“Yes.”
“And, more important, 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 re-create. 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 favor, Jon?”
“Of course.”
“That is Sam Archer’s wife and son. See them to safety.”
“I will. Farewell, Ruth.”
“Godspeed. 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, not only absorbing 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, traveling on the currents of the night winds.
For a while Ruth fought to hold a sense of identity within the cloud, battling to subdue the dark power of the stones, establishing harmony within her strength.
At last she came upon the Hellborn army massing for the final charge against the defenders of Sweetwater. Then she surrendered to infinity and fell like a rain of golden light upon the valley.
The Hellborn general, Abaal, sat on the grass-covered crest of a hill, staring sullenly toward the Sweetwater pass while below him his army mustered for the charge. For two days now the ferocity of the defense had been weakening as Cade and his men ran short of shells. Yesterday the Hellborn had almost broken through, but Cade had rallied the defenders and Abaal’s warriors had been pushed back after fierce hand-to-hand fighting.
Today, Abaal knew, would see an end to resistance. His eyes raked the entrance to the pass, where the bodies of men and horses lay bloated in the sunshine—more than a thousand young men who would never return to their homes.
The warmth of the sun made him remove his heavy black topcoat, and he lay back on the grass, fixing his gaze on the defenders. The enemy, too, had lost many men and by rights should have run. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and victory was not an option for them. Yet they stayed.
Abaal searched for the comfort of his hatred, but it was gone.
How could he hate men and women prepared to die for their homeland?
His aide, Doreval, rode up the crest and dismounted. “The men are ready, sir.”
“How do they feel about the loss of their stones?”
“There is fear among them, but they are disciplined.”
Abaal gestured for the young man to sit beside him. “The day has a curious feel to it.”
“In what way, sir?”
“It’s hard to explain. Do you hate them, Doreval? The defenders?”
“Of course; they are the enemy.”
“But is your hatred as strong today?”
The young man looked away, his gaze floating over the corpses on the plain. “Yes,” he said at last.
Abaal caught the lie and ignored it. “What are you thinking?”
“I was remembering my father and our parting. As he lay dying, I just sat there thinking about the wealth I would have, how his concubines would be mine. I never thanked him. Such a strange feeling.”
“Tell me, Doreval, and with truth—do you want to fight today?”
“Yes, sir. It would be an honor to lead the men.”
Abaal looked deeply into the young man’s eyes and knew once more that he had lied. He could not blame him; the Abaal of yesterday would have killed him for the truth.
“Tell the men to stand down.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Doreval, unable to keep the relief from his face.
“And fetch me a jug of wine.”
At the entrance to the pass Cade watched the enemy dismount.
“What they playing at, Daniel?” asked Gambion.
Cade shrugged and opened the breech of his pistol; only two shells remained. He closed his eyes, and Gambion thought he was praying and moved to one side, but Cade was merely trying to think, to concentrate. He opened his eyes and looked around at the defenders, swallowing hard. They had fought so well.
A long time before—or so it seemed—Lisa had asked Cade whether he would create an army from lambs. Well, he had, and brave they were! But courage could carry a man only so far. Now they were all to die, and Cade realized he did not have the courage to see it. He sheathed his pistol and stood.
“Pass me my stick, Ephram.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to talk to God,” said Cade. Gambion handed him the carved stick, and Cade limped out into the entrance of Sweetwater, stopping to look at the Hellborn dead choking the grass. The stench turned his stomach, and he walked on.
It was a beautiful day, and his knee had ceased its throbbing.
“Well, God, seems like we ought to have one real chat before the end. I’ve got to be honest—I don’t really believe in you—but I figure I’ve nothing to lose by this. If I’m talking to myself, it don’t matter. But if you are there, then maybe you’ll listen. These people are about to die. That’s no big thing—people have been dying for thousands of years—but my lads are getting ready to die for you. And that should mean something. I may be a false prophet, but they’re true believers, and I hope they don’t get short shrift from you merely because of me. I never was worth much—didn’t have the guts to farm and spent my life stealing and the like. No excuses. But Ephram and the rest are worth something more; they really have repented or whatever the hell you call it. I’ve brought them to their deaths, and I don’t want to think about them lining up expectant-like outside the gates, only to be told they ain’t getting in. That’s all I got to say, God.”
