Pilgrim

by Sara Douglass

  “Of course you must,” Faraday said, and Drago glanced at her, trying to interpret her remark.

  But her face was in shadow, and he could not read her expression.

  As soon as Drago looked away, Faraday spoke again. “If circumstance shows you a path that is distasteful, Drago, but one that will result in a freed Tencendor, will you take it?”

  He took a long time to reply. “Stop trying to convince me that—”

  “Will you?”

  “There is only one person who can persuade me to—”

  “Then Caelum will do that,” Faraday said.

  Drago’s face closed over. “I can hardly imagine that ever being the case. He rightly loathes me.”

  “Will you do whatever you have to in order to aid Caelum and Tencendor?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then that is enough,” Faraday said. “No-one can ever ask more of you.”

  Drago sat on his donkey and wondered if he had just been outwitted. She was as smooth-tongued as WingRidge. He suddenly grinned, dissipating the tension between them. “You retain the sharp skills of a Queen immersed in court intrigue, Faraday.”

  She laughed softly. “Naturally. One never knows when they will come in handy.”

  “We worry,” said a soldier by the name of Gerlien.

  “I know,” Zared answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He’d hardly slept the past few nights. “But—”

  “Sire? We do not know if our wives and children are safe or wander the plains demented. We must find out.”

  To one side, Askam lounged against a tree and watched. Zared had command. So be it. He could deal with this nasty mess, then.

  “We must wait for Drago and Faraday to—”

  “How much longer must we wait?” Another man stepped forward from the group facing Zared.

  “What do you propose?” Zared snapped. “That we just march out into the plains? How long do you think we would last before one of the Demons’ miasma found us? There is no shelter out there, and at least two weeks between us and Carlon!”

  “Zared, hush one moment.” Leagh stepped to her husband, and took his arm, although she kept her eyes on the knot of men before them.

  “Gerlien, Meanthrin, my husband speaks the truth. Do not blame him that at least he knows where his wife is.”

  She smiled to take any sense of chastisement out of her words.

  The soldiers relaxed a little, impressed with the fact that Leagh knew their names. But then, she’d been tireless this past week, moving among the campfires of the army each night, spending a few minutes and words at each. And although Zared had done the same, Leagh had always managed to raise a few more, and far more genuine, smiles.

  “I ask you to wait,” Zared said. He smiled lopsidedly. “None of us can know where, or how, to move until Drago and Faraday return.”

  “And yet,” Askam’s voice cut in from the side, “some people might think you should be out there, saving as much of Tencendor as you can, Zared. After all, is that not what Axis asked you to do?”

  “And I will do so,” Zared said, keeping his tone even, “when I know how it is that I may keep most of these men alive.”

  “You would put your trust in someone as treacherous as Drago?” Askam asked. “Or as unknown as Faraday?”

  “Faraday is hardly ‘unknown’, Askam,” Leagh said, her voice sharp. If her husband necessarily had to guard her tongue in front of Askam, then she did not. “She died for—”

  “Ah,” Askam said dismissively, turning away as if to walk into the forest. “And yet here she walks again. Not quite ‘dead’, is she? What did she promise to the Demons to get her life back? The green fields of Tencendor? The jewelled corridors of the Minaret Peaks? And I hardly need start on Drago—that man has never had anything but deadly intentions for Tencendor, or for anyone who steps in his path.”

  “No-one can blame you for being scared, Askam,” said a voice to the side, “but you should learn to look beyond past grievances. Don’t fight that which may well save your life.”

  “Faraday!” Zared strode forward and helped her from her donkey, relieved beyond measure that she was back. He looked over to Drago. The man was different. Sadder, almost.

  “Drago?”

  “Soon, Zared, but—”

  A lizard scrambled from the donkey’s back and scrambled up the nearest tree. Everyone’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “—a meal first would surely be appreciated.”

  Sitting about the fire with Zared and his immediate command, Drago told them what he could.

  There was little to say but the worst, and no way to say it but in the worst way possible.

  Drago studied his hands, and when he looked up his face was neutral. “Qeteb must be allowed to live,” he said.

