“But you’ll –” Herme began, but was cut short by a wail from Leagh.
“Zared, no! He’ll not let you go!”
Zared took her shoulders and held her gently for a minute. “Leagh. Go with Herme. Take that wonderful mare of yours and ride like the wind.”
“I’ll not leave –”
“Yes, you will! Leagh, I will join you. I promise. I’m not ready to die yet, not out here on this open plain like a dog.” He grinned wanly. “Trust me.”
She leaned her forehead into his chest briefly, feeling his heartbeat.
“Yes, I trust you,” she said, smiling through her tears. “And this time I’ll do as you say.”
“Good girl. Herme?”
“As you order, sire. But you follow us, damn it. You hear?”
Zared laughed. “As you order, Earl of Avonsdale! Now, get those men mounted. Inform them…inform them that once they’re safe within the Silent Woman Woods, I’ll tell them what’s going on.”
Herme saluted. “Aye, sire.”
Zared looked about, nodded at the other commanders, kissed Leagh briefly, then turned to his horse.
“What’s he up to?” Caelum muttered as Zared rode straight for him, his horse at a flat-out gallop. Behind him his men had mounted up and were moving out.
Caelum checked the skies. Most of the Strike Force were aloft, their myriad black specks circling far above.
A month ago he would have been able to pick out the buttons on their uniforms.
He squinted, then waved at who he hoped was DareWing.
The speck circled lower.
Zared reined in his horse. “Caelum! I must speak to you.”
“What do you here? Your place is at the head of your men.”
“I have heard disturbing news about what it is we meet at the Star Gate, Caelum.”
“His title is StarSon,” Askam corrected.
Zared flicked Askam a scathing glance, wishing for the first time that the blast at Kastaleon had done a better job.
“Nephew StarSon,” he said dryly, “I am concerned about the situation at the Star Gate.”
“Your task is not to be concerned, Zared,” Caelum said. “You vowed that you would accept my orders. Zared…please…Axis needs us there.”
I did not quite get around to that vow, thought Zared, for the conversation was deflected. But now was not the time to quibble over such delicacies. “I have heard news that makes me question the decision, whether yours or Axis’, to ride pell-mell for the Star Gate, Caelum.”
Caelum raised his eyebrows. He hoped DareWing would land swiftly.
As if in answer to his thought, a shadow swept over them and DareWing FullHeart alighted to stand by Caelum’s horse. “StarSon, what is it?”
Caelum inclined his head at Zared. “Zared has heard disturbing news, it seems.”
Several other of Caelum’s commanders had drifted closer. One of them shaded his hand, looked into the distance, and cried, “StarSon! Zared’s force is wheeling to the south!”
“Stars in Heaven!” Caelum shouted. “What other treacheries do you have for me, Zared? DareWing, set the Strike Force –”
“Wait!” Zared yelled. “DareWing, commanders, listen to what I have to say to you!”
“Then say it fast!” DareWing growled, his wings tensed for flight, “before I set my birdmen’s arrows to your men’s backs.”
Zared locked eyes with Caelum. “All the damned Enchanters in this realm, all the Star Gods as well, have all but lost their powers. DareWing, there is no Icarii enchantment to protect us at the Star Gate! The Demons will break through with the ease of a babe clutching at a fistful of jelly! If we ride to the Star Gate we will all die! They,” he flung a hand in Caelum’s direction, “will not be able to save us!”
“You lie!” Askam shouted. “Seditious words to mask your own cowardice! DareWing, set your Strike Force to –”
“Demons?” muttered one of Caelum’s junior commanders.
“Then prove you still have your powers, StarSon Caelum SunSoar. Prove to me and to all your men here that you still have your powers!” Zared yelled.
DareWing turned slightly and looked Caelum full in the face.
“I am only trying to protect my men, Caelum,” Zared continued more moderately. “I am a commander who will flee if it means that the majority of my command will survive to fight the next day. I do not make rash judgments and mistakes.”
