Free Jerusalem Man 01 - Wolf in Shadow by David Gemmell Page B

Madden at the rear of the convoy.
    'What do you think, Jacob?'
    'I think they'll be back. Let's fill the barrels and move on to open ground.'
    Two wagoners were injured in the brief raid. Aaron Phelps had a deep wound in his right shoulder and Maggie Ames' young son, Mose, had been gashed in the leg by a spear. Four tribesmen were killed outright. Others had been wounded, but had reached the sanctuary of the trees.
    Griffin dismounted next to one of the corpses.
    'Look at those teeth,' said Jacob Madden. They were filed to sharp points.
    Ethan Peacock came to stand beside Griffin and peered at the blue and yellow corpse.
    'And idiots like Phelps expect us to agree with their theories of the Dark Age,' he said. 'Can you see that creature piloting a flying machine? It's barely human.'
    'Damn you, Ethan, this is no time for debate. Get your barrels filled.'
    Griffin moved on to Phelps' wagon, where Donna Taybard was battling to staunch the bleeding.

    'It needs stitches, Donna,' said Griffin. ‘I’ll get a needle and thread.
    'I am going to die,' said Phelps. 'I know it.'
    'Not from that, you won't,' Griffin told him. 'But, by God, it will make you wish you had.'
    'Will they come back?' asked Donna.
    'It depends on how big the tribe is,' answered Griffin.'I would expect them to try once more. Is Eric gathering your water?'
    'Yes.'
    Griffin fetched needle and thread, passing them to Donna, then he checked his pistols. He had fired all four barrels, yet could remember only one. Strange, he thought, how instinct could overcome reason. He gave the pistols to Burke to load and prime. Madden had taken six men to watch the woods for any sign of the savages and Griffin supervised the water-gathering.
    Towards dusk he ordered the wagons out and away from the trees to a flat meadow to the west.
    Here the oxen were unharnessed and a rope paddock set up to pen the beasts.
    Madden organized guards at the perimeter of the camp and the travelers settled down to wait for the next attack.

    Shannow's dreams were bathed in blood and fire. He rode a skeleton horse across a desert of graves, coming at last to a white marble city and a gate of gold that hurt his eyes as he gazed upon it.
    'Let me in,' he called.
    'No beasts may enter here,' a voice told him.
    'I am not a beast.'
    ‘Then what are you?'
    Shannow looked down at his hands and saw they were mottled grey and black and scaled like a serpent. His head ached and he reached up to the wound.
    'Let me in. I am hurt.'
    'No beasts may enter here.'
    Shannow screamed as his hand touched his brow, for horns grew there, long and sharp, and they leaked blood that hissed and boiled as it touched the ground.
    'At least tell me if this is Jerusalem.'
    There are no Brigands for you to slay, Shannow. Ride on.'
    'I have nowhere to go.'
    'You chose the path, Shannow. Follow it.'
    'But I need Jerusalem.'
    'Come back again when the wolf sits down with the lamb, and the lion eats grass like the cattle do.'

    Shannow awoke. . .he had been buried alive. He screamed once and a curtain to his left moved to show light in a room beyond. An elderly man crept in to sit beside him.
    'You are well; you are in the Fever Hole. Do not concern yourself. You are free to leave when you feel well enough.' Shannow tried to sit, but his head ached abominably. His hand went to his brow, fearing that horns would touch his fingers, but he found only linen bandage. He glanced around the tiny room. Apart from his pallet bed there was a fire built beneath white stones, and the heat was searing. 'You had a fever,' said the man. 'I brought you out of it.' Shannow lay back on the bed and fell asleep instantly. When he awoke, the old man was still sitting beside him; he was dressed in a buckskin jacket, free of adornments, and leather trousers as soft as cloth. He was almost bald, but the white hair above his ears was thick and wavy and grew to his shoulders. The face, thought Shannow, was kindly, and his teeth were remarkably white and