Stones Of Power - The Complete Chronicles Of The Jerusalem Man Part 22

Above him the owl silently swooped to a thick branch, but Madden had been waiting for it.

His shot blew it apart and feathers drifted down to where he lay.

'Get to your horse,' whispered the voice. 'You have less than a minute.'

With a groan Madden levered himself upright. His thigh was bleeding badly, but the bone was unbroken. He limped to the hollow and pulled himself into the saddle. Ripping the reins loose he swung the horse and thundered from the hollow. Then a bullet took him low in the back and pain seared him like hot irons. Leaning forward over the saddle, he urged the horse into a full gallop towards the west.

His eyes drifted closed.

'Stay awake,' came the voice. To sleep is to die.'

He could not sit upright for the pain in his back, and could feel the blood drenching his back and leg. Doggedly he hung on until he crested the last hill, seeing the settlement spread out below him.

The horse galloped on and Madden pa.s.sed into darkness.

Shannow and Batik stripped the corpses of ammunition and supplies, but when the Jerusalem Man made to transfer the Zealots' dried meat to his own saddlebags Batik stopped him.

'I do not think you would find it to your taste,' he said.

'Meat is meat.'

'Indeed, Shannow? Even if it is stripped from the bodies of young children?'

Shannow hurled the meat aside and swung on Batik. 'What kind of a society do you come from,-Batik? How could this be allowed?'

'It is meat from the sacrificial offerings. According to Holy Law the flesh, when absorbed by the pure Zealots, brings harmony to the departed spirit of the victim.'

'The Carns were at least more honest,' said Shannow. Taking his knife, he cut hair from the tails of the h.e.l.lborn horses and began twisting it into twine. Batik ignored him and moved to the outer circle of rocks, staring out over the plain.

He felt humbled by Shannow's outburst following the attack; he felt young and stupid. The Jerusalem Man was right; he had no experience of being hunted, and would be an easy prey to the Zealots. And yet if Ruth was right - and he believed she was - then to stay with Shannow meant death anyway. Foolish and arrogant he might have been, but Batik was not without intellect.. At present his chances of survival rested with Shannow; the real trick would be timing the moment of their parting to give him a chance at life. Perhaps if he observed the Jerusalem Man for long enough, some of his innate skill would rub off on the young h.e.l.lborn.

He scanned the plain for sign of movement, but there was nothing suspicious. No birds flew, no deer moved out on the gra.s.s. As dawn lightened the sky Shannow and Batik rode from the rocks, veering east along the mountain's foothills. After an hour they came to a curling pa.s.s cutting through the peaks and Shannow urged the gelding up over the scree and into the narrow channel. Batik swung in the saddle to study the back trail. His eyes widened - just short of the far horizon twelve riders were galloping their horses.

'Shannow!'

'I know,' said the Jerusalem Man. Take the horses into the pa.s.s. I'll join you later.'

'What are you going to do?'

Without answering, Shannow slid from the saddle and clambered into the rocks high above the pa.s.s.

Batik rode on, leading Shannow's horse. The trail widened into a bowl-shaped valley, edged with forests of spruce and pine. Batik led the horses to a stream and dismounted; Shannow joined him almost an hour later.

'Let's move,' he said and the two men rode across the valley, scattering a herd of heavy- horned buffalo and crossing several small streams before Shannow called a halt. He glanced at the sun, then turned his horse to face the west. Batik joined him, saying nothing. It was obvious that Shannow was listening and concentrating. For some time nothing happened, then a gunshot split the silence. Two more followed. Shannow waited, his hand raised, three fingers extended. Another shot. Shannow seemed tense. A fifth shot.

That's it,' said Shannow.

'What did you do?'

'I set up tripwires and wedged five h.e.l.lborn pistols into rocks overlooking the trail.'

Batik smiled. They'll rue the day they started hunting you, Shannow.'

'No, they'll just get more careful. They underestimated me. Now let's hope they overestimate my talents - it will give us more time.'

'I wonder if we hit any of them,' said Batik.

'Probably one. The other shots might have hit horses. But they'll proceed now with caution. We will ride through every narrow channel we can, whether it be between rocks or trees or bushes. They will have to stop and check every one for possible ambush and they won't catch us for days.'

'Aren't you overlooking something?'

'Like what?'

'Like we are heading west, back into h.e.l.lborn country. They'll have patrols ahead of us.'

'You are learning, Batik. Keep at it.'

Towards dusk Batik spotted some buildings to the north and they swung their horses and cantered down a gentle slope towards them. They were of white stone and spread over three acres. Some were more than single-storey, with outside staircases winding up to crenellated marble towers. Shannow eased his gun into his hand as they closed on the town. But there was no sign of life. The streets were cobbled and the iron horseshoes clattered oh the stones.

The moon came out from behind dark clouds, bathing the scene in silver light, and suddenly the town took on a ghostly look. As the two men rode into a central square, Shannow drew rein alongside a statue of an armoured warrior wearing a plumed helmet; his left arm was missing, but in his right he held a short broad-bladed sword.

On the other side of the square was a broad avenue, lined with statues of young women in flowing robes, which led to a low palace with a high oval doorway.

There is no wood anywhere,' said Batik, riding up to the doorway and running his hands over the stone.

Both men dismounted and tethered their horses and Shannow stepped inside the palace.

Statues ringed the central hall and moving to each in turn, he studied them. Some were regal women, others young men of lofty bearing. Still more were older men, heavy-bearded and wise. On the far wall, past a raised dais, was a mosaic in bright-coloured stones showing a king in a golden chariot followed by an army of plumed warriors bearing long spears and bows.

'I have never seen clothes like these,' said Batik. The warriors appear to have worn skirts of wood or leather, studded with bronze.'

