David Gemmell - The Last Guardian

'Why did you help me?'

'Hell, Shannow, I couldn't take the risk of someone else killing you. Where in the world would I find an opponent like you?'

Steiner eased his way to the side of the window and pulled the thick curtain across it, then he struck a match and lit the lantern on the table. 'Mind if I move these bodies into the hall — they're starting to stink up the place?' Without waiting for a response he moved over to the corpses. 'Both shot through the head. Pretty good. Pretty damn good!' He grabbed the collar of the first man and dragged him out into the hall. Shannow sat and watched as he pulled the second corpse after it.

'Hey, Mason!' Steiner shouted. 'Can you get some men up here to move this dead meat?'

Stepping back inside, he wedged the broken door shut and returned to his seat. 'Well, Shannow, you going to thank me, or what?'

'Why should I thank you?'

'For taking out the two on the stairs. What would you have done without me? They had you trapped in here like snared game.'

'Thank you,' said Shannow. 'And now you should leave. I'm going to get some sleep.'

'You want me to walk with you tomorrow, when the hunting starts?'

'That will not be necessary.'

'Man, you are crazy. There're still twenty, maybe thirty men who won't be run out. You can't take them all.'

'Good night, Meneer Steiner.'

The following morning, after three hours' sleep, Jon Shannow made his way down to the lobby and called Mason to him. 'Send someone out to find me six children who can read. Have them brought here.'

Then the Jerusalem Man sat down at a table with six large sheets of paper and a charcoal stub.

Slowly and carefully he spelled out a simple message on each sheet.

Shannow made the children read aloud the message and then sent them to the gambling and drinking houses in the east section with instructions to hand a notice to each of the owners, or barmen. The message was simple:

WARNING

ANYONE CARRYING A GUN WITHIN THE TOWNSHIP OF PILGRIM'S VALLEY WILL BE CONSIDERED A BRIGAND AND A WAR-MAKER AND WILL BE DEALT WITH AS SUCH.

SHANNOW

When the children had left, Shannow sat back and waited patiently, emptying his mind of fear and tension. Mason brought him a cup of Baker's and sat down opposite.

‘For what it's worth, Shannow, the room is free — and any food or drink you consume.'

'That is kind of you, Meneer.'

Mason shrugged. 'You are a good man. This will make you no friends, however.'

'I am aware of that.' He looked into the man's cadaverous face. 'I do not think you were always a room-keeper?'

Mason gave a thin smile. 'You chased me out of Allion — put a bullet in my shoulder. When it rains, it hurts like the Devil.'

Shannow nodded. 'I remember you; you rode with Cade. I am glad you found something more productive.'

'A man gets older,' said Mason. 'Most of us took to the road because we were forced from our farms, either by raiders, or drought, or men with more power. But it's no life. Here I have a wife, two daughters and a roof over my head. My meals are regular, and in the winter I have a large log fire to keep out the cold. What more can a man rightly ask for?'

'Amen to that,' Shannow agreed.

'What will you do now?'

'I'll wait until noon and then root out whoever is left.'

'This isn't Allion, Shannow. There you had townspeople who backed you. There was a Committee, I recall — all good with rifles — and they protected your back. Here it is suicidal. They will wait for you in alleys, or shoot you as you appear on the street.'

'I have spoken the words, Meneer, and they are iron.'

'I guess so,' agreed Mason, rising. 'God's luck be with you.'

'It generally is,' said the Jerusalem Man.

From where he sat, he could see the sun slowly ascending the heavens. It looked to be a beautiful day; a man could not choose a more beautiful day to die. One by one the children returned and Shannow gave them each a coin, asked them where they had taken the notices and what had been the response. In most cases the recipients had read them aloud to the gathering, but in one instance a man had read out the notice and then torn it to pieces. The crowd had laughed, the boy told Shannow.

'Describe the place.' The boy did so. 'And did you see men with guns there?'

'Yes. One was sitting by a window with a long rifle aimed at the street. There were two others on a balcony above and to the right of the door. And I think there was another man hidden by some barrels at the far wall by the bar.'

'You are an observant boy. What is your name?'

'Matthew Fenner, sir.' Shannow looked into the boy's dark eyes and wondered why he had not seen the resemblance to the martyred farmer.

'How is your mother?'

'She's been crying a lot.'

Shannow opened the hide pouch in which he kept his coin and counted out twenty pieces. 'Give these to your mother. Tell her I am sorry.'

'We are not poor, sir. But thank you for the thought,' said Matthew. The boy turned and walked from the room.

It was almost noon. Shannow returned the coin to his pouch and stood.

He left the Traveller's Rest by the back door and stepped swiftly into the alley, moving to his right with gun poised. The alley was deserted. He walked along behind the buildings until he came to the side of the gambling-house the boy had described. It was run by a man named Zeb Maddox and Mason had told him Maddox was a fast man with a pistol: 'Damn near as sudden as Steiner. Don't give him no second chances, Shannow.'

The Jerusalem Man paused outside a tiny service door to the rear, took a deep breath and then eased open the latch. Stepping inside, he saw the back of a man who was kneeling behind some barrels. Beyond him everyone's eyes were on the front door. Shannow moved forward and cracked his pistol against the back of the kneeling man's neck. As he grunted and slid sideways, Shannow caught him by the collar and eased him to the floor.

Just then someone shouted, 'There's a crowd gathering, Zeb.'

Shannow watched as a tall, thin man in a black shirt and leather trousers emerged from behind the bar and moved to the door. He was wearing a pistol scabbard of polished leather which housed a short-barrelled gun with a bone handle.

From outside came a voice.

'You men inside, listen to me; this is the Parson speaking. We know you are armed, and we are ready to give battle to you. But think on this: There are forty men out here, and when we rush the place the carnage will be terrible. Those we do not kill will be taken to a place of execution and hanged by the neck until dead. I suggest you put down your weapons and walk — in peace — to your horses. We will wait for a few minutes, but if we are forced to storm in you all will die.'

'We got to get out of here, Zeb,' shouted a man Shannow could not see.

‘I’ll not run from a pack of Townies,' hissed Zeb Maddox.

'Then run from me,' said Shannow, moving forward with pistol raised.

Maddox turned slowly. 'You going to try to put that pistol in my mouth, Shannow, or will you be a man and face me?'

'Oh, I'll face you,' said Shannow as he strode forward and pushed his pistol into Maddox's belly.

'Draw your gun and cock it.'

'What the Hell is this?'

'Do it. Now put it against my stomach.' Maddox did so. 'Fine. There's your chance. I'll count to three and we'll both pull the triggers,' whispered Shannow coldly.

'You're crazy. We'll both die, for sure.'

'One,' said Shannow.

'This is mad, Shannow!' Maddox's eyes were wide with terror.

'Two!'

'No!' screamed Maddox, hurling away his pistol and throwing himself backwards, his hands over his face.

The Jerusalem Man looked around at the waiting gunmen. 'Live or die,' he told them. 'Choose now.'