'Of course,' said Shannow.

The wall-mounted unit flickered to life, the picture switching to a news text. The date and time were outlined in yellow at the top right-hand side of the screen.

'Mr Shannow!'

'What is it?'

'You have chosen a strange time to pa.s.s through the Gateway. We are only twelve minutes from the Fall.'

Shannow knew instantly how it had occurred. The last thought in his mind as the violet light had flared around him was to get to Arizona before the Fall. And he had remembered that awful morning as the plane lifted off - as indeed it was even now lifting off on that far coast.

'I need you with me, Lucas,' he said. 'Where is the portable Amaziga used?'

'She took one with her, Mr Shannow. There is a second, in the back bedroom - a small cupboard beneath the television and video units.' Shannow moved swiftly through to the room. The portable unit was even smaller than that which Amaziga had carried through to the world of the Bloodstone; Shannow almost missed it, believing it to be a stereo headset.

'Eight minutes, Mr Shannow,' came the calm voice of Lucas as the Jerusalem Man strode back into the main room.

'How do I hook up these leads?' he asked.

Lucas told him. Then: Take the blue lead and attach it to the point at the rear of the machine immediately above the main power socket.' Shannow did so. 'Transferring files,'

said Lucas. 'We have five minutes and forty seconds.'

'How long will the transfer take?'

Three minutes.'

Shannow moved to the doorway, staring out over the desert. It was still, and hot, the sky a searing blue. A huge jet pa.s.sed overhead, gliding west towards the runways of Los Angeles Airport - runways that would be under billions of tons of roaring ocean long before the plane touched down.

The earth trembled beneath Shannow's feet and he reached out, taking hold of the door- frame.

'Almost there, Mr Shannow,' said Lucas. 'I managed to save forty-two seconds. Unhook me - and put on the headset.'

Shannow unplugged the lead and clipped the portable to his gun-belt. There was no ON/OFF switch and Lucas's voice sounded tinny through the headphones. 'I think you had better run, Mr Shannow,' he said, his voice eerily calm.

The Jerusalem Man moved swiftly out of the house, leaping the porch steps and sprinting towards the old stone circle. 'One minute twelve seconds,' said Lucas.

The ground juddered . . . Shannow stumbled. Righting himself, he ran up the hill and into the circle.

'Get us back,' he said.

'What are the co-ordinates?' Lucas asked.

'Co-ordinates? What do you mean?'

'A trace. A date and a place. We must know where we are going?'

'Beth McAdam's farm ... but I don't know exactly when.' The wind began to build, clouds racing across the sky.

Twenty-eight seconds,' said Lucas. 'Hold tightly to the Stone, Mr Shannow.'

Violet light flared around them, as the wind shrieked and rose. 'Where are we going?'

shouted Shannow.

'Trust me,' said Lucas softly.

Clem Steiner eased back from the brow of the hill, keeping his body low as he clambered down to join the others. Zerah and the children had dismounted, Nestor still sat in the saddle.

'What did you see?' asked Zerah.

'Kids, you hold on to the horses,' said Clem, with a smile to Oz.

'I want to see!' Esther complained, in a high voice.

Clem lifted a finger to his lips. 'Best stay quiet, girl, for there are bad men close by.'

'Sorry,' whispered Esther, putting her hand over her mouth.

Nestor dismounted and, together with Clem and Zerah, walked to just below the hilltop before dropping down to his belly and removing his hat. The others crawled alongside. On the plain below, no more than two hundred yards away, Nestor could see a dozen riders in horned helms and black breastplates, holding rifles in their hands. They were riding slowly alongside a walking group of men, women and children - maybe seventy of them, guessed Nestor.

'What are they doing?' asked Nestor. 'Who are they?'

'h.e.l.lborn.'

'There aren't any h.e.l.lborn,' snapped the boy. They was all wiped out.'

Then this is obviously just a dream,' responded Clem testily.

