Wolf In Shadow (36 page)

  The Devil disappeared and Zedeki screamed. Griffin swung and fired and the bullet punched Zedeki back against the wall; his knees buckled and he sank to the floor, still gazing at the star-filled night sky.

 Griffin sat down and watched the young man die.

 Abaddon stood on the black marble balcony overlooking the temple steps, revelling in the appearance of his god, feeling his doubts swirling away from him like mist in the morning. The sound of gunshots came from within the temple and the priests scattered. He saw Achnazzar hurled from his feet and devoured by the Devil. Then a dark-clad figure ran forward, the Devil’s hand dropped and Abaddon screamed his triumph as the warrior was swept into his palm.

 But the Devil disappeared and a pain clutched Abaddon’s heart like fingers of fire. He screamed and fell back through the doorway, crawling to his bedside and the ivory-inlaid ebony box which lay there. He whispered the words of power, but the box did not open. Pulling himself to his knees, he struggled for calm and pressed the hidden button at the base. The lid sprang open and relief surged in him as his hands pulled clear the large oval Blood Stone. The pain in his chest eased slightly. He bunked and focused hit eyes on the stone - the red was fading, the black veins growing as he watched.

 ’No!’ he whispered. Brown liver spots blossomed on his hands, and the skin began to wrinkle. He managed to get to his feet and drew a silver embossed pistol from a leather scabbard hanging at the bedside.

 ’Guard!’ he yelled and a young man ran into the room.

 ’What is it, sire?’

 Abaddon shot him through the head, then carried the Stone to the twitching body and held it under the pumping jet of blood coming from the man’s brow. Yet still the power ebbed, the black veins spreading and joining.

 ’There is nothing you can do, Lawrence,’ said Ruth. Abaddon dropped the Stone and sank down beside the guard’s body.

 ’Help me, Ruthie.’

 ’I cannot. You should have died a long time ago.’

 His hair glistened white and his face took on the look of worn leather. He no longer had the strength to sit and his body slumped to the floor. Ruth sat beside him, cradling his head in her lap.

 ’Why did you go away?’ he whispered. ‘It could all have been so different.’ The flesh melted from his face and his lips moved in a last ragged whisper. ‘I did love you,’ he said.

 ’I know.’

 His body fell back hi her arms and she could feel the bones beneath the skin, brittle and pointed. The skin peeled away and the bones crumbled to the floor.

 On the steps of the temple, Batik swiftly reloaded his pistol and sat facing the crowd. The roar of rage died down and the mob fell back, staring at their painted hands and looking in confusion at their comrades. At the front of the crowd a man groaned and toppled forward and a friend knelt by him.

 ’He’s dead,’ said the man. Someone else in the crowd, feeling unwell, drew his Blood Stone from its pouch; it was blacker than sin. Another man died and the crowd backed away from the body. As other people checked their Stones, panic grew.

 On the steps Madden helped Batik to his feet and they moved to Donna, ripping the silver bands from her body. She moaned and opened her eyes.

 ’Jacob?’

 ’It’s all right. You’re safe, girl.’

 ’Where is Con?’

 ’He’s waiting for us. I’ll take you to him.’

 ’And Eric?’

 ’We’ll talk later. Take my hand.’

 Below them the crowd was streaming away. Madden lifted Donna into his arms as a dark-haired young man approached him.

 ’God’s greeting,’ he said.

 ’Who are you?’ asked Batik.

 ’Clophas. You do not know me, Batik, but I was at Sanctuary while you were there.’

 ’It seems a long time ago.’

 ’Yes, a lifetime. Can I help you with the lady?’

 On the Titanic, people fought with one another to climb the choked stairways and escape the rising water. The Mother Stone, unleashing all its energy, played its role to the full, tilting the ship to imitate the original disaster. Scores of Guardians, their wives and children slid below the foaming torrent, thrashing and screaming for assistance. None was offered.

 Whereas in the disaster of 1912 a number of brave men had manned the pumps until the last minute, not one Guardian now had the knowledge to do the same. Where the original tragedy had been enacted during three hours, this Titanic was sinking within minutes. Bulkheads collapsed and hundreds died, dragged to their deaths by the seething ocean.

 There was no escape. Many threw themselves from the upper decks, splashing into the sea below only to find themselves piercing the edge of the Stone’s field of energy, and dropping through the water to hurtle down the mountain on to the jagged marble ruins of Atlantis.