  The listeners erupted with exclamations, and Drago held up his hand for silence.

  “There is worse.”

  “And why am I not surprised?” Askam muttered under his breath, but none heard.

  He shot a glance at Faraday. Askam wasn’t fooled by her. She sat close by Drago’s side, her lovely face demure, her eyes downcast, but Askam wondered if she wasn’t casting some spell to enchant all into Drago’s web.

  “Tencendor will be devastated by the Demons,” Drago said softly. “Especially with Qeteb at their head. The land will be destroyed. It must be.”

  “Why say this?” Zared cried. “You think this is going to help?”

  “Zared…everyone…please listen to what I say before judging either the speaker or the message.”

  Drago paused and thought carefully before continuing. The journey through the Silent Woman Woods with Faraday had given him time to think and to reason things out, and what he’d come to understand needed to be said carefully, and yet plainly.

  “You all know the tensions of the past, tensions that have been present within Tencendor for over a thousand years. Not even Axis’ battle against Gorgrael managed to truly unite the three peoples of Tencendor. Sin, bias, bigotry, dissent and distrust still walk the land. Tencendor must be ravaged clean to…wait!…let me finish! All the bigotry and distrust must be burned clean before the peoples of Tencendor can find the heart and the courage to truly unite against the Demons.

  “The field must be left fallow for it to flower full bright in the season that follows the night.”

  Zared dropped his gaze. He could not trust himself to speak.

  If Zared thought it best not to immediately vent his anger, then StarDrifter had no hesitation in speaking his mind.

  “But to allow Tencendor to become a wasteland.” His face was tight and ashen, his pale blue eyes furious. “Allow Qeteb to arise? How can—”

  “I am sorry, StarDrifter. But Qeteb must be allowed to live before he can be killed. Nothing ‘unalive’ can be made dead.”

  “And how is this killing to eventuate?” StarDrifter asked, no less angry.

  “With the magic of this land combined with the magic of the Enemy’s craft,” Drago replied.

  “There is no magic of the land remaining,” StarDrifter said, making an emphatic gesture with his hand. “None.”

  “No.” Faraday turned from watching Zared to look at StarDrifter. “You are wrong. This land reeks with enchantment. We must learn how to use it.”

  “And the magic of the craft?” Zenith asked. She hated what Drago said, but she also believed they had no option but to trust him.

  “We must learn to use that as well,” Drago said. “Faraday is to seek—”

  “For the gods’ sakes!” Askam shifted irritably. “No doubt you are going to blind our senses and woo our favour by speaking of some glittering and glorious quest. Bah! You speak of nothing but dreams. Caelum will help us, and he will do right by us. He will not allow this Qeteb to raise from whatever crypt he is stored in. He will not allow—”

  “Askam,” Drago said, fixing the man with his eyes. Both his stare and his voice were steady, and very compelling.
“You speak nothing but truth when you say that Caelum will help us and do right by us. I am here to serve this land above all else, and I am here to right what wrongs I have done, to both land and Caelum. But Qeteb must be allowed to rise, for there is no other way he can be destroyed. No-one can fight a memory, not even Caelum.”

  “Ha!” Askam said, but his tone was unsteady, and his eyes wavered from Drago’s.

  Zared studied Drago. There was something troubling the man, some doubt that ate away at his soul. What doubt? Damn him. What was he hiding? Was it worth the destruction of Tencendor?

  Leagh laid a hand on his arm, and Zared lowered his head, fighting to contain his anger and frustration.

  “Caelum can’t defeat Qeteb without the Sceptre, Drago,” DareWing said. “All who have seen the Maze Gate agree with that. I do not mean to cast doubts on your words, but—”

  “DareWing, there is no offence taken.” Drago paused. “I will return the Sceptre to Caelum. I stole it, and I must return it. Faraday and I will go north to do just that.”

  Faraday gave him a sharp look, and then turned her face away.

  “I have heard enough,” Zared said in a low voice, then raised his head and stared at Drago. “I have heard enough. I am charged with the care of the peoples of this land, and yet you sit there and say, ‘Let them die.’ You are nothing but—”

  “You will listen to what I have to say,” Drago shouted, visibly shocking most in the circle.

