Nu nodded. 'I guessed that. The Lord has granted me a vision of just such an upheaval. I am glad, however, that some understanding of our world survived. How did you hear of it?'

'I have seen Balacris,' said Shannow. 'It is a ruined sh.e.l.l, but the buildings survived. And once I met a man called Samuel Archer who told me of the first Fall of the World. But tell me, how many of the Daggers are there?'

'I do not know exactly, but there are several legions. Perhaps five thousand, perhaps less.'

Shannow wandered to a window, looking out over the night. 'I don't know how many are here,' he said, 'but I have a bad feeling. I shall stay outside and keep watch. I am sorry to bring trouble to your home, Beth, but I think you will be safer with me here.'

'You are welcome here ... Jon. You do what you have to do and I'll see to Steiner. If he lasts the night, he has a chance.'

Shannow took some dried meat and fruit and walked out on to the hillside beyond the cabin, where he sat beneath a spreading pine and scanned the dark horizon. Somewhere out there the demons were gathering, and a golden-haired woman was dreaming of blood.

He shivered and pulled his coat tight around him.

Nu joined him at midnight and the two men sat in comfortable silence beneath the stars.

'Why were they hunting you?' asked Shannow at last.

'I preached against the King. I warned the people ... or I tried to... that a great doom was about to befall. They did not listen. The King's conquests have led to a great swelling of the treasuries. People are richer now than ever before.'

'So they wanted to kill you? That's always the way with prophets, my friend. Tell me about your G.o.d.'

'Not my G.o.d, Shannow. Just G.o.d. The Lord Chronos, creator of Heaven and Earth. One G.o.d. And you, what do you believe?'

For an hour or more the two men discussed their faiths, and were delighted to find great similarities between the two religions. Shannow liked the big shipbuilder and listened as he talked of his family, his gentle wife Pashad, and his sons; of the ships he had built and the voyages he had sailed. But when Nu asked about Shannow and his life the Jerusalem Man merely smiled, and returned to questions about Atlantis and the distant past.

'I would like to read your Bible,' said Nu. 'Would that be permissible?'

'Of course. I am surprised that the ancients of Atlantis speak our language.'

'I'm not sure that we do, Shannow. When first I came here, I could not understand a word of it. But when I touched the Stone to the brow of a woman in need of healing all the words became clear inside my head.' He chuckled. 'Perhaps when I return I will not be able to speak the language of my fathers.'

'Return? You say your world is about to fall. Why would you go back?'

'Pashad is there. I cannot leave her.'

'But you might go back merely to die with her.'

'What would you do, Shannow?'

'I would go back,' he replied without hesitation. 'But then I have always been considered less than sane.'

Nu clapped his hand on Shannow's shoulder. 'Not insanity, Shannow. Love - the greatest gift G.o.d can bestow. Where will you go from here?'

'South, across the Wall. There are signs there in the sky. I'd like to see them.'

'What sort of signs?'

'The Sword of G.o.d is there, floating in the clouds. Perhaps Jerusalem is close by.'

Nu fell silent for a while. Then: 'I will travel with you. I too must see these signs.'

'It is said to be a land of great peril. How will it help you to return home?'

'I have no idea, my friend. But the Lord has commanded me to find the Sword and I do not question His will.'

'I can lend you a gun or two.'

'I do not need one. If the Lord has me marked for death, I will die. Your thunder-makers will not alter the situation.'

'That is too fatalistic for me, Nu,' Shannow told him. 'Trust in G.o.d, but keep your pistols c.o.c.ked. I have found He likes a man who stays ready.'

'Does He talk to you, Shannow? Do you hear His voice?'

'No, but I see Him in the prairies and on the mountains. I feel His presence in the night breezes. I see His glory in the dawn.'

'We are lucky men, you and I. I spent fifty years learning the thousand names of G.o.d known to Man, and another thirty absorbing the nine hundred and ninety-nine names known to the Prophets. One day I will know the thousand that are sung only by angels. But all this knowledge is as nothing compared with the sense of knowing you describe. Few men experience it; I pity those who do not.'

A shadow flickered out in the valley and Shannow held up his hand for silence. He watched for several minutes, but saw nothing further.

'I think you should go inside, Nu. I need to be alone.'

'Have I offended you?'

'Not at all. But I need to concentrate - to feel the presence of my enemies. I need all my strength, Nu. And that only happens when I am alone. If you cannot sleep, take one of my Bibles from the saddlebag by the door. I will see you come the dawn.'

When the man had gone Shannow stood and moved silently into the trees. The shadow could have been a wolf or a dog, a fox or a badger.

But equally it could be a Dagger ...

Shannow loosened the guns in their scabbards and waited.

Shannow remained alert until an hour before sunrise. Then his feeling of unease drifted away, his muscles relaxing; he put his back to a broad pine and slept.

