Wolf in Shadow

'Come on, Griffin,' he told himself. 'Find your strength.'

Pushing his arms beneath him, he forced himself to a sitting position. Dizziness swept over him, but he fought it back. Madden was lying twenty yards to his right and he crawled through the rain to his friend's body. Madden's face was covered with blood and beyond him lay Rachel, her dead eyes staring up at the lowering sky.

‘I’m sorry, Jacob,' said Griffin. When he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, Madden moved and Griffin lifted his arm, feeling for a pulse. It was there, and beating strongly. Examining the head wound, he found that the bullet had glanced from Madden's temple, tearing the skin but not piercing the skull. He tried to lift the wounded man, but his own injuries had sapped him and he sat helpless in the rain.

The storm passed as he waited, the sun beaming down on the desolated settlement. Madden moaned and opened his eyes, seeing Griffin sitting beside him.

'Did we drive them off?' he whispered. Griffin shook his head.

'Rachel? The boys?'

'I think they killed everyone, Jacob.'

'Oh God!'

Madden sat up and saw Rachel. He crawled to her and shut her eyes, leaning forward to kiss her cold lips.

'You deserved better than this, my girl,' he said. Griffin swayed and fell as Madden stood and stared at the skyline.

Somewhere out there the Hellborn were riding and Madden sent his hatred out after them in one bloodcurdling scream of frustrated rage and despair. He moved to Griffin and half-carried, half-dragged him into the nearest cabin, where the body of Burke lay beside an open chest. Madden managed to maneouvre Griffin to a bed and opened his shirt. There were two wounds, one high in the shoulder at the back, the second low on the left side of the chest, close to the heart. Neither showed an exit wound. Madden plugged the holes with linen and covered the unconscious man with a blanket.

Leaving the cabin, he found his boys together near the paddock behind his cabin. From the blood on the grass around them, they had made a fight of it. Pride and sorrow vied in Madden's mind as he turned away from the corpses and moved through the settlement, checking body after body.

All were slain.

Back in his own cabin, Madden pulled the bed from the wall and lifted the sack he had hidden there. Inside were two Hellborn pistols and around thirty shells. He loaded the pistols and strapped them to his side.

All dead. All the dreams gone down to dust.

'Well, you didn't kill me, you sons of bitches! And I'll be coming after you. You want Hell? I'll give you Hell!'

CHAPTER TEN

Shannow stood outside the store with his supply sack over his shoulder, gazing up at the white marble fortress. There were six cylindrical towers, two of them flanking the high arched gate.

There appeared to be no sentries. The storekeeper, Baker, had locked the door and wandered away into the shadows and Shannow stood alone, pondering his course of action.

Somewhere in or below that vast fortress Batik and Archer were prisoners. Yet was it any concern of his? What did he owe them? Would either of them come riding to his rescue? More to the point, could he rescue them?

Ridder had twenty men and Shannow did not know their dispositions or the layout inside the fortress. Riding inside would be a futile gesture achieving nothing. He returned to his horse and mounted, riding out into the main street and up towards the black-shadowed gateway.

The white towers loomed over him and he had the feeling that he was riding into a massive tomb, never to see the sun rise again. A man stepped into his path; he was carrying an old rifle.

'What's your business?' he asked.

'I've come to see Ridder.'

'He expecting you?'

'Can you think of another reason I should be here at this time of night?'

The man shrugged. 'I'm just told to watch for runaway Wolvers — nobody tells me anything else.

Still, it's better than the mine, by God.'

Shannow nodded and touched his heels to the horse, riding on as if he knew where he was going.

The gate arch led to a cobbled courtyard; straight ahead was a wide set of marble steps leading to a double door of oak, while to the right lay a narrow alleyway. Shannow chose the alley and soon found himself in a second yard housing a row of stables. A young lad moved out of the shadows scratching his head and Shannow dismounted and handed him the reins.

'Don't unsaddle him. I'm leaving shortly.'

'All right,' said the boy, yawning.

Shannow slipped him a silver coin. 'Give him some oats and a rub-down.'

'I will,' promised the lad, the brightness of the silver dispelling all thoughts of sleep.

'Where will I find Meneer Ridder?'

'In his rooms, this time of night.'

'How do I get there?'

'You new?'

'Yes.'

'Go back out into the courtyard, past the steps, and you'll see a staircase on the outside of the wall. Climb that, past the first two doors and go in through the third. The sentry there will take you the rest of the way.'

Thank you.'

Shannow left the boy and returned to the main courtyard, waving to the sentry as he passed. He found the spiral stair and climbed to the third storey, pausing outside the timber door. Then he removed his coat and folded it across his arm before opening the door. Inside was a corridor hung with rugs and lit by oil-lamps. Stepping into the light, Shannow forced a smile for the sentry who was sitting with his feet on a small marble statue of a snarling dog. The man swung clear his legs and stood.

'What do you want?' he whispered. 'You ain't my relief.'

'True,' said Shannow, moving casually towards him. The coat slipped from his arm to reveal the black muzzle of the Hellborn pistol, he cocked it and the noise seemed to echo in the corridor like cracking bones. The man's eyes widened as Shannow moved closer, pushing the muzzle up under his chin.

'Which room is Ridder's?' he whispered.

The sentry pointed over Shannow's shoulder.

‘Tell me,' said Shannow, without following the man's shaking finger.

‘Two doors down on the left.'

'And where are the prisoners who were brought in today?'

'I've no idea, I've only just come on. I've been asleep all day.'

'Would they be kept in the mine?'

'Probably.'

'How do I get there?'

'Jesus, man, I couldn't tell you that. There's a score of staircases and corridors and a pulley lift.

You could lose yourself in this place.'

'What's through the door behind you?'

'It's a store-room.'

'Be so kind as to open it.'

'Don't kill me — I've a wife. . children.'

'Get inside.' The man turned and opened the door; Shannow followed him in and struck him savagely on the back of the neck and the sentry fell forward without a sound. Shannow searched the room for cord but found none, so he removed the man's belt and tied his hands behind his back. Then he gagged him with a linen kerchief which he stuffed into his mouth, binding it with a piece of torn curtain.

Stepping out into the corridor, he moved silently to Ridder's room, cursing softly when he saw a light showing under the door. He opened it and stepped inside, finding himself facing a small altar before which knelt a slim man with a shock of white hair. The man turned. He was around fifty years old, with round dark eyes and a hatchet face which bore no trace of humour.

'Who in God's name are you, sir?' exclaimed Ridder, surging to his feet, his thin face reddening.

'You can ask him yourself,' said Shannow, levelling the pistol.

All colour fled from Ridder's face. 'You can't mean to kill me?'

'Just so, Pastor.'

'But why?'