Pilgrim (39 page)

Caelum jerked himself away from her, fumbling as he rearranged his clothes.

“I shall tell our mother,” she sneered, continuing to lay on the table with her legs spread-eagled, “amid my tears of mortification, that you forced my compliance with savage threats. That you ignored my screams of pain as you—”

“No!”

“Then marry me, Caelum!” She raised herself on one elbow. “Marry me! Imagine the power we would enjoy together! Imagine the power our son,” she splayed the fingers of one hand across her belly, “will enjoy! Imagine—”

“No!” Caelum screamed, and sprang forward. As he moved, music sprang into life about them. Music and power, and suddenly there was the gleam of steel in Caelum’s hand, and then it vanished as he buried the kitchen knife to its hilt in her belly.

RiverStar shrieked, and writhed in an obscene parody of how she had writhed against Caelum’s body.

“No,” Caelum said again, in a strangely flat voice, and he wrenched the knife out only to sink it into her belly again, and again, and again. And then he turned his attention to her foul breasts and then to her throat although RiverStar had ceased to cry out long before.

As Caelum lifted the knife for yet another blow, a hand grasped his shoulder and spun him about.

“Are you
mad
, brother?”

Drago, his expression a mixture of fear and horror and anger. Behind Caelum RiverStar’s body slid from the table to the floor with a sickening thud.

Caelum used his power to pull himself free from Drago’s grip, and he raised his knife as if to attack his brother.

Then it suddenly stilled.

“No,” he murmured. “I have a better idea.”

Again music leapt into life about them, and Drago sank to his knees beside his sister’s body, the knife magically, horribly, disappearing from Caelum’s hand and reappearing in his.

Enchantment flooded Drago’s mind, enchantment so powerful—and intrusive—he gagged, then leaned over and retched.

A memory block. An enchantment so potent, and so different, that only a SunSoar with the secret knowledge of how to manipulate the ring and the Star Dance could have wielded it.

A mind block, and a block that warped and rearranged Drago’s memory of his sister’s death.

“And now,” Caelum said, waving his hand so that all blood about the room and on his clothes disappeared, leaving the only murderous evidence clinging to Drago, “I must be off.”

He vanished.

And within heartbeats Isfrael and FreeFall had rushed into the room, only to halt in disbelief, and stare at the treacherous, now murderous, Drago crouched over his sister’s body.

“Because of that, I will do as I must,” Caelum said very quietly. “If you want me to continue on in the pretence of StarSon, then I will. And I will rejoice in it.”

Drago stared at his brother. Forty wasted years lay between them, forty years of lies and denial. And yet were they a waste? Unbidden Drago remembered what Axis had hissed over his cradle the first time he’d seen his new son.

I will not welcome you into the House of Stars until you have learned both humility and compassion.

Drago realised that if he had been born into the title of StarSon, with all the potential power that entailed, then he would have been just another WolfStar, raging out of control.

The life wasted was not his, but Caelum’s.

“Caelum…” Drago started, and was unable to finish. He had to turn aside slightly.

“Drago,” Caelum said. “We must move on. Neither of us, nor Tencendor, has time for regrets.”

Drago nodded, composed himself, then looked down to the book. “You will need this.”

“Will you teach me how to use it?”

“As much as I am able.”

He stepped closer to Caelum, and opened the book. “See these strange patterns? They are the same as on my staff,” he indicated with a hand. “They form a strange script,
representing music rather than words. This book contains Songs, Caelum, and I believe they are the Songs that will aid in the destruction of Qeteb. I hope to all the Stars above that they are!”

“But the Star Dance is dead.”

“Caelum, I only know that this book
will
help. Here, feel it!” Drago passed the book into Caelum’s hands, and his brother’s eyes widened with surprise. The book vibrated gently.

“Mayhap the Star Dance lives on in the book, Caelum. It was written by one of the ancient Enemy, one of those who travelled on the craft, and he had many, many thousands of years to absorb the Dance. The craft are powerful…and so is the book.”

Caelum nodded. “DragonStar,” he said, and this time his voice did choke with emotion. “You are my brother.”

“And you are mine,” Drago said. “I love you, Caelum. I always have…I just had a cruel way of showing it.”

Caelum smiled slowly, then he put the book down and took his brother’s shoulders in his hands.

“This has been too long in the doing. Far too long,” he said, and he took a deep breath.

