Wolf in Shadow

CHAPTER SIX

Con Griffin was troubled. For most of the day he had worked hard on the new house, laying the foundation wall with care and measuring logs to interlace at the corners. Yet all the while he worked his eyes would flick to the skyline and the eternal watchers.

Since the first attack there had been no fresh violence — far from it, in fact. The following day six riders had approached the settlement. Once more Griffin had walked to meet them, covered by Madden and Burke, Mahler and five other men sporting rifles and guns taken from the dead raiders. The bodies had been removed to a field in the east and hastily buried.

The riders had entered the settlement without apparent fear and their leader, a slim young man with bright grey eyes, had approached Griffin smiling warmly.

'Good morning, my name is Zedeki.' He extended a hand. Griffin took it and engaged in a short perfunctory handshake.

'Griffin.'

'You are the leader here?'

Griffin shrugged. 'We don't think of ourselves as needing leaders. We are a group of farming men.'

Zedeki nodded and smiled. 'Yes, I understand. However, you do speak for the community, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Good. You were attacked last night by a group of renegades from our lands and this grieves us greatly. We apprehended the survivors, who were put to death immediately. We have come to offer our apologies for the incident.'

'No need for that,' Griffin told him. 'We dealt with it at no loss to ourselves, and gained greatly by it.'

'You speak of the weapons,' said Zedeki. 'In fact they were stolen from our city and we would like them returned.'

That is understandable,' said Griffin smoothly.

Then you agree?'

'With the principle, yes. Stolen property should be returned to its owners.'

Then we may take them?'

'Unfortunately there are other principles that must also be considered,' stated Griffin. 'But perhaps we could sit down and take refreshment?'

Thank you.'

Griffin sat down on a felled tree and beckoned Zedeki to join him. The two men sat in silence for some minutes as Donna and two other women brought copper mugs filled with honey-sweetened herb tea. The other riders did not dismount, and looked to Zedeki before accepting refreshment.

'You mentioned other principles?' said Zedeki.

'Indeed I did, old lad. You see, where we come from there is a custom which says the spoils of war belong to the victor. Therefore most of the men here feel they have earned their new weapons. Secondly, there is the question of reparation. These raiders were your people — unless they also stole the clothes they were wearing. Therefore my people might feel entitled to some compensation for the terror inflicted on their wives and children, not to mention the cost of the operation in terms of spent ammunition and hard work preparing the tripwires and other devices which happily were not needed.'

'So, you are saying that our property will not be returned?'

'No, not at all, Zedeki. I am merely outlining possible objections to such a move. Not being the leader, I can make no prediction as to their individual reaction.'

Then what are you saying?'

'I am saying that life is rarely simple. We like to be good neighbours, and we are hoping that we can trade with people living nearby. However, so far we have had few dealings with your people, so perhaps we should both sit back and study each other's customs for a while.' 'And then the weapons will be returned?' 'And then we will talk some more,' said Griffin, smiling. 'Mr Griffin, my people outnumber yours by perhaps a thousand to one. We are unaccustomed to being refused our desires.'

'But then I have not refused, Mr Zedeki. That would be presumptuous.'

Zedeki drained his tea and looked around the settlement. His soldier's eye took in the placements of some twenty felled trees which scattered the open ground. Each was positioned to provide cover for marksmen and planned in such a way that any raiding force, no matter from which direction they attacked, would come under a murderous cross-fire while their enemy would be firing from good cover.

'Did you organize these defensive positions?' asked Zedeki.

'No,' said Griffin. ‘I’m just a humble wagon-master. We have several men here skilled in such matters, having dealt with all kinds of Brigands.'

'Well, let me thank you for your hospitality, Mr Griffin. I. wonder if you would care to join me at my home? It is not a long ride, and perhaps we could discuss further the principles involved?'

Griffin's eyes narrowed, but he smiled with apparent warmth. 'That is indeed kind of you, and I am pleased to accept — but not at the moment. As you can see, we are currently building our own homes and it would be impolite of me to accept your hospitality without being able to respond in kind. You see, it is one of our customs — we always respond in kind.'

Zedeki nodded and stood. 'Very well. I will return when you are more. . settled.'

'You will be welcome.'

Zedeki stepped into the saddle. 'When I return, I will be demanding our property.'

'New friends should not speak in terms of demands,' replied Griffin. 'If you return peacefully, we can negotiate. If not, then some of your property will be returned to you at a speed you might not appreciate.'

'I think that we understand one another, Mr Griffin, but I do not believe you understand the strength of the Hellborn. We are not a few raiding Brigands, as you call them. We are a nation.'

As he rode away Madden, Burke and a score of the other men clustered around Griffin.

'What did you make of it, Griff?' asked Mahler, a short balding farmer whom Griffin had known for twenty years. 'It is trouble whichever way we look at it. I think we should move on to the west.'

'But this is good land,' argued Mahler. 'Just what we always wanted.'

