Part 42 (1/2)

And the Jerusalem Man was alone.

Batik felt no sensation of movement. One moment he was looking at Shannow, the next he was lying face down in the gra.s.s on a hillside west of Babylon. Ruth was nowhere in sight as he stood and took a deep breath.

He wandered to the hill-top and gazed afthe city which lay squat and dark in the distance.

Covered by a pall of black smoke, it had improved little since he had fled it and he realized in that moment that he had missed the place not at all.

Ruth appeared beside him, and this time he did not react.

'How are you feeling?' she asked.

'Well. But you look tired.'

'I am weary,' she admitted. 'You have no idea of the energy I expend holding this body image in place. And as for carrying you across eight hundred miles . . .'

'Sadly I recall nothing of the journey. Is Donna here yet?'

'No, the wagon is half a day due west. If you start now, you should sight their camp before dawn.'

'How many in the party?'

'Two hundred.'

'I'm only carrying eighteen sh.e.l.ls, Ruth.'

'I am hoping you will use your brain, young man, and that there will be no need for killing.'

'I might be able to get to her and untie her. Together we could run, I suppose.'

'There is something else you should know, Batik.'

'I don't think I want to hear it.'

'She is pregnant, and in a coma.'

'I knew I didn't want to hear it.'

'I shall pray for you, Batik.'

'That will be nice, I'm sure. I suppose you couldn't conjure up one of Sarento's guns as well?'

'Goodbye, Batik.'

'Farewell, Ruth,' he said, and watched as she became ever more transparent.

As he set off towards the west with a jaunty stride he pushed the problem of the rescue from his mind. The whole mission was palpably hopeless, and he decided to relax and enjoy the stroll. Wondering what Shannow would have done, he chuckled as he pictured the Jerusalem Man riding up to the army and demanding the release of his lady. And he'd probably get away with it, thought Batik. Clouds scudded across the moon and an old badger ran across his path, stopping to squint at the tall man with the broad shoulders.

Then it was gone into the undergrowth.

He came across the camp-site an hour before dawn. They were camped in a hollow, having erected tents in a circle around the wagon. Batik knelt behind a screen of bushes and watched them for a while until he was sure he had placed all the sentries. Then, just as he was making ready to move, he saw a dark shadow creep across his line of vision. Pulling his pistol into his hand he crept out behind the watcher, moving slowly down until he was almost alongside. The man was lean and bearded and dressed hi clothes of dark homespun wool. So intent was he on the camp-site that he failed to hear the approach of the h.e.l.lborn.

Batik c.o.c.ked his pistol and the noise made the man freeze, but his body tensed and Batik knew he was about to do something rash.

'Don't be a fool,' he whispered. 'I only want to talk.'

'You've got the gun. Talk all you want,' hissed the man.

'You're obviously not h.e.l.lborn, so I wondered what you wanted from them.'

'None of your business. You finished now?'

'Probably. But I do have business here and I don't want you spoiling it.'

'Well, there's a shame, sonny.'

'Are you from Donna's settlement?'

The man rolled slowly to his side and gazed into Batik's eyes.

'What do you know of Donna?'

'I'm a friend of Jon Shannow. He asked me to help her.'

'Why isn't he here himself?'

'He would be if he could. Why are you here?'

'Why do you think?'

'You want to rescue her?'

'That's the general idea, but there's a sight too many of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. There's no way to sneak in; they've got seven sentries and a man inside the wagon.'

'I only counted six sentries.'

'There's one in that tall oak. He's got a long rifle and I don't doubt he knows how to use it.'

Batik unc.o.c.ked his pistol and slid it into its scabbard.

'My name is Batik,' he said, offering his hand.

'Jacob Madden,' responded the other, sitting up and unc.o.c.king his own pistol which had been concealed beneath his coat. The two men shook hands.

'We came very close to killing one another,' remarked Batik.

'You came very close to dying,' observed Madden. 'Let's pull back where we can talk more freely.' Together they eased their way into the undergrowth and back over the brow of the hill.

Here, hidden in a grove of trees, were two horses. On the ground nearby Batik saw a man lying on his side, a pistol in his hand. His face was waxen and haggard and blood was seeping through the front of his s.h.i.+rt.

Madden knelt beside him. 'Can't get to her, Griff. There's too many.'