David Gemmell - Bloodstone

Shots sliced the air around them. Shannow fired the Uzi and all was suddenly silent.

The rope flicked. 'Now you, Shannow!'

'I'll come last,' he said. 'Get yourself down.' Gareth handed his Uzi to Shammy and moved to the edge.

There was a silence for a while, then Shannow saw the rope jerk twice. 'Better join them,' he told the young woman.

She smiled and shrugged. 'Lost too much blood, friend. No strength left. You go. I'll hold them for a while.'

‘I’ll carry you,' he announced.

'No. The artery is cut in the groin, I'm bleeding to death. I've probably only minutes left. Save yourself -

and Sam. Get Sam away.'

Two Hellborn reared up. A bullet ricocheted from the tree by Shannow's head. Twisting, he emptied the Uzi, then cast it aside. Shammy was lying down now, a second wound in her chest. Shannow crawled to her.

'Well,' she whispered, 'that one took the pain away.'

'You are a brave woman. You deserved better.'

'You'd better go,' she said. 'Sit me up first. I may yet get off another few rounds.' Shannow lifted her to a sitting position with her back to a tree, the Uzi in her hands. Then he slithered back to the edge and dropped from sight.

As he reached the ledge he heard a burst of firing.

Then silence. .

Sam sat on the hillside above the small cluster of deserted buildings, his mind still reeling from the shocks of the day. Shammy was dead. They were all dead: Jered, Marcia, Caleb. . And Amaziga was alive.

He was filled with a sense of unreality, a pervading numbness that blocked all emotion.

They had climbed down to the foot of the cliff, the Hellborn firing down upon them, the bullets kicking up puffs of dust but none coming near. He and Amaziga had shared the lead horse, the young black man and the grim warrior following behind. They had ridden for hours, stopping at last at this deserted hamlet, its residents long since slain by the forces of the Bloodstone — the few homes empty, dust-filled reminders of a community that had vanished for ever.

Amaziga had led him into one of the houses, sitting him down and kneeling before him. There she had explained it all. But her words drifted around in his mind without meaning. He had reached out and touched her face; she had leaned in to him and kissed his fingers, just as she had always done. His tears flowed then, and he rose and staggered from the house, brushing past the young man and breaking into a run that carried him far up the hill.

Shammy was dead. Loyal, steadfast Shammy, who asked for nothing save to fight beside him.

Yet where was the grief? Amaziga, whom he had loved more than life, was back. Not his Amaziga, she said, but another woman from another world. It made no sense, and it made no difference. On the ride he had sat behind her, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils, the feel of her body against him.

Samuel Archer struggled to marshal his thoughts. He had studied the principle of multiple universes back at the Guardian Centre, had indeed theorised that other Samuel Archers might exist. Then Sarento had mutated into the Blood Beast and all Sam's studies had been forgotten in the savage Wars that followed.

Amaziga had died, cut down by a hail of bullets, her beautiful face shattered and torn.

Amaziga was alive!

Oh, God!

It was all too much. Sam stared up at the sky. Not a single bird flew, and as far as the eye could see not one living creature roamed the land. The Bloodstone had sucked the world dry. The sun was shining, the sky powder-blue and dappled with clouds. Sam lay back on the grass, his thoughts haphazard, chaotic.

Amaziga came walking up towards him and his eyes drank in her lithe movements, the swaying, unself-conscious sexuality, the lightness of step. God, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known!

I don't know her!

'We need to talk, Sam,' she said softly, sitting beside him.

'Let's talk about our shared memories,' he said, more harshly than he intended. 'You recall the summer in Lost Hawk, near the lake?'

She shook her head sadly. 'You and I have shared no summers, though I don't doubt that some of our memories will be linked. That's not the point, Sam. I crossed the universe to find you and save you from death. I could not save my own Sam, any more than you could protect the Amaziga you knew. But we are each the identical copies of the originals. Everything I loved about my Sam you share, and that is why I can say — without fear of contradiction — that I love you, Sam. I love you and I need you.'

'Who is the boy?' asked Sam, knowing the answer but needing the confirmation.

'Your son — the son you would have sired. Whichever.'

'He's a fine man, brave and steady. I could be proud of a son like that.'

Then be proud, Sam,' she urged him. 'Come with us. Together we can try to stop a world falling. It won't be our own, but it will be a world just like the one that almost died. We can save it, Sam. We can fulfil the dream of the Guardians.'

'And what of the Bloodstone?'

She spread her hands. 'What of him, Sam? He has killed a world. He will not be able to feed. He is finished anyway.'

Sam shook his head. 'Sarento was no fool. What is to stop him from finding other worlds? No, I have pledged myself to destroy him, and that I must do.'

Amaziga was silent for a moment. This is foolish, Sam; we both know it. His powers are beyond us. You have a plan? Or is this just a quixotic impulse that will not allow you to know when you are beaten?'

'My Amaziga would not have asked that,' he said.

'Yes, she would, Sam, and you know it. You are a romantic and an idealist. She never was. Was she?'

He sighed and turned his face away from her, staring down at the small cluster of buildings and the two men who waited there. 'Who is the cold killer?' he asked, avoiding the question.

'His name is Shannow. In his own world they call him the Jerusalem Man. He too had an impossible dream — but he learned the folly of such fantasies.'

'He does not look like a dreamer. Nor does he look like a man who has lost hope.' Swinging back towards her, he smiled. 'You are right, my Ziga would have asked the same question. What interests me is how you will react to what I am about to say. Or can you predict it?'

'Oh, I can predict it, Sam,' she told him. 'You are going to say that running away would destroy you, for it would mean turning your back on everything you believe in. Or something like it. You are going to tell me that you will continue the battle against the Bloodstone, even if I say we will leave without you. Am I right?'

'I can't deny it.'

'And you are wrong, Sam. Oh, I admire you for your courage, but you are wrong. Before coming here we studied the Bloodstone. Sarento cannot be harmed by any weapon in our possession. He is invulnerable. We cannot shoot him, starve him or burn him. We could pack him in a thousand tons of ice, and it would have no effect upon him. So tell me, Sam, how will" you fight this monster?'

Sam looked away. There has to be a way. God knows there has to be.'

'If there is, my love, we will not find it here. Perhaps in the world before the Fall we can find something -

and then come back.'

Sam thought about it for a while, then slowly nodded. 'You are right — as always. How do we get to your world?'

Amaziga laughed. 'Don't look so crestfallen. There is so much we can do together for the good of all mankind. You are alive, Sam! And we are together.'

'And the Bloodstone is triumphant,' he whispered.

'Only for now,' she assured him.

Shannow glanced up at the two of them, watching their embrace.

Gareth moved alongside him. 'Well, we did it, Mr Shannow. We brought the lovers back together.'