Pilgrim

  Caelum paid no heed to his parents, instead inspecting the faint path that led through the last of the trees to the rising cliffs. On the several occasions he’d been to Star Finger, Caelum had always used the Song of Movement to transport himself, but now he and his parents would be forced to use the treacherous cliff paths that Rivkah had once traversed.

  “We should get moving,” he said. “The paths will only be traversable during daylight hours.”

  He stepped forward, but Azhure grabbed at his arm, looking anxiously between her son and Axis.

  “And the Demons?” she said. “And the hours when they roam? How will we protect ourselves once we are past the safety of the trees?”

  “There are caves along the trails, Azhure. You must remember those, surely.”

  She stared at Axis, recalling their own journey so many years ago down the mountain trails in order to join the Avar for Beltide. At night they had sheltered within the many caves that ate into the mountainsides, singing and telling stories, and falling deeper and deeper in love.

  She nodded slowly. “They will be all the protection we’ll have.”

  Caelum scanned the skies. “We must watch for those children, too.”

  Axis shifted irritably. They were frighteningly vulnerable. Their escort, equipment, horses and food had all gone. They had their swords, true, but swords would not be very useful against any attack that plummeted from the sky, nor would they feed them at night. The mountain trails were notoriously barren of food.

  Axis looked about them, wondering if any of the Avar were close, but the forest was silent and still, and they could not waste the time to search a Clan out.

  “Caelum’s right,” Axis said. “We should get moving, and deal with any threat as it arises. Azhure, send the hounds ranging ahead. If nothing else, they should spring any trap before it closes about us.”

  She nodded, and ordered the Alaunt down the path before them. Azhure half-expected them to disobey, but they sprang to their feet and loped out of sight down the path the instant she’d finished speaking.

  Caelum watched them go. “I do not trust them,” he said.

  Azhure opened her mouth to defend them, then thought better of it. “It is hard to know who or what to trust now,” she eventually said.

  Caelum hugged her. “I trust you, and father,” he said, and lifted his eyes and smiled at Axis.

  For some reason, whether it was the open air or Caelum’s smile, Axis felt more optimistic and light-hearted than he had in days.

  “Come,” he said. “The mountains await.”

  The path wound through a final hundred paces of forest before it rose steeply into a curve about the skirts of the first mountain.

  All three of them were puffing within minutes.

  “How long did it take Rivkah to climb these paths?” Caelum asked after an hour or so of climbing.

  Axis tried to remember what his mother had told him of her experiences. “Many, many days,” he said. “A week or more.”

  “A week!” Caelum said, and looked at his mother ruefully. “Or more.”

  “Perhaps the Alaunt can forage for rabbits, or small birds,” Azhure said. “Damn! I wish I had my bow with me.”

  “We can set traps, Azhure,” Axis said, and then conversation lapsed as they fought for breath.

  The climb was almost impossibly steep, and the footing treacherous. The trail wound up, up, up through black-rocked ravines and gorges, following the paths carved out by mountain streams and waterfalls. They remained almost entirely in the shade of the cliffs, for the mountains were high and steep and the gorges narrow. The sun also rarely penetrated the mist from streams and waterfalls.

  Far above, black specks circled, sharing their vision with the Demons and StarLaughter who were approaching the Nordra as it ran below the Urqhart Hills.

  May we attack? the Hawkchilds asked.

  The Demons considered. You may have your fun, they finally decided, but do not tip them from the mountain trails, for we need them for the final hunt.

  The Hawkchilds circled lower.

  Caelum and his parents rested at mid-morning and then mid-afternoon under the shelter of overhangs and tumbled rocks. They felt the corruption of tempest and despair sweep up through the gorges to break against the mountain ridges, but were heartened by the relative weakness of the Demons’ influence within the Alps.

  “Maybe it is the rarefied air,” Caelum said, fighting his urge to pant.

  “Or perhaps merely the distance,” Azhure said.