 Amaziga Archer and her son, Luke, struggled through the Smoking Lounge and on to the A-deck foyer. The water here was waist-deep and rising. Lifting Luke to her shoulder, she climbed through a shattered window and out on to the steeply tilted deck. Luke clung to her as she fought her way up towards the stern, rearing like a tower above the swelling sea. Hooking her arm around a brass stanchion, she listened to the cries of the victims trapped below.

 Slowly the dying ship slid under the waves. Cold water touched Amaziga’s ankles … it shimmered and faded.

 The Mother Stone was finished, choked by the thin thread of gold and exhausted by the disaster it had created. The ship shuddered and the sea disappeared. Amaziga sat up and touched her clothes. They were dry. Looking around her, she saw that she lay on a rusted deck and twenty feet from her a male survivor struggled to his feet.

 ’We made it!’ he shouted, but the rotting deck parted beneath his feet and the dead ship swallowed him and his screams. Amaziga felt the deck move beneath her and crawled carefully to the stern where the ship touched the cliff-face. The deck gave way. Amaziga’s hand flashed out to grip the rail and Luke screamed and hung from her neck. The muscles in her arm stretched and tore, but her fingers remained locked to the rail. She glanced down into the dark, empty bowels of the ghost ship.

 ’Hold on, Luke!’ she shouted and the boy gripped her tunic. She took a deep breath, then dragged on her arm, hauling herself upwards and hooking her left arm to the rail. As her weight hit the rail it bent outwards, almost dislodging her. Swinging her feet up she scrambled on to the hull and inched her way to the cliff. Here the drop was even greater and the ruins of Atlantis gleamed like pointed teeth. She removed the leather belt from her tunic and looped it around Luke’s back, tying him to her. Then she stepped to the rock face and began the long, hazardous climb.

 Shannow found a concave bulge in the rocky roof where an air pocket was trapped above the bubbling water. Death was close, and much as he tried to prepare himself for the end he knew he was not ready. Rage and despair tore at him. No Jerusalem! No end to the quest of his lifetime! The rising water lapped at his chin, spilling over into his mouth. He gagged and spat it out, his fingers scrabbling at the rocks as the weight of his coat and gun dragged him down.

 ’Calm yourself, Shannow!’ came a voice hi his mind. A glow began to his right and Pendarric’s face appeared like a shimmering reflection on the stone roof. ‘Follow me, if you wish to live.’

 The glow sank below the water and Shannow cursed and took several deep breaths, filling his lungs with oxygen. Then he dived below the surface. Far below he could see the Mother Stone, its glow fading fast, but ahead of him floated the ghostly face. He swam towards it, ever deeper, his lungs beginning to burn as his weary arms pushed at the water. Pendarric glided further ahead to a black tunnel mouth near the cavern floor. Here Shannow felt the tug of the current and was swept into the tunnel. His chest was a growing agony and he released a little air. Panic began, but Pendarric’s voice cut through his fear.

 ’Courage, Rolynd.’

 His body was buffeted from rock to rock hi the narrow tunnel, until he could hold his breath no longer, his lungs expelled the precious air and sucked in salt water. His head swam and he lost consciousness, just as his body tumbled free of the mountain. Pendarric’s translucent form materialized beside Shannow, but the king was powerless to aid the dying man.

 ’Ruth!’ he called, his plea roaring across the gulf of Spirit.

 Shannow lay unmoving as Pendarric called again. And again.

  She appeared and took in the scene in a moment. Kneeling, she rolled Shannow to his chest and straddled his back. Her hands pressed hard against the small of his back, forcing his lungs to expel the deadly liquid. But still the Jerusalem Man showed no sign of life. She jerked him to his back and lifted his head, pinching his nostrils closed. Her mouth covered his and her breath filled his lungs. The minutes passed and Shannow groaned, sucking in a long shuddering breath.

 ’He will live?’ said Pendarric.

 Ruth nodded.

 ’You are tired, Lady.’

 ’Yes, but I have found the way.’

 ’I hoped you would. Is the pain great?’

 Ruth’s eyes met his and she did not need to answer.

 ’You have great courage, Ruth. Hold to it. Do not let the power of the Blood Stones overpower you. They will make you dream great dreams - they will fill your heart with the desire to rule.’

 ’Do not fear for me, Pendarric - such thoughts of conquest are for men. But as I draw the power from the Stones I can feel my soul contaminated by the evil. I can feel the hatred and the lust swell within me. For the first time in my life, I understand the desire to kill.’

