David Gemmell - The Complete Chronicles of the Jerusalem Man

VIP免费

2024-12-06 0 0 1.91MB 569 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

King Beyond the Gate

Legend

Wolf in Shadow

Ghost King

Waylander

Waylander ll

Last Sword of Power

The Last Guardian

Knights of Dark Renown

Quest for Lost Heroes

Lion of Macedon

Drenai Tales

Dark Prince

Stones of Power

Morningstar

The First Chronicles of Druss the Legend

Bloodstone

Ironhand's Daughter

The Hawk Eternal

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

THE

COMPLETE CHRONICLES

OF THE

JERUSALEM MAN

Wolf in Shadow

The Last Guardian

Bloodstone

David A. Gemmell

Published by Legend Books in 1995 An imprint of Random House UK Limited

Random House Australia (Pty) Limited

20 Alfred Street,

Milsons Point,

Sydney

New South Wales 2061,

Australia

Random House New Zealand Limited

18 Poland Road,

Glenfield, Auckland 10,

New Zealand

Random House South Africa (Pty) Limited PO Box 337, Bergvlei, South Africa

Random House UK Limited Reg. No. 954009© David A. Gemmell 1995 First published in 1995 by

Legend Books

The right of David A. Gemmell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in

accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. This book is sold subject to the

condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise

circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in

which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the

subsequent purchaser

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham plc, Chatham, Kent

ISBN 009 96634140 09 967661 3 (export only)

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

Contents

Wolf in Shadow vii

Foreword xi

The Last Guardian 327

Foreword 329

Bloodstone 611

Foreword 613

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

WOLF IN SHADOW

This novel is dedicated to the memory of 'Lady' Woodford, who believed in love, courage, and

friendship, and gave those who knew her fresh insights into the meaning of all three. Sleep well,

Lady.

And to Ethel Osborne, her sister, for a lifetime of love and care.

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Nothing is created in a vacuum, and I am grateful to many people for their help in the creation of

WOLF IN SHADOW. My thanks to Elizabeth Reeves, my editor, for bringing me out of the mist; to

Peter Austin, for the wagon-master; and to Jean Maund, Stella Graham, Tom Taylor, Ross Lempriere,

Ivan Kellham and Tony Fenelon for invaluable assistance.

Thanks also to Jeremy Wells, for loyalty and friendship, in a world that rarely understands either.

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

FOREWORD

Of the many characters I have created over the years, few have captured the imagination of readers as

powerfully as Jon Shannow, the Jerusalem Man.

Alan Fisher, the award winning author of Terioki Crossing, and a fan of the film Casablanca, has a

phrase that sums up characters like Shannow. 'They walk out of Rick's Bar, fully formed and real.

The author doesn't have to work on them at all. There is no conscious act of creation. One moment

they don't exist - the next they stand before you, complete and ready.'

I remember the moment Shannow walked out of Rick's Bar.

It was at the end of a miserable, wet day in Bournemouth at the start of autumn in 1986. I was the

group managing editor of a series of newspapers stretching from Brighton to Portsmouth on the south

coast. The previous week I had a call from my father to tell me that my mother was in hospital and

that surgeons feared she had terminal cancer. They were right. A year before she had suffered the

amputation of her right leg, and fought back to make a dramatic entrance at a Christmas Dance. This

time there would be no fightback.

I had visited her in London, and then driven to Bournemouth for a business meeting, concluding it at

around ten that night. I was Staying in a small hotel of remarkable unfriendliness. The kind of place -

as Jack Dee once said - where the Gideons leave a rope! I hadn't eaten since the previous evening and

I called the night porter. He said the kitchen staff had gone home, but there was a plate of olives

someone had left at the bar. Nursing the olives and a very large glass of Armagnac I returned to my

room and opened the Olympia portable typewriter.

I was at the time preparing a Drenai novel, featuring the Nadir Warlord Ulric, which my publishers

had commissioned. According to the contract the book was to be called Wolf in Shadow and was,

loosely, a prequel to Legend. I had completed around sixty pages. They weren't good, but I was

powering on as best as I could.

Sitting by the window, looking out over Bournemouth's glistening streets, I tried to push the events of

the week from my mind. My mother was dying, I was waiting to be fired, and staff, who had joined

my team in good faith, were facing redundancy. After the fifth large Armagnac I decided to continue

work on the book. I knew I was drunk, and I also knew that the chances of writing anything

worthwhile were pretty negligible. But forcing my mind into a fantasy world seemed infinitely more

appealing than concentrating on the reality at hand.