'We wanted a home without Brigands,' said Griffin. 'What we have could be a hundred times worse. That man was right; we are outnumbered. You saw their armour — they are an army. They call themselves the Hellborn. Now I am not a religious man, but I don't like the name and I dread to think what it implies.'

'Well, I'm not running,' said Madden. 'I have put my roots here.'

'Nor I,' said Mahler. Griffin glanced around the faces of the other men to see all were nodding in agreement.

That night, as he sat with Donna Taybard under a bright moon, he felt despair settle on him like a cloak.

'I wanted Avalon to be a land of peace and plenty. I had a dream, Donna. And it is so close to being true. The Plague Lands — empty and open, rich and verdant. But now I'm beginning to see that the Plague Lands could earn their title.'

'You fought them off before, Griff.' 'I have a feeling they could return with a thousand men -

should they choose.'

Donna moved closer and sat on his lap, draping her arm around his neck. Absently he rested his hand on her swollen belly and she kissed him lightly on the forehead. 'You'll think of something.'

He chuckled. 'You have great faith in. .'

'. . a humble wagon-master,' she finished for him.

'Exactly.'

But the attack he feared did not come to pass, and as the weeks drew by their homes neared completion. Yet every day the Hellborn riders crested the hills, sitting their dark mounts and watching the settlers. At first it was nerve-racking, but soon the families became used to the skylined riders.

A month had gone by before another incident alarmed the settlement. A young man named Carver had headed into the hills to hunt for fresh meat, but he did not return.

Madden found his body two days later. His eyes had been put out and his horse slain; all of his belongings were left untouched, but his Hellborn rifle was missing.

The following day Zedeki had returned, this time alone.

'I understand one of your men was killed,' he said.

'Yes.'

'There are some raiders in the hills and we are looking for them. It is best if your people stay in the valley for a time.'

'That will not be necessary,' stated Griffin.

'I should not like to see other deaths,' Zedeki said.

'Nor I.'

'I see your house is nearing completion. It is a fine dwelling.'

Griffin had built in the lee of a hill on a wall foundation of stone, topped by timbers snugly fitted under a steep roof.

'You are welcome to join us for our midday meal,' invited Griffin.

'Thank you, but no.'

He had left soon after, and Griffin was concerned that he had not repeated his request for the weapons.

Three days later Griffin himself rode from the settlement, a rifle across his saddle and a pistol in his belt. He made for the high ground to the west, where big-horn sheep had been sighted. As he rode, he examined the rifle loaned to him by Madden. It was a Hellborn weapon, short-barrelled and heavy; the stock was spring-stressed and Madden had explained that after each shot, when the stock was pulled back, a fresh shell would be slipped into the breech. Griffin disliked the feel and the look of the weapon, preferring the clean graceful lines of his flintlock. But he could not argue with the practical applications of a repeating rifle and had accepted the loan readily.

He headed north-west and dismounted in a clearing on a wide ledge that overlooked the valley.

Left and right of him the undergrowth was thick around the base of tall pines, but here — out of the bright sunlight — Griffin looked out over the land and felt like a king. After a little while he heard horses approaching from the north. Picking up his rifle, he levered the stock, then placed the weapon against a rock and sat down.

Four Hellborn riders advanced into the clearing, pistols in their hands.

'Hunting raiders?' asked Griffin, pleasantly.

'Move away from the weapon,' said a rider. Griffin remained where he was and met the man's eyes; he was black-bearded and powerfully built, and there was nothing of warmth or friendship in his expression.

'I take it,' said Griffin, 'that you mean to kill me, as you killed young Carver?'

The man smiled grimly. 'He talked tough at the start, but he begged and pleaded at the end. So will you.'

'Possibly,' said Griffin. 'But, since I am to die anyway, would you mind telling me why?'

'Why what?'

'Why you are operating in this way. Zedeki told me you had an army. Could it be that my settlers frighten you?'

'I would like to tell you,' replied the man, 'because I'd like to know myself. But the answer is that we are ordered not to attack. . not yet. But any one of you that strays is fair game. You strayed.'

'Ah well,' said Griffin, remaining seated. 'It looks like it's time to die.'

Shots exploded from the undergrowth and two riders pitched from their saddles. Griffin snatched up the rifle and pumped three shots into the bearded rider's chest. A shell ricocheted from the rock beside him and he swung the rifle to cover the fourth rider, but another shot from the undergrowth punched a hole in his temple. His horse reared and he toppled from the saddle.

Griffin's ears rang in the silence that followed; then Madden, Burke and Mahler rose from the undergrowth and joined him.

'You were right, Griff, we're in a lot of trouble,' said Burke. 'Maybe it's time to leave?'

'I am not sure they would let us go,' said'Griffin. 'We're caught between a rock and a hard place.

The settlement is well-positioned and easier to defend than moving wagons. Yet, ultimately, we can't hold it.'

Then what do you suggest?' asked Mahler.

'I'm sorry, old lad, but at the moment I'm bereft of ideas. Let us take one day at a time. Strip the ammunition and weapons from the bodies and hide them in the undergrowth. Lead the horses in and kill them too. I don't want the Hellborn knowing that we are aware of our danger.'