As Cade walked on toward the distant Hell born, he pulled his pistol from his belt and hurled it onto the grass.
Hearing the sound of movement behind him, he turned and saw Ephram Gambion lumbering toward him, his bald head shining with sweat.
“What did he say, Daniel?”
Cade smiled and patted the giant on the shoulder. “He let me do the talking this time, Ephram. You fancy a walk?”
“Where we going?”
“To the Hellborn.”
“Why?”
Cade ignored the question and limped away. Gambion joined him.
“You still with me, Ephram?”
“Did you ever doubt it?”
“I guess not. Look at that sky. Mackerel-black and streaked
with clouds. Hell of a good day to die, I’d say.”
“Is that where we’re going? To die?”
“You don’t have to come with me; I can do it alone.”
“I know that, Daniel. But we’ve come this far together, so I guess I’ll stay awhile yet. You know, we done pretty good against that damned army; not bad for a bunch of brigands and farmers.”
“The best days of my life,” admitted Cade, “but I should have said good-bye to Lisa.”
The two men walked on in silence through the ranks of the dead and onto the plain before the Hellborn. There they were spotted by a scout, who took the news to Doreval; he rode to Abaal, and the general ordered his horse saddled. Gambion watched as a score of Hellborn soldiers galloped toward them and drew his pistol.
“Throw it away, Ephram.”
“I ain’t dying without a fight.”
“Throw it away.”
Gambion swore … and hurled the pistol out over the grass.
The Hellborn slowed their mounts and ringed the two men. Cade ignored the rifles and pistols pointed at him, watching as the steel-haired general dismounted.
“You would be Cade?”
“I am.”
“I am Abaal, lord of the Sixth. Why are you here?”
“Thought it was time we met. Face-to-face, man to man.”
“To what purpose?”
“Thought you might like to bury your dead.”
“This is a strange day,” said Abaal. “Like a dream. Is it magic of yours?”
“No. Maybe it’s just something that happens when a lot of men have to die for nothing. Maybe it’s just weariness.”
“What are you saying, Cade? Speak openly.”
Cade laughed. “Openly? Why not? What are we doing here, killing each other? What are we fighting for? A field of grass? A few empty meadows? Why don’t you just go home?”
“There is an enchantment working here,” said Abaal. “I do not understand it, but I feel the truth of what you say. You will allow us to bury our dead?”
Cade nodded.
“Then I agree. The war is over!”
Abaal extended his hand, and Cade stared down at it, unable to move. This man had led the massacres, causing untold grief and horror. Looking into Abaal’s eyes, he forced himself to accept the grip, and as he did so, the last vestiges of bitterness fled from him and he fought back the tears welling inside.
“You are a great man, Cade,” said Abaal, “and I shall be killed for listening to you. Perhaps we will meet in hell.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second,” said Cade.
Abaal smiled, then mounted his horse and led his men back to their tents.
“Jesus Christ!” said Gambion. “Did we win, Daniel?”
“Take me home, Ephram.”
As they neared Sweetwater, the defenders and their wives and children streamed out to meet them. Cade could not speak, but Gambion swiftly told them of the peace, and Cade was swept shoulder-high and carried back into the pass.
Lisa was standing in a grove of elm, tears in her eyes, when Cade finally came to her. The sound of singing echoed through the mountains.
“Is it truly over, Daniel?”
“It is.”
“And you won. Now you’ll want to be a king?”
He pulled her to him and kissed her gently. “That was another man in another place. All I want now is for us to marry and start a home and a family. I want nothing more to do with war, or guns, or death. I’ll grow corn and raise cattle and sheep. I just want to be with you, and I don’t give a damn about being a king.”
Lisa lifted his chin and smiled. “Well,” she said, “now that you don’t want it, you’re bound to get it!”