  He stared at Zared, then moved his eyes to each and every one who sat about the fire. “I am a SunSoar. I am the son of Axis SunSoar and of the Enchantress Azhure. I am a Prince of the House of Stars, and of this moment I am claiming my birthright. Among all of us here, I have the highest birthright, I have the best claim to authority, and I know what must be done! In the absence of the StarSon you will, you must, heed my wishes and do as I ask.”

  Drago paused, his entire face set hard, then he leaned forward, stabbing with a stiff finger to give his words more emphasis. “Now you will shut up and you will all damn well listen to what I have to say.”

  Utter silence. Shock not only at being spoken to in this manner, but because the words and tone came from a man that most had been used to seeing only as a skulking, sullen backdrop to any scene.

  It was still hard, StarDrifter thought, to think of Drago as a SunSoar Prince. He glanced about the circle. Faraday was as watchful as he. They locked eyes for an instant, and StarDrifter was the first to shift his away. Zared’s face was unreadable, but StarDrifter thought he knew the man well enough to know that unreadability in itself did not bode ill for Drago. He looked at DareWing. The birdman was tense, and looking at Drago with such ambiguous speculation that StarDrifter thought it could mean either murder or unquestioning loyalty. Askam was clearly hostile. Theod and Herme looked entirely out of their depth; they would follow Zared’s lead.

  StarDrifter looked briefly at the birdwoman by his side. Zenith caught his look, and gave a half-smile. She trusted Drago implicitly. Leagh? She was worried, upset by the confrontation between her husband and Drago, and uncertain whom to believe.

  “Yes,” Drago said. “Tencendor will be destroyed, but if everyone within this circle works hard, then its peoples will be saved. Deep below us in the waterways is a Sanctuary, a place to which every person and creature that remains untainted can be evacuated. This land is going to be torn apart in the struggle against Qeteb, but its peoples can be saved, and eventually, once Qeteb is dead, the land can be resurrected.”

  Again, silence. Then Askam leaned back and laughed. It was a harsh and sarcastic sound.

  “I can hardly believe you have the gall to sit here and say that,” he said. “You. You? I haven’t heard anything so ridiculous in—”

  He got no further. There was a blur of movement from the trees and suddenly Askam was flat on the ground, the blue-feathered lizard on his chest and hissing in his face.

  Drago ignored both Askam and lizard. He looked Zared directly in the eye. “Zared, you are King of Achar. If I tell you how to save your people, will you listen?”

  He did not wait for an answer. Instead, Drago swung his fierce stare to StarDrifter. “StarDrifter, you are a Prince of the SunSoar House, and uncle to the Talon. If I tell you of a way to save the Icarii race, will you listen?”

  Again, Drago did not wait for an answer. He dropped his eyes for an instant, then raised his face and stared into the gloom of the trees.

  “Isfrael! You are Mage-King of the Avar. If I tell you how to save your people from destruction, will you listen?”

  Everyone else started, and turned to look in the same direction as Drago.

  There was a stillness among the trees…and then Isfrael stepped forth. He looked wilder and more dangerous than any could remember seeing him. His lips were curled in a half-snarl, his arms tense beside him, his hands clenched.

  There was blood streaked across his naked torso, and three trails of blood ran down his face.

  “No-one tells me how to save the Avar!” he snarled.

  Isfrael paused, and then closed the distance between himself and Drago. He leaned down, and thrust a bloodied hand in Drago’s face.

  Everyone except Drago automatically leaned back a fraction in shock.

  “See Shra’s blood,” Isfrael said, his voice almost a growl. “See what the Demons have done to her.”

  Drago stared at the hand, then back to Isfrael’s face. “If I tell you how to save the Avar, will you listen to me?”

  “If you live to see the Demons die,” Isfrael said, “then you have my loyalty.

  He held Drago’s eyes an instant longer, then turned and stared at Faraday.

  She returned his stare, trying to reconcile her memory of a lovable baby and child with this wild man. All she wanted to do was rise and embrace him, but she was kept still by the unexpected—and horrific—antagonism on his face.

