Stones Of Power - The Complete Chronicles Of The Jerusalem Man Part 13

Shannow tethered the rider's horse beside his own and moved forward on foot towards the north-east.

Three times riders came close to him, and twice he stumbled across the bodies of dead Carns. After an hour he found a steep path winding down into a sheltered glen. There he could see the huts of the Carns, a picket line and more than two hundred horses. The h.e.l.lborn were wandering freely around the camp, stopping at cooking fires or talking in groups around larger blazes.

Shannow studied the area for some time and then eased his way back into the trees. Every so often a pistol shot caused him to freeze and drop to the ground, but he made his way back to his horse un.o.bserved. The Carn had gone -but not before ripping out the eyes of the dead h.e.l.l-born . . . The boy did not look handsome now. Shannow was cold and he sheltered behind the horses, huddled against a bush, waiting for the villagers. After an hour he moved to the edge of the trees and saw the group waiting stoically by the cross.

One of them looked up and saw him, and he waved them to join him.

Shonal was the first to arrive. 'They are camped?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'When do we attack?'

'After midnight.' Shonal nodded.

Shannow spotted Selah in the group and summoned him. 'You should be back at the village.'

'I am a man, Thunder-maker.'

'So was he,' said Shannow, pointing to the corpse.

By dusk the pistol shots had ceased to sound and Shannow had begun to believe he was freezing to death. The villagers seemed not to notice the cold, and he cursed his ageing bones.

The moon rose in a clear sky and towards midnight the bushes by Shannow's head parted and a warrior stepped into sight. Shannow rolled, his right-hand pistol sweeping up. The man was a Carn and he squatted beside Shannow.

'I kill h.e.l.lborn also,' he said.

The villagers were alarmed. Many had weapons in their hands and several bows were bent and aimed at the newcomer. Shannow sheathed his pistol.

'You are welcome,' he said.

The Carn lifted his hands to his lips and blew a soft humming note. All around them Carn warriors appeared, armed with knives and hatchets. Shannow could not count them in the dim light, but guessed there to be twice as many Carns as villagers.

'Now we kill h.e.l.lborn, yes?'

'No,' replied Shannow. 'We wait.'

'Why wait?' asked the warrior.

'Many are still awake.'

'Good. We follow you.'

Shannow found the man's pointed teeth disconcerting. Shonal crept to his side.

'This is not right,' he whispered, 'to sit thus with Carns.'

The Carn leader hissed and spat, his hand curling round his knife-hilt.

'That's enough,' said Shannow. 'You may resume your war at a later time - one enemy is enough for today.'

'I will follow you, Thunder-maker. But this turns my stomach.'

'He probably feels the same, Shonal. Be patient.'

At midnight Shannow called the two leaders to him.

They will have posted guards, and if they are disciplined they will change the guard some time soon. We must wait until the sentries are relieved and then kill those who remain. It must be silent - no screams, no shouts; no war-cries. Once the shooting starts you must flee. Bows and knives are no match for guns. You understand me?' Both leaders nodded.

'Also, we must steal as many of their horses as we can. Shonal, have Selah and several of the younger men a.s.signed to that task. Tell them to head the horses west and wait for us about a mile away.'

'What do we do when we have killed the sentries?' asked Shonal.

'We walk into the camp and kill them as they sleep. As each man dies, take his pistol and keep it ready. You know how to fire a pistol?' Both men shook their heads and Shannow drew his own weapon and eased back the hammer. 'Like this; then you point it and pull the trigger, here.'

'I understand,' said Shonal.

'I also,' whispered the Carn.

'Good. Now take your best warriors and seek out the sentries. There should be four but there might be six, all around the camp perimeter. When you have killed them all, return here with their pistols.'

The Carn slid away and Shonal remained. 'It seems . . . unnatural,' he whispered.

'I know.' The villager vanished into the darkness.

Now began the long wait and Shannow's nerves were strained to the limits. Every minute that pa.s.sed he expected to hear a pistol shot or a scream. After what seemed an age, the blue-yellow Carn leader appeared through the bushes.

'Eight men,' he said, holding up two pistols, both c.o.c.ked.

'Be careful,' said Shannow, gently pus.h.i.+ng the barrels away from his face.

He pushed himself to his feet and his left knee cracked with a sound he felt rivalled the earlier thunder.

'Old bones,' said the Carn, shaking his head. Shannow scowled at him and moved off, the warriors following silently. They arrived at the camp just as the moon vanished behind a cloud. Shannow squatted on the rise above the huts with Shonal and the Carn beside him.

'Split your men into groups of six. It is important that we enter as many huts as possible at the same time. All the men with guns will fade back to that point there, by the stream. Now at some point someone will wake, or scream, or shoot. When that happens, run into the woods. Then the men with guns will open fire. But remember that each pistol only fires six times. You understand?' Both men nodded, but Shannow ran through the strategy twice more to ram it home.

Then he drew his hunting knife and the warriors moved silently down the hill. Starting at the southern end of the village, they split into groups and entered the huts.

Shannow waited outside, eyes scanning the doorways and windows of the other dwellings.

Gurgling cries came to him and some sounds of scuffling, but these were muted and the warriors emerged from the huts bathed in blood.

Dwelling by dwelling, the avengers moved on and the night breeze brought the stench of death to Shannow's nostrils. He sheathed his unblooded knife and drew his pistols; their luck could not hold out much longer.

By the sixteenth hut Shannow's nerves were at breaking point.

Then disaster struck. A warrior dragged back the hammer of a captured pistol while his finger was upon the trigger and the shot echoed around the camp. In an instant all was chaos as men surged into the night.

Shannow raised his pistols and rained shots into the milling crowd. Men fell screaming, and other pistols flared in the darkness. A shot from behind whistled past his ear and he turned to see a tribesman vainly seeking to re-c.o.c.k his weapon. A bullet smashed the Carn from his feet. Shannow fired his left-hand pistol and a h.e.l.lborn warrior toppled to the ground, his head cras.h.i.+ng into the coals of the dying fire. With a flash his hair caught light and blazed around his face.

'Back!' shouted Shannow, but his voice was lost in the thunder of shots. He emptied his pistols into the ranks of the h.e.l.lborn and then sheathed them, drawing the captured weapon from his belt. He ran back towards the stream, where at least a dozen warriors had remembered his commands. Elsewhere in the camp the Carns had charged the h.e.l.lborn and were in amongst them, shooting their pistols point-blank but hampering Shannow's force.

'Back into the trees,' Shannow ordered, but the men continued to fire at the milling mob.

'Back, I say!' said Shannow, backhanding a man in the face. Hesitantly the warriors obeyed.

Shots screamed by Shannow as he ran, but none came close. At the top of the rise he stood with his back to a tree, breathing hard. Thrusting the captured revolver back in his belt, he took his own pistols and added fresh cylinders.

Shonal came alongside him. 'Most of our men are here, Thunder-maker.'

'What of the horses?'

'I could not see.'

'Without horses they will hunt us down before we are half-way home.'

'Selah will have done what he can; the boy is no coward.'

'All right,' said Shannow. 'Get your men out of the woods and head for home. If Selah has done his work well, there should be horses around a mile away. If there are, do not ride straight for the village but head north and then swing back when you reach firmer ground.

Try to cover your tracks - and pray for snow.'

Shonal grinned suddenly. 'Many dead h.e.l.lborn,' he stated.

'Yes. But was it enough? Go now.'

Shannow reached his horse and mounted, wrenching free the reins. A Carn, whom he recognized as the leader, loomed out of the darkness. 'I am Nadab,' he said holding out his hand.

Shannow leaned forward and gripped the man's wrist.

'No more war with the Corn People,' said the Carn.

'That is good.'

'Shame,' corrected the man, grinning. 'They taste good!'

'Good luck,' said Shannow.

'We killed many, Thunder-maker. You think they run now?'

'No.'

'I also. It is the end of things for us.'

'All things must end,' said Shannow. 'Why not come west, away from here?'

'No. We will not run. We are of the blood of the Lion and we will fight. We have many thunder-guns now.'

Shannow reached into his pocket, producing a cartridge.

The thunder-guns fire these,' he said, 'and you must gather these from the bodies. Pa.s.s me your pistol.' Shannow took the weapon and flicked open the breech, emptying the spent sh.e.l.ls one by one. Then he reloaded the weapon and handed it back.

Swinging the horse's head, Shannow rode' to the west.

The Carn watched him go, then c.o.c.ked the pistol and headed back towards his village.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Shannow rode south for an hour before swinging his horse to the north-west. He did not know how many h.e.l.lborn had been killed in the night, and now he did not care; he was bone-tired and his muscles ached. He rubbed at his eyes and rode on. Once he could have gone for three days without sleep. But not now. After another hour Shannow began to doze in the saddle. Around him the snow was falling, the temperature dropping. Ahead was a grove of pine trees and he steered the gelding in amongst them.

Dismounting near a group of young saplings, he took a ball of twine from his saddlebag.

Painstakingly he pulled the saplings together, tying them tightly and creating the skeleton of a tepee. Moving slowly so as not to sweat too heavily, he gathered branches and wove them between the saplings to create a round hut, open at the top. Then he led the gelding inside and packed snow over the branches until a solid wall surrounded him. Only then did he prepare a fire. His fingers were numb with cold and the snow fell faster, adding to the walls of his dwelling. Once the fire was under way, he left the shelter and gathered dead wood, piling it across the opening. By dusk he felt strong enough to allow himself to sleep; he added three large chunks of wood to the fire, wrapped himself in his blankets and lay down.

Far off the sound of gunfire echoed in the air and his eyes flickered open, but closed again almost immediately.

He slept without dreams for fourteen hours and awoke to a dead fire, but the snow had covered his shelter completely and he remained snug and warm in his blankets. He started a fresh fire and sat up. From his saddlebags he took some oatcakes, sharing them with the gelding.

By midday he was once more in the saddle and heading for the village. He arrived to see a smoking ruin and rode on towards the hills, his pistol in his hand.

By late afternoon he approached the caves and saw the bodies. His heart sank and he dismounted. Inside the women and children of the Corn People lay frozen in death.

Shannow blinked hard and backed away. By the cave mouth he found Curopet, her eyes open, staring up at the sky. Shannow knelt beside her and closed her eyes.

'I am sorry, Lady,' he said. 'I am so sorry.'

He walked away from the corpses and remounted, steering the gelding down towards the plain.

Here, nailed to a tree with his arms spread, was Karitas. The old man was still alive, but Shannow could not free him for the nails were too deep. Karitas' eyes opened, and tears welled. Shannow looked away.

They killed all my little ones,' whispered Karitas. 'All dead.'

'I'll try to find something to cut you loose.'

'No, I'm finished. They were looking for you, Shannow.'

'Why?'

They had orders to seek you out. Abaddon fears you. Oh, Jon, they killed my little ones.'

Shannow drew his hunting knife and began to hack at the wood around Karitas' right hand, but it was tough and frozen and he could make no impression. Karitas began to weep and sob piteously. Shannow dropped his knife and put his hands on Karitas' face. He could not embrace him.