Pilgrim

by Sara Douglass

  “Zared, in Caelum’s absence I need you to take command of the army. DareWing, through you Zared will command the Strike Force as well—support him.”

  DareWing nodded.

  “And my task while you and Caelum are in Star Finger?” Zared said.

  “Perhaps the worst task of all,” Axis responded. “Deal with the devastation as best you can. Save as much and as many as best you can. Save a Tencendor for my son…for us all.”

  “I will do my best, StarMan.”

  “Do not call me that,” Axis said dryly. “Now I am no more the StarMan than you.”

  He turned about, meaning to talk to Azhure, but his eye was caught once more by Drago, and his face darkened.

  “Drago,” Axis thrust a finger at him, “come within shouting distance of Star Finger and no-one will be able to stop me killing you. Do you understand?”

  Drago was standing still, patiently enduring Zenith’s bandaging of his throat. “I, like you,” he said, “will do whatever I have to in order to right the wrongs done to this land, father. I wish you would believe me. I will do anything I can.”

  “Neither I nor this land nor Caelum needs your aid,” Axis said. “You are filth! I disowned you as a child, Drago, and there is nothing in this life that will ever make me accept you now. I do not love you, and I never will, and I swear before every Star that can still hear me that I wish you the death you deserve for your misdeeds. Damn you! You are nothing but worm-filled shit in my eyes!”

  Drago flinched and his already white face went whiter.

  Axis spun about on his heel. “Zared, may Azhure and I requisition a horse apiece? We must ride our way north as Spiredore is undoubtedly useless now the Star Dance is dead.”

  Zared nodded. “I will also send a unit of men with you. You will surely need some protection wandering north—gods know where the TimeKeepers are now.”

  “Good. Azhure, my love,” Axis held out his hand to her. “Say your goodbyes…to whoever deserves it. Caelum, fetch whatever you need to bring with you.”

  “Axis?”

  Axis turned to look at Faraday.

  “Axis, keep to shelter—whether beneath trees or inside houses—during the Demonic Hours. You will remain safe that way.”

  Axis continued to stare at her, then he spun about and walked away. Faraday turned her attention back to Drago’s wound.

  The gathering slowly dissipated as people drifted off, to prepare for departure or to sink back before fires and mull over the scene they’d just witnessed.

  Sicarius melted back into the shadows, rejoining the pack of Alaunt.

  Faraday pushed Drago back to the ground and helped Zenith more securely bind his neck.

  “The staff!” Drago said. “It was here! I know it! Where—”

  “Hush,” Faraday said, and laid gentle fingers on his lips. “Hush now, please.”

  “I have to help,” Drago said. “I must!”

  “I know,” Faraday whispered. “I know.”

  She and Zenith tucked the loose end of the bandage in, then Zenith smiled, patted Drago on the shoulder, and rose and walked off to talk with StarDrifter.

  Faraday waited until she had gone, then laid an apologetic hand on one of Drago’s.

  “StarDrifter was right,” she said softly. “I should have thought before walking you so blatantly forth into this glade.”

  “I deserved much of that, Faraday,” he said, and sighed. “No-one knows better than me that I deserve both Caelum’s and my parents’ distrust.”

  “Don’t ever say—” Faraday began fiercely, when Azhure’s voice behind her stopped her.

  “Zenith?” she said.

  Azhure very pointedly did not look at Drago.

  Faraday felt for her. Torn between son and husband, watching the world that she’d fought for so hard die about her. Losing immortality. Losing enchantment.

  Wondering why Sicarius had attacked her husband, rather than Drago.

  “She went that way,” Faraday inclined her head, “with StarDrifter.”

  Azhure nodded, risked one glance at Drago, then walked off.

  Azhure found Zenith standing close with StarDrifter by a group of tethered horses. They were talking quietly, sharing information about their movements since they had parted on the Island of Mist and Memory.

  As Zenith looked up at her approach, Azhure asked bluntly, “Zenith—or Niah?”