Beth McAdam walked out into the early morning light and gazed at the sky. Dawn was always special to her -those few precious minutes when the sky was blue and yet the stars still shone. She glanced up to the wooded hillside and walked towards where Shannow slept. He did not hear her approach and for some minutes she sat down beside him, staring intently at his weatherbeaten face. His beard was growing again, silver at the chin, yet his features seemed strangely youthful in sleep.

After a while, he awoke and saw her. He did not jump or start, he merely smiled lazily.

They were out there,' he said, 'but they pa.s.sed us by.'

She nodded. 'You look rested. How long did you sleep?'

He glanced at the sky. 'Less than an hour. I do not need much. I have been having curious dreams. I see myself trapped within a crystal dome in a huge cross that hangs in the sky; I am wearing a leather helmet and there is a voice in my ear; it is someone called Tower giving me directions. But I cannot escape or move.' He took a deep breath and stretched.

'Are the children still asleep?'

'Yes. In each other's arms.'

'And Steiner?'

'His pulse is stronger, but he is not yet awake. Do you believe Nu? That he came from the past?'

'I believe him, Beth. The Daniel Stones are incredibly powerful. I once stood on the wreck of a ship beached on a mountain, but by the power of a great Stone it sailed again. They can give a man immortality, cure any disease. Once I ate a honeycake that had been a rock; a Daniel Stone reshaped it. I think there is nothing such power cannot achieve.'

'Tell me about it.'

Shannow told her about the h.e.l.lborn and their crazed leader, Abaddon; then about the Guardians of the Past and the rebirth of the t.i.tanic. And finally he spoke of the Motherstone, the colossal Sipstra.s.si meteorite that had been corrupted by blood and sacrifice.

'So there are two kinds of Stones?' she said.

'No, just one. Sipstra.s.si is the pure power; but the more it is used, the sooner it fades. If fed with blood, it swells again, but it can no longer heal or make food. Also it affects the mind of the user, bringing with it a l.u.s.t for pain and violence. The h.e.l.lborn all had Bloodstones, but their power was drained during the War.'

'How did you survive, Jon Shannow, against such odds?'

He smiled and pointed to the sky. 'Who knows? I ask myself that question often - not just about the h.e.l.lborn Zealots, but about all the perils I have faced. Much is timing, more is luck or the will of G.o.d. But I have seen strong men cut down by enemies, or disease, or accident. When I was young I had anodier name; I was Jon Cade. I met a town tamer called Varey Shannow, who taught me about people and the ways of evil men. He could stand alone against a mob and they would turn away from his eyes. But one day a young man - no more than a boy -walked up to him as he was having breakfast. "Pleased to meet you," he said, holding out his hand. Varey took it. At the same time the boy produced a pistol in his left hand and shot Varey through the head. When they asked him later why he had done it, he said he wanted to be remembered. Varey was a man to walk the mountains with; he helped people to setlle this wild land of ours. The boy? Well, he was remembered.

They hanged him and put a marker on his grave that said, "Here lies the killer of Varey Shannow'

'So you took his name? Why?'

Shannow shrugged. 'I didn't want to see it die. And also my brother, Daniel, had become a brigand and a killer. I was ashamed.'

'But did not Daniel become a prophet? Did he not fight the h.e.l.lborn?'

'Yes. That pleased me.'

'So a man can change, Jon Shannow? He can make a new life for himself?'

'I guess that he can - if he has the strength. But I do not.'

Beth sat silently for a moment, then she reached out and touched his arm. He did not pull away. 'You know why I never came back to you?'

'I think so.'

'But if you made the decision to change your life, my hearth would be open to you.'

He looked away at the far Wall and the lands rolling out beyond it. 'I know,' he said sadly.

'I have always been lonely, Beth. There is an emptiness in my life which has been there ever since my parents were murdered. But look at Steiner. Until yesterday the boy wanted nothing more than to kill me - to be the man who beat Jon Shannow. How long before some boy comes to me at breakfast and says, "Pleased to meet you"? How long? And could I sit at night at your table, wondering if your children will intercept a bullet meant for me?

I do not have that kind of strength, Beth.'

'Change your name,' she said. 'Shave your head. Whatever it takes. I'd travel with you and we could build a home somewhere where no one has ever heard of you.' He said nothing, but she looked into his eyes and saw the answer. 'I'm sorry for you, Shannow,' she whispered. 'You don't know what you're missing. But I hope you are not fooling yourself. I hope you are not in love with what you are: the Jerusalem Man, proud and alone, bane of the wicked. Is there something to that? Do you fear putting aside your reputation and your name? Do you fear anonymity?'

'You are a very astute woman, Beth McAdam. Yes, I fear.'

'Then you are a weaker man than you know,' she said. Most men fear dying. You just fear living.' She rose and walked back to the cabin.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

Josiah Broome closed the front door of his small house and wandered along the street towards the Jolly Pilgrim. The sun was shining brightly, but Broome did not notice it. For days now he had been seething over the departure of Beth McAdam, and the hurtful untrue words she had hurled at him like knives.

How could she not see? Men like Jon Shannow were no help to civilisation. Violence and despair followed him, giving birth to yet more of the same. Only men of reason could change the world. But how the words stung! She had called him a fool and a coward; she had blamed him for Fenner's death.

Could you blame a man for a summer storm, or a winter flood? It was so unfair. Yes, Fenner would still be alive if they had walked into Webber's establishment and shot him down. But what would that have achieved? What would it have taught the youngsters of this community? That in certain situations murder was acceptable?

He remembered Shannow shooting down the man in the street, just after he had executed Webber. The man's name had been Lomax. He was a tough, arrogant man, but he had helped the Parson build his church and he had worked hard for Meneer Scayse to support a wife and two children. Those children were now orphans who would grow up knowing their father had been gunned down in the street to make a point. Who would blame them if they turned bad? But Beth McAdam did not see that.

Broome crossed the street and heard the sounds of gunfire coming from the west. More trouble-makers he thought, swinging to see the cause of the disturbance. His jaw dropped open to see hundreds of black-armoured warriors advancing with their guns blazing. Men and women were running and screaming. A sh.e.l.l whistled past Broome and he ducked instinctively and ran to an alley between two buildings. A man sprinted past... his chest exploded and he fell face forward in the dirt.

Broome turned and cut down the alley, arms pumping. He scaled a fence and ran out over the fields towards the newly-built church in the meadow.

At the Traveller's Rest Mason glanced out of his window to see the reptiles advancing down the main street killing all in their sights. He swore and took down his h.e.l.lborn rifle from its rack on the wall. Swiftly he fed sh.e.l.ls into the side gate, then pumped one into the breech. He heard sounds of booted feet on the stairs and as the door exploded inwards he swivelled and fired. One reptile hurtled back into the hallway, but several more ran in.

Mason's gun jumped in his hands as he pumped sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l into them, then a bullet took him high in the chest, spinning him against the window. Two more sh.e.l.ls ripped into his belly and he plunged out of the window, toppling to the street below.

At the gunsmith's shop Groves grabbed two pistols, but he was shot to death before he could loose a single round. Hundreds of reptiles surged through the town. Here and there men returned their fire, but the attack was so sudden there was no organised defence.

At the church the Parson had been delivering an impa.s.sioned sermon about the Wh.o.r.e of Babylon and the beasts Beyond the Wall. When the sounds of the battle reached them, men and women had streamed from the building. The Parson pushed his way through them and stared in horror at the flames beginning to spring from the town buildings.

Josiah Broome staggered towards the milling crowd.

'Beasts from h.e.l.l!' he shouted. 'There are thousands of them!'

Men began to run but the Parson's voice stopped them cold. 'Brethren! To run is to die.'

He looked around at the gathering. More than two hundred people were present, two- thirds of them women and children. The men had left their guns in the front porch.

'Gather your weapons,' he ordered. 'Broome, you and Hendricks lead the women and children to the south. There are woods there. Find hiding places and we will join you later.

Go now!' He swung to the men who had gathered rifles and pistols. 'Follow me,' he said, striding off towards the town. For a moment they hesitated, then one by one they joined him. He stopped at the edge of the meadow where a shallow ditch had been built for drainage. 'Line up here,' he said, 'and do not open fire until I give the word.'

The fifty-six men who had joined him settled down in the dirt, their weapons held before them. The Parson stood, listening to the screams from the town; he would like to have charged in, bringing the vengeance of G.o.d on the killers, but he fought down the impulse and waited.

A large group of Daggers came into sight. Seeing the Parson they lifted their rifles, but just before they fired he jumped down into the ditch and the shots whistled harmlessly overhead. Twenty of the reptiles ran across the open ground.

'Now!' yelled the Parson. A ragged volley swept through them and only one was left standing; the Parson took up a pistol and shot the creature in the head. Scores more of the reptiles came surging through the alleyways. Glancing back, the Parson could see Broome and Hendricks leading the women and children to safety, but they were not sufficiently clear to allow the defenders to withdraw. The reptiles charged. There were no screams from them, no terrible battle cries; they ran forward with incredible speed, firing as they came. Three volleys smashed into their ranks and the charge broke.

'I'm out of ammunition,' shouted one of the men in the ditch. Someone else pa.s.sed him a handful of sh.e.l.ls. The Parson glanced to his right and saw more than a hundred reptiles running to outflank them.

Just then Edric Scayse and thirty riders came thundering from the east. The reptiles opened fire and horses and men fell. Scayse, two pistols in his hand, galloped in amongst the enemy, firing coolly. The surviving riders followed. The carnage was awful, but Scayse and seventeen men made it through to leap from their horses and clamber into the ditch.