David Gemmell: Bloodstone

'He was a good man,' said Isis, holding on to Beth's hand.

'Even good men die. We all die,' said Beth. 'Let's hope this is an end to the terror.'

'It isn't,' said Isis. 'Men with horned helms and black armour will be riding here soon. The Bloodstone cannot be stopped, Beth. I felt him, and his power, his lust for blood and his terrible determination. And now the Deacon is gone. I think we are all going to die.'

Beth hefted her rifle and said nothing.

Meredith stood beside the grave and laid down his shovel. His slender face was bathed in sweat and his eyes were downcast, his sorrow evident. 'I'm sorry, Jeremiah,' he said. 'You were kind to me — and I killed you.'

'Don't dwell on it,' said Beth. 'You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. You just have to learn to live with them.' She turned to the red-headed youngster. 'As I recall, Wallace, you have a fine voice. Why don't you sing for us? "Rock of Ages" ought to be just fine.'

'Riders coming,' said Wallace. Beth cocked the rifle as she swung.

Clem Steiner rode into the yard and dismounted; Nestor Garrity sat on his horse, hands on the saddle pommel. The boy looked older, thought Beth, his face gaunt, his eyes tired. Behind him came two more horses, one bearing a stick-thin old woman with leathered skin and bright blue eyes, the other carrying two children.

'Didn't find him, Beth,' said Clem, 'but he's alive.'

She nodded absently and walked to where the old woman was dismounting. 'Welcome to my home,'

said Beth, introducing herself.

The old woman gave a weary smile. 'Good to be here, child. I'm Zerah Wheeler and it's been quite a journey. I see you're burying someone. Don't let me interfere with the words of farewell.'

'There's food and drink in the house,' Beth told her. Together the two women lifted the youngsters from the horse, and Zerah led them inside. 'All right, Wallace,' said Beth. 'Let's hear the hymn!'

His voice was strong and surprisingly deep and the words of the old hymn rolled out over the hillsides, with Clem, Beth and Nestor joining in. Isis wept, and remembered the many kindnesses she had enjoyed from Jeremiah.

At last the song ended and Beth walked away from the grave, linking arms with Clem. He told her of their travels, and how Nestor had been forced to kill. She listened gravely. 'Poor Nestor,' she said. 'He always was a romantically inclined boy. But he's strong, Clem, he'll get over it. I wish Jon was here.

There's more trouble coming.'

'I know,' he said, and told her of the horned riders herding prisoners towards the town. In turn she explained about the Deacon and the Bloodstone, and the spell of changing he had placed over the Wolvers.

'Maybe we should get away from here,' said Clem. 'Far and fast.'

'I don't think so, Clem. First, we've only four horses and ten people — and one of those is badly wounded. You remember Josiah Broome?'

'Sure. Inoffensive man, hated violence.'

'He still does. He was shot down, Clem — by Jerusalem Riders.'

Clem nodded. 'Never did trust that bunch — especially with Jacob Moon in the lead. The man's rotten through to the core. I saw him with the Hellborn.' Clem grinned at her. 'So we stay here then?'

'It's my home, Clem. And you said yourself it's built like a fortress. No one's been able to drive me off it so far.'

Clem swore. 'Looks like that's going to be put to the test, Beth darlin',' he said.

Beth looked up. On the far hillside to the north she saw a line of riders, sitting on their horses and staring down at the farmhouse. 'I think we had better get inside,' she said.

Arm in arm they walked slowly towards the house. The riders were some two hundred yards distant.

Beth counted them as she walked; there were around fifty men, all wearing horned helms and carrying rifles.

Inside the house she sent Wallace and Nestor upstairs to watch from the bedroom windows, while Zerah took up a rifle and positioned herself at the downstairs window. Dr Meredith sat on the floor by the fire, beside Isis, and the young mother and her baby. Clem glanced at the sandy-haired man. 'You need a spare weapon, Meneer?' he asked.

Meredith shook his head. ‘I can't kill,' he said.

Josiah Broome, his thin chest bandaged, a bloodstain showing through it, moved into the main room.

'What's happening?' His eyes were feverish, and cold sweat bathed his face. He saw Clem and smiled.

'Well, well, if it isn't young Steiner. Good to see you, my boy.' Suddenly he sagged against the door-frame. 'Damn,' he whispered. 'Weaker than I thought.'

Clem took his arm and led him back into the bedroom, laying the wounded man on the bed. 'I think you should stay here, Meneer. You are in no condition to fight.'

'Who are we fighting, Clem?'

'Bad men, Josiah, but don't you worry. I'm still pretty good with a pistol.'

'Too good,' said Josiah sadly, his eyes closing.

Clem rejoined the others. The Hellborn had left the hillside and were riding slowly towards the building.

Beth stepped outside. Clem grabbed her arm.'What the Hell. .?'

'Let's hear what they've got to say,' said Beth.

'Why?' asked Clem. 'You think they've stopped by for Baker's and biscuits?'

Beth ignored him and waited on the porch, her rifle cradled in her arms. Clem took off his jacket and stood beside her, hand resting on the butt of his pistol.

Beth stood quietly watching the riders. They were grim men, hard-eyed and wary, their faces sharp, their eyes stern. The look of fanatics, she thought, ungiving, unbending. They wore black breastplates engraved with swirls of silver, and black horned helms buckled under the chin. In their hands were short-barrelled rifles, and pistols were strapped to their hips. Yet the most disturbing feature for Beth was that each of them had a Bloodstone in the centre of their foreheads. Like the wolves, she thought. The Hellborn rode into the yard, fanning out before the house. A lean-faced warrior kneed his horse forward and sat before her. His eyes were the grey of a winter sky, and there was no warmth in the gaze. His helmet was also horned, but the tips had been dipped in gold.

'I am Shorak,' he said, 'First Lieutenant of the Second Corps. This land is now the property of the Lord of Hell.' Beth said nothing as Shorak's gaze raked the building, noting the riflemen at the slits in the upper windows. 'I am here,' he said, returning his stare to Beth, 'to escort you to the Lord Sarento, so that you may pay homage and learn of his greatness at first hand. You will need no possessions, nor weapons of any kind, though you may bring food for the journey.'

Beth looked up at the man, then at the others who sat on their horses silently. 'Never heard of the Lord Sarento,' she told the leader.

He leaned forward, the sun glinting on the golden horns of his helmet. That is your loss, woman, for he is the Living God, the Lord of All. Those who serve him well gain eternal life, and joy beyond imagining.'

'This is my home,' Beth told him. 'I have fought for it, and killed those who would take it from me. I raised children here, and I guess I'll die here. If the Lord Sarento wants me to pay homage he can come here himself. I'll bake him a cake. Now, if that's all you wanted to tell me I suggest you ride off. I've work to do.'

Shorak seemed unconcerned by her refusal. He sat quietly for a moment, then spoke again. 'You do not understand me, woman. I shall make it plain. Gather food and we will escort you to the Lord. Refuse and we will kill you all. And the manner of your passing will be painful. Now, there are others within the house and I suggest you speak to them. Not all of them will wish to die. You have until noon to make a decision. We will return then.'

Wheeling his horse, Shorak led the riders back out to the hillside.