'No. My father was a farmer and the h.e.l.lborn killed him.'

The world's changing too fast for my liking,' said Simmonds. 'Repeating rifles, boy generals, Brigand prophets and Devil worshippers from the Plague Lands! I'm too old for this.'

'Can we leave a hundred of your men here?' asked Gambion. Then I'll take you to Cade.'

'Sure. Is your general staying?'

'He is,' said Ja.n.u.s. 'For four more days. Then we make for Sweet.w.a.ter.'

'All right. What happened to your head, Gambion?'

'Horse kicked it.'

'I expect you had to shoot the horse,' said Simmonds.

Shannow and Batik were camped in a shaded spot near a waterfall when Ruth appeared.

Batik dropped his mug of water and leapt backwards, tripping over a rock and sprawling beside the fire. Shannow smiled.

'You must excuse my friend, Ruth. He is very nervous these days.'

'How are you, Batik?' she asked.

'Well, Lady. Yourself?'

She seemed older than when they had last seen her; dark rings circled her eyes and her cheeks were sunken. Her iron-grey hair had lost its sheen and the eyes themselves were listless.

'I am as you see me,' she said softly.

'Are you truly here with us?' asked Shannow.

'I am here and there,' she answered.

'Can you eat? Drink? If you can, you are welcome to share what we have.'

She shook her head and remained silent. Shannow was at a loss and moved to the fire.

Wrapping his hand in a cloth he lifted the small copper pot from the flames and mixed some herbs into the water; then he stirred the tea with a stick before pouring it into a mug.

Batik spread his blankets and removed his boots. Ruth remained statue-still, regarding them both.

'How goes your quest?' she asked and Shannow shrugged, aware that her question was merely the precursor of heavier words. 'What did you make of the Guardians?'

'I liked Archer. Lewis seemed a good man.'

'Who leads them?' she asked.

'You do not know?'

'A long time ago Karitas urged me to respect their privacy.'

'It is a man called Sarento.'

'Did you like him?'

'An odd question, Ruth. What does it matter?'

'It matters, Mr Shannow. For you are a man of Talent. You are a Sensitive and you have not stayed alive this long merely by being skilful with weapons. You have a knack of being in the right place at the right time. You judge men too shrewdly. In a way, your powers in this respect are greater than mine. For mine have been cultivated over the centuries while yours are latent, unchannelled. Did you like him?'

'No.'

'Did you judge him to be ... UnG.o.dly?'

'He reminded me of Abaddon - the same arrogance.'

'And he offered you weapons?'

'Yes.'

'Why did you refuse?'

'War is a vile game, Ruth, and the innocent die along with the guilty. I want nothing to do with the war itself; my only interest is in avenging Donna.'

'Avenging? She is not dead yet.'

Shannow sat very still. 'Truly?'

'Would I lie?'

'No. Can I reach her before they kill her?'

'No, Mr Shannow, but I can.'

'Will you?'

'I am not sure. Something has been troubling me for some time now, and yesterday I made a discovery that frightened me - that rocked all my long-built security. The h.e.l.lborn are not the enemy. We are not dealing with an evil race; they are p.a.w.ns in a game I cannot understand.'

'Are you saying that the h.e.l.lborn are not at war?' asked Shannow, That they are not butchering their way across the continent?'

'Of course not. But why are they doing it?'

'To conquer,' answered Batik. 'Why else?'

'I thought that before yesterday - but believe me, my friends, I have been very stupid. You are a Bible-reading man, Mr Shannow, and you have read of possession. Demons? The h.e.l.lborn are possessed and the power emanates from Abaddon. He is the centre, but even he does not understand the source of his power; he is being used.'

'By the Devil?' said Shannow.

'No... or perhaps yes, in another form. There is a force that I have traced which focuses on Abaddon and is dispersed by him throughout the h.e.l.lborn lands, touching the Blood Stone of every man, woman and child. Quite simply it is hatred, l.u.s.t, greed. It covers the land like an invisible fog and it travels with his armies, bloated like a great slug.'

'It will be gone then when I kill him,' said Shannow.

