Yes, I remember Allion, he thought, and saw again the day Daniel Cade led his brigands into the town. In the blaze of gunfire that had followed several of Cade's men had been shot from their saddles, while Cade himself took a bullet in the knee. Daniel Cade. Brother Daniel. For some reason that Shannow could never fathom, God had chosen Daniel to lead the war against the Hellborn.
But what then? Hazy pictures drifted into his mind, then vanished like mist in the breeze. A blonde woman, tall and strong, and a young fighter, lightning-fast with a pistol. . Cram? Glen?
'No,' said Shannow aloud. 'Clem. Clem Steiner.'
It will all come back, he promised himself. Just give it time.
Then came the sound of horses moving slowly through the darkness, the creak of leather saddles, the soft clopping of hooves on the dry plain. Shannow drew his pistols and eased himself further down into the rocks as the horses came closer. Removing his wide-brimmed hat, he risked a glance to the west; he could see them now, but not well enough to count them.
I don't want to kill again.
Aiming high, he loosed a shot. Some of the horses reared in fright, several others stampeded. Shannow saw one man thrown from the saddle, and another jumped clear of his bucking mount. Several shots were fired in his direction, but the bullets struck the rocks and screamed off into the night.
Dropping to his belly, Shannow peered round the rocks. The riders had dismounted and were now advancing on his position. From the east he heard the distant sound of gunfire.
The wagons! In that instant he knew there were two groups, and the blood-letting had already begun.
Anger surged within him.
Swiftly he pushed himself to his feet and stepped out from the rocks. A man reared up… Shannow shot him through the chest. Another moved to his right and again his pistol boomed.
He walked in amongst the men, guns blazing. Stunned by this sudden attack, the raiders broke and ran.
A man to Shannow's right groaned as the Jerusalem Man strode past him. A bullet whipped by Shannow's face, so close he felt its passing, the sound ringing in his ears like an angry bee. Twisting, he triggered both pistols and a rifleman was punched from his feet.
Two horses were standing close by. Shannow strode to the first and vaulted to the saddle. A man reared up from the undergrowth. Shannow shot him twice; then kicking the animal into a run, he headed east, reloading his pistols as the horse thundered across the plain. Anger was strong upon him now, a deep, boiling rage that threatened to engulf him. He did nothing to quell it.
Always it was the same, the evil strong preying on the weak, violence and death, lust and destruction.
When will it end, he wondered? Dear God, when will it end?
The full moon bathed the land in silver, and in the distance the red of fire could be seen as one of the wagons blazed. The firing was sporadic now, but at least it suggested that some of the Wanderers were still fighting.
Closer still he came, and saw five men kneeling behind a group of boulders; one of them had long white hair. A rifleman rose up, aiming at the wagons. Shannow loosed a shot which missed the man but ricocheted from the boulder, making the rifleman jerk back. The white-haired Oath Taker swung round, saw Shannow and began to run. Ignoring him, Shannow trained his guns on the riflemen.
'Put down your weapons,' he ordered them. 'Do it now — or die!'
Three of the four remaining men did exactly as they were told, then raised their hands, but the last — the thick-set man he had spoken to earlier — suddenly swung his rifle to bear. Shannow put a bullet into his brain.
'Jeremiah! It's me, Shannow,' shouted the Jerusalem Man. 'Can you hear me?'
'He's been shot,' came the answering call. 'We've wounded here — three dead, two badly hit.'
Gesturing to the captured men, Shannow ordered them towards the wagons. Once inside he gazed around. The pregnant Clara was dead, half her head blown away. A burly man named Chalmers was lying beside her. By Jeremiah's wagon lay the body of a child in a faded blue dress: one of Clara's two daughters. Shannow dismounted and moved to where Dr Meredith was kneeling beside the wounded Jeremiah. The old man had taken two shots, one to the upper chest and a second to the thigh. His face was grey in the moonlight.
‘I’ll live,' the old man whispered.
The wagons had been formed into a rough circle, and several of the horses were down. Isis and two of the men were battling to put out a fire in the last wagon. Guns in hand, Shannow strode back to the captured men, who were standing together at the centre of the camp.
'The bellows are burned, the land is consumed of the fire; the founder melteth in vain, for the wicked are not plucked away.' His guns levelled and he eased back the hammers.
'Shannow, no!' screamed Jeremiah. 'Let them be! Christ, man, there's been enough killing already.'
Shannow took a deep, slow breath, 'Help put out the fire,' he ordered the men. They obeyed him instantly, and without another word he walked to his horse and stepped into the saddle.
'Where are you going?' called Dr Meredith.
Shannow did not answer.
Aaron Crane and the survivors of the raid galloped into Purity and drew up before the long stone meeting-hall. Crane, dust-covered and dishevelled, dismounted and ran inside. The hall was crowded, the prayer meeting under way. On the dais Padlock Wheeler was reaching the midpoint in his sermon', concerning the path of the righteous. He stopped as he saw Crane and inwardly he groaned, but it was not wise to incur the wrath of the Oath Taker. The black-bearded minister fell silent for a moment, then forced a smile.
'You seem distraught, brother,' he said. Heads turned then, among them Captain Seth Wheeler and the twelve men of Purity's Crusaders. Crane drew himself up and ran a slender hand through his long white hair.
The forces of the Devil have been turned against us,' he said. 'The Lord's riders have been cut down.'
There was a gasp from the congregation and several of the women began to shout out questions concerning the fate of their husbands, brothers, or sons.
'Silence!' thundered Padlock Wheeler. 'Let the Oath Taker speak.'
'As you all know,' said Crane, 'we came upon a band of pagan Wanderers. With them was a demonic force: I recognised the power of Satan instantly. We tried, in vain, to overcome it. Many are dead. A few of us escaped, through the intervention of the Lord. We must have more men! I demand that the Crusaders ride out after these devils!'
Padlock Wheeler glanced down at his brother Seth. The captain rose from his seat. He was a tall, slim man with a long face and a dour expression. 'Let the women go to their homes,' he said. 'We'll discuss what's to be done.'
'Where's my boy?' screamed a woman, rushing at Crane. 'Where is Lemuel?'
'I fear he perished,' Crane told her, 'but he died in the Lord's work.' The woman's hand snaked out to slash across Crane's cheek. Two other women grabbed her, hauling her back.
'Stop this!' thundered Padlock Wheeler. This is a house of God!' The commotion died instantly. Slowly the women filed from the hall, the men gathering around Crane.
Seth Wheeler moved forward. Tell us of this demon,' he ordered Crane.
'It is in the guise of a man, but it is Satan-inspired. He is a killer. A terrible killer!' Crane shivered. 'He cast a spell upon me that took all the power I had to overcome.'
'How many are dead?' asked the Crusader captain.
‘I don't know. We advanced on two fronts. The killer was waiting in the east and shot down four men: Lassiter, Pope, Carter and Lowris. Then he rode west and slew. . everyone but me. I managed to escape.'
'You ran?'
'What else could I do?'
Seth Wheeler glanced at the men gathered in the hall. There were some twenty in all, plus his twelve Crusaders. 'How many Wanderers were there?'