  “Or maybe,” Axis said slowly, turning to look at his wife and son, “they do not like the mountains. Who knows? But if their influence is weaker here, then what will it be like at Star Finger?”

  As despair died after the mid-afternoon, they struggled from under their sheltering overhang and prepared to climb for another few hours until they came to a suitable cave where they could shelter for the night.

  They had been on the trail barely an hour when the Hawkchilds decided to play with them.

  The Hawkchilds had descended deep into the gorge behind the three, so they could launch an attack from behind. The first Axis, Azhure and Caelum knew of it was when they’d swung about at a horrible whooshing noise from behind, only to realise that nine or ten Hawkchilds were rushing up the trail towards them, running on clawed feet, their wings outstretched for balance, hands grasping, beaks whispering.

  The Alaunt, further up the trail than Axis, Azhure and Caelum, turned and snarled, then cringed, apparently unsure of what to do against the threat. Azhure shot them a look that was both sympathetic and damning, then joined her husband and son in drawing her sword, prepared to kill as many of the creatures as she could before she was killed in her turn.

  But the Hawkchilds did not come close enough for the sword thrust. When they were five or six paces away from the group, they rose up on wings, and passed overhead barely a sword’s length above the three.

  There was a rush of a foul wind, and a whisper on the air. DragonStar comes, Caelum. Do you hear the thunder of horses’ hooves on the path behind you? Do you feel his heat?

  Caelum cried out, swinging wildly around to look down the path, and Axis had to grab his arm to prevent him falling over the edge of the cliff.

  “They only taunt you,” Axis hissed. “No-one comes!”

  Wrong, StarMan, the Hawkchilds whispered as another cloud of them spun over their heads. He comes. Can you not hear him, Caelum?

  “I will kill him,” Caelum shouted.

  They howled with merriment, and a cloud some twenty strong blocked out the sun.

  Relinquish the Throne of the Stars and he may allow you your life!

  “Ignore them,” Azhure said softly, placing a hand on Caelum’s arm. “They seek only to distract you.”

  Caelum hesitated, then nodded.

  “They do not attack,” Axis said. “They fear you.”

  Caelum’s back straightened. “Yes. I—”

  The Hawkchilds howled with laughter. Fear you? Nay, we merely keep you warm so that the true heir can baptise his accession in blood!

  “Walk,” Azhure said, and turned back to the trail rising before them. “Walk, and ignore them.”

  They did their best, but the Hawkchilds hovered close for the remainder of the afternoon, alternately creeping along the path behind them, or swooping low overhead, whispering, whispering, whispering.

  The Alaunt crept just in front of their two-legged companions, their tails between their legs, their bellies close to the ground, as useless as sheep before a cavalry charge.

  When finally Azhure spotted the gloomy entrance to a small cave off the main trail, all of them, two-legged and four, stumbled inside as quickly as they could, grateful for the shelter and quiet the cave provided.

  “Damn it!” Caelum said as he sank down, resting his back against the rough rock wall of the cave. “Why don’t they attack? Why not try to kill me?”

  “They fear you—” Azhure began, but Caelum shook hi
s head.

  “No,” he said quietly into the darkness. “They merely toy with me.”

  He was being blooded for the hunt.

  30

  Home Safe

  Askam’s mind was a tangle of black feathers, razored talons and the bright, bright eyes of the brown and cream badger.

  He had no thoughts of his own. He listened only to the rustle of feather and the commands of the badger, and was content in the febrile embrace of madness.

  He sat his horse—its mind equally as feathered and mad—before his four hundred mounted men, all insane and under the control of the badger.

  They waited.

  Zared pulled his horse up as Herme waved the column to a halt. “Askam?” he said softly.

  Herme reined in beside him. “No other. And his four hundred.”

  Zared didn’t know what to think. In the days since Askam had disappeared they’d continued their push for Carlon, now only a day or two away. Zared had not wasted effort trying to track Askam down. He’d believed that Askam had finally succumbed to resentment and had fled to fulfil his own purpose, which no doubt included some plan to wrest control of the West back from Zared.