'We won't fool them for long, Griff,' said Burke.

'I know.'

It was after midnight when Griffin slipped silently into the cabin. The fire was dead, but the large room retained the memory of the flames and he removed his heavy woollen jacket. Moving across the timbered floor, he opened the door to Eric's room; the boy was sleeping peacefully.

Griffin returned to the hearth and sat back in the old leather chair he had carried across half the continent. He was tired, and his back ached. He tugged off his boots and stared at the dead fire; it was not cold in the room, but he knelt, prepared kindling and lit the fire afresh.

You will think of something, Donna had told him.

But he couldn't. And it galled him.

Con Griffin, the humble wagon-master. He wore the tide like a cloak, for it served many purposes. All his life he had seen leaders of men, and he had learned early to judge their strengths. Many relied on wit and charisma, which always seemed to link heavily with luck. He had never been blessed with charisma and had turned his considerable intellect to creating a different kind of leader. Men who did not know Griffin would see a ponderous, powerful, slow-moving man: a humble wagon-master. As the days passed they would, if observant, notice that few problems troubled the big man, seeming to disappear of their own volition as his plans progressed. They would see other men taking problems to Griffin, and watch their troubles shrink away like mist in a morning breeze. The truly intuitive watcher would then see that Griffin, unlike the dashing leaders of golden oratory, commanded respect by being the still centre, an oasis of calm amid the storms of the world. Rarely provocative, never loud, always authoritative.

It was a creation of which Con Griffin was very proud.

Yet now, when he needed it most, he could think of nothing.

He added fuel to the fire and leaned back in the chair.

Donna Taybard awoke from a troubled sleep to hear the cracking of the unseasoned wood on the fire. Swinging her legs from the broad bed, she covered herself in a woollen gown and moved silently into the main room. Griffin did not hear her and she stopped for a moment, staring at him by the fire, his red hair highlighted by the flames.

'Con!'

'I am sorry, did I wake you?'

'No, I was dreaming. Such strange dreams. What happened out there?'

The Hellborn killed young Carver — we found that out.'

'We heard shots.'

'Yes. None of us was hurt.'

Donna poured cold water into a large copper kettle and hung it over the fire.

'You are troubled?' she asked.

'I cannot see a way out of the danger. I feel like a rabbit in a snare, waiting for the hunter.'

Donna giggled suddenly and Griffin looked at her face in the firelight. She seemed younger and altogether too beautiful.

'Why do you laugh?'

'I never knew a man less like a rabbit. You remind me of a bear — a great big, soft brown bear.'

He chuckled and they sat in silence for several minutes. Donna prepared some herb tea, and as they sipped it before the fire the problems of the Heilborn seemed far away. 'How many of them are there?' asked Donna suddenly. The Hellborn? I don't know. Jacob tried to track them on the first night, but they spotted him and he rode away.' Then how can you plan against them? You don't know the extent of the problem.'

'Damn!' said Griffin softly, and the weight lifted from his mind. 'Zedeki said there were thousands and I believed him. But that doesn't mean they are all here. You are right, Donna, and I have been a fool.' Griffin tugged on his boots, lifted her to her feet and kissed her. 'Where are you going?'

'We came back separately in case the watchers remain at night. Jacob should be home by now and I need to see him.' Slipping on his dark jacket, he stepped out into the night and crossed the open ground to Madden's cabin. The windows were shuttered, but Griffin could see a gleam of golden light through the centre of the shutters and he tapped at the door.

The tall, bearded Madden opened it within seconds. 'Is everything all right?' he asked.

'Yes. Sorry to bother you so late,' said Griffin, once more adopting the slow, ponderous method of speech his people expected. 'But I think it's time to consider our plans.'

'Come in,' said Madden. The room was less spacious than Griffin's, but the layout was similar. A large table with bench seats was set in the centre of the room, and to the right was a stone hearth and two heavy chairs, ornately carved. The two men sat down and Griffin leaned forward. 'Jacob, I need to know how many Hellborn are close to us. It would also be a help to know something of the Jand and the situation of their camp and so on.' 'You want me to scout?'

Griffin hesitated. Both men knew the dangers involved in such an enterprise, and Griffin was acutely aware he was asking Jacob Madden to put his life at risk.

'Yes,' he said. 'It is important. Note everything they do, what kind of discipline they are under: everything.'

Madden nodded. 'Who will do the work on my fields?'

‘I’ll see that it's done.'

'And my family?'

Griffin understood the unspoken question. 'Like my own, Jacob. I'll look after them.'

'All right.'

There's something else. How many guns did we take?'

Madden thought for a while. Thirty-three rifles, twenty-seven — no, twenty-eight — pistols.'

‘I’ll need to know how much ammunition we gathered, but I can check that tomorrow.'

'You won't find much more than twenty shells per weapon.'

'No. Take care, Jacob.'

'You can count on that. I'll leave tonight.'

