Stones Of Power - The Complete Chronicles Of The Jerusalem Man Part 43

'You are a skilful man - you can avoid them.'

Shannow sat silently, staring into the muzzle of the black rifle and feeling the tension cast by the Guardian.

'Was I wrong about you, Lewis? I took you to be a good man in the Archer mould. I did not see you as a butcher of women and children, as a blood-sucking vampire.'

'I am a soldier. Don't make me kill you.'

'What happened to the Ark?'

Lewis licked his lips. Tonight we are celebrating Rebirth. Every year at this time we bring some aspect of the past to life, to show that what we guard is real and solid and not just a memory. Tonight the Ark sails once more in all her glory. Now leave, for G.o.d's sake!'

'G.o.d, Lewis? The Lords of the h.e.l.lborn speak of G.o.d? Tell it to the wind. Tell it to the farmers nailed to trees, and to the women spreadeagled and butchered. But don't tell it to me!'

'We did not create wars, Shannow. For centuries we have tried to steer mankind back to civilization but it hasn't worked. There was no unity. Sarento says that without unity there is no order, without order there is no law and without law no civilization. All great advances have come as a result of war. It will be different soon, Shannow. We are going to rebuild cities and we will make the world a garden. Please ride away.'

'I know nothing of your lost civilization, Lewis,' said Shannow softly. 'Karitas would never tell me. I don't know whether it was beautiful, but if that gun you are holding is an example of what they had then I doubt it. Did some version of the h.e.l.lborn exist even then, sweeping across the land to bring death to thousands? Or were there weapons even more terrible than that monstrosity? Perhaps whole cities were wiped out. And you want to bring this back? Some time ago I was wounded and I was taken to a small village.

Peaceful people, Lewis; happy people. They were led by a man who was once a Guardian, but they're not alive now. The women were raped and then their throats were cut. And Karitas? He was crucified. I don't doubt that if their spirits were still here, they would applaud your dream. But then their souls aren't here, are they? They were sucked into your Blood Stone to fuel more death and despair.'

'That's enough! I was told to kill you and I've disobeyed that order. If you leave now, you'll live, Shannow. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'

'Of course it does, Lewis. No man wants to die and that's why I am talking to you.I don't want to kill you, but I must find the Stone.'

Lewis lifted the rifle to his shoulder. 'If you do not turn this instant, I will send you to h.e.l.l.'

'But that's where I want to go, Lewis. That's where it is,' answered Shannow, pointing to the Ark.

In the bright moonlight Shannow saw Lewis tense, the rifle b.u.t.t being drawn more tightly into his shoulder. The Jerusalem Man hurled himself from the saddle just as the rifle exploded in a thundering roar of sh.e.l.ls. He hit the ground hard and rolled behind a boulder as chips and fragments screamed around him. Then he came to his knees with his pistol in his hand. His horse was down, thrashing its legs in the air, and a coldness settled on Shannow as he c.o.c.ked the pistol and dived to the left, rolling on his shoulder. Lewis spun, the rifle bucking in his hands, sh.e.l.ls sending spurts of earth and stone to Shannow's right. The pistol levelled and a single shot punched Lewis from his feet. Shannow moved to the body: Lewis was dead. The Jerusalem Man walked to the dying horse and shot it through the head, then he reloaded his pistol and began the long walk to the ruins.

'No man wants to die, Lewis.' The words came back to him and he felt the truth of them.

Shannow didn't want to die; he wanted to find Jerusalem and to know peace. He looked up at the Ark and the glowing lights, listening to the music. Then he glanced back at Lewis'

body, merging with the moon shadows.

He walked on to the rock doorway and there, drawing his pistol, he stepped to the side. As the door opened, Shannow's pistol came up, but the steel tunnel beyond was empty.

Keeping to the wall, he stepped inside and the door closed behind him. There were no stairs leading down, no doorways that he could see and he cursed softly.

The elevator door whispered open, beckoning him. Sheathing his pistol, he stepped inside.

