David Gemmell - Bloodstone

White-beard turned, his gaze locking to hers. 'I made him, Beth, he is my responsibility. I am the Deacon.'

This is insane,' stormed Beth. 'Giant Wolvers and supposed murders are bad enough. You're obviously deranged.'

'Begging your pardon, Frey McAdam,' said Tobe, 'but he is the Deacon. I seen him at the Unity Cathedral last year — it's him all right.'

The Deacon smiled at Tobe. 'I remember you,' he said. 'You worked with horses, and you brought in the young rider with the broken back. He was healed, I recall.'

'Yes, sir, Deacon. Then he got killed in a flash flood.'

Beth's anger flared. 'If you are the Deacon, then you are not welcome in my house,' she said icily.

'Because of you a good man saw his church burned, his people slaughtered. And he's out there now suffering. By God, you should be ashamed of yourself.'

'And I am, lady,' he said softly. 'I gave orders that the Wolvers should be moved back away from human settlements. My reasons will be all too clear within days. There is an enemy coming with powers you could not dream of — he has mutated Wolvers into creatures of colossal power. But, yes, I am ashamed.

It does not matter that I did what I thought was right. Whatever evil was done in my name is my responsibility and I will live with that. As to not being welcome. .' He spread his hands, ‘I can do nothing about that, save to ask you to bear with me. Only I can fight what is coming.'

'Why should I believe that?' countered Beth. 'Everything you have is built on lies. The Jerusalem Man never predicted your coming. Shall I tell you how I know?'

‘I’ll tell you,' he said mildly. 'Because Jon Shannow, after sending the Sword of God through to destroy Atlantis, came back here to live a life as Jon Cade, a Preacher. He lived with you for many years, but you tired of his purity and cast him out. Now understand this: Nothing was built on lies. Shannow brought me down from the sky, but more than that. He is my reason for being! He is why I am here, at this time, to fight this enemy. It is not necessary that you believe me, Beth. It is only necessary that you put aside your disbelief.'

'I have a friend out looking for him,' she said, her words cold. 'He'll come back. Then you can explain it to him!'

An eerie howl echoed in the valley. It was answered by several others.

‘I saw a wagon to the north,' said the Deacon. 'I suggest you invite the occupants to join you. They may not survive the night if you don't.'

When the farmer seeds his field with corn he knows that the weeds will grow also. They will grow faster than his crop, the roots digging deep, drawing the nutrients from the land. Therefore, if he is wise, he patrols his field, uprooting the weeds. Every human heart is like that farmer's field. Evil lurks there, and a wise man will search out the weeds of evil. Beware the man who says, 'My heart is pure', for evil is growing within him unchecked.

The Wisdom of the Deacon Chapter XIV

The city was vast and silent, the shutters on open windows flapping in the early morning breeze, open doors yawning and creaking. The only other sound to break the silence was the steady clopping of the horses. Shannow was in the lead, Amaziga and Sam sharing the horse behind, with Gareth bringing up the rear.

The great south gate of Babylon was open, but there were no guards, no sentries patrolling the high walls.

The silence was eerie, almost threatening.

The streets were wide and elegantly paved, the houses built of white rock, many boasting colourful mosaics. Statues lined the avenues, heroic figures in the armour of Atlantis. Although Babylon was a relatively new city, many of the statues and ornaments had been looted from an Atlantean site, as had much of the stone used in the buildings. The riders moved on through an open market square with rotting fruit displayed on the stalls — brown, partly-collapsed apples, oranges covered with blue-grey mould.

Slowly they rode on, passing a tavern. Several bench tables were set outside the main doors, and upon these were goblets and plates of mildewed bread and cheese.

Not a dog or a cat moved in the silence, and no flies buzzed around the decomposing food. In the clear sky above them no bird flew.

Gareth eased his horse alongside the mount carrying his mother and Sam. 'I don't understand,' he said.

'You will,' she promised him.

On they rode, through narrow streets and out on to broad avenues, the hoofbeats echoing through the city. Shannow loosened his pistols in their scabbards, his eyes scanning the deserted homes. Ahead of them was a huge colosseum five storeys high — colossal, demonic statues surrounding it, images of demons, horned and scaled. Shannow drew back on the reins. 'Where now?' he asked Amaziga.

'Lucas says that beyond the colosseum's arena is a wide tunnel leading into the palace. The grounds beyond that contain the remnants of the stone circle.'

Shannow gazed up at the enormous building. 'It must hold thousands,' he said.

'Forty-two thousand,' said Amaziga. 'Let's go on.'

The central avenue led directly to the bronze gates of the main entrance; these were open, and Shannow rode through into an arched tunnel. Many doorways opened on to stairs to left and right, but the trio rode on, and down, emerging at last into what had been a sand-covered arena.

Now it boasted a new carpet. Corpses lay everywhere, dried husks that had once been human.

Shannow's horse was reluctant to move on, but he urged it forward. The gelding stepped out gingerly, its hoof striking a corpse just below the knee; the leg snapped and fell away.

Shannow looked around him as the horse slowly picked its way across the centre of the arena. Row upon row of seats, in tier upon tier, ringed the circle. Corpses filled every seat.

'My God!' whispered Gareth Archer.

'No,' said Shannow, 'their god.'

'Why would he kill them all? All his people?'

'He had no more use for them,' said Amaziga, her voice flat, cold and emotionless. 'He found a gateway to a land of plenty. What you see here is the result of his last supper.'

'Sweet Jesus!'

With great care they moved across the arena of death, and Gareth kept his eyes fixed on the distant entrance to yet another tunnel, wincing as dried bones broke beneath his mount's hooves. At last they reached the far side and Gareth swung in his saddle, looking back over the colosseum and its silent audience.

Forty-two thousand people, their bodies drained of moisture. He shuddered and followed the others down into the second tunnel.

The palace gardens were overgrown with weeds and bracken and only three of the old stones were still standing. One of these had slipped to the right, showing a jagged crack on its side. Shannow dismounted and forced his way through the undergrowth. 'Will the circle still. . work?' he asked, as Amaziga joined him.

'The stones are not important in themselves,' she told him. They were merely placed by the Ancients at points of great natural power.' Amaziga flicked the microphone into place and switched on the computer.

Shannow wandered away, eyes raking the wall surrounding the garden and the balconies that overlooked what was once a series of rose-beds. He felt uncomfortable here, exposed. One rifleman creeping along behind those balcony walls could kill them all.

Samuel Archer approached him. ‘I have had no time to thank you properly, Mr Shannow. I am grateful for your courage.'

Shannow smiled at the tall black man. 'I knew another Sam Archer once,' he said. 'I could not save him and I have always regretted that.' He glanced to the left, where Gareth Archer was sitting quietly lost in thought, his face a mask of sorrow. 'I think you should speak to him,' said the Jerusalem Man. Archer nodded.