Nestor walked from the house.
Outside the Crusaders were clearing away the corpses, dragging them to the field beyond the buildings.
Several camp-fires had been lit in the lee of the barn, and men were sitting quietly talking in groups.
Isis was sitting by the paddock fence, staring out over the moonlit hills. When Nestor joined her she looked up and smiled. 'It is a wonderful night,' she said.
Nestor glanced up at the glittering stars. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'It's good to be alive.'
Beth sat beside Shannow's bed, Padlock Wheeler standing beside her. 'By God, Deacon, I never thought to hear you lie,' said Wheeler. 'But it did the trick; it threw him, right enough.'
Shannow smiled weakly. 'It was no lie, Pad.' Slowly, and with great effort, he told the story of his travels, beginning with the attack on his church, his rescue by the Wanderers, the fight with Aaron Crane and his men, and finally his meeting with Amaziga beyond the town of Domango.
'It really was you then, in my church!' said Wheeler. 'By Heaven, Deacon, you never cease to amaze me.'
'There's more, Pad,' said Shannow. He closed his eyes and spoke of the Bloodstone, and the ruined world from which it came.
'How do we fight such a beast?' asked Padlock Wheeler.
‘I have a plan,' said Shannow. 'Not much of one, I'll grant you, but, with the grace of God, it'll give us a chance.'
Zerah Wheeler entered the room, her shoulder bandaged and her arm bound across her chest. 'Leave the wounded man be,' she said, 'and say hello to your mother.'
Padlock spun, jaw agape. 'Jesus wept, Mother! I did not know you were here. And you're wounded!'
Moving to her side, he threw his arm around her shoulder.
'Whisht, you lummox! You'll set it bleeding again,' she scolded, knocking his hand away. 'Now come outside and leave the man to rest. You too, Beth.'
‘I’ll be with you soon,' said Beth quietly as Zerah led her son from the room. Josiah Broome rose and patted Shannow's arm. 'It is good to see you, my friend,' he said, and left the wounded man alone with Beth. She took his hand and sighed.
'Why did you not tell me who you were?' she asked.
'Why did you not recognise me?' he countered.
She shrugged. 'I should have. I should have done so many things, Jon. And now it's all wasted and gone.
I couldn't take it, you see. You changed — from man of action to preacher. It was such a change. Why did it have to be so drastic, so radical?'
He smiled wearily. 'I can't tell you, Beth. Except that I have never understood compromise. For me, it is all or nothing. Yet despite my efforts, I failed — in everything. I didn't find Jerusalem and, as a preacher, I couldn't remain a pacifist.' He sighed. 'When the church was burning I felt a terrible rage. It engulfed me.
And then as the Deacon… I thought I could make a difference. Bring God in to the world. . establish discipline. I failed at that too.'
'History alone judges success or failure, Shannow,' said Amaziga, moving into the room.
Beth glanced up, ready to tell the woman to leave, but she felt Shannow's hand squeeze hers and saw him shake his head. Amaziga sat down on the other side of the bed. 'Lucas tells me you have a plan, but he won't share it with me.'
'Let me speak with him.' Amaziga passed him the headphones and the portable. Shannow winced as he tried to raise his arm. Amaziga leaned forward and settled the headphones into place, slipping the microphone from its groove and twisting it into position. 'Leave me,' he said.
Beth rose first. Amaziga seemed reluctant to go, but at last she too stood up and followed Beth from the room.
Outside, Padlock and his brother Seth were sitting with Zerah, Wallace and the children. Beth walked out into the moonlight, past Samuel Archer who was sitting on the porch, watching the stars; Amaziga sat beside him. Beth walked out, breathing the night air. Nestor and Isis came towards her, both smiling as they passed.
Dr Meredith was standing by the paddock fence, looking out over the hills.
'All alone, Doctor?' she said, moving to stand beside him.
He grinned boyishly. 'Lots to think about, Frey McAdam. So much has happened these past few days. I loved that old man; Jeremiah was good to me. It hurts that I caused his death; I would do anything to bring him back.'
'There's things we can't change,' said Beth softly, 'no matter how much we might want to. Life goes on.
That's what separates the strong from the weak. The strong move on.'
'You think it will ever change?' he asked suddenly.
'What will change?'
'The world. People. Do you think there'll ever come a day when there are no wars, no needless killing?'
'No,' she said simply. ‘I don't.'
'Neither do I. But it's something to strive for, isn't it?'
'Amen to that!'
Sarento's hunger was intense, a yawning chasm within him filled with tongues of fire. He strode from the rebuilt palace and out into the wide courtyard. Four Hellborn warriors were sitting together by an archway; they stood as he approached, and bowed. Without thinking he drew their life forces from them, watching them topple to the ground.
His hunger was untouched.
An edge of panic flickered in his soul. For a vyhile, in the late afternoon, he had felt the flow of blood from the men he had sent out to the farm. Since then, nothing.
Walking on, he came out on to a ruined avenue. He could hear the sound of men singing, and on the edge of what had once been a lake garden he saw a group of his men sitting around camp-fires. Beyond them were a score of prisoners.
The hunger tore at him. .
He approached silently. Men toppled to the ground as he passed. The prisoners, seeing what was happening, began to scream and run. Not one escaped. Sarento's hunger was momentarily appeased.
Moving past the dried-out corpses, he walked to the picket line and mounted a tall stallion. There were around thirty horses here, standing quietly, half-asleep. One by one they died.
All save the stallion. .
Sarento took a deep breath, then reached out with his mind.'
Sustenance. I need sustenance, he thought. Already the hunger was returning, and it took all his willpower not to devour the life force of the horse he was riding. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to float out over the moonlit land, seeking the soul-scent of living flesh.
Finding it, he kicked the horse into a run. And headed out towards Pilgrim's Valley.
Shannow, his side strapped, blood seeping through the bandages, sat at the wide, bullet-ripped table, Padlock Wheeler standing alongside. At the table sat Amaziga Archer and her husband; beside Sam were Seth Wheeler and Beth McAdam. Amaziga spoke, telling them all of the Bloodstone, and the terrible powers he possessed.
‘Then what can we do?' asked Seth. 'Sounds like he's invincible.'
Sam shook his head. 'Not quite. His hunger is his Achilles heeclass="underline" it grows at a geometric rate. Without blood — or life if you prefer — he will weaken and literally starve.'
'So we just keep out of his way? Is that it?' asked Padlock.
'Not quite,' admitted Amaziga. 'We none of us know how long he could survive. He could move from active life into a suspended state, being re-activated only when another life force approaches. But what we hope for is that, in a depleted state, his body will be less immune to gunfire. Every shot that strikes him will leach power from him as he struggles to protect himself. It may be that if we can corner him we can destroy him.'
Seth Wheeler glanced at the beautiful black woman. 'You don't seem too confident,' he said shrewdly.
'I'm not.'