Caelum recoiled, but said nothing.
“Enough!” DareWing snapped as Askam reached for his sword. “StarSon, does Zared speak truth?”
Still Caelum said nothing, staring at Zared.
“As the Demons approach,” Zared said quietly, “their darkness clouds the Star Gate, blocking off the sound of the Star Dance. DareWing, you know what that means. Without the Star Dance…”
DareWing looked more intently at Caelum. There had been more to the crisis at the Star Gate than he’d been told. He’d felt it with every instinct he’d gained as a member of the Strike Force for over sixty years. He’d battled Skraelings, Gryphon and humans, and he’d learned enough to trust his instincts. “StarSon?”
Caelum suddenly slumped in his saddle. “He speaks truth, DareWing.”
A muttering rose behind him, but Caelum paid it no attention. “Zared, where did you hear this?”
“From the Lady Faraday and from the Princess Zenith. Zenith confirmed the almost absolute loss of her powers.”
“Faraday!” DareWing exclaimed. He had met her on many occasions when she had been Queen of Achar, and her role in the replanting of the forests, as her willingness to die for Axis, gave her almost godlike status in DareWing’s eyes, and in those of so many other Icarii.
“My father asked us to ride for the Star Gate,” Caelum said slowly, but without any conviction. Faraday had returned? And Zenith?
“Axis was distraught, and had not thought it through,” Zared said. “He was acting on battle instinct alone. Caelum, DareWing, there is nothing we can do at Star Gate save witness our own deaths.”
“Damn you!” Askam cried, fumbling with his sword. Curse his one-handed embarrassment! “Does no-one have the courage to ride to the Star Gate’s aid?”
Zared wheeled his horse out of the way. “There is nothing stopping you, Askam.”
Askam looked at Zared, looked at the now almost deserted expanse of plain before them, then looked at Caelum. “Can’t you save us?”
“No, Askam,” Caelum said slowly, looking at Zared rather than Askam. “No, I cannot, and mayhap the Star Gods cannot either. Zared speaks wisely. My friend, I should have listened to you last night. DareWing, set the Strike Force after Zared’s men –”
Zared straightened in alarm.
“– to escort them to shelter.” Caelum rose in his stirrups and waved to his commanders. “Turn your men for the Silent Woman Woods. Now! Then ride…ride!”
His commanders were shouting orders as soon as the word “Silent” had left Caelum’s lips.
70
Leap to the Edge
A hand seized his arm, and hauled him to his feet. Drago cried out, but did not resist. It was time. His only sadness was that he lost his dream of a gentle pasture somewhere in Tencendor where a shallow stream ran over smooth-backed rocks and pebbles, reflecting a carefree sun and the faint shadow of the afternoon moon.
Fully awake now, Drago almost let his terror claim him. Terrified, not only for himself, but for what his bitter treachery was bringing to Tencendor.
He wondered if there was anything he could do to save Tencendor.
Trust us.
But he was given no time to trust. The Questors dragged him into the centre of their pillared chamber. Outside the sky was awash in silver-streaked emerald.
Gods! How close were they to the Star Gate?
“Not close enough,” said StarLaughter, and cuddled her child close. One of its arms flopped out of the wrap, and Raspu reached over and absent-mindedly tucked the flaccid limb back into s
afety.
“Now,” Sheol said conversationally, “has come the time to use you all up, Drago SunSoar.”
“You promised me that you’d see my blood order reversed!” Drago no longer believed in their promises, but he was desperate to buy himself some time.
“Did we?” asked Mot, one eyebrow raised, his mouth slack and moist with anticipation. “I cannot remember it.”
“Nor we,” echoed the other Questors in well-rehearsed chorus. “Never.”
“Never,” whispered StarLaughter. She tossed her head, and sneered. “I confess myself unsad over the matter. For a SunSoar, you were a lacklustre lover.”
She frowned, and put a finger to her pursed lips. “Well now, doesn’t that make me think. Perhaps you are not a SunSoar after all!”