“Welcome, DragonStar StarSon, into the House of the Stars and into my heart. My name is Caelum SunSoar, and I am your brother who loves you dearly. Sing well, and fly high, and…” Caelum hesitated slightly, “may your heart and mind and soul soar with all the enchantment that is your inheritance and your glory.”

Without hesitation, and for the first time in his life, Caelum leaned forward and embraced Drago. “Welcome home, brother,” he whispered.

And for the first time in
his
life, Drago hugged his brother tight against him, and buried his face in his shoulder, and wept.

O
utside the domed chamber people grouped in uncomfortable uncertainty, staring at the closed door, and wondering at what was happening inside.

“Pray to the Stars Drago does not harm his brother,” Axis murmured, pacing back and forth before the door. Every two or three steps he stopped, stared at the door, then jerked back into his restless pacing.

“Why did the girl respond to Drago, and not Caelum?” Adamon asked. “And why Faraday?”

He turned, and looked at the two who were absorbed only in each other.

Faraday sat on the stone floor, her arms wrapped about the child. The girl—Katie—hugged herself as close to Faraday’s body as she could get, burying her head in the coarse weave of Faraday’s dress, her fingers digging great ravines and ranges into the fabric of her skirts. About them were grouped the Alaunt hounds. In a circle, facing outwards, keeping guard.

“Who
is
she?” Axis asked, finally taking his eyes from the closed door behind which Drago was probably murdering Caelum in a fit of brotherly ambition.

Faraday looked up, her eyes swimming with tears, but nevertheless defiant.

“She is the child I was never allowed to hold,” Faraday said. “And I the mother she lost.”

“Who is she?” Axis repeated, his voice slightly colder now. Why must Faraday always throw the past in his face?

“Her name is Katie,” Faraday said, “but exactly who, or what she is, I cannot know. She is connected to the craft, and mayhap she has still to play her role in the saving of this land, and mayhap she has already played it. All I know is that she has lost love, and yet needs love, and that I can give love to her.”

Watching, Azhure’s face softened. The girl reminded her of her own pain at that age.

“Leave them be,” she murmured to Axis, and he turned his face away, his eyes still hard.

Pors, standing closest to the corridor down which they’d walked, suddenly stiffened, and stared intently down its gloom.

“Someone comes,” he said.

Everyone tensed, save Faraday and the child. Faraday looked up, and then smiled slowly, her face lovely in its happiness.

“It is your father, Axis. And others as trustworthy.”

Axis glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the group of three figures he could just make out at the far end of the corridor. “StarDrifter?”

Stars! How long had it been since he’d thought of StarDrifter? Wasn’t he still with Zared?

“He, too, serves the StarSon, as he sees fit,” Faraday whispered into the child’s hair, and no-one heard her.

“Axis?” StarDrifter’s voice called down the length of corridor still separating them. “Azhure? WingRidge and SpikeFeather are with me. We bring stupendous news!”

Axis relaxed at the familiar sound of StarDrifter’s voice, and within a minute StarDrifter was among them, embracing Axis and Azhure, and greeting the others respectfully. Behind him WingRidge and SpikeFeather bowed deeply to gods and scholars alike.

StarDrifter saw Faraday and the child surrounded by the hounds, and his eyes widened, but before he could speak to or approach her, Azhure spoke.

“News?” she said. “What news?”

“Hope,” StarDrifter said.

In truth, he was, as were his two companions, disconcerted to find this crowd awaiting them here. They had disembarked from the boat where it had stopped at an ancient landing, and climbed a stairwell into a corridor a level below this. Trusting in the power of the waterways, they had followed the corridor, climbed the stairwell to which it led, followed yet another corridor hoping to find Drago before they became hopelessly lost, and had then instead run into this crowd—and Faraday and the girl she clutched. What was going on?

“We have found the Sanctuary in which the peoples of Tencendor may find shelter,” StarDrifter continued, “and—”

“The Sanctuary?” Xanon asked, her soft query echoed by the other gods.

“Ah,” StarDrifter said, suddenly remembering that Axis and Azhure had left the Silent Woman Woods well before Drago had returned with news of the existence of Sanctuary. How much should he tell them? In StarDrifter’s hesitation, WingRidge took the initiative.

“The craft have provided for the shelter of the people of this land,” he said. “We…”

WingRidge hesitated, thinking twice about saying that they needed Drago to open the bridge. “We have left Zenith to organise the evacuation of the Minaret Peaks.”