 ’And will you?’ asked the king.

 ’No.’

 ’Can you stop the Hellborn in the south without killing?’

 ’I can try, Pendarric.’

 ’You are stronger than I, Ruth.’

 ’Wiser perhaps, and not as humble as I was. I do not want to die - and yet you were right. I cannot live with this seething force inside me.’

 Take the swan’s path and know peace.’

 ’Yes. Peace. Would that I could carry all hatred from the world with my passing.’

 Pendarric shrugged. ‘You will destroy the Stones. It is enough.’

 Shannow moaned and rolled.

 ’I will say farewell here, Ruth. It was a privilege to have known you.’

 ’I thank you for my lessons.’

 The pupil is greater than the teacher,’ he said. And vanished.

 Shannow awoke on the rocky ground a half-mile from the marble ruins and found himself gazing up at the Titanic. Once more it was the golden, rusting wreck he had first seen. Then a great tear ripped along the hull and the sea gushed from her like a giant waterfall, hurtling down on the ancient city below. The torrent continued for some minutes and Shannow could see tiny bodies carried in the foaming water.

 He sat up to see Ruth beside him watching the second death of the legendary ship. Tears were falling and she looked away.

 ’Thank you for my life,’ he said lamely.

 ’I bear the responsibility for theirs,’ she replied, as bodies continued to rain down on Atlantis.

 ’They fashioned their own doom,’ he told her. ‘You cannot blame yourself.’

 She sighed and turned from the ship. ‘Donna is safe, and reunited with Con Griffin.’

 ’I wish them their happiness,’ said Shannow.

 ’I know - it marks you as a special man.’

 ’What of Batik?’

 ’He was wounded, but he will survive. He is a tough man and he took on the Devil single-handed.’

 ’The Devil?’

 ’No,’ said Ruth, smiling, ‘but a close imitation.’

 ’And Abaddon?’

 ’He is dead, Jon.’

 ’Did Batik kill him?’

 ’No, you did, Jerusalem Man. Or perhaps the Guardians did, a very long time ago.’

 ’I don’t understand.’

 ’Do you remember me telling you about Lawrence and how he was at peace and happy after the Fall? How he helped to rebuild?’

 ’Yes.’

 ’And, more importantly, how he came to have visions of the Devil speaking to him and guiding him?’

 ’Of course.’

 The Devil was here, Jon, in that accursed ship. It was the Stone and those who used it; they were the wolves in the shadows all along, getting Lawrence to feed them souls. They found the weakness in him and caused Abaddon to blossom and grow. They fed him power and kept him alive through the centuries. When you sealed that power, Lawrence became himself- a man long dead.’

 ’Sarento was a man with a dream,’ said Shannow. ‘He wanted to rebuild the old world - bring back all the cities, restore civilization.’

 ’That wasn’t a dream,’ said Ruth. ‘It was an obsession. Believe me, Jon, I lived in that old world and I can tell you that there is little I would recreate. For every blessing, there was a curse. For every joy, ten sorrows. Nine-tenths of the world went short of food and everywhere there were wars, plagues, famine and starvation. It was finished before the Fall, but it was taking a long time to die.’

 ’What will you do now?’

 ’I will return to Sanctuary.’

 ’Is Selah well?’

 ’He is fine. He has~gone now, with all my people, out into the world. I sent him with Clophas; they get on well together.’

 ’You will be alone in Sanctuary?’

 ’For a little while.’

 ’Will I see you again?’

 ’I think not.’ She turned back to the wreck and saw a tiny figure climbing down the mountain. ‘One last favour, Jon?’

 ’Of course.’

 That is Sam Archer’s wife and son. See them to safety.’

 ’I will. Farewell, Ruth.’

 ’God-speed. Seek your city and find your God.’

 Shannow grinned. ‘I’ll find it.’

 Back in Sanctuary, Ruth lay down on her beloved sofa and drew on all the power she had amassed through the centuries. Her body glowed and grew, absorbing not only all of Sanctuary but continuing to drain the power from every Blood Stone within her considerable reach. As her strength grew, so too did her pain and a war began within her as the might of the Blood Stones met the essence of Sanctuary. Rage welled in her soul and all the forgotten moments of anger, lust and greed flooded her being.

 That which had been Ruth Welby pulsed out into the night like a glowing cloud, dispersing into the air, travelling on the currents of the night winds.