Part 107 (2/2)

'We have that amount of time to try to prevent it happening,' said Amaziga. 'Sam and I will search for Sipstra.s.si. You will do what you did in Pilgrim's Valley - become a preacher.

There is a church in Florida, a small church. I have friends there, who will make you welcome.'

Shannow's eyes widened. 'A church in Florida? Is that not where the Deacon is from?'

Amaziga nodded.

'And my new name?' he said, his voice harsh.

'John Deacon,' she told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Dear G.o.d!' said Shannow, pus.h.i.+ng himself from the chair.

'We did not know, Shannow,' said Amaziga, 'and it won't be the same. Sam and I will find Sipstra.s.si, then you will be able to return.'

'And if you don't?'

Amaziga was silent for a moment, then she looked up into his angry eyes. 'Then you must take your disciples and be on that plane on the day the earth falls.'

The Deacon stood outside the farm building and watched as Beth McAdam and Toby Harris led the horses from the paddock into the barn. You are still beautiful, Beth, he thought. And you did not know me. That hurt him. But then why should she, he asked himself. Only weeks before she had seen a relatively young man giving sermons. Now a long-haired ancient stood in her home, his features obscured by a thick white beard.

Understanding did nothing to help the pain.

Shannow felt alone in that moment, and terribly weak.

Amaziga and Sam had kept in touch with him, keeping him up to date with their journeys and their search for the Stones. Sometimes they had believed themselves to be close, only to face terrible disappointment. With eleven days left before the Fall, they had telephoned Shannow.

'Have you arranged the tickets?' asked Sam.

'Yes. Why don't you come also?'

'Ziga has found evidence of a Circle in Brazil. The architecture of the surrounding ruin is different from other Aztec finds. We will journey there, and see what is to be found.'

'May G.o.d go with you, Samuel.'

'And with you, Deacon.'

Shannow remembered the day the plane had emerged from time's dungeon and soared above the ruined tower of Pendarric. He had looked down, trying to make out the tiny figures below, hoping to see himself and Beth and Clem Steiner. The plane was too high and it flew on, making a landing near Pilgrim's Valley.

The temptation had been great in those early years to seek out Beth. But the shadow of the Bloodstone remained with him, and he gathered to himself clairvoyants and seers in a bid to pierce the veils of time.

Shannow had grown used to leaders.h.i.+p during his days in Kissimmee, but the demands of forming rules and laws for a world took their toll. Every decision seemed to lead to discord and disharmony. Nothing was simple. Banning the carrying of weapons in Unity led to protests and violent disagreements. Every community had evolved its own laws, and unifying the people proved a long and b.l.o.o.d.y affair. The Unifier Wars had begun when three communities in the west had refused to pay the new taxes. Worse, they had killed the tax collectors. The Deacon had sent a force of Crusaders to arrest the offenders.

Other communities joined the rebels and the War spread, growing more b.l.o.o.d.y with each pa.s.sing month. Then, after two savage years, with the War almost over, the h.e.l.lborn had invaded. Shannow remembered his reaction with deep regret. He and Padlock Wheeler had routed the enemy in three pitched battles, then entered the lands of the h.e.l.lborn, burning settlements and slaughtering civilians. Babylon was razed to the ground. No surrender was accepted. The enemy were butchered to a man - not just to a man, Shannow remembered.

The Deacon had won. In doing so he had become a ma.s.s murderer.

Estimates of the dead in the two Wars reached more than eighty thousand. Shannow sighed. What was it Amaziga called you once, The Armageddon Man'?

Following the Wars the Deacon's laws grew more harsh, Shannow's rule being governed more by fear than love. He felt increasingly alone. All but one of the men who had travelled with him through time were dead. He alone knew of the terrible evil waiting to be unleashed on the world; it was an awful burden, dominating his mind and blinding him to the beginnings of Saul's betrayal. It would have been so different if Alan had survived.

Alan had been the best of his disciples - calm, steady, his faith a rock. He had died on Fairfax Hill in one of the bloodiest battles of the Unity War. Saul had been with him. They never recovered Alan's Stone. One by one they died, three from diseases and radiation sickness left over from the Fall, but the others cut down in battles or skirmishes.

Until only Saul was left. All those years of wondering where the Bloodstone would strike and, had he but known it, the answer lay with Saul.

Who else in this area had the use of Sipstra.s.si? Who else could have opened the Gateway?

'You were a fool, Shannow,' he told himself.

Something moved beyond the fence! The Deacon's rifle came up and he found himself aiming at a hare which had emerged from a hole in the ground. Slowly he scanned the valley and the distant hillsides. The moon was bright, but there was no sign of movement.

They will come, though, he told himself. Tobe Harris moved alongside him. 'All the animals is locked away, Deacon. Save for my horse, like you ordered. What now?'

'I want you to ride for Purity,' Shannow told him. 'Padlock Wheeler is the man to see. Tell him the Deacon needs him, and every man with a rifle he can bring. Miners, farmers, Crusaders - as many as can be gathered. Tell him not to ride into the town, but to meet us here.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Go now, Tobe.'

Beth McAdam, her rifle cradled in her arms, came alongside in time to hear the order.

'We've seen nothing yet,' she said. 'What makes you so sure they are coming?'

'I've seen them, lady. Not here, I'll grant you. But I've seen them.'

The Deacon had been leaning on the fence rail. Now he straightened and staggered, weariness flowing over him. As he almost fell, Beth caught his arm. 'You're all in,' she said.

'Go and get some rest. I'll stand watch.'

'No time for rest,' he said. Tobe galloped away into the night. The Deacon drew a deep breath, then climbed to the fence and sat, resting his rifle on a post.

'Someone coming,' said Beth. The Deacon followed her pointing finger, but his old eyes could see nothing.

'Is it silver-grey?' he asked.

'No, it's a young man leading a woman. She's carrying a baby.'

They waited together as the two approached. As they neared, Beth said, 'It's Wallace Nash and Ezra Feard's daughter. What the h.e.l.l are they doing walking out here at this time of night?'

The Deacon did not answer. Instead he said, 'Look beyond them. Is anything following?'

'No . . . Yes. Christ! It's a monster! Run, Wallace!' she screamed.

Shannow felt helpless, but he watched as Beth's long rifle came up. She sighted and fired.

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