'Good man.' Griffin stood and left the cabin. The moon was partially obscured by cloud and he tripped over one of the defensive logs, bruising his shin. He continued on, passing Ethan Peacock's ramshackle cabin; the little scholar was involved in a heated debate with Aaron Phelps.

Griffin grinned; no matter what the perils, some things never changed.

Back at his own home he found Donna still sitting by the fire, staring vacantly into the flames.

'You should get some sleep,' he said, but she did not hear him. 'Donna?' He knelt beside her. Her eyes were wide open, the pupils huge, despite the bright firelight. He touched her shoulder, but she did not respond. Not knowing what to do he remained where he was, gently holding her.

After a while she sighed and her head sagged forward. He caught her and lifted her to a chair; her eyes fluttered, then focused.

'Oh, hello Con,' she said sleepily.

'Were you dreaming?'

'I… I don't know. Strange.'

Tell me.'

Thirsty,' she said, leaning back her head and closing her eyes. He poured her a mug of water, and she sipped it for several seconds. 'Ever since we came here,' she said, 'I have had the strangest dreams. They grow more powerful with every day that passes and now I don't know if they are dreams at all. I just drift into them.'

Tell me,' he repeated.

She sat up and finished the water.

'Well, tonight I saw Jon Shannow sitting on a mountainside with a Hellborn. They were talking, but the words blurred. Then I saw Jon draw his gun — and there was a bear. But then I seemed to tumble away to a huge building of stone. There were many Hellborn there and at the centre was a man, tall and handsome. He saw me and smoke billowed from him and he became a monster, and he pursued me. Then I flew in terror, and someone came to me, and told me not to worry. It was a little man — the man I saw with Jon at the village when he was wounded. His name is Karitas. It is an ancient name which once meant Love, he told me, and the smoke monster could not find us. I drifted then and I saw a great golden ship, but there was no sea. The ship was upon a mountain, and Karitas laughed and said it was the Ark. Then all my dreams tumbled on themselves and I saw the Hellborn in their thousands riding south into River vale, and Ash Burry nailed to a tree. It was terrible.'

'Is that all you said?' asked Griffin.

'Almost. I saw Jacob creeping through bushes near some tents, but then I was inside the tent and there were six men seated in a circle — and they knew Jacob was coming, and they were waiting for him.' 'It couldn't have been Jacob — he has only just left.' Then you must stop him, Con. Those men, they were not like the other Hellborn. They were evil, so terribly evil!' Griffin ran outside across the open ground, but there was no light from within Madden's cabin. Griffin circled the house to the paddock, but Madden's horse was gone. He could feel panic rising in him, and quelled it savagely. Returning to Donna, he sat beside her and took her hands in his. 'You told me you could always see those close to you, wherever they are. Can you see Jacob now?'

She closed her eyes.

Her mind misted, and Jon Shannow's face leapt to her.

He was riding the steeldust gelding along a mountain path which wound down towards a deep valley dotted with lakes. By the sides of the lakes hundreds of thousands of birds splashed in the water, or soared in their legions into the sky. Behind Shannow rode a Hellborn rider with a black forked beard, and behind him a dark-haired youngster of perhaps fifteen years.

Donna was about to return when she felt the chill of terror touch her soul. She rose above the scene, floating high above the trees, and then she saw them less than a quarter mile behind Shannow — some thirty men riding tall dark horses. The riders wore black cloaks and helms which covered their faces and they were closing fast. The sky darkened, and Donna found herself enveloped in cloud that thickened and solidified into leather wings which closed about her.

She screamed and tried to break free, but a soft, almost gentle voice whispered in her ear.

'You are mine, Donna Taybard, to take when I will.'

The wings opened and she fled like a frightened sparrow, jerking upright in the chair.

'Did you see Jacob?' asked Griffin.

'No,' she whispered. 'I saw the Devil and Jon Shannow.'

Selah cantered alongside Shannow and pointed down into the valley, where a cluster of buildings was ranged at the edge of a narrow river. Batik came alongside.

'I must have been dreaming,' said Shannow. 'I didn't notice them.'

Batik looked troubled. 'I am sure I scanned the valley. I could not have missed them.'

Shannow tugged the gelding and started down the slope, but they had not gone more than a hundred yards when they heard the sound of galloping hooves. Dismounting, Shannow led the gelding behind a screen of trees and thick bushes. Batik and Selah followed him. Above they watched the black-cloaked Hellborn riders thunder by them.

They should have seen where we cut from the path,' mused Batik. 'Curious.'

'How many did you count?' asked Shannow.

'I did not need to count. There are six sections and that makes thirty-six enemies, skilled beyond our means to defeat them.'

Shannow did not reply, but swung himself into the saddle and headed the gelding down the slope.

The buildings were of seasoned timber, bleached almost white, and beyond them was a field where dairy cattle grazed. Shannow rode into the central square and dismounted.

'Where are the people?' asked Batik, joining him.

