Wolf in Shadow

CHAPTER FIVE

Shannow rode south for an hour before swinging his horse to the north-west. He did not know how many Hellborn had been killed in the night, and now he did not care; he was bone-tired and his muscles ached. He rubbed at his eyes and rode on. Once he could have gone for three days without sleep. But not now. After another hour Shannow began to doze in the saddle. Around him the snow was falling, the temperature dropping. Ahead was a grove of pine trees and he steered the gelding in amongst them.

Dismounting near a group of young saplings, he took a ball of twine from his saddlebag.

Painstakingly he pulled the saplings together, tying them tightly and creating the skeleton of a tepee. Moving slowly so as not to sweat too heavily, he gathered branches and wove them between the saplings to create a round hut, open at the top. Then he led the gelding inside and packed snow over the branches until a solid wall surrounded him. Only then did he prepare a fire.

His fingers were numb with cold and the snow fell faster, adding to the walls of his dwelling.

Once the fire was under way, he left the shelter and gathered dead wood, piling it across the opening. By dusk he felt strong enough to allow himself to sleep; he added three large chunks of wood to the fire, wrapped himself in his blankets and lay down.

Far off the sound of gunfire echoed in the air and his eyes flickered open, but closed again almost immediately.

He slept without dreams for fourteen hours and awoke to a dead fire, but the snow had covered his shelter completely and he remained snug and warm in his blankets. He started a fresh fire and sat up. From his saddlebags he took some oatcakes, sharing them with the gelding.

By midday he was once more in the saddle and heading for the village. He arrived to see a smoking ruin and rode on towards the hills, his pistol in his hand.

By late afternoon he approached the caves and saw the bodies. His heart sank and he dismounted.

Inside the women and children of the Corn People lay frozen in death. Shannow blinked hard and backed away. By the cave mouth he found Curopet, her eyes open, staring up at the sky.

Shannow knelt beside her and closed her eyes.

'I am sorry, Lady,' he said. 'I am so sorry.'

He walked away from the corpses and remounted, steering the gelding down towards the plain.

Here, nailed to a tree with his arms spread, was Karitas. The old man was still alive, but Shannow could not free him for the nails were too deep. Karitas' eyes opened, and tears welled. Shannow looked away.

They killed all my little ones,' whispered Karitas. 'All dead.'

‘I’ll try to find something to cut you loose.'

'No, I'm finished. They were looking for you, Shannow.'

'Why?'

They had orders to seek you out. Abaddon fears you. Oh, Jon, they killed my little ones.'

Shannow drew his hunting knife and began to hack at the wood around Karitas' right hand, but it was tough and frozen and he could make no impression. Karitas began to weep and sob piteously.

Shannow dropped his knife and put his hands on Karitas' face. He could not embrace him.

'Jon?'

'Yes, my friend.'

'Read me something from the Book.'

'What would you like to hear?'

'Psalm 22.'

Shannow fetched his Bible, found the passage and began to read: 'My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me, why are thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring. .'

Shannow read on until he reached the verse: 'The assembly of the wicked have inclosed me: They pierced my hands and feet. I may tell all my bones: They look and stare upon me.' Shannow stopped reading and the tears ran down his cheeks and dropped to the pages.

Karitas closed his eyes and his head fell forward. Shannow went to him and the old man rallied briefly, but Shannow watched the light of life go out of his bright eyes. He stumbled to his Bible and Lifted it from the snow, brushing it clean. Returning to the old man, he read: 'The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. .' He could read no more.

Shannow screamed then in his anguish and his voice echoed in the hills. He fell to his knees in the snow and covered his face with his hands.

The boy Selah found him there at dusk, half-frozen and semi-coherent. He pulled him to his feet and took him to a small cave where he lit a fire. After a while Shannow slept. Selah led the horses into the cave and covered the Jerusalem Man with a blanket.

Shannow awoke in the night. Selah was sitting staring into the fire.

'Where are the men?'

'All dead,' Selah said.

'How?'

'I took the horses as you said and headed them west. ShonaJ and the others joined me there and we went north, as you ordered. There we ran into another group of Hellborn, they must have split up and attacked our women, even as we were attacking their camp. They caught us in the open ground and their guns cut into us, I was at the back, and I wheeled my horse and ran like a coward.'

'Dying is a poor way of proving your courage, Selah.'

'They have destroyed us, Thunder-maker. All my people are gone.'

'I know, boy. There are no words to ease the grief.'

'Why? Why would they just kill? There is no reason. Even the Carns killed for food. Why should these Hellborn cause such pain?'

‘There is no answer,' said Shannow. 'Get some sleep, lad. Tomorrow we will set out to find my people.'

'You will take me with you?'

'If you would like to come.'

'Will we hunt the Hellborn?'

'No, Selah. We will avoid them.'

'I want to kill them all.'

'I can understand that, but one man and a boy cannot change the face of the world. One day they will lose. God will not allow them to persevere and prosper.'

'Your God did not protect my people,' said Selah.

'No, but he kept you alive. And me.'

Shannow lay back, pillowing his head on his arms and staring at the fire shadows on the ceiling of the cave. He recalled Karitas' warning that the Hellborn were looking for him and puzzled at it.

Why? What had he done to make them hunt him? Why should an army seek him?

He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, dreaming that he floated above a great building of stone at the centre of a dark, drear city. Sounds like great hammers upon giant anvils boomed in the night and crowds milled around taverns and squares. Shannow floated down to the stone building and saw statues of homed and scaled demons beside a long stairway leading up to doors of oak.