The scene I was set to continue had a Nadir scout riding across the steppes. The intention was to

follow him to the top of a hill and have him gaze down on the awesome army camped on the plain

below.

I focused on the typewriter keys and typed the following sentences....

The rider paused at the crest of a wooded hill, and gazed down at the wide, rolling empty lands

beneath him. There was no sign of Jerusalem...

The walls of the mind came crashing in as I typed the word Jerusalem, thoughts, fears and regrets

spilling over one another, fighting for space. There followed a bad hour, which even Armagnac could

not ease.

But after midnight I returned to the page and stared down at it. It called out to me. Who is he, I

thought? What is he looking for, this Jerusalem Man?

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

And suddenly he was there. Tall and gaunt, seeking a city that had ceased to exist three hundred years

before. A lonely, tortured man on a quest with no ending, riding through a world of savagery and

barbarism.

The story flowed in an instant, and I wrote until after the dawn.

Through all the despair that followed in those next painful months I found a sanctuary in the company

of Jon Shannow. Through his eyes I could see the world clearly, and understand how important it is

to be strong in the broken places.

As a result Shannow will always be one of my favourite characters.

For a while back there he was the best friend I'd ever had.

David A. Gemmell Hastings, 1995

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

PROLOGUE

The High Priest lifted his bloodstained hands from the corpse and dipped them in a silver bowl filled

with scented water. The blood swirled around the rose petals floating there, darkening them and

glistening like oil. A young acolyte moved to kneel before the King, his hands outstretched. The King

leaned forward, placing a large oval stone in his palms. The stone was red-gold, and veined with thick

black streaks. The acolyte carried the stone to the corpse, laying it on the gaping wound where the

girl's heart had been. The stone glowed, the red-gold gleaming like an eldritch lantern, the black veins

shrinking to fine hairlines. The acolyte lifted the stone once more, wiped it with a cloth of silk and

returned it to the King before backing away into the shadows.

A second acolyte approached the High Priest, bowing low. In his arms he held the red ceremonial

cape which he lifted over the priest's bald head.

The King clapped his hands twice and the girl's body was lifted from the marble altar and carried

down the long hall to oblivion.

'Well, Achnazzar?' demanded the King.

'As you can see, my lord, the girl was a powerful ESPer, and her essence will feed many Stones

before it fades.'

'The death of a pig will feed a Stone, priest. You know what I am asking,' said the King, fixing

Achnazzar with a piercing glare. The bald priest bowed low, keeping his eyes on the marble floor.

'The omens are mostly good, sire.'

'Mostly? Look at me!' Achnazzar raised his head, steeling himself to meet the burning eyes of the

Satanlord. The priest blinked and tried to look away, but Abaddon's glare held him trapped, almost

hypnotized. 'Explain yourself.'

The invasion, Lord, should proceed favorably in the Spring. But there are dangers . . . not great

dangers,' he added hurriedly.

'From which area?'

Achnazzar was sweating now as he licked dry lips with a dry tongue.

'Not an area, Lord, but three men.'

'Name them.'

'Only one can be identified, the others are hidden. But we will find them. The one is called Shannow.

Jon Shannow.'

'Shannow? I do not know the name. Is he a leader of men, or a Brigand chief?'

'No, Lord. He rides alone.'

'Then how is he a danger to the Hellborn?'

'Not to the Hellborn, sire, but to you.'

'You consider there is a difference?'

Achnazzar blanched and blinked the sweat from his eyes. 'No, Lord, I meant merely that the threat is

to you as a man.'

'I have never heard of this Shannow. Why should he threaten me?' 'There is no sure answer, sire, but

he follows the old, dead god.'

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

'A Christian?' spat Abaddon. 'Will he seek to kill me with love?'

'No, Lord, I meant the old dark god. He is a Brigand-slayer, a man of sudden violence. There is even

some indication that he is insane.'

'How do these indications manifest themselves - apart from his religious stupidity?'

'He is a wanderer, Lord, searching for a city which ceased to exist during Blessed Armageddon.'

'What city?'

'Jerusalem, Lord.'

Abaddon chuckled and leaned back on his throne, all tension fading. 'That city was destroyed by a

tidal wave three hundred years ago - by the great mother of all tidal waves. A thousand feet of

surging ocean drowned that pestilential place, signaling the rein of the Master and the death of

Jehovah. What does Shannow hope to find in Jerusalem?'

'We do not know, Lord.'

'And why is he a threat?'

'In every chart, or seer-dream, his line crosses yours. Karmically you are bonded. It is so with the

other two; in some way Shannow has touched - or will touch - the lives of two men who could harm

you. We cannot identify them yet - but we will. For now they appear as shadows behind the

Jerusalem Man.'