Shannow removed his wide-brimmed hat and hung it on the pommel of his saddle. The sun was dipping behind the hills to the west, and he was tired. There were a dozen steps leading to a double door in the building facing them and Shannow walked towards them. As he approached, the door opened and an elderly woman in white stepped out and bowed low. Her hair was short and iron-grey, and her eyes were blue — so deep they were almost violet.

'Welcome,' she said.

At that moment the trio heard the sound of hoofbeats and swung to see the Hellborn riding down from the hills. Shannow's hands dropped to his guns, but the woman spoke, her voice ringing with authority.

'Leave your weapons where they are, and wait.'

Shannow froze. The riders swept past the buildings looking neither right nor left. The Jerusalem Man watched them until they were far away, heading north.

He swung to the woman, but before he could speak she said, 'Join us, Mr Shannow, for our evening meal.' She turned and vanished into the building.

Batik approached him. 'I have to tell you, Shannow, that I do not like this place.'

'It is beautiful here,' said Selah. 'Can you not feel it? The harmony. There is no fear here.'

'Yes, there is,' muttered Batik. 'It's all in here,' he said, tapping his chest. 'Why did they ride on?'

‘They did not see us,' said Shannow.

'Nonsense, they couldn't have missed us.'

'Just as we couldn't have missed these buildings?'

'That makes it worse, Shannow, not better.'

Shannow walked up the stairs and into the building, Batik behind him. He found himself in a small room, softly lit by white candles. A tiny round table had been set with two places and at the table was the grey-haired woman. Shannow turned, but Batik was not with him. Nor Selah.

'Sit down, Mr Shannow, and eat.'

'Where are my friends?'

'Enjoying a meal. Be at ease; there is no danger here.'

Shannow's guns felt uncomfortable and he removed the belt and laid them on the floor beside him. He looked at his hands and noticed the dirt ingrained in them.

'You may refresh yourself in the next room,' said the woman. Shannow smiled his thanks and opened the oval door he had not noticed beyond the table. Inside was a metal bath, filled with warm water, delicately scented. He removed his clothes and climbed in. Clean at last, he rose from the bath to find his clothes gone and in their place a white woollen shirt and grey trousers.

He felt no anxiety over the disappearance of his belongings and dressed in the garments he found, which fitted perfectly.

The woman sat where he had left her and he joined her. The food was plain, seasoned vegetables and fresh fruit, and the clear water tasted like wine.

They ate in silence until at last the woman rose and beckoned Shannow to join her in another room. Shannow followed into a windowless study where two deep leather chairs were drawn up against a round glass-topped table, upon which sat two cups of scented tea.

Shannow waited for the woman to seat herself, then sat back in a chair and stared at the walls of the room. They seemed to be of stone, yet were soft in appearance, like doth. Upon the walls were paintings — mostly of animals, deer and horses, grazing beneath mountains topped with snow.

'You have journeyed far, Mr Shannow. And you are weary.'

'Indeed I am, Lady.'

'And do you ride towards Jerusalem, or away from her?'

'I do not know.'

'You did your best for Karitas. Feel no grief.'

'You knew him?'

'I did indeed. An obstinate man, but a kindly soul none the less.'

'He saved my life. I could not return the debt.'

'He would not have seen it as a debt, Mr Shannow. For him, as for us, life is not a question of balances earned and debited. How do you feel about Donna Taybard?'

'I am angry… was angry. It is hard to feel anger here.'

'It is not hard, Mr Shannow; it is impossible.'

'What is this place?'

'This is Sanctuary. There is no evil here.'

'How is this achieved?'

'By doing nothing, Mr Shannow.'

'But there is a power here… an awesome power.'

'Indeed, and there is a riddle in that for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.'

'Who are you? What are you?'

'I am Ruth.'

'Are you an angel?'

She smiled then. 'No, Mr Shannow, I am a woman.'

'I am sorry that I do not understand. I feel it is important.'

'You are right in that, but rest now. We will talk tomorrow.'

She rose and left him. He heard the door close and stood. A bed lay by the far wall and he lay upon it and slept without dreams.

Batik followed Shannow into the building and found himself in a round room, painted in soft shades of red. On the walls were weapons of every kind, artistically displayed — bows, spears, pistols and rifles, swords and daggers, each of exquisite workmanship.

The grey-haired woman sat at an oval table upon which was a joint of red meat, charred on the outside but raw at the centre. Batik moved to the table and picked up a silver carving knife.

'Where is Shannow?' he asked, carving thick slices of the succulent meat.

'He is close, Batik.'

'A pleasant room,' said the Hellborn, indicating the weapons.

'Do they relax you?'

He shrugged. 'It reminds me of my home.'

The room bordering the garden of vines?'

'Yes. How did you know?'

'You entertained a friend of mine two years ago.'

'What was his name?'

'Ezra.'

'I know no one of that name.'

'He climbed the wall of your garden while being hunted. He hid among your vines, and when the searchers came you told them no one was there and sent them away.'

'I remember. A little man with frightened eyes.'

'Yes. A man of great courage, for he knew great fear.'

'What happened to him?'

'He was caught three months later and burned alive.'