She pealed with laughter. “Use him! I am anxious to get home!”
And the Questors reached out.
It was agony. They made no attempt to spare him. Pain ravaged through his body, destroying vessels and tissue, burning and roping out of control.
He was dying, he knew it. And somehow, he was glad of it. He would not have to face what he had betrayed. His father’s anger. His brother’s terror. A land ravaged by disease and hunger and despair.
And more, if these Demons managed to put Qeteb back together again.
The pain increased. It bubbled and boiled through him.
Drago felt himself explode as if in slow motion. He thought he actually saw bits of his tissue and organs spray about the chamber until the Questors and StarLaughter were covered in it. The children – the black-winged and visaged Hawkchilds – were clinging to pillars, writhing on the floor, sucking and licking, their hands clawed and scrabbling. Some of them, he observed with dying clarity, seemed to be growing beaks.
Well, too late for curiosity now. He was only a disembodied mind, watching with casual interest the disintegration of his body.
Had all the men and women and creatures who had died so his father could attain his dream of a reborn Tencendor suffered the way that he did now?
“I am so sorry. I wish I had been a better man.”
We regretted. We were consumed with regrets. It is nothing unusual. Use your grief and regret, Drago.
How?
You will help Caelum and Tencendor?
Yes, yes, yes.
In any way you can?
Yes, yes, yes.
Then listen to the Song we make.
And Drago opened his eyes, and blinked, and the Questors were gone, and the children and StarLaughter and her abominable baby were gone, and in their place stood a group of five people, three men and two women, their faces kindly and caring. One of them, an old, plump man with wispy white hair, reached out a hand in a farewell gesture.
“Farewell, Pilgrim,” he said. “Remember us from time to time.”
StarLaughter licked the blood off her fingers, tipped back her head, and screamed with joy. All were coated in blood, all licked, scraped, slurped in their efforts to consume as much of what had once been Drago as they could.
It tasted good.
More importantly, it tasted of power.
Sheol lifted her head. Her chin was slippery with blood. “We are here,” she said tonelessly.
They looked about. All traces of the chamber had gone. The orchard had gone. Any semblance of a world had gone. They stood surrounded by darkness, their feet standing on cold, flat nothingness. But over them, pulsating with energy, hung the Star Gate.
Through it they could see four or five faces staring down at them.
As they watched, the emerald and silver warding sighed, shimmered, and died.
“What time of day is it?” asked StarLaughter.
“Just gone noon,” Sheol whispered. “Not long now. Prepare yourselves.”
She clicked her fingers, and whistled to the flock of children swarming to one side.
“Come, come, my chicks. Spread your wings, taste the feel of the air. Soon you will be free to quest.”
Axis gagged, partly at the sudden cessation of the Star Dance – he had felt this only once before when he had “died” in the ice fields north of the Murkle Mountains – and partly in horror at what he could see through the Star Gate.
Pitch darkness, but there was a something within that darkness.
It bulged.
“It’s over,” said Adamon, just behind him. “It’s all over.”
Axis looked away from the horror in the Star Gate and gazed about the chamber.
The Circle of Star Gods were here.
Useless.
Some fifteen Enchanters, including StarDrifter, were here.
Useless.
Even WolfStar was still here.
And he was as useless as the rest of them.
“What can we do?” Axis said, desolate. Azhure moved to his side and put her arms about him. She buried her face in his shoulder. She could not yet believe that all they were, all they had fought for, was teetering on the brink of absolute disaster.
“It is my son who has brought this on us!” Axis cried, and Azhure’s arms jerked tighter about him.
“My son!” And he screamed, arching his body back, the scream reverberating about the now pale, shadowed dome.
“No,” WolfStar said, stepping forward. “Blame the ancient ones who left us these repositories of misery. Blame them if you must blame anyone, Axis.”
“But –”
“WolfStar is right,” StarDrifter said tiredly from his corner. He had never thought to witness the day when he would support WolfStar. “Drago was only a means. The Demons would have found a way to get through eventually.”