He moved up the stairway, passing through the closed doors and into a hall lined with carved shapes of dragons and lizards. A circular staircase led to an observatory where a long telescope pointed to the stars and several men in red robes were working with quill and parchment.

Shannow floated by them. At another door two guards stood, holding rifles across their chests.

Passing them, he entered a room lit with red candles.

Here sat a man studying maps. He was handsome, with dark hair greying at the temples. His nose was long and straight, his mouth full and sensual and his eyes grey and humorous.

He was wearing a white shirt, grey trousers and shoes of snakeskin. He stiffened as Shannow floated behind him, and rose.

'Welcome, Mr Shannow,' he said, turning and staring directly up at him. His eyes were mocking now, and Shannow felt fear rising towards terror as a dark cloud coalesced around the man and rose towards him. The Jerusalem Man moved back and the cloud took form; a huge bloated head, horned and scaled, and a cavernous mouth rimmed with pointed teeth gaped before him. Arms grew from the cloud and taloned fingers reached out towards him… He fled to his body and awoke sweating, jerking up from his blankets and stifling a scream. His eyes swept around the cave past the sleeping Selah and the two horses. Fighting down his panic, Shannow drew his right-hand pistol from the scabbard beside his head. The gun was cold in his hand.

He lay back and closed his eyes and instantly the demon was upon him, its talons tearing at him.

Again he awoke, shaking with terror. Calming himself, he prayed long and earnestly; then he.sheathed his pistol, crossed his arms and slept.

Once more he was above the stone building with the demon racing towards him. He raised his hands and two shining swords appeared there. He sped towards the demon and the swords flashed into its bloated body. Talons ripped at him but he ignored them, slashing and cutting in a maniacal frenzy. The beast was forced back, and in its blood-red eyes Shannow saw the birth of fear. Rearing up, the Jerusalem Man plunged his swords into its face. Smoke writhed up from the wounds and the beast disappeared.

In its place floated the handsome man wearing a robe of purest white.

'I underestimated you, Mr Shannow,' he said.

'Who are you?'

'I am Abaddon. You should know the name.'

The name is in the Book of Revelation,' said Shannow. The angel of the bottomless pit. You are not he — you are merely a man.'

'Who is to say, Mr Shannow? If a man does not die, then he is divine. I have lived for three hundred and forty-six years, thanks to the Lord of this World.'

'You serve the Serpent,' stated Shannow.

'I serve the One who Conquered. How can you be such a fool, Mr Shannow? Armageddon is over, and where is the New Jerusalem? Where does the wolf sit down with the lamb? Where does the lion eat straw like, the cattle? Nowhere, Mr Shannow. The world died and your God died with it. You and I are the opposite extremes of the new order. My land flourishes; my armies can conquer the world. And you? You are a lonely man wandering the world like a shadow, unwelcome and unwanted — just like your God.'

Shannow felt the weight of truth bear down on him like a rock, but he said nothing.

'Lost for words, Mr Shannow? You should have listened to old Karitas. He had the chance to join me over a century ago, but he preferred to live in the woods like some venerated hermit. Now he is dead, quite poetically so — and his grubby people died with him. You will be next, Mr Shannow, unless you would prefer to join the Hellborn?'

There is no inducement under the stars which could tempt me to join you,' answered Shannow.

'Is there not? What about the life of Donna Taybard?'

Shannow blinked in shock and drew back. The handsome man laughed.

'Oh, Mr Shannow, you are truly not worth my enmity. You are the gnat in the ear of the elephant.

Go away and die somewhere.' He lifted his hand and Shannow was catapulted away at dizzying speed.

He awoke and groaned. Reaching for his Bible, by the dawn light he searched in vain for a passage to lift the rock from his soul.

Shannow and Selah rode from the lands of the Corn People, heading north across a great plain.

For weeks they rode, and camped in sheltered hollows, seeing no sign of man. Shannow remained silent and subdued and Selah respected his solitude. The young man would sit in the evenings watching Shannow pore over his Bible, seeking guidance and finding none.

One night Shannow put aside his Book and leaned back, staring at the stars. The horses were hobbled nearby and a small fire blazed brightly.

The age of miracles is past,' said Shannow.

'I have never seen a miracle,' replied Selah.

Shannow sat up and rubbed his chin. Their diet had been meagre for over a week and the Jerusalem Man was gaunt and hollow-eyed.

'A long time ago the Lord of Hosts split a sea asunder so that his people could cross it as dry land.

He brought water from rocks, and he sent his Angel of Death against the enemy. In those days his prophets could call upon him and he would grant them dazzling powers.'

'Maybe he is dead,' said Selah. 'Or sleeping,' he added swiftly, seeing the glare in Shannow's eyes.

'Sleeping? Yes, perhaps he is sleeping. Curopet came to me and said she would die. "No man for Curopet through the long winter nights." I wanted to save her, I wanted so much to be able to say,

"There, Curopet, the nightmare has been proved false." I prayed so hard.' He fell silent and sat staring at his hands.

'We did what we could,' said Selah. 'We killed many Hellborn.'

'Rocks in the lake,' muttered Shannow. 'Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it is all predestined and we stalk through life like puppets.'

'What does it matter, Thunder-maker? As long as we do not know.'

'It matters to me; it matters desperately to me. Just once I would like to feel that I have done something for my God; something for which I can feel pride. But his face is turned from me and my prayers are like whispers in the wind.'

Shannow wrapped himself in his blankets and slept fitfully.