  “Zenith,” her daughter replied softly. “Zenith reborn, not Niah.”

  Azhure hesitated, then nodded. She stood indecisively, as if wondering whether to touch Zenith or not. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  “I know what your mother meant to you,” Zenith said, “and I know what sacrifice she made for you. We have all treasured and revered her memory. But…but the soul that tried to seize mine had changed. She was warped by her dreadful death. All pity had been seared from her. Mother, I was never Niah, and I could not agree to let her kill me so she could live again.”

  Azhure’s eyes were bright with tears, and she put a trembling hand to her mouth. “How?”

  Zenith glanced at StarDrifter, both of them remembering that dreadful night that Zenith had forced the Niah-soul into the girl-child she carried, and had expelled the child from her body, killing her.

  But how could Zenith tell Azhure that? Her mother loved Niah deeply, and treasured her memory, and it would only wound Azhure to be told the manner of Niah’s second death.

  “Something of the Niah who had so sacrificed herself for you remained, mother. When she realised the extent of my distress she acquiesced, and let me be. She said…she said that she had already lived her life, and was content that I should be allowed to live mine.”

  Azhure stared at her, then burst into tears. Zenith leaned forward and gathered Azhure to her, rocking her gently as if she were truly the mother, and not the daughter.

  For his part, StarDrifter just stared at Zenith, realising for the first time how deeply he felt for her. And how differently he felt for her.

  As Caelum inspected his horse’s gear, Askam stepped quietly up beside him.

  “Yes?” Caelum said.

  “Was it wise of Axis to leave Zared in full control of the army, StarSon?” Askam said, and dropped his voice still further. “Remember that he has crowned himself King of Achar. Do you so agree with his actions that you watch as your father virtually presents him with the entire territory of Tencendor? Gods, man! He’s even got control of the Strike Force!”

  Caelum thought carefully before he answered, but when he did his voice was very firm. “Axis made the right choice,” he said. “Zared can command more loyalty than you. Do you not remember what happened when you tried to command his army the morning after the battle?”

  Askam recoiled. “I have lost my sister to him, now must I also lose land and troops. Where is the justice in this, Caelum? Where?”

  “The problems between you and Zared must wait until the TimeKeepers lie broken at our feet, Askam.”

  “And the fact that he apparently stands with Drago against you and your father? Does that not concern you?”

  Caelum paused, unable to answer immediately. “Zared, like so many of us, simply does not know what to do. And like DareWing, perhaps, he wants as many choices as possible left open to him.”

  He sighed. “My friend, giving Zared control of the army is no reflection on you. He is simply the best man to do it.”

  No, Askam thought, no reflection at all. I am simply “not best”. I understand, Caelum StarSon. I understand very, very well.

  “I understand, StarSon,” he said, and then he drifted away into the gathering darkness.

  Zared organised the unit of men, then went to check that Axis had suitable horses for Azhure and himself.

  “Is there such need to rush off so soon?” Zared said quietly to his brother.

  Axis looked at him. “I cannot stay, Zared. Not with Drago here. You must surely understand that.” He paused.

  “Zared, I cannot
explain this, but somehow I know the answer to those Demons lies in Star Finger. I cannot wait to get there. And to get Caelum there.”

  Axis stopped and glanced to where Faraday and Drago sat, then moved a step closer to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I cannot trust Drago. I cannot!”

  “I can understand, Axis.”

  “And yet you support him?”

  Zared hesitated. “I trust Faraday when she says that Drago has pledged himself to Caelum. Axis, I do not believe he murdered RiverStar. Caelum treated him badly, the trial was a farce, for the gods’ sakes!”

  “And yet the vision WolfStar conjured showed that Drago murdered—”

  “And have you ever trusted WolfStar?”

  Axis was silent, and Zared let him think for a moment before he continued. “I am prepared to give Drago a chance, Axis. I think that he deserves that one chance.”

  Axis’ face tightened, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “Then will you promise me one thing?”

  Zared raised his eyebrows.