'There has been a lot of that lately. He worshipped the old dark god, I take it?'

'Yes.'

The Hellborn will stamp out the sect.'

'Perhaps, Batik. But why did you help him?'

'I am not a religious man.'

'What are you?'

'Just a man.'

'You know that if you stay with Shannow you could die.'

'We are parting company soon.'

'And yet without you he will fail.'

Batik lifted a goblet filled with red wine and drained it. 'What are you trying to tell me?'

'Do you feel you owe Shannow a debt?'

‘For what?'

‘For saving your life?'

'No.'

'Would you call yourself his friend?'

'Perhaps.'

‘Then you like him?'

Batik did not reply. 'Who are you, woman?' he asked at last.

'I am Ruth.'

'Why did the riders not see us?'

'No evil may enter here.'

‘I am here!'

'You saved Ezra.'

'Shannow is here.'

'He seeks Jerusalem.'

'What is this place?'

‘For you, Batik, it is Alpha or Omega. A beginning or an end.'

'A beginning of what? An ending to what?'

‘That is for you to decide. The choices are yours.'

Selah ran up the stairs after his friends and entered a small room. The grey-haired woman smiled and opened her arms.

'Welcome home, Selah.'

And joy flooded him.

The following morning Ruth led Shannow into a long hall, past trestle tables set for breakfast and on into a circular library with shelf upon shelf of books from floor to domed ceiling. At the centre of the room was a round table and the elderly woman sat, gesturing for Shannow to sit beside her.

'Everything you ever wanted to know is here, Mr Shannow, but you must decide what to look for.'

His eyes scanned the books and an edge of fear touched him, bringing a shiver.

'Are they all true books?' he asked.

'No. Some are fictions. Some are theories. Others are partly true, or close to the truth. Most point a way to the truth for those with eyes to see.'

‘I just want the truth.'

'Placed in your hand like a pearl, unblemished and perfect?'

'Yes.'

'No wonder you need Jerusalem.'

'Do you mock me, Lady?'

'No, Mr Shannow. Everything we do here is to instruct and to help. This room was made for you, created for you. It did not exist before you entered it, and will cease to exist when you leave it.'

'How long may I stay here?'

'One hour.'

'I cannot read all these books in an hour.'

That is true.'

'Then why go to all this trouble? How can I use all this knowledge if I have no time?'

Ruth leaned towards him, taking his hand. 'We did not create this to torment you, Jon. Far too much effort went into it for that. Sit and think for a while. Be at ease.'

'Can you not tell me where to look?'

'No, for I do not know what you seek!'

'I want to find God.'

Ruth pressed his hand gently. 'Do you think he hides from you?'

'That's not what I meant. I have tried to live in a way that does his will. You understand? I have nothing, I want nothing. And yet… I am not content.'

'I will tell you something, Jon. Even were you to read all these books, and know all the secrets of the world, still you would not be content. For you see yourself as Batik saw you: God's gardener, weeding the land, but never fast enough, or fully enough, or completely enough.'

'Do you say it is wrong to defend the weak?'

'I am not a judge.'

'Then what are you? What is this place?'

'I told you last night. There are no angels here, Jon. We are people.'

'You keep saying "We", but I see no one else.'

'There are four hundred people here, but they do not wish to be seen. It is their choice.'

'Is this a dream?' he asked dully.

'No. Believe me.'

'I do believe you, Ruth. I believe everything you say — and it helps me not at all. Outside there are men hunting me, and the woman I love is in terrible danger. There is a man I am pledged to destroy — a man that I know I hate — yet here that hatred seems such a small thing.'

'You speak of the man who calls himself Abaddon?'

'Yes.'

'An empty man.'

'His warriors butchered Karitas and his people — women, children.'

'And now you will try to kill him?'

'Yes. As the Lord of Hosts told Joshua to kill the unholy.'

Ruth released his hand and leaned back. 'You speak of the destruction of Ai and the thirty-two cities. "And so it was that all who fell that day, both of men and women, were twelve thousand, even all the men ofAi. For Joshua drew not his hand back. . until he had utterly destroyed all the inhabitants of Ai."'

'Yes, the very Book that Abaddon quoted to me. He said he had based all his methods on the atrocities of the people of Israel.'

'This hurt you, Jon — as it was intended to do.'

'How could it not hurt me? He was right. If I had lived in those days, and seen an invading army killing women and children, I would have fought against them with all my might. What was the difference between the children of Ai and the children of Karitas' village?'

'None,' said Ruth.

'Then Abaddon was right.'

'That is for you to decide.'

'I need to know what you think, Ruth. For I know there is no evil in you. Tell me.'

'I cannot walk your path, Jon, and I would not presume to tell you what was right five thousand years ago. I oppose Abaddon in a different way. He serves the Prince of Lies, the Lord of Deceit.

Here we answer that with the truth of Love — with Karitas, Jon.'

'Love does not turn aside bullets and knives.'

'No.'

'Then what good is it?'

'It turns hearts and minds.'

'Among the Hellborn?'