By mid-morning they spotted a small herd of antelope. Shannow kicked the gelding into a run and brought down a young doe with a shot to the heart. Dismounting, he cut the beast's throat, standing back as the blood drained into the soft earth. Then he skinned and quartered the doe and the two riders feasted well.

Two days later Shannow and Selah came out of the plain into an area of wooded hills.

To the north was a mountain range taller than any Shannow had ever seen, rearing up into the low scudding clouds. The mountains lifted Shannow's spirits, and he told Selah he would like to see them at close range.

The colour drained from the boy's face. 'We cannot go there,' he whispered. 'It is death, believe me.' 'What do you know of this place?' 'All the ghosts gather there. And monsters who can devour a herd of buffalo at a single sitting — the earth shakes when they move. My father came close to this place many years ago. No one travels there.'

'Believe me, Selah, I have travelled widely; I have seen few monsters and most of those were human in origin. I am going there.'

Shannow touched his heels to the gelding's sides and rode on without a backward glance, but Selah remained where he was — his eyes fearful, his heart pounding. Shannow had saved his life, and Selah regarded himself as a debtor; he needed to repay the Jerusalem Man in order to be freed from obligation. Yet every ounce of his being screamed against this venture, and the two opposing forces of his intellect and his emotions left him frozen in the saddle.

Without turning, Shannow lifted his hand and beckoned the boy to join him. It was all Selah needed to swing the balance and he kicked his horse into a run and rode alongside the Thunder-maker.

Shannow grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. It was the first time Selah had seen him smile in weeks. Was it a form of madness, Selah wondered? Did the prospect of danger and death somehow bring this man to life?

They rode along a deer trail that wound high into the hills where the air was fresh with the smell of pine and new grass. A lion roared in the near distance and Selah could picture it leaping upon its prey, for the roar had been the blood-freezing attack cry which paralysed the victim. Selah's horse shied and he calmed it with soft words. A shot followed, echoing in the hills. Shannow's Hellborn pistol appeared in his hand and he steered his gelding towards the sound. Selah tugged Shannow's percussion pistol from his own belt and followed but he did not cock the pistol, nor had he handled it since Shannow gave it to him on the morning they left Karitas' grave. The weapon terrified him and yet gave him strength, and he kept it in his belt more as a talisman than a death-dealing thunder-maker.

Selah followed Shannow over a steep rise and down a slope towards a narrow glen. Ahead the boy could see a man on the ground, a black-maned lion straddling him. The man's right hand was gripping the lion's mane, holding its jaws from ripping his throat, while his left hand plunged a knife time and again into the beast's side.

Shannow galloped alongside, dragged on the reins and, as the gelding reared, fired a shot into the lion's head. The animal slumped over the body of his intended victim and the man pulled himself clear. His black leather trousers were torn at the thigh and blood was seeping through; his face had been deeply cut and the flesh hung in a dripping fold over his right cheek. Pushing himself to his feet, he sheathed his knife. He was a powerful man with wide shoulders and a deep chest and he sported a forked black trident beard.

Ignoring his rescuers, he staggered to a spot some yards away and retrieved his revolver, which he placed in a leather scabbard at his side. He stumbled, but recovered and turned at last to Shannow.

'It was a fine shot,' he said, 'though had it been a fraction off it would have killed me rather than the lion.'

Shannow did not reply, and Selah saw his gun was still in his hand and trained on the wounded man. Then the boy saw why. To the man's right was his helm, and upon it were the goat's horns of the Hellborn.

Suddenly the man staggered and pitched to the ground. Selah sprang from his horse and ran to him. The wound in the thigh was gushing blood and Selah drew his knife and cut away the trouser-leg, exposing a deep rip almost a foot long.

'We must stop this bleeding,' he told Shannow, but the Jerusalem Man remained on his horse.

'Give me needle and thread,' said Selah. Shannow blinked, then reached into his saddlebag and passed a leather pouch to the boy.

For almost an hour Selah worked on the wounds, finally pushing back the folds of skin on the man's cheek and stitching them in place. Meanwhile Shannow had dismounted and unsaddled their horses. He said nothing, but prepared a fire within a circle of stones, having first ripped away the grass around it. Selah checked the wounded man's pulse; it was weak, but steady.

He joined Shannow by the fire, leaving the man wrapped in his blankets. 'Why?' asked Shannow.

'Why what?' 'Why did you save him?'

'I do not understand,' said Selah. 'You saved him by killing the lion.'

'I did not then know what he was. . what he is.' 'He is a man,' stated Selah.

'He is your enemy, boy. He may even have been the man who killed Curopet, or nailed Karitas to the tree.' 'I shall ask him when he wakes.' 'And what will that tell you?'

'If he did attack my village, I shall tend him until he is well and then we will fight.' 'That is nonsense, boy.'

'Perhaps, but Karitas always taught us to follow our feelings, most especially compassion. I want to kill the Hellborn — I said that on the day we found our people. But this is different, this is one brave man who fought a lion with only a knife. Who knows, he might have won without you.'

Shannow shook his head. 'I don't understand. You went Into the Hellborn camp and slew them while they slept. Where is the difference?'

'I did that to save my people. I failed. I have no regrets about the men I slew but I cannot slay this one — not yet.'

‘Then step aside and I'll put a bullet in his ear.'

'No,' said the boy forcefully. 'His life is now mine, as mine is yours.'

'All right,' said Shannow. 'I will argue no more. Maybe he will die in the night. Did you at least take his gun?'

'No, he did not,' said a voice and Selah turned to see that the wounded man had raised himself on his elbow and his pistol was pointed at Shannow. The Jerusalem Man lifted his head, his eyes glittering in the firelight, and Selah saw that he was about to draw his own weapons.

