David Gemmell - The Last Guardian

She rose and walked back to the cabin.

Josiah Broome closed the front door of his small house and wandered along the street towards the Jolly Pilgrim. The sun was shining brightly, but Broome did not notice it. For days now he had been seething over the departure of Beth McAdam, and the hurtful untrue words she had hurled at him like knives.

How could she not see? Men like Jon Shannow were no help to civilisation. Violence and despair followed him, giving birth to yet more of the same. Only men of reason could change the world.

But how the words stung! She had called him a fool and a coward; she had blamed him for Fenner's death.

Could you blame a man for a summer storm, or a winter flood? It was so unfair. Yes, Fenner would still be alive if they had walked into Webber's establishment and shot him down. But what would that have achieved? What would it have taught the youngsters of this community? That in certain situations murder was acceptable?

He remembered Shannow shooting down the man in the street, just after he had executed Webber. The man's name had been Lomax. He was a tough, arrogant man, but he had helped the Parson build his church and he had worked hard for Meneer Scayse to support a wife and two children. Those children were now orphans who would grow up knowing their father had been gunned down in the street to make a point. Who would blame them if they turned bad? But Beth McAdam did not see that.

Broome crossed the street and heard the sounds of gunfire coming from the west. More trouble-makers he thought, swinging to see the cause of the disturbance. His jaw dropped open to see hundreds of black-armoured warriors advancing with their guns blazing. Men and women were running and screaming. A shell whistled past Broome and he ducked instinctively and ran to an alley between two buildings. A man sprinted past… his chest exploded and he fell face forward in the dirt.

Broome turned and cut down the alley, arms pumping. He scaled a fence and ran out over the fields towards the newly-built church in the meadow.

At the Traveller's Rest Mason glanced out of his window to see the reptiles advancing down the main street killing all in their sights. He swore and took down his Hellborn rifle from its rack on the wall. Swiftly he fed shells into the side gate, then pumped one into the breech. He heard sounds of booted feet on the stairs and as the door exploded inwards he swivelled and fired. One reptile hurtled back into the hallway, but several more ran in. Mason's gun jumped in his hands as he pumped shell after shell into them, then a bullet took him high in the chest, spinning him against the window. Two more shells ripped into his belly and he plunged out of the window, toppling to the street below.

At the gunsmith's shop Groves grabbed two pistols, but he was shot to death before he could loose a single round. Hundreds of reptiles surged through the town. Here and there men returned their fire, but the attack was so sudden there was no organised defence.

At the church the Parson had been delivering an impassioned sermon about the Whore of Babylon and the beasts Beyond the Wall. When the sounds of the battle reached them, men and women had streamed from the building. The Parson pushed his way through them and stared in horror at the flames beginning to spring from the town buildings. Josiah Broome staggered towards the milling crowd.

'Beasts from Hell!' he shouted. 'There are thousands of them!'

Men began to run but the Parson's voice stopped them cold. 'Brethren! To run is to die.' He looked around at the gathering. More than two hundred people were present, two-thirds of them women and children. The men had left their guns in the front porch. 'Gather your weapons,' he ordered. 'Broome, you and Hendricks lead the women and children to the south. There are woods there. Find hiding places and we will join you later. Go now!' He swung to the men who had gathered rifles and pistols. 'Follow me,' he said, striding off towards the town. For a moment they hesitated, then one by one they joined him. He stopped at the edge of the meadow where a shallow ditch had been built for drainage. 'Line up here,' he said, 'and do not open fire until I give the word.'

The fifty-six men who had joined him settled down in the dirt, their weapons held before them.

The Parson stood, listening to the screams from the town; he would like to have charged in, bringing the vengeance of God on the killers, but he fought down the impulse and waited.

A large group of Daggers came into sight. Seeing the Parson they lifted their rifles, but just before they fired he jumped down into the ditch and the shots whistled harmlessly overhead.

Twenty of the reptiles ran across the open ground.

'Now!' yelled the Parson. A ragged volley swept through them and only one was left standing; the Parson took up a pistol and shot the creature in the head. Scores more of the reptiles came surging through the alleyways. Glancing back, the Parson could see Broome and Hendricks leading the women and children to safety, but they were not sufficiently clear to allow the defenders to withdraw. The reptiles charged. There were no screams from them, no terrible battle cries; they ran forward with incredible speed, firing as they came. Three volleys smashed into their ranks and the charge broke.

'I'm out of ammunition,' shouted one of the men in the ditch. Someone else passed him a handful of shells. The Parson glanced to his right and saw more than a hundred reptiles running to outflank them.

Just then Edric Scayse and thirty riders came thundering from the east. The reptiles opened fire and horses and men fell. Scayse, two pistols in his hand, galloped in amongst the enemy, firing coolly. The surviving riders followed. The carnage was awful, but Scayse and seventeen men made it through to leap from their horses and clamber into the ditch.

'You're a welcome sight, man,' said the Parson, thumping Scayse's shoulder.

'Where the Hell are they from?' shouted Scayse.

'Beyond the Wall… sent by the Great Whore,' the Parson replied.

'I think we'd best get out of here,' Scayse urged.

'No, we must protect the women and children. I have sent more than a hundred of them to the south. We must hold these beasts for a while.'

'We can't do it here, Parson; it's too easy for them to go round us. I suggest we back off to the church and hold them there.'

The reptiles charged again. Bullets shredded their ranks, but four got through to leap in among the defenders. Scayse hammered his pistol into a grey scaled head, then fired at point-blank range into the beast's body. The others were despatched with knives, but not before they had killed three of the defenders.

'Fall back in two lines,' shouted the Parson. 'Every second man get back thirty paces, then cover the second group.'

The ground began to tremble violently. Men were pitched from their feet as a great, jagged crack opened in the meadow, snaking across the front of the ditch like the jaws of a giant beast. In the town buildings buckled and a second quake scored the earth. The Daggers fled towards open ground, the battle forgotten.

'Now's the tmv, Parson,' said Scayse and the defenders rose and sprinted back across the meadow.

Clouds of dust obscured their passing, but the earth opened and two men fell into the depths of a vast pit. The rest managed to reach the church, which was sagging in the centre. The Parson stood and watched as the building slowly tore itself apart.

'Back to the woods,' he said. 'The Wrath of God is upon us.'

Josiah Broome sat and watched as the Parson organised the digging of a trench across the north side of the woods. Earth was being thrown up to form a rampart, the labour carried out in grim silence. Without tools the workers dug into the soft clay with their bare hands, casting nervous eyes to the north for the expected attack. Broome was in a state of shock; he sat grey-faced as people bustled around him.