'Oh, they're h.e.l.lborn all right,' said Zerah. 'Zeb and I were with Daniel Cade during the First h.e.l.lborn War. And those people with them are being treated as prisoners.'

Nestor saw that she was right. The h.e.l.lborn - if that's what they were - were riding with their rifles pointed in at the group. They're moving towards Pilgrim's Valley,' said Nestor, thinking of the quiet strength of Captain Leon Evans and his Crusaders. They'd know how to deal with the situation.

As if reading the youngster's mind, Clem spoke. They can already see the buildings in the distance, but it don't seem to worry them none,' he whispered.

'What does that mean?'

The old woman cut in. 'It means that the town is already taken - or everyone has gone.'

Nestor, whose eyes were sharper than his companions', spotted a rider in the distance galloping out from the settlement. As he neared, Nestor squinted to see better, but he did not know the man.

Clem Steiner swore softly. 'Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle,' he said. 'd.a.m.ned if that isn't Jacob Moon.'

Nestor had heard the name of the fearsome Jerusalem Rider. 'We have to help him,' he said. 'He can't take them alone!' He started to rise, but Clem dragged him down.

'Let's just watch, boy. I don't think Moon has come for a fight.'

Nestor swung on him, his face twisted in anger. 'Yes, I can believe you don't want to see Jacob Moon,' he hissed. 'He'd make short work of a thieving brigand named Laton Duke.'

The rider closed on the h.e.l.lborn and raised his hand in greeting. One of the prisoners, a woman in a flowing blue skirt, ran to Moon, grabbing at his leg. The Jerusalem Rider kicked out to send her sprawling to the dust. A young man shouted and leapt at the rider.

The gunshot echoed across the plain, and the man fell back screaming and clutching his shoulder.

'My G.o.d,' said Nestor, 'Moon is with them!'

'I'd say that was a pretty accurate a.s.sessment,' muttered Zerah. 'What I don't understand is why the h.e.l.lborn are taking prisoners. They didn't in the old days. Just blood and slaughter. It makes no sense. There can't be that many of them, so why waste time and men guarding prisoners? You understand it, Meneer Steiner?'

'No. But if Moon is involved there must be a profit in it. The man is a thief and a murderer - and possibly the fastest man with a pistol I ever knew.'

'As fast as you?' sneered Nestor.

Steiner appeared to ignore the sarcasm. 'I'd say faster. Let's hope it doesn't need to be put to the test.'

'Scared, are you?'

'Oh, for G.o.d's sake grow up!' snapped Clem. 'You think you're the first boy who ever learned that the world isn't made up of knights and damsels? Yes, I was ... am ... Laton Duke. And no, I'm not proud of it. I was weak where I should have been strong, and too d.a.m.n strong where I should have been weak. But I don't owe you anything, son, and you have no right to take out your bitterness on me. Now I've taken it so far, because you're a nice lad, and learning about the Deacon's lies was a bitter blow for you. But you'd better shape up, son, because we're in deep water here and I fear we'll be lucky to get out with our lives.'

'You heed those words, young man,' said Zerah. 'I got two children to take care of and the forces of evil seem mighty strong in these parts right now. I don't believe it would be smart to war amongst ourselves.' Turning to Clem, she smiled. 'Where to now, Meneer Brigand?'

There's a woman I know lives near by ... if she's still alive. We'll make for her place. You agreed on that, Nestor, or do you want to ride your own road?'

Nestor fought down a cutting response and took a deep breath. 'I'll ride with you that far,'

he said.

Amaziga Archer's mind was calm as the wind screamed above the old Aztec temple, tearing rocks from the ancient walls, hurling them through the air as if they were made of paper.

Uprooted trees smashed against the walls and the noise was deafening as she and Sam cowered in the underground chamber. The storm wind was still increasing - close to miles an hour, she remembered from her studies of the Fall of the world. As the earth toppled on its axis the setting sun rose in the west, the winds howled across the earth, to be followed by a tidal wave the like of which no man or woman had ever seen -and lived.