They could be Israelites,' said Shannow. This might be one of the old cities. But why no wood?'

Batik wandered to another wall, then called Shannow to him. In an alcove, piled against a corner, were crushed goblets and plates of solid gold. Flowing script had been engraved on the goblets, but Shannow could not read it. Near a doorway he found a golden hilt, but with no dagger attached. He pressed his finger inside the hilt and withdrew it; the faintest red stained his skin.

'Rust,' said Shannow. 'No wood, no metal. Only stone.'

'I wonder why no one lives here,' said Batik. 'It wouldn't take much to restore this place.'

'Would you live here?' asked Shannow.

'Well... no. It is a little sinister.'

Shannow nodded. The bright moonlight shone through an upper window in a shaft of silver, illuminating a broad staircase. Climbing it, Shannow found himself in a round room open to the sky. The stars were bright and at the centre of the room, an equal distance apart, were four golden eagles, each flat on one side. Shannow lifted one and a golden screw fell from a small hole hi a wing.

'I think it was a bed ornament,' said Shannow.

The king's bedchamber,' said Batik. 'A little chilly.'

They returned to the main hall and Shannow noticed that Batik was sweating heavily. 'Are you all right?'

'No. My vision keeps blurring and I feel dizzy.'

'Sit down for a moment,' said Shannow. 'I'll get some water.'

Leaving Batik, he started to walk towards the horses but missed a step and staggered, his vision misting. Reaching out, he took the arm of a statue and held himself upright. When he looked up into the blank stone eyes, Shannow heard a roaring in his ears. Taking a deep breath he staggered to the doorway, nausea rising to choke him.

He fell heavily on the outer step. Bright sunlight bathed hun and he looked up. People were moving in the square, the men clad in bronze armour and leather kilts, the women in flowing robes of silk or cotton.

Flower-sellers thronged the streets and here and there children gathered to play on the shiny stones. Suddenly the sky darkened, clouds racing across the heavens. The sun flashed away towards the east and in the distance a colossal black wall moved towards the city. Shannow screamed, but no one heard him. The wall advanced, blotting out the sky to thunder across the city. Water filled Shannow's lungs and he clung to the door-posts, choking and dying . . .

His eyes opened to the moon and the silent city. Shaking, he rolled to his knees, took the canteen of water from his horse and returned to Batik.

'Did you see it?' asked Batik, his face grey, his eyes haunted.

'The tidal wave?'

'Yes, this whole city was under the sea. That's why there was no wood or metal. And your giant fish - you were right; it was dumped here.'

'Yes.'

'What the h.e.l.l is this place, Shannow?'

'I don't know. Karitas said the world was destroyed by the sea. But as you said, where did the sea go? This city must have been under water for centuries for all the wood and metal to disappear.'

There is another thought, Shannow,' said Batik, sitting up. 'If all the world was destroyed by the sea, and yet this city is above the ocean, perhaps there have been two Armageddons?'

'I do not understand you.'

The Fall of the World, Shannow. Perhaps it happened twice?'

That could not be.'

'You told me yourself that Karitas talked about an Ark of Noah; you told me about a great flood which covered the earth. That was before Armageddon.'

Shannow turned away.' "The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be done, and there is no new thing under the sun."'

'What is that?'

The words of Solomon. And very soon after that he writes, "There is no remembrance of former things, neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after."'

Batik chuckled and then laughed aloud, the sound echoing hi the dead palace.

'What is amusing you?'

'If I am right, Shannow, it means we are now sitting on what was once die floor of the ocean.'

'I still do not see what is amusing.'

'It is you. If what was sea is now land, therefore what was land is now sea. So, Shannow, you wUl need gills to find Jerusalem!'

'Only if you are right, Batik.'

True. I wonder what this city was. I mean, look at the statues; they must have been great men. And now no one will ever know of their greatness.'

Shannow studied the closest statue in the moonlight. It was of an old man with a tightly curled white beard and a high domed forehead. His right hand was held across his chest, and it carried a scroll. In the left, he had what looked like a tablet of stone.

'I don't think,' said Shannow at last, 'that he would have minded about immortality. He has a look of contentment. Of wisdom.'

'I wonder who he was.'

'A lawmaker. A prophet. A king.' Shannow shrugged. 'Whatever, he must have been a great man - his statue stands higher than all the others.'

'He was Paciades,' said a voice. Shannow rolled to his right and his pistol levelled at a tall figure standing in a doorway to the left. The man advanced into the hall, holding his hands out from his body. He was some six feet tall and his skin was black as ebony.

'I am sorry to startle you,' he said. 'I saw your horses.'

'What in Heaven's name are you?' asked Shannow, rising to his feet and keeping the gun trained on the man.

'I am a man.'

'But you are black. Are you of the Devil?'

'It is strange,' said the man without rancour, 'how the same prejudices can cling to the minds of men, no matter what the circ.u.mstances. No, Mr Shannow, I am not of the Devil.'

'How do you know my name?'

'Ruth contacted me and asked me to look out for you.'

'Are you armed?'

'No, not as you would understand it.'

'If you have come peacefully, I apologize,' said Shannow, 'but we are being hunted and I will take no risks. Batik, search him.' The h.e.l.lborn approached the man cautiously and ran his hands over the grey tunic and black leggings.

'No weapons,' he reported and Shannow sheathed his pistol.

'I'll check outside,' said Batik.

'If it's clear, gather some kindling for a fire,' asked Shannow, beckoning the stranger to sit.

The black man stretched himself out and smiled.

'You are a careful man, Mr Shannow. I like to see that - it shows intelligence and that appears to be a rare commodity in this new world of ours.'

'Why would Ruth contact you?' asked Shannow, ignoring the statement.

'We have known each other for some years. We may disagree on points of theology, but in the main we seek the same ends.'