'We have more than two hundred converts among the Hellborn, despite the burnings and the killings. And the numbers grow daily.'

'How do you reach these converts?'

'My people go from here to live among the Hellborn.'

'By choice?'

'Yes.'

'And they are killed?'

'Many of them have died. Others will die.'

'But with all your power, you could destroy Abaddon and save their lives.'

That is part of the truth, Jon. True power comes only when one learns not to use it. It is one of the Mysteries. But now the hour is past, and you must leave on your journey.'

'But I have learned nothing.'

Time will tell. The boy, Selah, will remain here with us.'

'Does he desire this?'

'Yes. You may see him for your farewells.'

'Without him, Batik and I would have passed you by just like the Zealots?'

'Yes.'

'Because no evil may come here?'

'I am afraid so.'

Then I have learned something.'

'Use your knowledge well.'

Shannow followed Ruth back to his room and there lay his clothes, fresh and clean. He dressed and made to leave, but the grey-haired woman stopped him.

'You have forgotten your guns, Jon Shannow.'

They lay on the floor where he had left them and he bent to lift the belt. As he touched it, his harmony vanished. He swung the belt around his waist and walked through the door. Batik waited by the horses, and Selah stood by him. The boy was dressed now in a robe of white and he smiled as Shannow approached.

'I must stay,' he said. 'Forgive me.'

There is nothing to forgive, lad. You will be safe here.'

He mounted swiftly and rode from the buildings, Batik beside him. After a while he looked back, and the plain was empty.

The world is a strange place,' said Batik.

'Where did you go?'

'I stayed with the woman Ruth.'

'What did she tell you?'

'Probably less than she told you. I tell you this, though — I wish we had never found the place.'

'Amen to that,' said Shannow.

The two men skirted a great lake edged with pine forests, and the ground beyond the water rose into a section of rock hills. Shannow drew rein and scanned the area.

'If they are there, you wouldn't see them,' Batik pointed out.

Shannow moved the gelding forward and they rode with care to the crest of the hill. Below them the last section of the plain stretched to the foothills of the mountain range. There was no sign of the Zealots.

'You know their methods,' said Shannow. 'What would they have done once they lost us?'

They're not used to losing trails, Shannow. They would have possessed an eagle or a hawk and quartered the land looking for a sign. Since they couldn't see the buildings they would have then, perhaps, split up into their own sections and spread out for a search.'

Then where are they?'

'Damned if I know.'

'I don't like the idea of heading out into open ground.'

'No. Let's just sit here on the skyline until they spot us!'

Shannow grinned and urged the gelding down the hill. They rode for an hour over the undulating plain, discovering deep gulleys that scored the ground as if giant trowels had scooped away the earth. In one of these gulleys they came across a huge, curved bone some fifteen feet in length.

Shannow dismounted and left the gelding grazing. The bone was at least eight inches in diameter; Batik joined him and the two men lifted it.

'I wouldn't have wanted to meet the owner of this while he walked,' said the Hellborn. They dropped the bone and searched the ground. Jutting from the earth was a second bone and then Batik found a third, just showing in the tall grass ten paces to the right.

'It looks to be part of a rib-cage,' said Shannow. Thirty paces ahead Batik found an even larger section, with teeth attached. When the two men dug it clear, the bone was shaped like a colossal V.

'Have you ever seen anything with a mouth that big?' asked Batik. 'Or heard of such a thing?'

'Selah said there were monsters here; he said his father had seen them.'

Batik looked back. 'It must be thirty feet from head to rib-cage. Its legs must have been enormous.' They searched for some time, but found no evidence of such limbs.

'Maybe wolves took them,' suggested Batik.

Shannow shook his head. The leg bones would have been twice the thickness of the ribs; they must be here.'

'It's mostly buried — maybe the legs are way below ground.'

'No. Look at the curve of the bone jutting from the grass. The creature died on its back, otherwise we would find the vertebrae on the surface.'

'One of life's mysteries,' said Batik. 'Let's move on.'

Shannow dusted the dirt from his hands and mounted the gelding.

'I hate mysteries,' he said, staring down at the remains. 'There should be four legs. I wish I had time to examine it.'

'If wishes were fishes, poor men wouldn't starve,' said Batik. 'Let's go.'

They rode up out of the gulley, where Shannow dragged back on the reins and swung the gelding.

'What now?' asked Batik.

Shannow rode back to the edge and looked down. From here he could see the giant jaw and the ruined ribs of the creature. 'I think you have answered the mystery, Batik. It is a fish.'

'I am glad I didn't hook it. Don't be ridiculous, Shannow! First, it would be the great mother of all fishes — and second, how did it get into the middle of a plain?'

'The Bible talks about a great fish that swallowed one of the prophets — he sat in the belly of it and lived. Ten men could sit inside that rib-cage. And a fish has no legs.'

'Very well, it's a fish. Now you've solved it, we can go.'

'But, as you said, how did it get here?'

'I don't know, Shannow. And I don't care.'

'Karitas told me that in the Fall of the World the seas rose and drowned much of the lands and cities. This fish could have been brought here by a tidal wave.'