The doors closed and the elevator lurched slightly; when they opened again he saw what he had expected to see: armed guards with pistols pointed at his chest. They were dressed strangely in flat dark blue peaked caps and doubled-breasted serge jackets. In their midst stood the giant Sarento in a similar suit, but white, with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and blue epaulettes each bearing three gold bars.

'You really are a disappointing man, Mr Shannow,' Sarento greeted him.

The guards moved in and disarmed the Jerusalem Man, who offered them no resistance.

He was led out and found himself, not in the shining hallway he remembered, but in an enormous room filled with extravagantly carved furniture, luxurious carpets and stained gla.s.s windows.

'Magnificent, is it not?' said Sarento.

Shannow said nothing. He stared in silent wonder at the stained gla.s.s depicting sailing ships and Biblical saints, surrounded by gilded panels of exquisite carpentry.

'Why did you come back, Mr Shannow?'

'To destroy you.'

'Did you really believe you could work one of your Brigand-killing miracles amongst the Guardians? Surely not?'

People started to filter into the room - all were dressed in curious fashion. The women wore long elaborate dresses; the men had black coats and white shirts.

Take him below,' said Sarento. 'I'll see him later.'

The four guards walked Shannow to a carpeted staircase and on to a door bearing a bra.s.s plaque: B-S9. Inside was a four-poster bed with velvet curtains and a small writing table inlaid with gold.

'Sit down,' said one of the guards, a young man with short cropped blond hair. 'Make yourself comfortable.'

They waited in uneasy silence until Sarento joined them. He removed his white cap and dropped it to the table.

'Tell me about the ship,' said Shannow and Sarento chuckled.

'You are a cool man, Mr Shannow. I like you.' The giant sat back on the bed and peeled off his white gloves. 'Are you impressed by Rebirth?" 'Of course,' admitted Shannow. 'And so you should be. This was one of the largest ships ever made. It was eight hundred and eighty-two feet long and weighed 46, 000 tons. It was a miracle of engineering, and one of the wonders of the ancient world.' Shannow suddenly laughed. 'What is amusing you, sir?'

'Do you like parables, Sarento? It seems to me that this ship mirrors your lunatic dreams - opulent and civilized, and buried by the sea.'

'Except that we have brought it back,' snapped Sarento.

'Yes, to sit on a mountain above the ruins of a civilization you did not know even existed. A ship on a mountain - huge and useless, like your ambition.'

'A ship on a mountain? Come with me, Mr Shannow. I would like to show you what real power is.'

With the guards around him, Sarento led Shannow to the upper promenade and out on to the boat deck. The sea stretched out to a distant horizon and the Ark glided majestically on a star-speckled ocean. Shannow could smell the salt in the air, while gulls wheeled and dived above the giant funnels.

'Stunning, is it not?' asked Sarento.

Shannow shivered. 'This is not possible.'

'All things are possible with the Mother Stone.'

'And we are truly at sea?'

'No. The Ark sits as always on her mountain. What you are seeing and feeling is an image projected by magic. However, were you to cut a hole in the ship's side water would pour in - salt water. For the Stone would carry on the charade. And if you were to jump over the side, you would hit the sea, ice-cold and deadly. But then you would pa.s.s through it and plummet to the ruins of Atlantis. This is power, Mr Shannow, just a fraction of the power the Stone can hold. Had I wished it, the Ark would sail on a real sea. One day it will and then I will sail it into the harbour of New York.'

'How many souls will that cost?' asked Shannow.

'You have a small mind, Shannow.' Sarento shook his head. 'What are a few lives compared with a golden future?'

'Can we go back inside?' said Shannow. 'It's a little cold out here.'

'We can, Shannow. You, I'm afraid, are leaving the ship here.'

'Just when I was beginning to enjoy it,' said Shannow. Then as Sarento signalled the guards forward, he crouched and whipped the double-edged hunting knife from his boot.

The first guard died as the blade slashed across his throat; Shannow s.n.a.t.c.hed the man's pistol from his hand and leapt at Sarento. As the big man dived to the deck, Shannow followed him, dropping the knife and hauling at Sarento's collar - the pistol c.o.c.ked, the barrel pushing under Sarento's chin.