Epilogue
IN THE YEAR after the Hellborn war Daniel Cade was elected Prester of Rivervale. He married Lisa in the biggest wedding ceremony seen in the area for thirty years. The whole community attended and the gifts were brought in several wagons.
Con Griffin, Donna, and their daughter, Tanya, returned to Rivervale and the farm built by Tomas the carpenter. Once they were clear of the Plague Lands, Donna’s powers faded, though often she would be seen in the far meadow, sitting silently with her daughter. At those times Con Griffin left them alone with their faraway dreams.
Jacob Madden married a young widow and took possession of the farm adjoining Griffin’s land; the two remained close friends until Madden’s death eighteen years later.
Batik spent two years hunting for signs of Jon Shannow and finally tracked down Amaziga Archer, who directed him north.
As winter was approaching, he rode into a wide valley and came to a farmhouse of white stone. Near the trees were three bodies covered with a tarpaulin. The farm was run by two women, a mother and daughter, and they told him that the dead men had been robbers.
“What happened?” Batik asked the mother.
“A stranger rode in as they were attacking the house, and he killed them all. But he was wounded. I asked him to stay, but he refused; he rode on toward the High Lonely,” she said, pointing to the distant snow-covered peaks.
“What did he look like?” asked Batik.
“He was a tall man with long hair and burning eyes.”
As Batik turned his horse to the north and rode from the yard, the daughter, a blond girl of around fifteen, ran after him and caught at his stirrup.
“She didn’t tell the whole truth,” she whispered. “She didn’t ask him to stay. She was frightened of him and told him to ride on. I gave him some bread and cheese, and he told me not to worry. There was a shining city just over the farthest mountain, he said, and his wound would be tended to there. But there isn’t a city; it’s just a wilderness. And the blood was streaming down his saddle.”
Batik tried to follow, but a blinding blizzard blew up and he was forced to give up the search.
That same night Daniel Cade had a strange dream. He was walking through a mountain wood, through thick snow, yet he felt no cold. He came to a frozen stream and a small campfire that gave no heat. Beside it, his back against a tree, sat the Jerusalem Man.
“Hello, Daniel,” he said, and Cade moved close.
“You are hurt.”
“There is no pain.”
“Let me help you, Jonnie.”
“I hear you’re a great man now in Rivervale.”
“Yes,” said Cade.
“Dad would have been proud of you. I am proud of you.” Shannow smiled, and the ice in his beard cracked and fell away.
“Let me build up the fire.”
“No. Are you happy, Daniel?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Do you have children?”
“Two. A boy and a girl.”
“That’s good. So the wolf sits down with the lambs. I’m glad. Help me to my horse, Daniel.”
Cade lifted him and saw the blood on the ice. He half carried him to the black stallion and heaved him up into the saddle. Shannow swayed and then took up the reins.
“Where are you going?” asked Cade.
“There,” said Shannow, pointing to the peaks piercing the clouds. “Can you see the spires, Daniel?”
“No,” whispered Cade.
“I’m going home.”
“A HUMDINGER … A MASTERLY TALE
TOLD WITH CLARITY AND VERVE.”
—The Times (London)
ECHOES OF THE
GREAT SONG
by David Gemmell
The Avatars are immortal and live like kings—even though the empire is dying. Their immortality is guaranteed by magic crystals whose influence is now waning, overwhelmed by the sheer power of a great flood and a sudden ice age. But when two moons appear in the sky, and the ruthless armies of the Crystal Queen swarm across the land bringing devastation and terror, the Avatars unite with their subjects to protect their universe.
Published by Del Rey Books
Available wherever books are sold
Don’t miss books 1–4 of the
Riga
nte series.
THE SWORD IN THE
STORM
MIDNIGHT FALCON
RAVENHEART
STORMRIDER
“I love David Gemmell’s work.
He’s one of the best out there today, and
one of the reasons that fantasy is alive
and well.”
—R. A. Salvatore
“Gemmell not only knows how to tell a
story, he knows how to tell a story you
want to hear. He does high adventure as
it ought to be done.”
—Greg Keyes
Author of The Briar King
Published by Del Rey Books
Available wherever books are sold
Wolf in Shadow Page 34