'No!' he shouted, stepping between them. 'Put your pistol down,' he told the Hellborn.

Their eyes met and the man managed a weak smile. 'He's right, boy. You are a fool,' he said as slowly he uncocked the pistol and lay back. Selah swung towards Shannow, but the Jerusalem Man was walking away to sit on a rock some distance from the fire, his Bible in his hands. Selah, who normally left him alone at such times, approached him warily and Shannow looked up and smiled gently. Then, under the moon's silver light, he began to read. At first Selah had difficulty in understanding certain words, but overall the story fell into place. It seemed that a man was robbed and left for dead and that several people passed him by, offering no help. At last another man came and helped him, carrying him to a place of rest. This last man, Shannow explained, was from a people who were hated and despised.

'What does it mean, then?' Selah asked.

'I think it means that there is good in all men. Yet you have added a fresh twist to the parable, for you have rescued the Samaritan. I hope you do not come to regret it.'

'What is the Book?'

'It is the history of a people long dead, and it is the Word of God through the ages.'

'Does it give you peace, Shannow?'

'No, it torments me.'

'Does it give you power?'

'No, it weakens me.'

Then why do you read it?'

'Because without it there is nothing but a meaningless existence of pain and sorrow, ending in death. For what would we strive?'

‘To be happy, Shannow. To raise children and know joy.'

‘There has been very little joy in my life, Selah. But one day soon I will taste it again.'

‘Through your god?'

'No — through my woman.'

Batik lay back, feeling the pull of the stitches and the weakness he knew came from loss of blood. He had no idea why the boy wanted him saved, nor why the man had agreed to it. And yet he lived, and that was enough for now. His horse had reared when the lion roared and Batik had managed just one shot as it leapt. The shot had creased its side and then he had been catapulted from the saddle. He could not remember drawing his knife, but he recalled with brilliant clarity the arrival of the hard-eyed man on the steeldust gelding, and he had registered even as the gun was aimed that it was a Hellborn pistol.

Now, as he lay under the stars, it was no great work of the intellect to come up with the obvious answer: the man had been one of those who attacked Cabrik's Feasters some weeks back, killing over eighty young men in a single night. . Which made his acquiescence in allowing Batik to live all the more curious.

While he was thinking, the boy Selah approached him. 'How are your wounds?'

'You did well. They will heal.'

'I am preparing some broth. It will help make more blood for you.'

'Why? Why do you do this for me?'

Selah shrugged, unwilling to enter debate.

'I was not in the attack on your village,' said Batik, 'though I easily could have been.'

Then you tell me, Hellborn, why they wanted to kill my people?'

'Our priests could answer that better than I. We are the Chosen people. We are ordered to inhabit the lands and kill every man, woman and child we find. The priests say that this is to ensure the purity of our faith.'

'How can a babe in arms affect your faith?'

'I don't know. Truly. I never killed a babe or a child, though I saw it done. Ask our priests when you meet one.'

'It is a savagery beyond my understanding,' Selah said.

'My name is Batik,' said the man. 'And you?'

'Selah.'

'And your friend?'

'He is Shannow, the Thunder-maker.'

'Shannow. I have heard the name.'

'He is a great soul and a mighty warrior. He slew many of your people.'

'And now he is hunted in turn.'

'By you?'

'No,' said Batik. 'But the Lord Abaddon has declared him Unholy, and that means he must burn.

Already the Zealots are riding — and they have great powers; they will find him.'

'When they do, Batik, he will slay them.'

Batik smiled. 'He is not a god, Selah. The Zealots will bring him down, even as they brought me down.'

'You are hunted?'

'I need some sleep. We will talk tomorrow.'

Batik awoke early, the pain from his wounds pulling him from a troubled sleep. Overhead the sky was clear and a black crow circled, banking and wheeling. He sat up, wincing as the stitches pulled at the wound to his face. Shannow was awake, sitting still in the dawn light and reading from a leather-covered book with gold-trimmed pages. Batik saw the tension in the man, and the way that his right hand rested barely inches from the pistol which lay beside him on the rock.

Batik resisted the urge to smile; the stitches were too painful.

'You are awake early,' he said, lifting the blankets from his legs.

Shannow slowly closed the book and turned. His eyes met Batik's and the look was glacial.

Batik's face hardened.

'I was hoping,' said Shannow tonelessly, 'that you would die in the night.'.

Batik nodded. 'Before we enter into a prolonged debate on your views, perhaps you would care to know that we are being watched, and that within a short time we will be hunted.'

There is no one watching us,' said Shannow. 'I scouted earlier.'

Batik smiled, in spite of the pain. 'You have no conception, Shannow, of the nature of the hunters. We are not talking about mere men. Those who hunt us are the Zealots and they ride under the name of the Hounds of Hell. If you look up, you will see a crow. It does not land, nor scavenge for food; it merely circles us, directing those that follow.

‘The lion yesterday was possessed by a Zealot. It is a talent they have; it is why they are deadly.'

'Why would you warn me?' asked Shannow, flicking his eyes to take in the crow's flight.

'Because they are hunting me also.'

'Why should they?'

'I am not religious, Shannow, and I tried to ruin the midwinter offering. But all that is past. Just accept that I am- as you — an enemy to the Zealots.'

Selah groaned and sat up. On a rock, a reptilean creature with slavering jaws sat over the body of Shannow. Selah drew his pistol and cocked it. The monster's eyes turned on him, red as blood, as he pointed the pistol.

'What are you doing?' asked Shannow.