'Shannow must die ... and swiftly. Where is he now?'

'He is at present some months' journey to the south, nearing Rivervale. We have a man there,

Fletcher. I shall get word to him.'

'Keep me informed, priest.'

As Achnazzar backed away from his monarch, Abaddon rose from the ebony throne and wandered to

the high arched window, gazing over New Babylon. On a plain to the south of the city the Hellborn

army was gathering for the Raids of the Blood Feast. By Winter the new guns would be distributed

and the Hellborn would ready themselves for the Spring war: ten thousand men under the banner of

Abaddon, sweeping into the south and west, bringing the new world into the hands of the last

survivor of the Fall.

And they warned him of one madman?

Abaddon raised his arms. 'Come to me, Jerusalem Man.'

THE COMPLETE CHRONICLES OF THE JERUSALEM MAN

CHAPTER ONE

The rider paused at the crest of a wooded hill and gazed down over the wide rolling empty lands

beneath him.

There was no sign of Jerusalem, no dark road glittering with diamonds. But then Jerusalem was

always ahead, beckoning in the dreams of night, taunting him to find her on the black umbilical road.

His disappointment was momentary and he lifted his gaze to the far mountains, grey and spectral.

Perhaps there he would find a sign? Or was the road covered now by the blown dust of centuries,

disguised by the long grass of history?

He dismissed the doubt; if the city existed, Jon Shannow would find it. Removing his wide-brimmed

leather hat, he wiped the sweat from his face. It was nearing noon and he dismounted. The steeldust

gelding stood motionless until he looped the reins over its head, then dipped its neck to crop at the

long grass. The man delved into a saddlebag to pull clear his ancient Bible; he sat on the ground and

idly opened the gold-edged pages.

'And Saul said to David, Thou art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him, for thou art

but a youth, and he is a man of war from his youth.'

Shannow felt sorry for Goliath, for the man had had no chance. A courageous giant, ready to face any

warrior, found himself opposite a child without sword or armour. Had he won, he would have been

derided. Shannow closed the Bible and carefully packed it away.

Time to move,' he told the gelding. He stepped into the saddle and swept up the reins. Slowly they

made their way down the hillside, the rider's eyes watchful of every boulder and tree, bush and shrub.

They entered the cool of the valley and Shannow drew back on the reins, turning his face to the north

and breathing deeply.

A rabbit leapt from the brush, startling the gelding. Shannow saw the creature vanish into the

undergrowth and then uncocked the long-barrelled pistol, sliding it back into the scabbard at his hip.

He could not recall drawing it clear. Such was the legacy of the years of peril - fast hands, a sure eye

and a body that reacted independently of the conscious mind.

Not always a good thing . . . Shannow would never forget the look of blank incomprehension in the

child's eyes as the lead ball clove his heart. Nor the way his frail body had crumpled lifeless to the

earth. There had been three Brigands that day and one had shot Shannow's horse out from under him,

while the other two ran forward with knife and axe. He had destroyed them all in scant seconds, but a

movement behind caused him to swivel and fire. The child had died without a sound.

Would God ever forgive him?

Why should he, when Shannow could not forgive himself?

'You were better off losing, Goliath,' said Shannow.

The wind changed and a stomach-knotting aroma of frying bacon drifted to him from the east.

Shannow tugged the reins to the right. After a quarter of a mile the trail rose and fell and a narrow

path opened on to a meadow and a stone-fronted farmhouse. Before the building was a vegetable

garden and beyond it a paddock where several horses were penned.

There were no defence walls and the windows of the house were wide and open. To the left of the

building the trees had been allowed to grow to within twenty yards of the wall, allowing no field of

fire to repel Brigands. Shannow sat and stared for some time at this impossible dwelling. Then he saw

a child carrying a bucket emerge from the barn beyond the paddock. A woman walked out to meet

him and ruffled his blond hair.

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

THECOMPLETECHRONICLESOFTHEJERUSALEMMAN1BYTHESAMEAUTHORKingBeyondtheGateLegendWolfinShadowGhostKingWaylanderWaylanderllLastSwordofPowerTheLastGuardianKnightsofDarkRenownQuestforLostHeroesLionofMacedonDrenaiTalesDarkPrinceStonesofPowerMorningstarTheFirstChroniclesofDrusstheLegendBloodstoneIronhand'sDa...

展开>> 收起<<

David Gemmell - The Complete Chronicles of the Jerusalem Man.pdf

共569页,预览10页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

David Gemmell - The Complete Chronicles of the Jerusalem Man

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: