Bloodstone

Sam looked away. There has to be a way. God knows there has to be.'

'If there is, my love, we will not find it here. Perhaps in the world before the Fall we can find something -

and then come back.'

Sam thought about it for a while, then slowly nodded. 'You are right — as always. How do we get to your world?'

Amaziga laughed. 'Don't look so crestfallen. There is so much we can do together for the good of all mankind. You are alive, Sam! And we are together.'

'And the Bloodstone is triumphant,' he whispered.

'Only for now,' she assured him.

* * *

Shannow glanced up at the two of them, watching their embrace.

Gareth moved alongside him. 'Well, we did it, Mr Shannow. We brought the lovers back together.'

Shannow nodded, but said nothing, turning his gaze to the distant mountains and the fringe of the desert to the north. 'You think they will follow us?' asked Gareth.

'Count on it,' Shannow told him. 'According to Lucas, it would take them most of a day to find a path down for their horses. Even so, I don't like the idea of sitting here and waiting. Four people with three tired horses? We won't outrun them, that's for sure.' He stood and wandered back to a brick-built well to the rear of the first house. Lowering the bucket, he dunked it below the surface, then hauled it back to the top. The water was cool and clear and he drank deeply. The death of the olive-skinned girl had touched him: she was so young, with untold paths lying before her. Now she would walk none of them, her life snuffed out by a murdering band of killers, serving an abomination.

Not for the first time he wondered how men could descend to such barbarism. He remembered the words of Varey Shannow: 'Jon, Man is capable of greatness, love, nobility, compassion. Yet never forget that his capacity for evil is infinite. It is a sad truth, boy, that if you sit now and think of the worst tortures that could ever be inflicted on another human being, they will already have been practised somewhere. If there is one sound that follows the march of humanity, it is the scream.'

Gareth led the horses to the well and filled a second bucket. 'You look far away, Mr Shannow,' said the young man. 'What were you thinking?'

Shannow did not reply. Turning, he saw Amaziga and Sam approaching hand in hand.

'We're ready to go,' she said.

The horses will need to rest for tonight,' said Shannow. They're worn out. We'll make use of one of these houses and leave at first light. I'll take the first watch.'

To his surprise, Amaziga offered no argument. Removing the headband and silver boxes that contained Lucas, she handed them to him, pointing out how to engage the machine, and warning him of the need to limit the use so as to conserve the energy.

Sam and Amaziga went into the first house. Gareth remained for a moment with Shannow; he grinned. 'I think I'll sleep in the next house,' he said. ‘I’ll relieve you in four hours.'

Removing his hat, Shannow slid the headband into place and then looped the shoulder rig across his right shoulder and pressed the button on the first box. Seconds later he heard Lucas's soft voice. Ts everyone safe?'

'Yes,' said Shannow.

'I can't hear you, Mr Shannow. Engage the microphone. It eases from the headband. Once in position it will activate automatically.'

Shannow twisted the slender rod into place. 'Yes, we are safe. Amaziga has Sam.'

There is sadness in your voice. I take it there was some tragedy?'

'Many people died, Lucas.'

'Ah yes… I see her now. Young and beautiful. You did not want to leave her. Oh, Mr Shannow. The world can be so savage.' Lucas was silent for a moment. 'What a lonely place this is,' he said at last. 'No birds, no animals. Nothing. Would you turn your head, Mr Shannow? There is a camera in the headband.

I will scan the countryside.' Shannow did as he was bid. 'Nothing,' said Lucas. 'Not even an insect. Truly this is a dead place. Wait… I am picking up something. .'

'What? Riders?'

'Shhh. Wait, please.' Shannow scanned the distant mountains, seeking any sign of movement, but there was nothing that he could see in the fading light. Finally the voice of Lucas drifted back. Tell Amaziga that we will be travelling back through the stone circle in Babylon; it is closer.'

'You want us to ride to the Hellborn city?' asked Shannow, astonished.

‘It will save half a day.'

There is the matter of an enemy nation to consider,' observed Shannow.

Trust me,' said Lucas. 'Ride north-east tomorrow. Now, Mr Shannow, please cut the power. I have seen all I want to see.'

Shannow flicked the switch, then removed the headband.

* * *

Else Broome could not sleep. Her enormous body tossed and turned on the rickety bed, the springs creaking in protest at the weight. She was angry. Her husband had lost his mind and shot down the Prophet, ending in one miserable moment all her dreams of status and respect. He had always been useless, weak and spineless, she thought. I should never have married him. And she wouldn't have, had Edric Scayse not rejected her. Men! Scayse would have been a considerable catch — rich, handsome, respected. He had also died young, which would have left Else as the grieving widow, heir to his fortune and able to live a life of luxury, perhaps even in Unity. The Widow Scayse. It was a delicious thought.

Yet despite every inducement she could offer, Scayse had remained immune to her advances, and she had been forced to settle for second-best. Second-best? She almost laughed at the thought. Josiah Broome was the runt of the litter. But through good fortune — and the benefit of a sensible wife — he had risen to a place of eminence among the people of Pilgrim's Valley.

Now even that small gain was gone for good. Today, on the main street, in front of everyone, several women had crossed the road to avoid Else Broome. Eyes were downcast as she passed — all except for Ezra Feard, Josiah's main competitor. He had smiled broadly and his thin witch of a wife had hurried out to stand beside him, gloating in Else's downfall.

And it would get worse. The Jerusalem Riders would bring her husband back, probably snivelling and crying, and lock him up in the Crusader jail, before the public trial which would see him hang. Oh, the shame of it!

Squeezing shut her eyes, she said a prayer. 'Oh, Lord, you know what trials I have been through with that wretched man. It is said that he was shot trying to escape. Let him die in the mountains. Let his body be devoured and never found.'

Maybe, after a few years, the memory of her mad husband would diminish in the eyes of the townsfolk.

Or she could marry again.

A sudden noise downstairs caused her eyes to jerk open.

Someone was moving around the house. 'Dear God, don't let it be Josiah! Anything but that!' she whispered.

There was a small pistol in the bedside table. Else sat up. If she crept down and killed him she would become a hero, all her status restored. Opening the drawer, she pulled out the weapon. It seemed tiny in her fat fist. Flicking open the revolver's side gate, she checked that it was loaded; then, easing her vast bulk from the bed, she moved out to the doorway and the stairs beyond. The belt of her cavernous white flannel nightgown caught on the door handle. Shaking it loose, she stepped on to the first stair which creaked loudly.

'Is that you, Josiah, dear?' she called, as she moved down into the darkness. Then she caught a flicker of movement to the left. Cocking the pistol, she stepped from the stairs. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, silver light streaming through the window and the open door. A huge shape reared up before her.