Selah blinked as the image shifted and blurred. His finger tightened on the trigger, but at the last second he twisted the barrel. The shot echoed in the hills and a shell whistled past Shannow's ear.

Selah eared back the hammer for a second shot, but Batik had moved behind him. With a swift chop to the neck with the blade of his hand, Batik stunned the boy and retrieved the pistol.

Shannow had not moved. 'Is he all right?' he asked.

'Yes. The Zealots work well with the young, their minds are more malleable.'

Shannow drew his pistol and cocked it and Batik froze. The Jerusalem Man tipped back his head, his arm lifted and he fired. The crow exploded in a burst of flesh and feathers.

Shannow opened the pistol's breech, removed the spent casing and reloaded the weapon. Then he walked to Selah, kneeling by him and turning him over. The boy's eyelids fluttered and opened; he saw Shannow and jerked.

'You are dead!' he said, struggling to rise.

'Lie still, boy. I am fine.'

'I saw a monster over your body. I tried to scare it away.'

There was no monster.' Shannow tried to explain, but the boy could not comprehend and Batik stepped in.

'It was magic, Selah. You were fooled by the hunters.'

'Magic?'

'Yes. They cast a spell that confused your eyes. It is unlikely they will try again through you — but they may. Be wary, and shoot at nothing.' He handed the pistol to the boy and then sagged back on the ground, his face gleaming with sweat.

Shannow watched him closely. 'You are a powerful man,' he said, 'but you lost a lot of blood.

You need rest.'

'We cannot stay here,' said Batik.

'From which direction will they be coming?' asked Shannow.

'North-east,' said Batik. 'But do not go up against them, Shannow.'

'It is my way. How many are there?'

Batik shrugged. 'There could be six, or sixty. Whatever, they will travel in multiples of six; it is a mystic number.'

'Stay here and rest. I will return.'

Shannow walked to his saddle and hefted it, making his way towards the steeldust gelding which was hobbled some thirty feet from the camp. As Shannow approached he saw horse-flies settling on the gelding's hind quarters, yet the animal's tail was still. Shannow slowed his walk and the gelding dipped its head and watched him. Shannow approached the beast from the left and laid the saddle on its back, stooping to tighten the cinch. The gelding did not move and Shannow was sweating now. Gripping the bridle tightly in his right hand, he loosed the slip-knot hobbling the horse. As the rope fell away the gelding bunched its muscles to rear and Shannow grabbed the pommel and vaulted into the saddle. The gelding reared up and set off at a dead run, but Shannow manoeuvred his "feet into the stirrups and held on. The gelding stopped and bucked furiously, bus Shannow wrenched its head back towards the camp. Suddenly the horse rolled over; Shannow leapt from the saddle and, as the beast came upright, mounted swiftly.

At the camp Batik watched in admiration as the clash of wills continued. The horse bucked, jumped, twisted and rolled time and again, but always Shannow held on. As suddenly as it had started it was over and the gelding stopped, its head down and steam billowing from its nostrils.

Shannow walked it back to the camp and dismounted, hobbling the animal once more. He unsaddled the beast and wiped it down, then stroked its neck and ears.

Hefting his saddle, he made his way to Selah's horse and without drama, saddled it and headed north-east.

Batik relaxed as Shannow crested the hill, and lay back on the grass.

'Whatever else, he is a fine rider.'

'He is the Thunder-maker,' said Selah with pride. 'He will return.'

'It would be pleasant to think so,' replied Batik, 'but he has never come up against the Zealots. I have seen their handiwork, and I am under no illusion as to their skill.'

Selah smiled and moved to the deer meat, hacking slices for the morning stew. Batik, he thought, was a clever man. But he had never seen Shannow in action.

Six miles to the north-east, a small group of riders drew rein and studied the hills ahead. The leader — a slender young man, hawk-nosed and dark-eyed — turned to his companion.

'Are you recovered?' he asked.

'Yes, Donai, but I am exhausted. How could he remain in the saddle? I all but killed the horse.'

'He rides well. I wish I knew more about him, and his connection with Batik.' Donai swivelled in the saddle, his gaze resting on the two corpses draped across their horses' backs. Xenon had possessed the lion, Cheros the crow. Both had been slain by the long-haired rider.

Donai dismounted. 'I will seek guidance,' he said. The other three riders sat in silence as their leader knelt on the grass with a round red-gold stone cupped in his hands. For some time he remained motionless. Then he rose.

'Achnazzar says that the man is Shannow, the Jerusalem Seeker. He is sending more men and we are to wait here.'

The men dismounted and removed their cloaks of black leather and their dark helms.

'Which six are they sending?' asked Parin, the youngest of the riders.

'They are sending six sections; I did not ask which,' replied Donai.

'Thirty-six men!' queried Parin. 'To tackle two men and a boy?'

'You wish to question Achnazzar's judgement?' asked Donai softly.

'No,' replied Parin swiftly.

'No,' agreed Donai, 'that is very wise. The man Shannow is a Great Evil and always there is strength in that. He is Unholy, and a servant of the old dark god. He must be destroyed.

Achnazzar says he carries a Bible.'

'It is said that to touch a Bible burns the hand and scars the soul,' put in another rider.

'It could be, Karim. I don't know. Achnazzar says to kill the man and his horse, and to burn his saddlebags without opening them.'

'I have often wondered,' said Parin, 'how this Book survived Armageddon?'

'There is evil everywhere,' replied Donai. 'When the old dark god was destroyed, his body sundered and fell to the earth like rain, and where it touched it polluted the land. Never be surprised at the places where evil dwells.'