  “Where were you when Shra died?” Isfrael hissed.

  Shra dead? Faraday did not know what to say. Did he blame her? Could she have done something? But she hadn’t known? Was there a way in which she—

  “I do thank you for your loyalty,” Drago said, and Isfrael snapped his gaze back to him.

  The Mage-King gave a stiff nod and moved away a pace or two.

  Faraday dropped her eyes, shocked by the encounter and by Isfrael’s hostility. There was something more than anger at Shra’s death feeding that hostility, but Faraday could not even begin to think what it might be.

  “If you can tell me how to save the Icarii from the inevitable destruction ahead, then I am also yours to command,” StarDrifter said quietly. Gods, someone had to say something!

  Drago looked at Zared.

  “And I,” Zared said, although his willingness to accept Drago’s command clearly had not eased his frustration. “Tell me how to save my people.”

  Askam, who had finally managed to push the lizard to one side, leapt to his feet. “Fools!” he cried. He started to say something else, but was so angry that he couldn’t get any more words out. He stared, then stumbled away, the lizard nipping at his heels.

  “I’ll speak with him,” Leagh murmured, then rose and hurried after her brother.

  “Drago,” Zared said, “where may we find this Sanctuary?”

  “It is somewhere in the waterways—” Drago began.

  “Forgive me,” Zared said, “but I do not like this ‘somewhere’. Where?”

  “WingRidge, as indeed the entire Lake Guard and SpikeFeather TrueSong, are already engaged in the hunt for Sanctuary. Trust, Zared. That is all you can do.”

  The Lake Guard are aiding Drago? StarDrifter’s heart began to thump as if it had shifted position into his very mouth. WingRidge and the Lake Guard are working for Drago? Oh merciful Stars above, StarDrifter thought. Oh Stars! Now I understand!

  It was as well that no-one addressed StarDrifter at that moment, for he thought himself incapable of speech. He almost moved a hand to his eyes, then realised they were shakin
g so much it was impossible.

  Across the fire from StarDrifter, Zared was fighting his own doubts. He wanted to be able to trust Drago, but he had the responsibility for hundreds of thousands of people. And what had Drago given him? Just vague mention of a Sanctuary that even Drago admitted he couldn’t find. Damn you, Zared thought, staring at Drago. You demand trust of us, and yet you cannot tell us where it is that—Something jerked within Zared’s body, and he had to fight to keep his face expressionless. For an instant…for an instant he’d been overpowered with the sweet fragrance of a field of lilies, and the bizarre, but utter, conviction that this was what Drago would lead Tencendor into. Both scent and conviction were so compelling they literally took his breath away.

  Zared regained his equilibrium within a few heartbeats, and the scent faded. He could have sworn that somehow Drago had cast an enchantment over him, save that Drago was himself looking at Zared with a clearly puzzled expression.

  “Zared,” Drago said, watching the man carefully. “I need you to go back to Carlon, taking this army with you. Gather together as many of your people as you can, and ready them for the word I will send when WingRidge finds Sanctuary. Isfrael, will you allow the Acharites in the eastern parts of Tencendor access to the shelter of the forests?”

  “As long as they bring their own food with them,” Isfrael said, but Drago nodded. It was enough.

  “StarDrifter, I need you and Zenith to go to the Minaret Peaks. Tell FreeFall what I have told you, and wait for word on Sanctuary.”

  StarDrifter’s mouth quirked. “The Icarii will not take kindly to news of another exile,” he said. “But we will do as you say. Anything you say, Drago.”

  StarDrifter stared at his grandson, his eyes intense, and Drago looked away quickly, not liking the knowledge he saw there. He began to say something else, but Zared forestalled him.

  “I do have one small problem,” he said.

  Drago raised an eyebrow.

  “How do I get myself and my thirty thousand back to Carlon? Isfrael and StarDrifter shall have the forests to protect them, but you seem to calmly assume I can just wander back across the Plains of Tare with my army and all their cursed horses as if we are out for a seventh-day picnic. There is no shelter!”