Part 109 (2/2)

'Where did these creatures come from?' Meredith asked. 'I have never heard of anything like them.'

'They're Wolvers,' answered Shannow, 'but they've been changed by ... sorcery, if you will.'

He started to speak, but then became aware that the young man was staring at him with what Shannow took to be blank disbelief. 'I know it is hard to understand,' he said. 'Just take me on trust, son. There is a creature . . .'

'Beth called you Deacon,' Meredith said, interrupting him, and Shannow realised that the young man had not been listening to a word of explanation.

'Yes,' he said, his voice weary. 'I am the Deacon.'

'I have always hated you,' said Meredith. 'You have been the cause of great evil.'

Shannow nodded. 'I don't argue with that, son. The butchery in the lands of the h.e.l.lborn was unforgivable.'

'Then why did you do it?'

'Because he's a killer and a savage,' said Beth, her voice flat and without anger. 'Some men are like that, Doctor. He came to power by deceit, and held on to it by fear. All who opposed him were killed - it was all he knew.'

Meredith swung to Shannow. 'Is that how it was?'

Shannow did not answer. Rising, he moved back through the house, pausing at Josiah Broome's bedside.

'Is that how it was?

Broome stirred and opened his eyes. 'h.e.l.lo, Jake,' he said sleepily.

Shannow sat on the edge of the bed. 'How are you feeling?'

'Better,' said the wounded man.

'That's good. You rest now.' Broome closed his eyes. Shannow remained where he was, remembering the two armies converging on the lands of the h.e.l.lborn, remembering his fury at the h.e.l.lborn betrayal and his fears about the coming of the Bloodstone. Many of the men who fought under him had lost family and friends to the h.e.l.lborn, and hatred ran strong in their veins. And in mine, he thought sadly.

Padlock Wheeler and the other officers had come to him on that fateful morning outside Babylon, when the h.e.l.lborn leaders were begging to be allowed to surrender.

'What orders, Deacon?'

There were many things he could have said in that moment, about the nature of evil, or the wisdom of forgiveness. As he stared at them he could think only of the terror that was coming, and the fact that in his previous world the Bloodstone had used the h.e.l.lborn to wreak destruction and death. And in the s.p.a.ce of a single heartbeat he made a decision that still haunted him.

'Well, Deacon?'

'Kill them all.'

Zerah awoke before the dawn, and groaned. A small stone was digging into her hip and her shoulders ached abominably.

Another groan followed her attempt to sit up, and she swore bitterly.

'That's not nice,' said little Esther.

'Neither is the rheumatics,' grunted Zerah. 'How long you been awake, child?'

'Ever since the howling,' said Esther, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. There's lots of wolves about.'

Zerah had heard nothing. Pus.h.i.+ng herself to her feet she stretched, then walked to the buckskin, lifting her water canteen from the saddle pommel. After a long drink she returned to the children and the dead fire. 'Wolves won't attack us,' she said. 'Now you see if you can find a spark in them ashes, and I'll cook us up some breakfast.'

With a yawn she stepped outside. The air was fresh and cool, and Zerah could smell the dew on the leaves and the musky scents of the forest. The sky was lightening in the east, and early bird-song greeted her as she walked under the trees. Despite the rheumatic pain in her back and shoulders, she felt good, glad to be alive.

It's the youngsters, she thought; they make everything seem fresh and new again. Zerah hadn't realised how much she missed company until the stranger had arrived. It saddened her that he hadn't come back. Jon was a good man, and quiet company. But the young ones were a joy, even when they squabbled. It brought back memories of her own children, back in the days of her youth, when the sky was more blue and the future was a golden mystery yet to be discovered.

Zeb had been a handsome man, with a ready wit that endeared him to everyone. And he was kind and loving. Everybody liked Zeb, because Zeb liked everybody. 'Never knew a man could see so much good in people,' she said, aloud.

When he died she remembered Padlock coming home. He put his arms around her and said, 'You know, Ma, there's no one in this world that he would ever need to say sorry to.'

Seemed like that was a good epitaph for a kind man.

Folks had come from far and wide for the funeral, and that pleased Zerah. But after he died the visitors had stopped coming. I never was the popular one, she thought. Old Zerah with her sharp tongue and her sharper ways.

She glanced up at the sky. 'Sometimes wonder what you saw in me, Zeb,' she said.

Turning to go back to the cave, she saw a paw-print in the soft earth. Kneeling, she ran her hand over it, opening her fingers to measure the span. It was enormous. Not a bear, though it was the right size. Nor yet a lion. Her mouth was dry as she stood. It was a wolf print - but larger than any she had ever seen.

Zerah hurried back to the cave. 'What's for breakfast?' asked Oz. 'Esther's got the fire going.'

'I think we'll wait until we reach town,' said Zerah. 'I think we should move on.'

'But I'm hungry,' complained Esther. 'Really starving!'

Zerah chuckled. Good G.o.d, woman, she thought, why the panic? You have a fire and a good pistol. 'All right,' she agreed. 'We'll eat first, and then travel.'

Walking to the back of the cave, she approached the buckskin. The horse was trembling, its ears tucked flat against its skull. 'It's only me, girl,' said Zerah. 'Calm down, now.' As she spoke Esther screamed, and Zerah spun round.

In the mouth of the cave stood a monstrosity. Eight feet tall, with huge shoulders and long arms, the fingers ending in curved talons, the beast was covered with silver-grey fur. Its ma.s.sive head was lowered, its tawny eyes fixed on the two children cowering by the small fire. The buckskin reared and whinnied, catching the creature's attention.

Zerah Wheeler drew her old pistol, and wondered whether a bullet could bring the giant Wolver down. 'You stay calm, now, kids,' she said, her voice steady. c.o.c.king the pistol she walked forward. 'I don't know if you can understand me,' she said, keeping her eyes on the beast, 'but this here pistol has six charges. And I hit what I G.o.d d.a.m.n aim at. So back off and we'll all be happier.'

The beast howled, the sound reverberating like thunder in the cave. Zerah glanced at the fire. Beside it lay a thick branch festooned with long-dead leaves. Keeping the pistol steady, she reached down with her left hand and lifted the branch, touching the leaves to the little blaze. They caught instantly, flames searing out. Zerah stood and walked towards the creature. 'Back off, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!' she said.

The beast backed up - then sprang forward. Zerah did not give an inch, but thrusting the flames into its face she shot it in the throat. The huge Wolver went down and rolled. Zerah jumped to the mouth of the cave and shot it again as it tried to stand.

'Jesus wept!' she whispered.

Outside the cave were more of the beasts. 'Kids,' she called, 'I want you to climb that chimney at the back. I want you to do it now.'

Still holding the branch, she backed into the cave. A creature sprang at her, but calmly she shot it in the chest. Another ran from the right; a shot came from the back of the cave, shearing half the beast's head away. Zerah glanced back to see that Oz had her rifle in his hands and was standing his ground.

Pride flared in her then, but her voice was sharp and commanding. 'Get up that G.o.d d.a.m.n chimney!' she ordered.

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