'You can say that again,' said Karim, a lean middle-aged rider with a grey beard. 'I would have staked my life on Batik — there was no finer warrior among the Hellborn.'

'Your use of the word "fine" is questionable, Karim,' said Donai. 'The man was Unholy, but he hid the darkness within himself. But the Lord Satan has ways of illuminating the dark corners of the soul and I think' it was no coincidence that Batik's sister was chosen for the midwinter sacrifice.'

'I believe that,' said Parin, 'but what did he hope to gain by asking Shalea to flee with him?'

'A good question, Parin. He underestimated the holiness of his sister. She was naturally proud to be chosen, and when his evil touched her she went straight to Achnazzar. A fine woman, who now serves the Lord!'

'But how could he underestimate her holiness?' persisted Parin.

'Evil is not logical. He thought she desired an earthly life and his blasphemy was his unbelief. He thought her doomed and sought to save her.'

'And now he is with the Jerusalem Man,' remarked Karim.

'Evil invites evil,' said Donai.

Towards noon, as the four riders ate an early meal, the sky darkened as heavy black-edged clouds masked the sun. Lightning forked in the east, and thunder cannoned deafeningly across the heavens.

'Mount up!' shouted Donai. 'We'll head for the trees.'

The men scrambled to their feet, moving towards their horses. Then Donai lifted his cloak and froze. Standing at the edge of their camp, his long coat flapping in the storm winds, was the long-haired rider. Donai dragged his pistol dear of its scabbard, but a white-hot hammer smashed into his chest and drove him back against his horse. Karim, hearing the shot, dived for the ground, but Parin and the Other rider died where they stood as Shannow's pistols flowered in flame. Karim rolled and fired, his shot cutting Shannow's collar. The Jerusalem Man dropped to the grass and Karim fired twice more, but there was no return fire. Edging sideways, Karim hid behind Donai's body and closed his eyes. His spirit rose and entered the mind of his horse. From this high vantage point Karim scanned the area, but there was no sign of the attacker. He moved the horse's head and saw his own body lying behind Donai.

Shannow rose from the long grass behind Karim's body, his pistol pointed. Karim's spirit flew from the horse straight into Shannow's mind and the Jerusalem Man staggered as pain flooded his brain and bright lights exploded behind his eyes. Then darkness followed and Shannow found himself in a tunnel deep in the earth. Scuffling noises came to him and giant rats issued from gaping holes in the walls, their teeth as long as knives.

On the edge of panic Shannow closed his inner eyes, blocking the nightmare. He could feel the hot breath of the rats on his face, feel their teeth tearing at his skin. Slowly he opened his eyes, ignoring the huge rodents and looking beyond them. As if through a mist he could see horses and before them two bodies. Shannow lifted his hand and aimed his pistol.

The pistol became a snake that reared back, sinking its teeth into his wrist. Shannow ignored the snake and tightened his grip on the pistol butt he no longer felt. The gun bucked in his hand.

Karim fled for his body, arriving just as the second shell entered his skull. He twitched once and was still.

Shannow fell to his knees and looked around him. Four corpses littered the grass and two others were draped across two saddled horses. Shannow blinked.

'Do I not hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? And am I not grieved with those that rise up against thee? I hate them with a perfect hatred. I count them mine enemies.'

He gathered their weapons and ammunition and then searched the bodies. Each of the men carried a small stone, the size of a sparrow's egg, in a pouch around his neck. The stones were red-gold in colour and veined with black. Shannow pocketed them and then led the horses back to his own and returned to the camp-site.

Batik was huddled under his blankets as the rain doused the fire. Shannow called Selah to him.

'Let us get back to the trees and out of this weather,' he said, as the wind picked up and the sky darkened.

Batik did not move. 'What happened out there?' he called.

'I killed them. Now let's get out of the rain.'

'How many were there?'

'Four. Two others were already dead.'

'But how can I know that? How do I know you are still Shannow?' The blanket fell away and Shannow found himself staring down the muzzle of the Hellborn's pistol.

'How can I prove it to you?'

'Name your God.'

'Jehovah, Lord of Hosts.'

'And what of Satan?'

'The fallen star, the Prince of Lies.'

'I believe you, Shannow. No Hellborn could blaspheme like that!'

Beneath the spreading pine on the hillside, the strength of the rain lessened and Shannow struggled to light a fire. He gave up after some minutes and placed his back against a tree.

Batik sat nearby, his face grey, dark rings beneath his eyes. 'You are in pain?' asked Selah.

'A little. Tell me, Shannow, did you search the bodies?'

'Yes.'

'Did you find anything of interest?'

'What did you have in mind?'

'Small leather pouches, containing stones.'

'I took all six.'

'Let me have them, would you?'

'For what purpose, Batik?'

'My own was taken from me before I escaped and without it these wounds will take weeks to heal. It may be that I can use another.'

Shannow took the pouches from his greatcoat pocket and dropped them into Batik's lap. One by one the Hellborn took the stones in his hand, closing his eyes in concentration. Nothing happened until he reached the fifth stone; it glowed briefly and Batik smiled.

'It was worth a try,' he said. 'But when you kill the man, you break the power. Still, it eased the pain before it faded.' He hurled the stones aside.

'Where do you get those things?' asked Shannow.

'They are birth gifts from Lord Abaddon; the size of the stone depends on your station. We call them Satanseeds.'

'Where are they from?'

'Who knows, Shannow? It is said that Satan delivers them to Abaddon at Walpurnacht, the Eve of Souls.'

'You believe that?'

