Now they were all to die and Cade realized he did not have the courage to see it. He sheathed his pistol and stood.

'Pa.s.s me my stick, Ephram.'

'Where are you going?'

'I'm going to talk to G.o.d,' said Cade. Gambion handed him the carved stick and Cade limped out into the entrance of Sweet.w.a.ter, stopping to look at the h.e.l.lborn dead choking the gra.s.s. The stench turned his stomach and he walked on.

It was a beautiful day, and even his knee had ceased its throbbing.

'Well, G.o.d, seems like we ought to have one real chat before the end. I've got to be honest - I don't really believe in you - but I figure I've nothing to lose by this. If I'm talking to myself, it don't matter. But if you are there, then maybe you'll listen. These people are about to die. That's no big thing - people have been dying for thousands of years - but my lads are getting ready to die for you. And that should mean something. I may be a false prophet, but they're true believers and I hope they don't get short shrift from you merely because of me. I never was worth much -didn't have the guts to farm and spent my life stealing and the like. No excuses. But take Ephram and the rest and they're worth something more; they really have repented, or whatever the h.e.l.l you call it. I've brought them to their deaths and I don't want to think about them lining up, expectant-like outside the gates, only to be told they ain't getting in. That's all I got to say, G.o.d.'

As Cade walked on towards the distant h.e.l.lborn, he pulled his pistol from his belt and hurled it out on to the gra.s.s.

Hearing the sound of movement behind him, he turned and saw Ephram Gambion lumbering towards him, his bald head shining with sweat.

'What did he say, Daniel?'

Cade smiled and patted the giant on the shoulder. 'He let me do the talking this time, Ephram. You fancy a walk?'

'Where we going?'

'To the h.e.l.lborn.'

'Why?'

Cade ignored the question and limped away. Gambion joined him.

'You still with me, Ephram?'

'Did you ever doubt it?'

'I guess not. Look at that sky. Mackerel-back and streaked with clouds. h.e.l.l of a good day to die, I'd say.'

'Is that where we're going? To die?'

'You don't have to come with me; I can do it alone.'

'I know that, Daniel. But we've come this far together so I guess I'll stay awhile yet. You know, we done pretty good against that d.a.m.ned army - not bad for a bunch of Brigands and farmers.' "

'The best days of my life',' admitted Cade, 'but I should have said goodbye to Lisa.'

The two men walked on in silence through the ranks of the dead and on to the plain before the h.e.l.lborn. There they were spotted by a scout, who took the news to Doreval; he rode to Abaal and the general ordered his horse saddled. Gambion watched as a score of h.e.l.lborn soldiers galloped towards them and drew his pistol.

'Throw it away, Ephram.'

'I ain't dying without a fight.'

'Throw it away.'

Gambion swore . . . and hurled the pistol out over the gra.s.s.

The h.e.l.lborn slowed their mounts and ringed the two men. Cade ignored the rifles and pistols pointed at him, watching as the steel-haired general dismounted.

'You would be Cade?'

'I am.'

'I am Abaal, Lord of the Sixth. Why are you here?'

'Thought it was time we met. Face to face - man to man.'

'To what purpose?'

'Thought you might like to bury your dead.'

'This is a strange day,' said Abaal. 'Like a dream. Is it magic of yours?'

'No, maybe it's just something that happens when a lot of men have to die for nothing.

Maybe it's just weariness.'

'What are you saying, Cade? Speak openly.'

Cade laughed. 'Openly? Why not? What are we doing here, killing each other? What are we fighting for? A field of gra.s.s? A few empty meadows? Why don't you just go home?'

'There is an enchantment working here,' said Abaal. 'I do not understand it, but I feel the truth of what you say. You will allow us to bury our dead?'

Cade nodded.

'Then I agree. The war is over!'

Abaal extended his hand and Cade stared down at it, unable to move. This man had led the ma.s.sacres, causing untold grief and horror. Looking into Abaal's eyes, he forced himself to accept the grip and as he did so the last vestiges of bitterness fled from him and he fought back the tears welling inside.

'You are a great man, Cade,' said Abaal. 'And I shall be killed for listening to you. Perhaps we will meet in h.e.l.l.'

'I don't doubt it for a second,' said Cade.

Abaal smiled, then mounted his horse and led his men back to their tents.

'Jesus Christ!' said Gambion. 'Did we win, Daniel?'

'Take me home, Ephram.'

As they neared Sweet.w.a.ter the defenders and their wives and children streamed out to meet them. Cade could not speak, but Gambion swiftly told them of the peace and Cade was swept shoulder-high and carried back into the pa.s.s.