  Well, let him try. Zared had no time to deal with Askam’s desertion and what it might mean for his own security on the throne of Achar. Gods! Did Achar still exist? Or Tencendor? So, Zared had let Askam go with barely more than a shrug of his shoulders. Leagh had been upset by Askam’s disappearance, but had not insisted that Zared mount a search for him. Her brother was old enough to know his own mind.

  Now Gustus and Theod joined Zared, Leagh not far behind them.

  “Askam!” she said, and would have urged her horse forward, save that Zared snatched at her reins.

  “No. Wait,” he said. “I do not like this. What if—”

  “No!” Leagh cried. “He knew how to protect himself.”

  “Askam may be a fool personified when it comes to running the West,” Herme said, “but he would not risk himself, or the men with him, to the ravages of the Demons.”

  Zared stared before him. Some fifteen paces ahead, Askam sat his horse in front of the neatly ranked four hundred men and horses, the only movement the lifting of manes and tails in the frigid northerly wind.

  “I will ride ahead,” Herme said, and Zared nodded.

  “Be careful.”

  Askam made no move, and his face remained set into its carefully neutral expression as Herme rode forward.

  As the Earl reined to a stop before him, Askam inclined his head in greeting. “No doubt you wonder what I have been doing,” he said.

  “No doubt,” Herme said, his tenseness communicating itself to his horse, which shifted and fidgeted nervously.

  “The attack of the crazed beasts—and worse—came as a shock,” Askam said. “I understood how vulnerable our—Zared’s—force was to them. I decided that I might assist in some small way by breaking off with a smaller force and scouting the way ahead—springing any trap that might exist.”

  “So you absconded in the middle of the night?” Herme asked, and in response to the touch of his legs his horse backed away several steps.

  Askam grinned as if embarrassed. “Foolish, I know, but I also knew that so long as we kept the shade above our heads we would be safe. Herme, have you been attacked in the days since we’ve been gone?”

  “No,” Herme said.

  “Well, then,” Askam said. “I may be guilty of absconding, but mayhap I have done some good!”

  Herme stared at him, trying to see beyond Askam’s bland eyes. “So you and your four hundred safely dealt with what almost brought Zared’s thirty thousand to their knees?”

  “A smaller force is more manoeuvrable,” Askam said, “and I must add that we met only much smaller groups of the crazed creatures. But, as I said, mayhap even that did Zared some good. Look, Herme, are you going to sit there screwing your face into lines and studying me all day? Mid-afternoon approaches. I and the hundreds behind me are hungry—we forgot to make off with any of the supply mules—and, for the gods’ sakes, do we look as if the Demons have us under their sway?”

  Herme gave in to the irritation in Askam’s voice. Whatever else Askam might be lying about—and frankly, Herme thought this tale of trying to spring any traps to make Zared’s life easier was a fabrication to hide Askam’s own ambitions—he surely did not look crazed.

  “Then join up with the main force,” Herme said, “and answer for your foolishness to Zared himself.”

  He wheeled his horse about, and cantered back to his King.

  Zared sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. Gods, but he would appreciate being back under the shelter of his palace in Carlon and not have to stop three times a day to shelter under these shade cloths.

  “Did you happen to come across any hamlets or farmhouses in your, ah, sweep ahead, Askam?” he said, raising his eyes again. He sat with Leagh and his sub-commanders under the shade cloths, Askam sitting cross-legged before him, waiting out Sheol’s mid-afternoon despair.

  Askam shrugged slightly. “A home or two, the peasants sheltered inside. They stared at us as we passed, their faces pressed to glass and their fingers locked into the catches of shutters.”

  Zared shook his head. “I hope Carlon has managed to fare better than what we’ve seen so far. Ah! What kind of life is this, hiding from the hour of the day itself.”

  “And what will happen when they have eaten their way through their winter stocks?” Leagh said softly. “Few will be able to forage for food, or hunt for meat—and what food does still linger about on four hooves must truly be contaminated beyond belief by the Demons.”