  “Promise me that you will kill him the moment you suspect he works, not for Tencendor and Caelum, but for those Demons. Promise me!”

  Zared slowly nodded. “I will not allow him to betray this land, Axis.”

  “To betray this land any further than he has!” Axis said bitterly, but he accepted Zared’s words, and, after a moment’s thought, gripped his younger brother’s hand. “I do not envy you your task,” he said.

  “Nor I yours,” Zared said quietly. They stared at each other, then Zared turned and walked away.

  Caelum finished checking his horse, disquieted by Askam’s visit, then went to say goodbye to Zared and DareWing. Zared would look after Tencendor—what was left of it—as well as anyone could.

  Drago watched him, then pushed Faraday’s gentle hands away. “Faraday, I must speak with him.”

  “Wait! Drago, your neck—”

  “Faraday, a few steps won’t hurt me, and I need to talk with Caelum. Neither of us should leave it like this.”

  Faraday dropped her hands. “Then stay well clear of your father.”

  Drago nodded, his expression bleak, and walked slowly away.

  Caelum conversed briefly with Zared and DareWing, and then began to walk back to where he could see his parents with the unit of twenty men that Zared had given them. Axis and Azhure, the Alaunt milling about them, were obviously impatient.

  Caelum sighed. On the one hand, he hated to leave Tencendor like this. He felt as though he were abandoning his responsibilities. On the other hand, Star Finger represented such a haven of safety that he could hardly wait to get there. Well might Faraday say that Drago was now the most trustworthy soul this side of death, but Caelum could not believe it. Not when each night the nightmare still thundered through his sleep, and the lance still pierced his heart.

  Suddenly Drago stepped out from behind a tree and stood directly in Caelum’s path.

  Caelum stopped dead, his heart thumping. Drago was pale, and the blood-stained bandage about his neck hardly improved his appearance, but Caelum thought he looked strong enough for mischief. He quickly checked the surrounding trees—no-one was close, although he could see his parents start in concern; Axis had taken a step forward.

  “Get out of my way,” Caelum said.

  “Caelum, please, I do not come to hurt you—”

  “Why should I believe that?”

  Drago held out a hand. “Caelum, the only reason I came back through the Star Gate was to right the wrong I did you so many years ago. Brother, I pledge myself to your cause. Please, believe me.”

  His only answer was a hostile stare from his brother.

  Drago’s hand, still extended, wavered slightly. “I can understand why you hate and fear—”

  “You understand nothing if you can say you have pledged yourself to my cause, and you ask me to trust you. Why should I believe that?”

  “Caelum—”

  “How dare I ever trust you?”

  Drago dropped his hand. “Because when I came back through the Star Gate all enchantments fell from my eyes, Caelum.”

  Caelum’s eyes widened, appalled at what he’d heard. He stared at Drago. “And still you say, ‘I come only to aid you’?” he whispered.

  Drago nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving those of his brother. “I swore to aid you and to aid Tencendor, and so I will do.”

  “You lie,” Caelum said, “if all enchantments fell from your eyes as you came back through the Star Gate, then you must lie! You are here to destroy me. No more, no less.”

  Then he stepped past his brother and walked into the shadows where waited his parents.

  As they mounted and rode into the forest, Sicarius stood a moment, looking first at the retreating riders, then at Drago standing watching them.

  He whined, hesitated, then finally bounded after Axis, Azhure and Caelum.

  The pack of Alaunt followed his lead.

  High in a nearby tree, the feathered lizard inspected one of its twinkling talons, then slowly scratched at its cheek, thinking. After a moment it glanced down to the two white donkeys and the blue cart they were still harnessed to.

  In its tray lay the staff.

  6

  The Rosewood Staff

  “Drago?” Faraday placed a hand on his arm. “Do not blame Caelum too much.”

  “I do not blame him at all.”

  “Then do not blame yourself too much, either. Come, let us walk back to Leagh and Zared’s fire. We need to eat, and I think I can see Leagh dabbling in some pot or the other. And I sincerely hope she spent some of her princesshood attending lessons in the kitchens,” she added, almost in an undertone.