'Be so kind as to tell your guards to put up their weapons,' hissed Shannow, hauling Sarento to his feet.

The three remaining guards looked to their leader.

'Do it,' he said. 'I shall end this farce in my own way.'

'Take me to the Stone,' said Shannow.

'But of course. Your infantile heroics have earned you that, at the very least.'

'I congratulate you on your calm.'

'You may feel vou have the upper hand, Mr Shannow, but the magic that raised the Ark from the sea floor will not be undone by a madman with a h.e.l.lborn revolver.'

Sarento led the way below.

And the t.i.tanic sailed on through the ghostly sea ...

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Abaddon's dreams were troubled and he awoke clutching at the air. The black silk sheets were damp with sweat and he rolled to his feet. He had felt so good three hours before when Donna Taybard had been brought to Babylon. And tonight the reign of the h.e.l.lborn would begin in earnest; all the star charts had confirmed it. Donna was the sacrifice the Devil had been waiting for, and all the powers of h.e.l.l would flow through Abaddon the moment he devoured her.

Yet now the h.e.l.lborn king sat trembling on his bed, plagued by nameless fears which had haunted his dreams. He had seen Jon Shannow deep in h.e.l.l, battling Beelzebub with sword and pistol. And then the Jerusalem Man had turned his eyes on Abaddon, and in those eyes the king saw death.

The fear would not pa.s.s and Abaddon moved to the cabinet by the window and poured a goblet of wine, sipping it until his nerves settled. He thought of summoning Achnazzar, but dismissed it. The High Priest had become increasingly nervous in the king's presence these last few days.

'Daddy!' The child's cry jerked Abaddon from his reverie and he swung round, but the room was empty. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a long rectangular mirror and stood, drawing in his belly to present a powerful profile.

Abaddon, Lord of the Pit!

'Daddy!' This time the sound came from the sitting room beyond. Abaddon ran through the open doorway only to be confronted by an empty desk and an open window. He blinked and wiped the sweat from his face.

In the streets beyond the palace walls he could hear the chants of the mob: 'Satan! Satan!

Satan!'

Walpurnacht was a night of beauty when the people could see their G.o.d walking amongst them, feel his presence in the air about them, see his image in the glow of their Blood Stones.

But this night was special. This night saw the dawning era of the h.e.l.lborn, for when Donna Taybard's powers flowed into the knives and her body was consumed by the Master, the magic of h.e.l.l would be unleashed upon the world.

The Lord of the Pit would become the King of the Earth.

'I'm frightened, Daddy.'

Abaddon whirled round to see a blonde child of seven, hugging a threadbare doll.

'Sarah?'

The child ran away into the bedroom and Abaddon followed, but the room was empty. He knew it was a hallucination, for Sarah had been dead for centuries. The wine was too strong.

But so were the memories ... He poured another gla.s.s and returned to the mirror, staring at the bloodshot grey eyes and the flowing hair now silver at the temples. The face was as it had been for decades - a middle-aged man, strong and in his prime.

It was not Lawrence Welby who stared back at him. Welby was dead - as dead as his wife and daughter.

'I am the king,' he whispered. The Satanlord. Go away, Welby. Don't stare at me. Who are you to judge?'

'Read me a story, Daddy.'

'Leave me alone!' he screamed, squeezing shut his eyes and refusing to see the apparition he knew lay upon his bed.

'Read her a story, Lawrence. You know she won't sleep until you do.'

Welby opened his eyes and drank in the sight of the golden-haired woman by the door.

'Ruth?'

'Have you forgotten how to read a story?'

'This is a dream.'

'Don't forget us, Lawrence.'

'Are you truly here?' he asked, stumbling forward. But the golden-haired woman vanished and Welby sank to his knees.

The door opened. 'Ruth?'

'No, my Lord. Are you ill?'

Abaddon pushed himself to his feet. 'How dare you come here unannounced, Achnazzar!'

said the king.

'The guards came for me, sire. They said you sounded . . . distraught.'

'I am well. What do the star charts show?'

'Magelin says it is a time of great change, as one would expect at the dawn of an empire.'