  There was silence for a while as all contemplated Leagh’s words. Askam, apparently still chastened by Zared’s earlier sharp-tongued words on his desertion, dropped his eyes and studied his fingers.

  “Dare we eat madness?” Theod eventually said.

  “Enough of these thoughts,” Zared said, his voice stronger. “By noon tomorrow we will be in Carlon. Enough shelter to give us time to consolidate, and perhaps plan a means to strike back.”

  “How?” Askam said. He raised his head, and all who looked at him put the peculiar blankness of his eyes down to hopelessness.

  Zared hesitated before he found a reply. “There must be a way. And if we can’t find it, then we must trust Drago to find it for us.”

  Askam’s entire body jerked, and the others looked at him curiously. Drago! The name thundered through his mind, rippling out first to the badger, and then to the minds of the Hawkchilds hovering far, far overhead.

  Drago. Drago? He lives?

  And from there…

  The great black horses responded instantly to the command of their riders, and slowed to a halt, flexing their claws into the earth to anchor themselves against whatever might strike.

  “Drago lives,” Rox said, gazing first at his fellow Demons, and then to StarLaughter, cradling her son. They had all shared the Hawkchilds’ thoughts.

  “But I thought you killed him,” StarLaughter said. “What can this mean?”

  Sheol furrowed her forehead, angered that Drago had managed to survive the final leap through the Star Gate. But how? They had used all of his enchantment and power and life to accomplish that final leap, she was certain of it. How?

  “What enchantment was used to save him?” she asked softly. “What is it that we don’t know?”

  “There was something we felt in the chamber of the Star Gate,” Barzula said, and they fell quiet remembering the slight, but odd power they’d felt floating about the chamber as they’d come through.

  Directional power, Sheol had said of it then…but what if it was more than that?

  “It was enough to recreate Drago,” Sheol said. Her voice was expressionless.

  “The magicians you saw to the west?” Barzula asked Rox.

  “The man was too…too vague for me to pick out his features. The woman I did not know.”

  “I do not like this!” Raspu cried. ?
??How did he survive! How?”

  “For Stars’ sakes!” StarLaughter said. “Drago is worse than useless. He had no power left…nothing. His Icarii potential was burned completely away. If he did survive, then I imagine he is crawling about the landscape seeking some crevice in which to grovel. Drago? We have all seen how pathetic and useless he is. Why worry about him?”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Sheol said. “He is a nothing. An inconsequent.”

  She smiled at StarLaughter, and as she smiled she shared private thoughts with her Demon companions.

  Nevertheless, we shall set the Hawkchilds to him. He knows us, and even that knowledge could be dangerous. I would feel better with him dead.

  Aye. Kill him.

  Yes. Kill him soon.

  Moreover, why should StarLaughter speak on his behalf? Did they exchange more than fluids in that bed they shared? Allegiances, perhaps?

  Shall we kill her?

  Not yet. Not yet.

  The Demons sat their horses and smiled at StarLaughter, and she smiled back, and hugged her child to her breast. All was well.

  Leagh pressed closer to Zared, listening to the night roil outside their shelter. But it did not terrify her, for here she lay safe in her husband’s arms, and if Tencendor lay ravaged, then surely it would only be a matter of time before Zared, or Drago, or even Caelum and his parents, found the solution to the TimeKeepers.

  “You must be happy that Askam is back,” Zared murmured into her hair.

  “Relieved,” she whispered. “I had thought…”

  Zared did not answer with words, but tightened his arms about her, wishing his love was enough to keep her safe. He knew what she’d thought, for he had thought the same. But whatever motives had driven Askam out into the night, he was safe back now, and if that made Leagh happy then Zared supposed he should be happy for her sake.

  But he could not quite rid himself of his own self-serving wish that Askam had died out there in the terror-swept Plains of Tare.

  “Tomorrow you will be home,” he murmured, then tilted her face to kiss her. He had his own reasons for wanting the privacy of their own bedchamber again.