'I disbelieve nothing — it's usually safer that way.'

Selah picked up a loose stone and twirled it in his hands.

'It's very pretty,' he said, 'and it feels warm to the touch — but I would prefer a fire.'

The wet kindling Shannow had set burst into flames and Selah leapt back, dropping the stone which glowed now like a lantern.

'Nicely done, boy,' said Batik. 'Now take the stone and hold it over my wounds.' Selah did as he was bid, but the glowing faded and the stone grew cold.

'Still we have a fire,' grunted Batik.

Shannow awoke with a start, his heart pounding. He sat up and looked around him. The cave was warm and snug and a fire blazed brightly against the far wall. He relaxed and settled back.

Cave?

He jerked upright and reached for his guns, but they were not with him. He had gone to sleep alongside Batik and Selah in a wood by a narrow stream. And he had awakened here, weaponless.

A shadow moved and a man approached the fire and sat down facing him.

It was the handsome, silver-templed Abaddon, Lord of the Hellborn.

'Do not be alarmed, Mr Shannow. I merely wished to talk.'

'We have nothing to talk about.'

'Surely not? With my hunters closing in?'

'Let them come.'

'Such arrogance, Mr Shannow. Think you to slay all my men with your pitiful pistols?'

Shannow said nothing and Abaddon warmed his hands at the fire. He was wearing a dazzling white robe which glistened gold in the firelight.

'A man, a boy and a traitor,' whispered Abaddon, 'set against a newborn nation of lusty warriors.

It is almost comic.' His eyes met Shannow's. 'You know I have lived for almost as long as your friend, Karitas, and I have seen many things — both in my old world and in this new, squalling infant. There are no heroes, Mr Shannow. Ultimately we all compromise and secure for ourselves a little immortality, or a little wealth, or a little pleasure. There are no longer any Galahads; indeed, I wonder if there ever were.'

'I've never heard of a Galahad,' said Shannow.

'He was a Knight, Mr Shannow, a warrior who was said to fight for God. He never succumbed to women nor any pleasures of the flesh, and he was allowed to find the Holy Grail. It is a pleasant tale for children — though not Hellborn children.'

'What do you want from me?'

'I want you to die, Mr Shannow. To cease to be.'

'Why?'

'On a whim, perhaps. It has been said that you are a danger to me. I cannot see it, but I accept that the evidence suggest some truth to the fear.'

'You do not interest me,' said Shannow. 'You have nothing that I want. Where is the danger?'

'Who knows?' replied Abaddon, smiling smoothly. 'You are a thorn in my side and I need to pluck it out and throw it in the fire.'

Then bring on your demons,' said Shannow, rising to his feet.

Abaddon chuckled and shook his head. 'I tried that, Mr Shannow, and you hurt me. Truly. But then what are my demons compared with yours?'

'I have no demons.'

'No? What drives you then to seek a buried city? Why do you cling to your superstitions? Why do you fight your lonely battles?'

'I will find Jerusalem,' said Shannow softly. 'Alive or dead, I will find my way home.'

'Home? What did you say to the delightful Fray Taybard? A rock in a lake? The ripples fade and all is as it was. Yes, you need to find a way home.' Abaddon lifted a stick and laid it gently on the fire. 'You know, Mr Shannow, many of my men are just like you — especially amongst the Zealots. They worship their god with a pure heart, and they would die gladly for him. Men like you are as leaves in the Autumn. You are a Bible-reading man — I am surprised you have not yet seen it.'

There is nothing like the Hellborn in my Bible,' whispered Shannow.

'Mr Shannow! Is not lying a sin? I refer you to Joshua and the Israelite invasion of Canaan. Every man, woman and child in thirty-two cities was slain under the express orders of your god. How are the Hellborn different? Don't bother to answer; there is no difference. I founded the Hellborn two and a half centuries ago and I have built the nation along the same lines as Israel. I now have a fanatic army, and a people fired with a zeal you could not imagine. And they have had their miracles, their parting of the Red Sea, the healings and the unimaginable wonders of magic.

'In some ways your position is amusing. You are the man of god among a nation of devil worshippers. And yet you are the unholy one; you are the vampire in the night. Stories of you will one day be told to Hellborn children to keep them quiet in their beds.'

Shannow scowled. 'Everything you say is an obscenity.'

'Indeed it is — by your lights. By the way, did you know that Donna Taybard is now living on the edge of my lands?'

Shannow sat very still.

'She and her husband — a worthy man by the name of Griffin — have settled on the lands to the west. Good farmland. They could even prosper.'

'Why do you lie?' asked Shannow. 'Is it because your master is unable to face truth?'

'I do not need to lie, Mr Shannow. Donna Taybard, believing you dead, bedded down with Con Griffin. She is now pregnant, though she will not live to see her daughter born.'

'I do not believe you.'

'Of course you do, Mr Shannow. I gain no advantage by lying to you. Far from it. Had I left her as your white lady you would have raced to her side. . and into my lands. Now you may decide to leave her be, and then I would have a merry job tracking you down.'

Then why tell me?'

To cause you pain.'

'I have been hurt before.'

'Of course you have, Mr Shannow. You are a loser and they always suffer. It is their lot in this world, as it was in mine. Your god does not bring you many gifts, does he? Have you not realized, Mr Shannow, that you follow a dead deity? That despite his propaganda and his awful book, he lost?'

Shannow raised his head and their eyes met. 'You are a fool, Abaddon, and I will not debate with you. You were right; Donna's betrayal hurts me. Deeply. Despite it I wish her only happiness, and if she has found it with Griffin then so be it.'