Then where is the sea? Where did it go?'

'Yes, that's true. As you say, it is a mystery.'

'I'm delighted we've solved that — now can we go?'

'Do you have no curiosity, Batik?'

The Hellborn leaned forward on his saddle. 'Indeed I have, my friend. I am curious as to the whereabouts of thirty-six trained killers; you probably find it strange that I seem so preoccupied.'

Shannow lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from the brim. The sun was high overhead, just past noon, and the sky was cloudless. A speck caught his eye — it was an eagle, circling high above them.

'For much of my life, Batik,' he said, 'I have been hunted. It is a fact of my existence. Brigands soon became aware of me, and my description was well circulated. I have never known when a bullet or an arrow or a knife might come at me from the shadows. After a while I became fatalistic. I am unlikely to die in my bed at a grand old age, for my life depends on my reflexes, my keen eyesight and my strength. All will fade one day, but until that day I will retain an interest in things of this world — things that I do not understand, but which I sense have a bearing on what we have become.'

Batik shook his head. 'Well, thank you for sharing your philosophy. Speaking for myself I am still a young man, in my prime, and I have every desire to be the oldest man the world has ever seen. I am beginning to think that Ruth was right. If I stay in your company, I am sure to die. So I think this is the time to say farewell.'

Shannow smiled. 'You are probably right. But it seems a shame to part so swiftly. Up there looks to be a good campsite. Let's share one last evening together?'

Batik's eyes followed Shannow's pointing finger to where, high up on a slope, was a circle of boulders. The Hellborn sighed and kicked his horse into a run. The ground within the circle was flat, and at the back of the ledge was a rock tank full of water. Batik dismounted and unsaddled his horse. Tomorrow, he decided, he would leave the Jerusalem Man to whatever fate his dark god intended.

Just before dusk Shannow lit a fire, despite Batik's protestations concerning the smoke, and brewed some tea. Thereafter he wrapped himself in his blankets against a rock wall and laid his head on his saddle.

‘For this you wanted my company?' asked Batik.

'Go to sleep. You've a long ride tomorrow.'

Batik lifted his blanket around his shoulders and settled down beside the fire. A loose rock dug into his side and he pried it loose. After a while he dropped into a light sleep.

The moon rose over the hills and a solitary owl swooped down over the camp and back up into the night. An hour passed and six shadows moved slowly up the slope, pausing at the edge of the rocks. The leader stepped into the campsite, pointing to the far rock face. Three men crept silently forward while the others stealthily approached Batik at the fire.

From his position twenty feet above the camp-site, wedged behind a jutting finger of rock, Shannow watched the men approach. His pistols levelled on the two men closest to Batik, he squeezed the triggers and flame blossomed, the guns bucking in his hands. The first of his targets was hurled from his feet, his lungs filling with blood; the second was slammed sideways as a bullet lodged in his brain.

Batik rolled from his blankets, pistol in hand. The third attacker fired as he moved, the bullet kicking up dirt some inches to Batik's right. His own pistol thundered a reply and the man was lifted from his feet and thrown backwards.

Shannow, meanwhile, had turned his guns On the men by his own blanket. Two of them had fired into what they thought was his sleeping body, and a ricochet from one of the rocks hidden there had slashed a wound in a Zealot's thigh. Now the man was kneeling and trying to staunch the blood gushing from the wound. Batik ran forward, dived and rolled to come up on one knee, firing as he rose. Shannow killed one of the men, but the second sprinted for the slope. Batik fired twice, missing his target, then lunged to his feet and gave chase.

The Zealot was almost to the foot of the slope when he heard Batik closing on him. He whirled and fired, the shell whistling past Batik's ear. Batik took aim and pulled the trigger, but there was a dull click. He cocked the pistol and tried again. It was empty. The Zealot grinned and raised his own pistol. .

A small hole appeared at the centre of his forehead, and the back of his head exploded.

As the Zealot tumbled to the ground, Batik spun round to see Shannow kneeling at the top of the slope, his pistol held two-handed. Batik cursed and ran back to the camp.

'You son of a slut,' he stormed. 'You left me like a sacrificial goat!'

'I thought you needed your sleep.'

'Don't give me that, Shannow; you planned this. When did you climb that damned rock?'

'About the time you started snoring.'

'Don't make jokes; they don't become you. I could have died tonight.'

Shannow moved forward, the moonlight glinting from his eyes, giving them a feral look.

'But you didn't, Batik. And if you want the lesson spelt out for you, it is this: while you were berating me, you failed to notice an eagle circling above us for over an hour. You also missed the reflection of sunlight on metal west of us before we found the bones, which is one of the reasons I was happy to stay hidden in the gully. You are a strong man, Batik, and a brave warrior. But you have never been hunted. You talk too much and you see too little. Dead if you remain with me? You won't live a day vnthout me!'

Batik's eyes blazed and he raised his pistol.

'Load it first, boy,' Shannow told him, moving towards his saddle and blankets.