That is not the point, Mr Shannow. The source is where the evil lies . . . and I have traced that source, and the power there is incredible.'

'You speak of the Guardians,' said Shannow.

'Indeed I do.'

'You say you traced the source?' asked Batik.

'It is a giant stone. It feeds, if that is the word, on soul power - ESPer talents, call them what you will.'

'Where is this Stone?' said Shannow.

'It is lodged beneath the mountain of the Ark and from there it draws power from every Blood Stone in the h.e.l.lborn empire. It must be destroyed, Mr Shannow; its power must be ended. Or else a new dark age will fall upon the world, if not the destruction of the world itself.'

'Why do you come to me? I cannot defeat magic with a pistol.'

'Nor can I approach the Stone. It registers my power. But there is a way. The Atlanteans found a method of harnessing the energies of their Stones, trapping the power. The secret is in the monolith circles around the altars. They built the standing Stones as conduits of power which transmit and receive the energy. The Mother Stone was so powerful that special monoliths were constructed. Inset into each structure is a spool of golden wire. If the conduits are linked by gold, no energy can pa.s.s to the Stone at the centre. It will become drained, and eventually useless.'

'Why should the gold still be there?' asked Shannow. 'Does Sarento not know its danger?'

The spools are hidden within the monoliths. But, yes, he may have discovered their use and removed them. That you must find out.'

'I? This is not my war, Ruth.'

'Do you not care that the world may die?'

'I care that Donna Taybard lives.'

'Are you bargaining with me?'

'Call it what you will.'

'I cannot kill, and rescuing her may take just that.'

'Then you destroy the Mother Stone.'

'How could you ask this of me?'

'Let me understand you, Lady. You want me to risk my life against the Guardians? And yet you know they will try to stop me and that I will kill all who come against me. Apparently that sits all right with your principles. But to save a woman, and perhaps kill the UnG.o.dly to do it - that is against your principles?'

'I will not argue, Mr Shannow. I have neither the strength nor the time. What I can do is to take Batik to Donna. Will that suffice?'

Shannow shook his head. 'I have no right to ask Batik to put himself in danger.'

'I wish I knew what you two were babbling about,' said Batik, 'and I'm fascinated to know at what point you bring me into this conversation.'

'It does not concern you,' said Shannow.

'What are you, my mother?' snapped Batik. 'You don't make decisions for me. Saving the world may be a horse I can't saddle, but pulling one wench from a dungeon in Babylon?

Who knows, perhaps I can tackle that without falling over?'

'You know d.a.m.ned well it's more than that,' said Shannow. 'You owe Donna nothing - why should you put your life at risk?'

'If you're looking for selfish reasons, my friend, tell me this: Ruth says the world could perish if the Mother Stone is not destroyed. If that is the case, where would you suggest I hide?'

'Let me think on it,' said Shannow.

'What is to think about?' asked the h.e.l.lborn. 'You want to avenge Karitas? Sarento is the man responsible. Abaddon is a p.a.w.n in his game, and you don't win wars by killing p.a.w.ns.'

'I will deal with Abaddon,' said Ruth. 'I promise you that.'

'And how will you get Batik to Babylon?'

'With my own magic.'

'I asked how.'

'I shall dismantle his molecular structure, absorb it into my own and rea.s.semble him when I arrive.'

'Rea.s.semble - what's she talking about, Shannow?'

'There is little danger to you, Batik,' declared Ruth. 'It is how I travel.'

'But you have done this before, with other people, yes?' asked the h.e.l.lborn.

'No,' she admitted.

'Why did you have to ask her, Shannow? I preferred it when she said by magic.'

'You still want to go?' asked the Jerusalem Man.

'I said so, didn't I?'

Try not to get yourself killed,' said Shannow, offering his hand. Batik took it and shrugged.

'I'll do my best. Tell me, Ruth, can you rea.s.semble me without scars and with a less prominent nose?'

'No. Shall we go?'

'I'm ready,' said Batik. 'Good luck, Shannow.'

'And to you. Tell Donna I wish her joy.'

'Don't give up on her, her new husband's probably dead.'

Before Shannow could answer, Batik and Ruth faded from sight.