Lisa was standing in a grove of elm, tears in her eyes, when Cade finally came to her. The sound of singing echoed through the mountains.

'Is it truly over, Daniel?'

'It is.'

'And you won. Now you'll want to be a king?'

He pulled her to him and kissed her gently. That was another man in another place. All I want now is for us to marry and start a home and a family. I want nothing more to do with war, or guns, or death. I'll grow corn and raise cattle and sheep. I just want to be with you - and I don't give a d.a.m.n about being a king.'

Lisa lifted his chin and smiled. 'Well,' she said, 'now that you don't want it, you're bound to get it!'

EPILOGUE.

In the year following the h.e.l.lborn war, Daniel Cade was elected Prester of River vale. He married Lisa in the biggest wedding ceremony seen in the area for thirty years. The whole community attended and the gifts were brought in several wagons.

Con Griffin, Donna and their daughter Tanya returned to Rivervale and the farm built by Tomas the carpenter. Once clear of the Plague Lands Donna's powers faded, though often she would be seen in the far meadow, sitting silently with her daughter. At those times, Con Griffin left them alone with their faraway dreams.

Jacob Madden married a young widow and took possession of the farm adjoining Griffin's land; the two remained close friends until Madden's death eighteen years later.

Batik spent two years hunting for sign of Jon Shannow and finally tracked down Amaziga Archer, who directed him north.

As winter was approaching, he rode into a wide valley and came to a farmhouse of white stone. Near the trees were three bodies covered with a tarpaulin. The farm was run by two women, a mother and daughter, and they told him that the dead men had been robbers.

'What happened?' Batik asked the mother.

'A stranger rode in as they were attacking the house and he killed them all. But he was wounded. I asked him to stay, but he refused; he rode on towards the High Lonely,' she laid, pointing to the distant snow-covered peaks.

'What did he look like?' asked Batik.

'He was a tall man, with long hair and burning eyes.'

As Batik turned his horse to the north and rode from the yard the daughter, a blonde girl of around fifteen, ran after him and caught at his stirrup.

'She didn't tell the whole truth,' she whispered. 'She didn't ask him to stay. She was frightened of him and told him to ride on. I gave him some bread and cheese and he told me not to worry. There was a shining city just over the farthest mountain, he said, and his wound would be tended there. But there isn't a city, it's just a wilderness. And the blood was streaming down his saddle.'

Batik had tried to follow, but a blinding blizzard blew up and he was forced to give up the search.

That same night Daniel Cade had a strange dream. He was walking through a mountain wood, through thick snow, yet he felt no cold. He came to a frozen stream, and a small camp-fire which gave no heat. Beside it, his back against a tree, sat the Jerusalem Man.

'h.e.l.lo, Daniel,' he said and Cade moved close.

'You are hurt.'

'There is no pain.'

'Let me help you, Jonnie.'

'I hear you're a great man now, in Rivervale?'

'Yes,' said Cade.

'Dad would have been proud of you. I am proud of you.' Shannow smiled, and the ice in his beard cracked and fell away.

'Let me build up the fire.'

'No. Are you happy, Daniel?'

'Yes. Very.'

'Do you have children?'

'Two. A boy and a girl.'

'That's good. So, the wolf sits down with the lambs. I'm glad. Help me to my horse, Daniel.'

Cade lifted him and saw the blood on the ice. He half-carried him to the black stallion and heaved him up into the saddle. Shannow swayed and then took up the reins.

'Where are you going?' asked Cade.

'There,' said Shannow, pointing to the peaks piercing the clouds. 'Can you see the spires, Daniel?'

'No,' whispered Cade.

'I'm going home.'

THE LAST GUARDIAN.

This novel is dedicated with love to my children Kathryn and Luke who, thankfully, are still too young to know what fine people they are.

FOREWORD.

There was no doubt in my mind about what happened to Jon Shannow when he rode into the mountains, wounded and alone. He was dying. And Jerusalem beckoned.

Yet once the novel was published reader reaction was immediate. How long to the next Shannow story? In those days reader's letters did not arrive in bulging post bags and I was able to answer all of them. The answer was simple: Thank you for your letter, and I am glad you enjoyed Jon Shannow's tale, but he is dead. There will be no more adventures.

I sent just such a response to a fan in Liverpool. He knew better and wrote back immediately. 'No he's not! No way!'

It was a real shock - as if he knew something I didn't. I showed the letter to one of my test readers. Her amused response was 'Hey, maybe he's right. You don't know everything, Dave. You're only the author.'

From that moment I started wondering about Shannow. Could there have been some miracle on the mountain?