What strange beings we are, thought Amaziga, as she sheltered from the terrible storm.

Why are we hiding, when the tidal wave will destroy us both? Why not stand outside and let the demon winds carry us up to the Heavens? She knew the answer. The instinct for survival - to cling to those precious last seconds of life.

As suddenly as it had come the wind died.

Amaziga stumbled outside, Sam following, and ran up the hill - scrambling over fallen trees, clambering up on to the steps of the pyramid, higher and higher, all the time watching the west for the gigantic wall of death that would soon be bearing down upon them. What was it the Prophet Isaiah had predicted? And the seas shall tip from their bowls, and not one stone be left upon another.

Wise old man, she thought, as she climbed the last steps to the summit.

'Look!' shouted Sam.

Amaziga swung to the west. The sight was incredible beyond belief and, just for a second, she felt privileged to see it. The oncoming wall was black and filled the sky. A thousand feet high. More. Much more, she realised, for here, in this remote jungle they were already two thousand feet above sea level.

'Oh, G.o.d!' whispered Sam. 'Dear G.o.d!'

They clung to one another as the wall raced towards them. 'I love you, Sam. Always have - always will.'

Glancing down at her, he smiled. Then he kissed her lightly upon the lips.

Violet light flared around them, and a great roaring filled their ears . . .

As the light faded they found themselves standing on an island, no more than sixty yards in diameter, the ocean all around them as far as the eye could see. Jon Shannow waS standing some ten feet away, but he was so much older than when last they said their farewells, his beard long and white, streaked with shades of darker grey. He was wearing the portable computer.

Amaziga grinned at him. 'I don't know how you did it, but I'm grateful,'she said.

'It wasn't me, lady,' he told her, unclipping the machine and removing the headphones, which he pa.s.sed to her. Amaziga slipped them into place, and heard the soft sweet sound of Lucas's voice.

'Electronic cavalry, darling,' he said.

'What did you do?'

'I moved us forward six days. The tidal wave has pa.s.sed, the sea receding.'

'How did you find me?'

'Ah, Amaziga, I am always linked with you. I need no coordinates. The man Lucas loved you until the moment he died. Beyond, perhaps - I don't know. Therefore I love you too. Is that so strange?'

'No,' she said, humbled. 'Where can we go?'

'Under normal circ.u.mstances,' he said, 'anywhere you desired. But the Stone is Mr Shannow's, and he is fighting the Bloodstone. I need co-ordinates to bring him home. A date I can home in on.'

Amaziga called out to Shannow, who came across and sat beside her. For some time she questioned him about the events leading up to his journey through the Gateway, but there was nothing she could use. Sam joined in, asking about the positions of the stars, the cycles of the moon, the seasons. At last Amaziga gave up. 'We have to think of something else,' she said.

Shannow leaned back, weary and fighting back despair.

'You look more human as an old man,' said Amaziga, 'less fearsome.'

Shannow smiled. 'I know. I met. . . myself . . . Not a happy encounter. To see such youth, and to know where he was headed, yet being able to say nothing. Strange, as a young man newly wounded with no memory, I saw an ancient man who looked close to death. He said I could call him Jake. I recognised nothing of myself in him. And then to meet him again, as Jake, and see a face without lines and wrinkles, a body possessing the strength and suppleness I had long forgotten. He looked like a boy to me.'

Amaziga leaned forward. 'You met him in the mountains? Before he went to Domango?'

'One day before,' said Shannow.

'And how long after the meeting did you travel through the Gateway?'

'Eight. . . nine days, I think. Why?'

'Because I met you on the outskirts of Domango. Lucas knows that date. If we move forward . . . say ten days, we should get you back in the same time line. What do you think, Lucas?'

'Yes, I can do that,' Lucas told her. 'The question is where. I have no files on the power point Shannow used. We will have to come through elsewhere. You know the area. Where do you suggest?'

'There's a strong power centre close to Pilgrim's Valley. I used it myself twice,' she said.