“Then damn all stars in the universe that it had to be during my lifetime!” cried Xanon.
That drew a shaky laugh from Adamon. “Beloved, our lifetimes were – were – once forever. Of course they came during our lifetimes.”
“But not forever any more,” Azhure said, lifting her head and wiping the tears from her eyes. She’d only had forty years to live with immortality, but forty years had been enough to develop an affection for the everlasting.
“No,” Axis whispered. “Not forever at all. Mortal once more.”
He looked about the chamber, and laughed bitterly. “All of us! Mortal! Plain men and women. No power. No magic. No enchantment. No Star Dance! What shall we do in this new world, Azhure? Crawl about roofs replacing thatching to make ourselves feel useful?”
“Axis,” StarDrifter said, finally moving forward to look into the Star Gate. He grimaced, swallowed, and looked away. “That is enough. What we must needs discuss now is what we do now. These Demons ready themselves to break through. What do we do about it?”
“We can do nothing,” WolfStar said.
“We must be able to do something!” Axis protested.
WolfStar shook his head, and looked at Adamon.
“Axis,” the once-God of the Firmament said, “they will slaughter us when they break through. They will want to ensure that we never, never rise again. They will want free rein through Tencendor.”
“But the Sceptre!”
“We will find another day to snatch it back,” Azhure said. “Adamon is right. If we are all bunched into this chamber when the Demons break through, then they will slaughter us all. Better to flee now so we can live to aid Caelum in his quest.”
“Caelum,” Axis suddenly said. “Gods! I asked Caelum to ride for the Star Gate!”
“You cursed fool!” WolfStar cried. “He’s our only hope, and you told him to ride here?”
“I thought an army would be useful…I thought…oh, damn it! I did not think! We’ve got to warn him.”
“How?” StarDrifter said dryly. “Do you suggest we run or fly to him? Will we have time?”
“Enough!” Adamon said, taking charge. “We all need to get out of here, fast. I do not know how we are going to counter these demons, but I do know that we will be more useful alive than dead.”
“True,” WolfStar said. “We must leave. Now
.” And he took a step towards one of the archways.
“WolfStar!” Adamon grabbed him by the arm. “I do not particularly care where you go, but for the moment you go nowhere near Caelum! With these Demons come over two hundred raging souls questing for your personal destruction. I do not want to risk them finding you with Caelum although, by the Stars, I truly don’t care whether or not they find you at all!”
“Oh,” WolfStar said, “I have enough to keep me busy for the moment without bothering Caelum.”
Axis took Azhure’s hand. “Azhure and I will go to him, Adamon. He is our son.”
Adamon nodded. “Be careful.” He grinned wanly at the stupidity of that remark. “Be careful, all of you. Run to whatever place you think safe. Later…later I will send word to you. We will regroup. We must, if Caelum is to prevail. Now, I suggest that we start to move. Now!”
The chamber of the Star Gate lay empty. Outside the sun dipped towards the west. The afternoon winked and woke.
Shadows suddenly started to shimmer over the dome of the chamber again.
But they were not blue – rather, black.
Beyond the Star Gate lay only blackness. But it was a blackness that rippled and writhed. Faces and hands and claw-tipped wings pressed against it, seeking to create the rent through which to enter.
Despair waited.
71
The Sack (2)
The two white donkeys, in their own indefinable way, accomplished more than any horse or even birdman could. As the noon-day sun faded into afternoon, the little blue cart pulled up at the edges of the Minstrelsea forest just above the Ancient Barrows.
“Faraday?” Zenith said. She sat uncomfortably, more afraid than she’d ever been in her life. She felt only emptiness where once had been the Star Dance. She was useless. A husk instead of a living entity.
“Hush, Zenith. We will be safe within the forest.”
Faraday climbed down from the cart and unhitched the two donkeys, leaving them free to browse about the undergrowth. She patted their necks and whispered to them, then turned back to Zenith.
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