Stones Of Power - The Complete Chronicles Of The Jerusalem Man Part 103

The voice came to him just before midnight, as he was settling down to sleep. At first it was a whisper, like a breath of night winds. But then it grew. 'Jacob Moon! Jacob Moon!'

Moon sat up, pistol in hand. 'Who's there?'

'Behind you,' came the response and Moon spun. One of the great rectangular blocks had apparently disappeared and he found himself facing a red-skinned man, with what appeared to be painted black lines across his face and upper body. The man was seated on an ebony throne. Moon c.o.c.ked his pistol. 'You will not need that,' said the man on the throne. The image drifted closer, until the strange face filled the hole in the wall: the eyes were the red of rubies, the whites bloodshot. 'I need you, Moon,' said the vision.

'Well, I don't need you,' was Moon's response as the pistol bucked in his hand, the bullet lancing through the red face.

There was no mark to show its pa.s.sing and a wide smile appeared on the face.

'Save your ammunition, Moon, and listen to what I offer you - riches beyond your dreams, and life eternal. I can make you immortal, Moon. I can fulfil your wildest desires.'

Moon sat back and sheathed his pistol. This is a dream, isn't it? G.o.d d.a.m.n it, I'm dreaming!'

'No dream, Moon,' the red man told him. 'Would you like to live for ever?'

'I'm listening.'

'My world is dying. I need another. A man known to you as Saul opened the Gateway for me, and I have now seen your world. It is to my liking. But it would help me to have a lieutenant here, to direct my . . . troops. From the few thoughts I could extract from the dying Saul, I gathered that you were that man. Is that so?'

Tell me about the life eternal,' said Moon, ignoring the question.

That can begin now, Moon. Is it what you desire?'

'Aye.' Moon reeled back as a terrible burning sensation erupted on his forehead. He cried out and lifted his hand to his head. The pain subsided as suddenly as it had appeared, and now Moon could feel a small stone embedded in his brow.

'As long as you serve me, Moon, you will be immortal. Can you feel the new strength in your limbs, the power . . .the life?'

Jacob Moon felt more than that. His long-held bitterness was unleashed, his anger primal.

As the vision promised he felt strong, no longer tired from his journey, no longer aching from long hours in the saddle. 'I feel it,' he admitted. 'What do you want from me?'

'Ride to the ruined city north of Pilgrim's Valley. There I shall greet you.'

'I asked what you wanted from me,' said Moon.

'Blood,' responded the vision. 'Rivers of blood. Violence and death, hatred and war.'

'Are you the Devil?' asked Moon.

'I am better than the Devil, Moon. For I have won.'

Unbeknown to Gareth it was his mother who had chosen to climb next, leaving Shannow on the ledge. When the rope suddenly gave she was dislodged from the face. Many people faced with such a moment would have panicked, screamed and fallen to their deaths.

Amaziga was different.

She lived for only one prize - finding Sam.

In the moment the rope gave way and she slipped, her hand snaked out, fingers scrabbling against the wet stone. The first hold she grasped was not large enough to hold her and she slipped again. Her fingers sc.r.a.ped down the rock, one fingernail tearing away, then her hand clamped over a firm hold and the descent ceased. She was hanging now on the lower part of the overhang, her legs dangling below the curve of the rock. Her arm was tiring fast, and she could feel her grip loosening.

'Shannow!' she called. 'Help me!'

A hand grabbed at her belt just as her fingers lost their grip and she fell, but he dragged her back to the ledge. Slumping to her haunches, she leaned her head against the rock face and closed her eyes. The pain from her damaged hand was almost welcome: it told her she was alive.

Shannow hauled in the rope and examined the end.

'Someone cut it,' he said.

Fear coursed through her. 'Gareth!' she whispered.

'Maybe they took him alive,' said Shannow, keeping his voice low. 'The question is, what do we do now? We have enemies above and horses below.'

'If they look over the edge they will not be able to see us,' she said. They will a.s.sume we have fallen. I think we should make the climb.' She saw Shannow smile.

'I don't know if I can, Lady. I know you cannot - not with that injured hand.'

'We can't just leave Gareth.' She glanced at her watch. 'And there is only an hour left before they will kill Sam. We have no time to climb down and go round.'

Shannow stood and prowled along the ledge. There was nowhere that he could climb.

Amaziga joined him, and together they examined the face. Long minutes pa.s.sed; then the sound of gunfire came from above them, heavy and sustained.

'You are right,' she said at last, her voice heavy with despair. 'There is nothing we can do.'

'Wait,' said Shannow. Lifting a pistol from his belt, he pushed the end of the rope through the trigger guard and tied it in place. Stepping to the edge of the ledge he let out the rope, then began to swing it round and round. Amaziga looked up. Some twenty-five feet above them, at the narrowest point of the overhang, there was a jutting finger of stone. Shannow let out more rope and continued to swing the weighted end. Finally he sent it sailing up; the pistol clattered against the rock face, then dropped, looping the rope over the stone.

Shannow lowered it, removed the pistol and holstered it.

'You think it will take your weight?' asked Amaziga.

Shannow hauled down on the doubled rope three times. 'Let us hope so,' he said.

And he began to climb.

Gareth's anger was mounting. The olive-skinned woman had cut the rope and then ordered him to rise, with his hands on his head. 'Listen to me,' he said, 'I am here to-'

'Shut it!' she snapped, and he heard the pistol being c.o.c.ked. 'Walk forward, and be aware I'm right behind you and I have killed before.' She did not rob him of his weapons, which spoke either of confidence or stupidity. Gareth guessed it to be confidence. He obeyed her and walked towards the clearing, where he could see around a score of men and women kneeling behind rocks or fallen trees, rifles in their hands. A tall black man turned as they approached.

'I found this creature,' sneered the woman, 'climbing the cliff-face behind us. There were others, but I cut the rope.'

'Indeed she did,' said Gareth, 'and probably killed one of the few friends you had in this world, Sam.'

The black man's eyes widened. 'Do I know you, boy?'

'In a manner of speaking.' The sky was lightening with the pre-dawn, and the rain had cleared. 'Look at me closely, Sam. Who do I remind you of?'

'Who are you?' asked Samuel Archer. 'Speak plainly.'

Gareth could tell by his surprised expression that he had, at least in part, guessed the truth. 'My mother's name is Amaziga,' he said.

'You lie!' shouted Sam. 'I've known Amaziga all her life. She had no other sons.'

'My mother is stuck back there on that rock face. She crossed a world to find you, Sam. Ask her yourself.'

At that moment a volley of shots came from Gareth's right. Several men and a woman fell screaming. Then the h.e.l.lborn rushed the camp, firing as they came, tall men in tunics of black leather and ram-horned helms. Sam swung away, reaching for his pistol. Gareth flipped the Uzi into position and the sound of rolling thunder exploded in the clearing. The first line of h.e.l.lborn warriors went down as if scythed. Gareth ran towards the rest with the machine pistol juddering in his hands. Other shots sounded from all around him as the rebels opened fire. He snapped clear the empty clip and rammed home another. But the first attack having failed, the h.e.l.lborn had faded back into the trees and were firing from cover. A bullet slashed past Gareth's head, another kicked up dirt at his feet. Ducking, he sprinted to a boulder and crouched down behind it. A dead young woman lay to his left, a small dark hole oozing blood from her temple. A shot glanced from the boulder above Gareth's head. Risking a glance, he saw a rifleman in the upper branches of a nearby tree.

Lifting the Uzi, he squeezed off a quick burst. The sniper tipped back and fell through the tree, cras.h.i.+ng into the undergrowth below.

Across the clearing Sam was lying behind a fallen log. He cursed himself for a fool for not realising that the h.e.l.lborn would try a sneak attack under cover of the dawn mists. The young man's arrival with the multi-firing rifle had saved them. He glanced at Gareth. In profile he could see even more clearly the resemblance to Amaziga, the fine high cheekbones, the pure sleek brow. Gareth saw him and grinned - and that was the final proof. Sam did not understand how such a thing was possible, but it was true!

A volley came from the left and some thirty h.e.l.lborn leapt from cover, firing as they came.

Sam saw several of his rebels fall. The Uzi thundered, but the charge continued. Raising his pistol, Sam shot into the charging group. Bullets ripped the air around him, one grazing his skull and knocking him from his feet. He rolled and saw Shammy, a pistol in each hand, running towards the invaders. Her life seemed charmed - until a shot caught her in the upper thigh, spinning her to the floor. Jered, firing his shotgun from the hip, leapt to her aid. Just as he reached her his face disappeared in a spray of crimson.

Sam came to his knees and emptied his pistol into the last of the attackers. Gareth's Uzi fired again, and the clearing was still. Shammy crawled to where he lay. Blood was soaking her leggings. 'I'll get a tourniquet on that,' said Sam.

'No point,' answered Shammy. Sam looked around. There were maybe forty h.e.l.lborn dead, leaving at least another 150. But of the rebels only he and Shammy were still alive.

And the young stranger.

Gareth joined them, moving across the ground in a commando crawl. 'My rope is still back there,' he said. 'We'd at least have a chance if we pulled back.'

'No time,' answered Shammy, lifting her reloaded pistols just as the next wave of h.e.l.lborn rushed them. Gareth rolled to his knees and emptied the last clip into the warriors. At least ten of them were hurled from their feet, but the others came on.

Then a second roll of thunder scythed through the attackers and Gareth saw Amaziga run forward, her own Uzi blazing. Behind her was Shannow, his long pistols firing steadily.

The" h.e.l.lborn broke and fled back into the undergrowth.

'Let's get out of here!' said Gareth. He and Sam lifted the injured Shamshad and staggered across the clearing. Shots sounded around them, but then they were into the cover of the trees. Swiftly Gareth tied his last rope to a slender tree-trunk. 'You first, Sam,' he said.

'There's a ledge below and you'll find another rope. There are horses at the foot of the cliff.'

Sam seemed not to hear. He was staring at Amaziga. 'Questions later, okay?' said Gareth, grabbing the man's arm. 'For now . . . the rope! When you are on the ledge, flick the rope twice. Then the next to come will follow you.'

Sam grabbed the rope and slithered over the edge as Gareth moved alongside his mother.

'You have any more clips for the Uzi?'

'One more,' she said, handing it to him.

A h.e.l.lborn moved into sight with rifle aimed. Shannow shot him twice through the body.

Gareth glanced back at the rope. 'Come on, man!' he whispered. As if obedient to his thoughts, the unseen Sam reached the ledge and the rope flicked twice. 'You next, Mother,'

he said. 'Give the Uzi to Shannow.' Tossing the weapon to the Jerusalem Man, she moved to the rope and disappeared from sight.

Shots sliced the air around them. Shannow fired the Uzi and all was suddenly silent.

The rope flicked. 'Now you, Shannow!'

'I'll come last,' he said. 'Get yourself down.' Gareth handed his Uzi to Shammy and moved to the edge.

There was a silence for a while, then Shannow saw the rope jerk twice. 'Better join them,'

he told the young woman.

She smiled and shrugged. 'Lost too much blood, friend. No strength left. You go. I'll hold them for a while.'

'I'll carry you,' he announced.

'No. The artery is cut in the groin, I'm bleeding to death. I've probably only minutes left.

Save yourself - and Sam. Get Sam away.'

Two h.e.l.lborn reared up. A bullet ricocheted from the tree by Shannow's head. Twisting, he emptied the Uzi, then cast it aside. Shammy was lying down now, a second wound in her chest. Shannow crawled to her.

'Well,' she whispered, 'that one took the pain away.'

'You are a brave woman. You deserved better.'

'You'd better go,' she said. 'Sit me up first. I may yet get off another few rounds.' Shannow lifted her to a sitting position with her back to a tree, the Uzi in her hands. Then he slithered back to the edge and dropped from sight.

As he reached the ledge he heard a burst of firing.

Then silence . . .

Sam sat on the hillside above the small cl.u.s.ter of deserted buildings, his mind still reeling from the shocks of the day. Shammy was dead. They were all dead: Jered, Marcia, Caleb . .

. And Amaziga was alive. He was filled with a sense of unreality, a pervading numbness that blocked all emotion.

They had climbed down to the foot of the cliff, the h.e.l.lborn firing down upon them, the bullets kicking up puffs of dust but none coming near. He and Amaziga had shared the lead horse, the young black man and the grim warrior following behind. They had ridden for hours, stopping at last at this deserted hamlet, its residents long since slain by the forces of the Bloodstone - the few homes empty, dust-filled reminders of a community that had vanished for ever.

Amaziga had led him into one of the houses, sitting him down and kneeling before him.

There she had explained it all. But her words drifted around in his mind without meaning.

He had reached out and touched her face; she had leaned in to him and kissed his fingers, just as she had always done. His tears flowed then, and he rose and staggered from the house, brus.h.i.+ng past the young man and breaking into a run that carried him far up the hill.

Shammy was dead. Loyal, steadfast Shammy, who asked for nothing save to fight beside him.

Yet where was the grief? Amaziga, whom he had loved more than life, was back. Not his Amaziga, she said, but another woman from another world. It made no sense, and it made no difference. On the ride he had sat behind her, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils, the feel of her body against him.

Samuel Archer struggled to marshal his thoughts. He had studied the principle of multiple universes back at the Guardian Centre, had indeed theorised that other Samuel Archers might exist. Then Sarento had mutated into the Blood Beast and all Sam's studies had been forgotten in the savage Wars that followed.