then my life's work will have been for nothing. Everything I have believed and taught to others, will have proved to be empty, devoid of truth.'

'I accept that,' said Pendarric gently, 'but only if you kill your enemies. There is another way to restore harmony, Ruth, even if it is only the harmony of the jungle.'

'And I can do that by dying?'

'It depends what manner you choose.'

Ruth's head sank. 'Leave me, Pendarric. I have much to think on.'

Lewis returned to the tunnel, summoned the elevator and stepped inside. At Level Sixteen he stopped and moved out into a wide corridor. Passing the living quarters of the field men, he saw Amaziga Archer playing with her son, Luke. She saw him and waved and he responded and walked on. He could not yet find the words to tell her that Shannow had gone — and with him the last words of her husband.

He approached Control and stood outside the steel door; it opened after several seconds and Lewis walked inside.

'You wanted me, sir?' he asked Sarento. The tall man was staring at a set of architects' plans and he nodded absently, waving his hand at a chair. Lewis sat.

'You know what these are?' said Sarento, passing the blueprints to Lewis.

He scanned them swiftly. 'No, sir.'

These are the original specifications for the Ark. In three days she will sail again.'

'I don't understand.'

'We are about to enjoy an influx of power, Lewis. With that power, to celebrate Rebirth, I shall transform the Ark for twelve hours to her original state.'

The power needed will be colossal,' said Lewis.

'Indeed it will, but we now have two hundred per cent more energy than at this time last month and it grows daily. The ship will be the last test. After that we will begin to rebuild the world, Lewis. Think of it — London, Paris, Rome all rising from the ashes of the Fall. All the technology of the old world visited upon the new, with none of the errors.'

'That is fantastic, sir. But where is the power coming from?'

'Before I answer that, let me ask you this: What do you make of Shannow?'

'I liked him. He is a strong man, and it took nerve to rescue Archer from Castlemine.'

'Indeed it did,' said Sarento, leaning back in his chair, his golden skin glowing, his eyes bright.

'And I admire him for it, make no mistake. I had hoped to save his Life — to use him — but he would have none of it.'

'He may still succeed,' said Lewis. 'I would not like him to be hunting me.'

'He will not succeed. I have alerted the Zealots and even now they are closing on him.'

'Why, sir?'

'Lewis, you are a fine soldier, a natural follower — a good man. But you are not involved in policy.

You do not have the mantle of responsibility for ensuring the survival of a lost race. I do. When I became leader two hundred and sixty years ago, how much of this. . wizardry around you existed? We lived in the caves below the Ark; we hunted for our food and we farmed, much like the other settlements to the south. But I brought Rebirth to the Guardians. I gave them purpose -

and long life, let us not forget that.'

'I don't understand what this has to do with Shannow.'

'Patience, Lewis. Archer showed the way with his records of Atlantis. The Sipstrassi was power, pure magic. But the Stones soon exhausted themselves. So how did the Atlanteans build their fabled structures? Not on tiny stones, fragments and chips. No, they had the One Stone, the Mother Stone. I searched for twelve years in the mountains, burrowing deep through hidden caverns. And I found it, Lewis — eighty tons of pure Sipstrassi, in one piece. It was the great secret of the Atlantean kings and they built a circle of stones around it, below ground. It was their high altar. Pendarric, the last of their kings, hacked a section from it and used that one broken piece to carve an empire. We will go one better. We are using it all. And now to your question, Archer.

What of Shannow?'

Sarento stood, towering over the seated Lewis. 'He plans, though unwittingly, to stop the power flowing to the Mother Stone.'

'Can he do it?'

Sarento shrugged. 'We will never know, for he will be dead within hours.'

'I asked you before where the power comes from,' repeated Lewis.

'Indeed you did, and I hope you are prepared by now for the answer. Every Hellborn soldier carries a Blood Stone and every time he kills — or even is killed — he transmits power back to the Mother Stone. When the Hellborn sacrifice their ESPers they use Sipstrassi knives, and much of the power returns to us.'

Then the Mother Stone is no longer pure?'

'Pure? Don't be a fool, Lewis! It is merely stronger. Too strong to create food, which is a drawback, but it can now fulfil our dreams.'

'It can't be right to use the foulness of the Hellborn.'

'Lewis, Lewis!' said Sarento, laying his Hand on the soldier's shoulder. 'We are the Hellborn. We created them from the dreams of the madman Welby. We gave him power, we gave him primitive guns and he is ours, though he does not know it.'

Lewis's mouth was suddenly dry. 'But what of the deaths?'

Sarento sat down on the edge of the desk. 'You think it doesn't grieve me? But our duty to the future is to keep alive the civilization of the past.

'You must try to understand that, Lewis. We can only keep our dreams alive for a short time in this vacuum of a colony. One natural disaster — or a plague — and it could all be wiped out. The past must be made to live again out there in the new world — cities, laws, books, hospitals, theatres. Culture, Lewis. . and technology. And even the stars. For what science could not achieve, surely magic can.'

Lewis remained silent, his thoughts whirling. Sarento sat statue-still, his dark eyes locked on Lewis' face.

'One thing, sir,' said Lewis at last. 'As we build and grow, the Stone will need even more power.

Yes? Do we fuel it with death for ever?'

'A good point, Lewis, and it proves that I was right about you. You have intellect. The answer is yes. But we do not have to be demonic. Man is a natural hunting, killing animal. He cannot survive without wars. Think back on your history — it is a kaleidoscope of cruelty and terror. But from each war man progressed. For war establishes unity. Take Rome — they conquered the world in blood and fire. But only then could civilization take root. After conquest there was unity. With unity came law. With law came culture. But not just the Romans, Lewis. The Macedonians, the British, the Spaniards, the French, the Americans. There will always be those who desire war. We will give that atavistic need a positive purpose.'

Lewis stood and saluted. 'Thank you, sir, for sharing this knowledge. Will that be all?'

'No. The reason I have taken you in to my confidence is a delicate one. I told you that Shannow must die. In all probability the Zealots will succeed. But Shannow is Rolynd. He may escape. He may return. I want you to find him and kill him, should the Zealots fail.'

Aware that Sarento was studying his reaction Lewis merely nodded, keeping his face blank.

'Can you do this thing?'

‘I’ll take one of the rifles,' replied Lewis.