  Despite the emotion of the past hour, Drago’s sense of humour had not completely deserted him, and Faraday’s words made him grin. For someone who had lived on a diet of grass, grass and yet more grass for the past forty-odd years, Faraday should be the last person to criticise anyone’s culinary imagination.

  They walked slowly towards the campsite. Leagh was still obviously disturbed at the scene between Drago and his father, but she composed herself and then smiled and held out her hands as Drago and Faraday approached.

  “Drago, come and sit down. There is a pot of stew here. Not much, but it will warm you, at least.”

  Drago thanked Leagh as she passed him a bowl and then, as he sat, asked her to fetch Zared, DareWing, StarDrifter and Zenith. “And any other who commands within this force, Leagh. I need to talk, and they have done the honour of trusting me.”

  Leagh nodded, and walked off.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Faraday said.

  “Yes. They—all of you—deserve an explanation of what I did. And…”

  “Yes?”

  “You should never doubt Leagh’s talents, Faraday. This stew is right flavoursome given the restrictions of her kitchen.”

  The others arrived and grouped quietly about, taking places as they could about the fire. Zenith was one of the first to arrive, StarDrifter close behind. He sat down close beside Zenith, closer than need be. Zenith tensed slightly, then relaxed and smiled as StarDrifter murmured something to her. Zared sat with Leagh across the fire from Drago. DareWing and his two most senior Crest-Leaders were to his right. Herme sat between Leagh and Faraday, but Theod and Askam preferred to remain standing just behind the seated circle, several of their lieutenants still further behind them.

  Everyone studied Drago curiously. StarDrifter and Zared had known Drago previously, and, as Zenith had, they well noted the changes his experiences had wrought. A certain weariness from his struggle through the Star Gate and some pain from his wound remained, but his face was otherwise determined. The resentment and bitterness that had so characterised the old Drago had gone, and the lines they’d left in his face were now humorous and bold, and added character, rather than emphasising his previous dampening blanket of futility. His skin was still pale, but the tincture of his violet eyes and copper hair gave
him vitality and the appearance of endless energy; his wounding seemed to have brought no lasting damage to body or spirit. His was the lean, thoughtful face of a man in the midst of contemplative mid-life, but there was something else…something in his eyes, or perhaps in the way he held his head, that hinted at far, far more.

  It was a face that not only projected a profound and reassuring calmness, but also invited a further exploration of the man it represented.

  For her part, Leagh thought his face and his overall demeanour extraordinarily sensual, and that surprised her, for she had never thought of Drago in that manner previously. Casting her eyes about those grouped around the fire, then back to Drago, Leagh thought he looked like a prince who had just woken from a very long enchanted sleep, and who yet did not know the talents or weaknesses of the court that surrounded him.

  Neither did they know him.

  There was wariness about this circle, and a little suspicion, but the general sense was of an overwhelming curiosity.

  “When I went beyond the Star Gate,” Drago began with no preamble, “I thought I had found all the love and all the meaning I had been searching for all my life. The Questors, as the five Demons called themselves, and the children and StarLaughter seemed so like me. All of us had been betrayed; all of us had seen our heritages stolen from us. It seemed so right to be with them. It seemed so right to aid each of them to regain their heritage as I needed to regain mine.”

  He smiled, but it was sad, and faded almost as soon as it had appeared. “They said they would give me back my Icarii power. Oh, Stars! To regain my power! To be like Caelum, and Zenith! To be an Enchanter again.”

  Everyone was quiet, watching.

  “But the longer I spent with them,” Drago continued, “the more I came to realise that their hatred and bitterness and their need for revenge had twisted them. Darkened them. StarLaughter, and the children—they were once so powerful, and so enchanted. Now…”

  Drago paused, and his hands trembled. He clasped them together. “Their thirst for revenge at all cost had made them nauseating. Worse, I realised that I was very much like them, and I could not bear that thought. I grew to despise myself.”