In its place floated the handsome man wearing a robe of purest white.
'I underestimated you, Mr Shannow,' he said.
'Who are you?'
'I am Abaddon. You should know the name.'
The name is in the Book of Revelation,' said Shannow. The angel of the bottomless pit. You are not he — you are merely a man.'
'Who is to say, Mr Shannow? If a man does not die, then he is divine. I have lived for three hundred and forty-six years, thanks to the Lord of this World.'
'You serve the Serpent,' stated Shannow.
'I serve the One who Conquered. How can you be such a fool, Mr Shannow? Armageddon is over, and where is the New Jerusalem? Where does the wolf sit down with the lamb? Where does the lion eat straw like, the cattle? Nowhere, Mr Shannow. The world died and your God died with it. You and I are the opposite extremes of the new order. My land flourishes; my armies can conquer the world. And you? You are a lonely man wandering the world like a shadow, unwelcome and unwanted — just like your God.'
Shannow felt the weight of truth bear down on him like a rock, but he said nothing.
'Lost for words, Mr Shannow? You should have listened to old Karitas. He had the chance to join me over a century ago, but he preferred to live in the woods like some venerated hermit. Now he is dead, quite poetically so — and his grubby people died with him. You will be next, Mr Shannow, unless you would prefer to join the Hellborn?'
There is no inducement under the stars which could tempt me to join you,' answered Shannow.
'Is there not? What about the life of Donna Taybard?'
Shannow blinked in shock and drew back. The handsome man laughed.
'Oh, Mr Shannow, you are truly not worth my enmity. You are the gnat in the ear of the elephant.
Go away and die somewhere.' He lifted his hand and Shannow was catapulted away at dizzying speed.
He awoke and groaned. Reaching for his Bible, by the dawn light he searched in vain for a passage to lift the rock from his soul.
Shannow and Selah rode from the lands of the Corn People, heading north across a great plain.
For weeks they rode, and camped in sheltered hollows, seeing no sign of man. Shannow remained silent and subdued and Selah respected his solitude. The young man would sit in the evenings watching Shannow pore over his Bible, seeking guidance and finding none.
One night Shannow put aside his Book and leaned back, staring at the stars. The horses were hobbled nearby and a small fire blazed brightly.
The age of miracles is past,' said Shannow.
'I have never seen a miracle,' replied Selah.
Shannow sat up and rubbed his chin. Their diet had been meagre for over a week and the Jerusalem Man was gaunt and hollow-eyed.
'A long time ago the Lord of Hosts split a sea asunder so that his people could cross it as dry land.
He brought water from rocks, and he sent his Angel of Death against the enemy. In those days his prophets could call upon him and he would grant them dazzling powers.'
'Maybe he is dead,' said Selah. 'Or sleeping,' he added swiftly, seeing the glare in Shannow's eyes.
'Sleeping? Yes, perhaps he is sleeping. Curopet came to me and said she would die. "No man for Curopet through the long winter nights." I wanted to save her, I wanted so much to be able to say,
"There, Curopet, the nightmare has been proved false." I prayed so hard.' He fell silent and sat staring at his hands.
'We did what we could,' said Selah. 'We killed many Hellborn.'
'Rocks in the lake,' muttered Shannow. 'Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it is all predestined and we stalk through life like puppets.'
'What does it matter, Thunder-maker? As long as we do not know.'
'It matters to me; it matters desperately to me. Just once I would like to feel that I have done something for my God; something for which I can feel pride. But his face is turned from me and my prayers are like whispers in the wind.'
Shannow wrapped himself in his blankets and slept fitfully.
By mid-morning they spotted a small herd of antelope. Shannow kicked the gelding into a run and brought down a young doe with a shot to the heart. Dismounting, he cut the beast's throat, standing back as the blood drained into the soft earth. Then he skinned and quartered the doe and the two riders feasted well.
Two days later Shannow and Selah came out of the plain into an area of wooded hills.
To the north was a mountain range taller than any Shannow had ever seen, rearing up into the low scudding clouds. The mountains lifted Shannow's spirits, and he told Selah he would like to see them at close range.
The colour drained from the boy's face. 'We cannot go there,' he whispered. 'It is death, believe me.' 'What do you know of this place?' 'All the ghosts gather there. And monsters who can devour a herd of buffalo at a single sitting — the earth shakes when they move. My father came close to this place many years ago. No one travels there.'
'Believe me, Selah, I have travelled widely; I have seen few monsters and most of those were human in origin. I am going there.'
Shannow touched his heels to the gelding's sides and rode on without a backward glance, but Selah remained where he was — his eyes fearful, his heart pounding. Shannow had saved his life, and Selah regarded himself as a debtor; he needed to repay the Jerusalem Man in order to be freed from obligation. Yet every ounce of his being screamed against this venture, and the two opposing forces of his intellect and his emotions left him frozen in the saddle.
Without turning, Shannow lifted his hand and beckoned the boy to join him. It was all Selah needed to swing the balance and he kicked his horse into a run and rode alongside the Thunder-maker.
Shannow grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. It was the first time Selah had seen him smile in weeks. Was it a form of madness, Selah wondered? Did the prospect of danger and death somehow bring this man to life?
They rode along a deer trail that wound high into the hills where the air was fresh with the smell of pine and new grass. A lion roared in the near distance and Selah could picture it leaping upon its prey, for the roar had been the blood-freezing attack cry which paralysed the victim. Selah's horse shied and he calmed it with soft words. A shot followed, echoing in the hills. Shannow's Hellborn pistol appeared in his hand and he steered his gelding towards the sound. Selah tugged Shannow's percussion pistol from his own belt and followed but he did not cock the pistol, nor had he handled it since Shannow gave it to him on the morning they left Karitas' grave. The weapon terrified him and yet gave him strength, and he kept it in his belt more as a talisman than a death-dealing thunder-maker.
Selah followed Shannow over a steep rise and down a slope towards a narrow glen. Ahead the boy could see a man on the ground, a black-maned lion straddling him. The man's right hand was gripping the lion's mane, holding its jaws from ripping his throat, while his left hand plunged a knife time and again into the beast's side.
Shannow galloped alongside, dragged on the reins and, as the gelding reared, fired a shot into the lion's head. The animal slumped over the body of his intended victim and the man pulled himself clear. His black leather trousers were torn at the thigh and blood was seeping through; his face had been deeply cut and the flesh hung in a dripping fold over his right cheek. Pushing himself to his feet, he sheathed his knife. He was a powerful man with wide shoulders and a deep chest and he sported a forked black trident beard.
Ignoring his rescuers, he staggered to a spot some yards away and retrieved his revolver, which he placed in a leather scabbard at his side. He stumbled, but recovered and turned at last to Shannow.