There was no escape. Many threw themselves from the upper decks, splashing into the sea below only to find themselves piercing the edge of the Stone's field of energy, and dropping through the water to hurtle down the mountain on to the jagged marble ruins of Atlantis.
Amaziga Archer and her son, Luke, struggled through the Smoking Lounge and on to the A-deck foyer. The water here was waist-deep and rising. Lifting Luke to her shoulder, she climbed through a shattered window and out on to the steeply tilted deck. Luke clung to her as she fought her way up towards the stern, rearing like a tower above the swelling sea. Hooking her arm around a brass stanchion, she listened to the cries of the victims trapped below.
Slowly the dying ship slid under the waves. Cold water touched Amaziga's ankles… it shimmered and faded.
The Mother Stone was finished, choked by the thin thread of gold and exhausted by the disaster it had created. The ship shuddered and the sea disappeared. Amaziga sat up and touched her clothes. They were dry. Looking around her, she saw that she lay on a rusted deck and twenty feet from her a male survivor struggled to his feet.
'We made it!' he shouted, but the rotting deck parted beneath his feet and the dead ship swallowed him and his screams. Amaziga felt the deck move beneath her and crawled carefully to the stern where the ship touched the cliff-face. The deck gave way. Amaziga's hand flashed out to grip the rail and Luke screamed and hung from her neck. The muscles in her arm stretched and tore, but her fingers remained locked to the rail. She glanced down into the dark, empty bowels of the ghost ship.
'Hold on, Luke!' she shouted and the boy gripped her tunic. She took a deep breath, then dragged on her arm, hauling herself upwards and hooking her left arm to the rail. As her weight hit the rail it bent outwards, almost dislodging her. Swinging her feet up she scrambled on to the hull and inched her way to the cliff. Here the drop was even greater and the ruins of Atlantis gleamed like pointed teeth. She removed the leather belt from her tunic and looped it around Luke's back, tying him to her. Then she stepped to the rock face and began the long, hazardous climb.
Shannow found a concave bulge in the rocky roof where an air pocket was trapped above the bubbling water. Death was close, and much as he tried to prepare himself for the end he knew he was not ready. Rage and despair tore at him. No Jerusalem! No end to the quest of his lifetime!
The rising water lapped at his chin, spilling over into his mouth. He gagged and spat it out, his fingers scrabbling at the rocks as the weight of his coat and gun dragged him down.
'Calm yourself, Shannow!' came a voice hi his mind. A glow began to his right and Pendarric's face appeared like a shimmering reflection on the stone roof. 'Follow me, if you wish to live.'
The glow sank below the water and Shannow cursed and took several deep breaths, filling his lungs with oxygen. Then he dived below the surface. Far below he could see the Mother Stone, its glow fading fast, but ahead of him floated the ghostly face. He swam towards it, ever deeper, his lungs beginning to burn as his weary arms pushed at the water. Pendarric glided further ahead to a black tunnel mouth near the cavern floor. Here Shannow felt the tug of the current and was swept into the tunnel. His chest was a growing agony and he released a little air. Panic began, but Pendarric's voice cut through his fear.
'Courage, Rolynd.'
His body was buffeted from rock to rock hi the narrow tunnel, until he could hold his breath no longer, his lungs expelled the precious air and sucked in salt water. His head swam and he lost consciousness, just as his body tumbled free of the mountain. Pendarric's translucent form materialized beside Shannow, but the king was powerless to aid the dying man.
'Ruth!' he called, his plea roaring across the gulf of Spirit.
Shannow lay unmoving as Pendarric called again. And again.
She appeared and took in the scene in a moment. Kneeling, she rolled Shannow to his chest and straddled his back. Her hands pressed hard against the small of his back, forcing his lungs to expel the deadly liquid. But still the Jerusalem Man showed no sign of life. She jerked him to his back and lifted his head, pinching his nostrils closed. Her mouth covered his and her breath filled his lungs. The minutes passed and Shannow groaned, sucking in a long shuddering breath.
'He will live?' said Pendarric.
Ruth nodded.
'You are tired, Lady.'
'Yes, but I have found the way.'
'I hoped you would. Is the pain great?'
Ruth's eyes met his and she did not need to answer.
'You have great courage, Ruth. Hold to it. Do not let the power of the Blood Stones overpower you. They will make you dream great dreams — they will fill your heart with the desire to rule.'
'Do not fear for me, Pendarric — such thoughts of conquest are for men. But as I draw the power from the Stones I can feel my soul contaminated by the evil. I can feel the hatred and the lust swell within me. For the first time in my life, I understand the desire to kill.'
'And will you?' asked the king.
'No.'
'Can you stop the Hellborn in the south without killing?'
'I can try, Pendarric.'
'You are stronger than I, Ruth.'
'Wiser perhaps, and not as humble as I was. I do not want to die — and yet you were right. I cannot live with this seething force inside me.'
Take the swan's path and know peace.'
'Yes. Peace. Would that I could carry all hatred from the world with my passing.'
Pendarric shrugged. 'You will destroy the Stones. It is enough.'
Shannow moaned and rolled.
'I will say farewell here, Ruth. It was a privilege to have known you.'
'I thank you for my lessons.'
The pupil is greater than the teacher,' he said. And vanished.
Shannow awoke on the rocky ground a half-mile from the marble ruins and found himself gazing up at the Titanic. Once more it was the golden, rusting wreck he had first seen. Then a great tear ripped along the hull and the sea gushed from her like a giant waterfall, hurtling down on the ancient city below. The torrent continued for some minutes and Shannow could see tiny bodies carried in the foaming water.
He sat up to see Ruth beside him watching the second death of the legendary ship. Tears were falling and she looked away.
‘Thank you for my life,' he said lamely.
'I bear the responsibility for theirs,' she replied, as bodies continued to rain down on Atlantis.
'They fashioned their own doom,' he told her. 'You cannot blame yourself.'
She sighed and turned from the ship. 'Donna is safe, and reunited with Con Griffin.'
'I wish them their happiness,' said Shannow.
'I know — it marks you as a special man.'
'What of Batik?'
'He was wounded, but he will survive. He is a tough man and he took on the Devil single-handed.'
‘The Devil?'
'No,' said Ruth, smiling, 'but a close imitation.'
'And Abaddon?'
'He is dead, Jon.'
'Did Batik kill him?'
'No, you did, Jerusalem Man. Or perhaps the Guardians did, a very long time ago.'
'I don't understand.'
'Do you remember me telling you about Lawrence and how he was at peace and happy after the Fall? How he helped to rebuild?'
'Yes.'
'And, more importantly, how he came to have visions of the Devil speaking to him and guiding him?'
'Of course.'
The Devil was here, Jon, in that accursed ship. It was the Stone and those who used it; they were the wolves in the shadows all along, getting Lawrence to feed them souls. They found the weakness in him and caused Abaddon to blossom and grow. They fed him power and kept him alive through the centuries. When you sealed that power, Lawrence became himself- a man long dead.'