'Happiness?' sneered Abaddon. 'I am going to kill her, and her unborn child. She will be my sacrifice in two months. Her blood will flow on the Sipstrassi. How does that sit with you, Jerusalem Man?'

'As I said, you are a fool. Look into my eyes, Abaddon, and read the truth. As of this moment you are dead. Send your Zealots, send your demons, send your God — they will avail you nothing, for I will find you.'

'Just words,' said Abaddon, but the smile left his face. 'Come to me as soon as you can.'

'Count on it,' Shannow assured him.

Shannow awoke once more, and this time he was back at the camp-site by the stream. The fire had died to glowing ash and Batik and Selah were still asleep. Shannow rose and added sticks to the embers, blowing the fire to life. Then he sat, staring into the flames and seeing only Donna.

Vile as Abaddon undoubtedly was, there was no doubt in Shannow's mind that he had spoken the truth about Donna Taybard and Con Griffin. But he underestimated the Jerusalem Man's capacity for pain. His love for Donna had been too good; too joyful. Nothing in Shannow's life had ever been that easy. Other men mined pleasure as if it were an everlasting seam, their lives filled with smiles and easy happiness. Shannow panned in a pebble stream that yielded little and vanished swiftly.

And yet he was torn. A part of him wanted to ride swiftly to her, to kill Griffin and take her by force. An even darker thought was to ride, guns in hand, towards the Hellborn and die in a furious battle.

The sky lightened and the bird-song began in the trees. Batik stirred but did not wake. Shannow stood and wandered up a steep slope to scan the nearing northern mountains. Jagged they were and tall — piercing the clouds, like pillars supporting the sky.

Shannow could never have settled for farm life while the far mountains called him — while the lure of Jerusalem was hooked into his heart.

'I love you, Donna,' he whispered.

'It looks to be a fine day,' said Batik.

'I did not hear you approach.'

'It is a skill, Shannow. What are your plans?'

'I'm not sure. I saw Abaddon last night; he has threatened someone close to me.'

'Your woman?'

'No, not mine.'

Then it is not your concern.'

'Not in the Hellborn philosophy,' said Shannow.

Batik sat down as Shannow outlined his conversation with the Hellborn king, and the background to it. He listened intently, seeing far more than Shannow intended.

'You cannot get to Abaddon, Shannow,' he said. 'I myself have rarely seen him. He is guarded by the Zealots and only occasionally ventures among the people. And anyway you say the caravan headed north-west, which puts the lands of the Hellborn between you and "she. They are preparing for war, Shannow. The Hellborn army will not be turned aside by wagoners and farmers.'

'I cannot save her,' said Shannow, 'but I am pledged to destroy Abaddon.'

'It is not possible.'

'It may not be possible to succeed, it is certainly possible to try.'

'For what purpose? Are you the soul of the world?'

'I cannot explain it to you. Nor to any man. I cannot suffer evil, nor watch the wicked strong destroy the weak.'

'But the strong will always dominate the weak, Shannow. It is the nature of man and beast. You can be either the hunter or the hunted; there is no other choice, there is no neutrality. I doubt there ever was, even before the Fall.'

'I told you I could not explain it,' said Shannow, shrugging, but Batik was not to be diverted.

'Nonsense! At some time in your life you made a decision and weighed up the reasons for your actions. Be honest, man!'

'Honest? To a Hellborn? What do you know of honesty? Or love, or compassion? You were raised under Satan and you have drunk the blood of innocence. Reasons? Why does a fanner weed his land, or hunt wolves and lions? I hunt the wolves among men.'

'God's gardener?' sneered Batik. 'A sorry mess he must be in if you are all the force he can muster in this broken world.'

Shannow's hand flashed down and up and Batik found himself staring into the black, unwavering muzzle of a Hellborn revolver. He looked up into Shannow's eyes and saw the edge of madness lurking there.

'Insult me if you will,' hissed Shannow, 'but you will not denigrate my God. This is the only warning I give. Your next foulness will be your last.'

Batik grinned wolfishly. 'That's good, Shannow. That's very Hellborn — those who disagree with you die!'

Shannow blinked and uncocked the pistol. 'That is not the way I am,' he whispered, slumping down to sit beside Batik. 'I am not good in debate. My tongue stumbles into my teeth, and then I get angry. I am trapped, Batik, in a religion I can scarcely comprehend. In the Bible there are many passages I can follow, yet I am not a Christian. My Bible teaches me to smite the enemy hip and thigh, destroy him with fire and sword… it also teaches me to love my enemy and do good to him who hates me.'

'No wonder you are confused,' said Batik. 'But then I have long considered the possibility that Man is essentially insane. I believe in no god, and I am happier for it. I don't want eternal life. I want a little joy, a large amount of pleasure and a swift death once I lose the appetite for either.'

Shannow chuckled and his tension passed. 'I wish I could share that philosophy.'

'You can, Shannow; there is no charge.'

Shannow shook his head and looked towards the mountains.

'I shall go there,' he said, 'and then head west.'

‘I’ll stay with you as far as the mountains, then I head east.'

'You think that will take you out of reach of the Zealots?'

Before Batik could answer, the bushes to their left parted and a huge brown bear moved into the open. He saw the men sitting there and rose up on his hind legs, towering to almost eight feet. For some seconds he stood there, then he dropped to all fours and ambled away.

The two men sheathed their pistols.

'You are never out of reach of the Zealots, Shannow,' said Batik. Shannow let out a long juddering breath.

'I felt sure that they had possessed it.'

'Next time they probably will,' Batik assured him.