Bloodstone

Sweat ran freely on her face. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she rested the axe against the wood-store wall, then hefted her long rifle and walked to the well. Looking back at the axe and the tree round she used as a base, Beth pictured the Preacher standing there and the fluid poetry of his movements. She sighed.

The Preacher. .

Even she had come to regard Shannow as the man of God in Pilgrim's Valley, almost forgetting the man's lethal past. But then he had changed. By God he had changed! The lion to the lamb. And it shamed Beth that she had found the change not to her liking.

Her back was aching and she longed for a rest. 'Never leave a job half done,' she chided herself. Lifting the copper ladle from the bucket she drank the cool water, then returned to the axe. The sound of a horse moving across the dry-baked ground made her curse. She had left the rifle by the well! Dropping the axe she turned and walked swiftly back across the open ground, not even looking at the horseman.

Reaching the rifle, she leaned down. 'You won't need that, Beth, darlinY said a familiar voice.

Clem Steiner lifted his leg over the saddle pommel and jumped to the ground. A wide grin showed on Beth's face and she stepped forward with arms outstretched. 'You're looking good, Clem,' she said, drawing him into a hug. Taking hold of his broad shoulders, she gently pushed him back from her and stared into his craggy features.

The eyes were a sparkling blue and the grin still made him look boyish, despite the grey at his temples and the weather-beaten lines around his eyes and mouth. His coat of black cloth seemed to have picked up little dust from his ride, and he wore a brocaded waistcoat of shining red above a polished black gunbelt.

Beth hugged him again. 'You're a welcome sight for old eyes,' she said, feeling an unaccustomed swelling in her throat.

'Old? By God, Beth, you're still the best-looking woman I ever saw!'

'Still the flatterer,' she grunted, trying to disguise the pleasure she felt.

'Would anyone dare lie to you, Beth?' His smile faded. 'I came as soon as I heard. Is there any news?'

She shook her head. 'See to your horse, Clem. I'll prepare some food for you.' Gathering her rifle, Beth walked to the house, noticing for the first time in days how untidy it was; how the dust had been allowed to settle on the timbered floor. Suddenly angry, she forgot the food and fetched the mop and bucket from the kitchen. 'It's a mess,' she said, as Clem entered. He grinned at her.

'It looks lived-in,' he agreed, removing his gunbelt and pulling up a chair at the table.

Beth chuckled and laid aside the mop. 'A man shouldn't surprise a woman this way — especially after all these years. Time has been good to you, Clem. You filled out some. Suits you.'

'I've lived the good life,' he told her, but he looked away as he spoke, glancing at the window set in the grey stone of the wall.

Clem smiled. 'Strong-built place, Beth. I saw the rifle slits at the upper windows, and the reinforced shutters on the ground floor. Like a goddamn fortress. Only the old houses now have rifle ports. Guess people think the world's getting safer.'

'Only the fools, Clem.' She told him about the raid on the church, and the bloody aftermath when the Preacher strapped on his guns. Clem listened in silence. When she had finished he stood and walked to the kitchen, pouring himself a mug of water. Here also there was a heavy door, a strong bar beside it.

The window was narrow, the shutters reinforced by iron strips.

'It's been hard in Pernum,' he said. 'Most of us thought that with the War over we'd get back to farming and ordinary life. Didn't work out that way. I guess it was stupid to think it would, after all the killing in the north. And the war that wiped out the Hellborn. You had the Oathmen here yet?' She shook her head. Crossing the room, he stood outlined in the open doorway. 'It's not good, Beth. You have to swear your faith in front of three witnesses. And if you don't. . well, at best, you lose your land.'

‘I take it you swore the Oath?'

Returning to the table, he sat opposite her. 'Never been asked. But I guess I would. It's only words. So tell me, any sign of him since the killings?'

She shook her head. 'He's not dead, Clem. I know that.'

'And he's wearing guns again.'

Beth nodded. 'Killed six of the raiders — then vanished.'

'It will be a hell of a shock to the Righteous if they find out who he is. You know there's a statue to him in Pernum? Not a good likeness, especially with the brass halo around his head.'

'Don't joke about it, Clem. He tried to ignore it, and I think he was wrong. He never said or did one tenth of the things they claim. And as for being the new John the Baptist. . well, it seems like blasphemy to me. You were there, Clem, when the Sword of God descended. You saw the machines from the sky.

You know the truth.'

'You're wrong, Beth. I don't know anything. If the Deacon claims he comes direct from God, who am I to argue? Certainly seems that God's been with him, though. Won the Unifier War, didn't he? And when Batik died and the Hellborn invaded again he saw them wiped out. Scores of thousands dead. And the Crusaders have mostly cleaned out the brigands and the Carns. Took me six days to ride here, Beth, and I didn't need the gun. They got schools, hospitals, and no one starves. Ain't all bad.'

There's lots here that would agree with you, Clem.'

'But you don't?'

'I've no argument with schools and the like,' she said, rising from the table and returning with bread, cheese and a section of smoked ham. 'But this talk of pagans and disbelievers needing killing, and the butchery of the Wolvers — it's wrong, Clem. Plain wrong.'

'What can I do?'

'Find him, Clem. Bring him home.'

'You don't want much, do you? That's a big country, Beth. There's deserts, and mountains that go on for ever.'

'Will you do it?'

'Can I eat first?'

* * *

Jeremiah enjoyed the wounded man's company, but there was much about Shannow that concerned him and he confided his worries to Dr Meredith. 'He is a very self-contained man, but I think he remembers far less than he admits. There seems to be a great gulf in his memory.'

'I have been trying to recall everything I read about protective amnesia,' Meredith told him. The trauma he suffered was so great that his conscious mind reels from it, blanking out vast areas. Give him time.' Jeremiah smiled. Time is what we have, my friend.' Meredith nodded and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the darkening sky. A gentle wind was drifting down across the mountains, and from here he could smell the cottonwood trees by the river, and the scent of grass from the hillsides. 'What are you thinking?' asked Jeremiah.

'It is beautiful here. It makes the evil of the cities seem far away, and somehow inconsequential.' Jeremiah sighed. 'Evil is never inconsequential, doctor.' 'You know what I mean,' chided Meredith. Jeremiah nodded, and the two men sat for a while in companionable silence. The day's journey had been a good one, the wagons moving over the plains and halting in the shadows of a jagged mountain range. A little to the north was a slender waterfall and the Wanderers had camped beside the river that ran from it. The women and children were roaming a stand of trees on the mountainside, gathering dead wood for the evening fires, while most of the men had ridden off in search of meat. Shannow was resting in Jeremiah's wagon.

Isis came into sight, bearing a bundle of dry sticks which she let fall at Jeremiah's feet. 'It wouldn't do you any harm to work a little,' she said. Both men noticed her tired eyes, and the faintest touch of purple on the cheeks below them.