Part 13 (2/2)

Then disaster struck. A warrior dragged back the hammer of a captured pistol while his finger was upon the trigger and the shot echoed around the camp. In an instant all was chaos as men surged into the night.

Shannow raised his pistols and rained shots into the milling crowd. Men fell screaming, and other pistols flared in the darkness. A shot from behind whistled past his ear and he turned to see a tribesman vainly seeking to re-c.o.c.k his weapon. A bullet smashed the Carn from his feet. Shannow fired his left-hand pistol and a h.e.l.lborn warrior toppled to the ground, his head cras.h.i.+ng into the coals of the dying fire. With a flash his hair caught light and blazed around his face.

'Back!' shouted Shannow, but his voice was lost in the thunder of shots. He emptied his pistols into the ranks of the h.e.l.lborn and then sheathed them, drawing the captured weapon from his belt. He ran back towards the stream, where at least a dozen warriors had remembered his commands. Elsewhere in the camp the Carns had charged the h.e.l.lborn and were in amongst them, shooting their pistols point-blank but hampering Shannow's force.

'Back into the trees,' Shannow ordered, but the men continued to fire at the milling mob.

'Back, I say!' said Shannow, backhanding a man in the face. Hesitantly the warriors obeyed.

Shots screamed by Shannow as he ran, but none came close. At the top of the rise he stood with his back to a tree, breathing hard. Thrusting the captured revolver back in his belt, he took his own pistols and added fresh cylinders.

Shonal came alongside him. 'Most of our men are here, Thunder-maker.'

'What of the horses?'

'I could not see.'

'Without horses they will hunt us down before we are half-way home.'

'Selah will have done what he can; the boy is no coward.'

'All right,' said Shannow. 'Get your men out of the woods and head for home. If Selah has done his work well, there should be horses around a mile away. If there are, do not ride straight for the village but head north and then swing back when you reach firmer ground.

Try to cover your tracks - and pray for snow.'

Shonal grinned suddenly. 'Many dead h.e.l.lborn,' he stated.

'Yes. But was it enough? Go now.'

Shannow reached his horse and mounted, wrenching free the reins. A Carn, whom he recognized as the leader, loomed out of the darkness. 'I am Nadab,' he said holding out his hand.

Shannow leaned forward and gripped the man's wrist.

'No more war with the Corn People,' said the Carn.

'That is good.'

'Shame,' corrected the man, grinning. 'They taste good!'

'Good luck,' said Shannow.

'We killed many, Thunder-maker. You think they run now?'

'No.'

'I also. It is the end of things for us.'

'All things must end,' said Shannow. 'Why not come west, away from here?'

'No. We will not run. We are of the blood of the Lion and we will fight. We have many thunder-guns now.'

Shannow reached into his pocket, producing a cartridge.

The thunder-guns fire these,' he said, 'and you must gather these from the bodies. Pa.s.s me your pistol.' Shannow took the weapon and flicked open the breech, emptying the spent sh.e.l.ls one by one. Then he reloaded the weapon and handed it back.

Swinging the horse's head, Shannow rode' to the west.

The Carn watched him go, then c.o.c.ked the pistol and headed back towards his village.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Shannow rode south for an hour before swinging his horse to the north-west. He did not know how many h.e.l.lborn had been killed in the night, and now he did not care; he was bone-tired and his muscles ached. He rubbed at his eyes and rode on. Once he could have gone for three days without sleep. But not now. After another hour Shannow began to doze in the saddle. Around him the snow was falling, the temperature dropping. Ahead was a grove of pine trees and he steered the gelding in amongst them.

Dismounting near a group of young saplings, he took a ball of twine from his saddlebag.

Painstakingly he pulled the saplings together, tying them tightly and creating the skeleton of a tepee. Moving slowly so as not to sweat too heavily, he gathered branches and wove them between the saplings to create a round hut, open at the top. Then he led the gelding inside and packed snow over the branches until a solid wall surrounded him. Only then did he prepare a fire. His fingers were numb with cold and the snow fell faster, adding to the walls of his dwelling. Once the fire was under way, he left the shelter and gathered dead wood, piling it across the opening. By dusk he felt strong enough to allow himself to sleep; he added three large chunks of wood to the fire, wrapped himself in his blankets and lay down.

Far off the sound of gunfire echoed in the air and his eyes flickered open, but closed again almost immediately.

He slept without dreams for fourteen hours and awoke to a dead fire, but the snow had covered his shelter completely and he remained snug and warm in his blankets. He started a fresh fire and sat up. From his saddlebags he took some oatcakes, sharing them with the gelding.

By midday he was once more in the saddle and heading for the village. He arrived to see a smoking ruin and rode on towards the hills, his pistol in his hand.

By late afternoon he approached the caves and saw the bodies. His heart sank and he dismounted. Inside the women and children of the Corn People lay frozen in death.

Shannow blinked hard and backed away. By the cave mouth he found Curopet, her eyes open, staring up at the sky. Shannow knelt beside her and closed her eyes.

'I am sorry, Lady,' he said. 'I am so sorry.'

He walked away from the corpses and remounted, steering the gelding down towards the plain.

Here, nailed to a tree with his arms spread, was Karitas. The old man was still alive, but Shannow could not free him for the nails were too deep. Karitas' eyes opened, and tears welled. Shannow looked away.

They killed all my little ones,' whispered Karitas. 'All dead.'

'I'll try to find something to cut you loose.'

'No, I'm finished. They were looking for you, Shannow.'

'Why?'

They had orders to seek you out. Abaddon fears you. Oh, Jon, they killed my little ones.'

Shannow drew his hunting knife and began to hack at the wood around Karitas' right hand, but it was tough and frozen and he could make no impression. Karitas began to weep and sob piteously. Shannow dropped his knife and put his hands on Karitas' face. He could not embrace him.

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