“Where is this Sanctuary?” Adamon asked. Why had he not known of this?

“In the waterways,” SpikeFeather said, inclining his head respectfully as he spoke. “Beneath Fernbrake Lake.”

“Meanwhile,” StarDrifter said, “we have come north with the news that we must share.” He had no qualms telling them what he’d discovered about the ability of dance
to tap into the power of the Star Dance. Gods knew it was knowledge that should be shared as widely as possible. “Axis, Azhure, I have managed to use the power of the Star Dance!”

The room erupted in sound, and Adamon had to shout for quiet. During the tumult Faraday shared a look with StarDrifter, then she looked at the closed door to the domed chamber. StarDrifter understood. He nodded slightly.

“StarDrifter?” Adamon’s voice was tight with anxiety. “
How?
”

StarDrifter told them of their discovery of the foundations of the long lost Keep of Fernbrake Lake, and of the maze formed by the pattern of the stones. “SpikeFeather was the one who truly discovered the secret,” StarDrifter said, and placed a hand on the birdman’s shoulder, “and it is to him that we must owe all gratitude in—”

“
What did you discover?
” Axis all but shouted.

“What is important is pattern,” StarDrifter said. “Music and dance, as do symbols and numbers, form patterns. We should have realised it, for the waterways work in the same—”

“
What?
”

“Each Song we sang manipulated the power of the Star Dance,” StarDrifter said. “Manipulated by forming a pattern…we sang the pattern. Dance does the same thing. We may no longer hear the music of the Star Dance, but it still exists, and it still can be touched.”

“
Pattern
can use the Star Dance?” Axis whispered. “
Dance?
”

StarDrifter nodded slowly, his eyes intent on his son. “And it is a method that anyone with the ability to move can employ, not just Enchanters, who were the only ones with the power to hear the music of the Star Dance. But—”

“But…” Azhure said, stepping forward. There had to be a difficulty, she
knew
it.

“So now all we have to do to regain our power,” StarDrifter said, his eyes compassionate, “is discover the
intricate dance movement appropriate for every purpose as once we discovered the appropriate Songs for each purpose.”

Stars! Axis felt his surge of hope drain away into blank nothingness. It had taken the Icarii thousands of years to discover the Songs they needed. True, Axis and every one of his Enchanter children had been able to learn new Songs with the simple twist of their rings, but every ring had dulled into glassy-eyed sterility since the Star Gate had collapsed. Even Azhure’s Circle of Stars now glinted with the despair of clouded and cracked glass rather than the joy of the stars.

No-one had thousands of years. If anything, they had but a month or two to discover a means by which Caelum could face Qeteb and his companion Demons.

“Axis,” StarDrifter said into the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Adamon found something unusual. A book,” Axis said, “guarded by that child.” He nodded his head at the girl in Faraday’s arms. “I do not know how, but maybe—”

“There is no maybe about it,” said Caelum’s voice from behind him. “Combined with what StarDrifter has said, and this book in my arms, we shall have the means to rid this land of the Demons for all time.”

Everyone spun around. Caelum and Drago were walking through the doorway leading into the domed chamber.

Watching them, all stilled, even Faraday and the girl in her lap.

Even the Alaunt held their breath.

Caelum and Drago walked close, not touching, but sharing, if not the deep love of years’ standing, then companionship and respect.

Axis stared, but could hardly accept what he saw. Caelum…and
Drago
? His mind instantly took him back to the first time he’d met Drago. He’d walked into the nursery room of their apartments in Sigholt, Caelum in his arms, and met a violent wall of hate and mistrust, bounded and reinforced with a murderous blind ambition.

Caelum had been hurt—and terrified. Axis had been moved by such a profound rage it had coloured his perceptions of Drago ever after. He had envisaged many futures for his sons, but never,
never
, one that had them walking together in silent companionship and respect.

“I have lived a very long time to see this day,” Azhure murmured by his side. “And I wish to the heights of the Stars themselves it had not needed the destruction of Tencendor to bring it about.”

“StarDrifter has discovered the power of pattern—dance—and this book provides the patterns,” Caelum said, and smiled, a glorious expression of hope and joy. “We are saved!”

And yet…yet there was something about Caelum’s eyes. A faint brittleness, so hidden that it was all but invisible to any but those who had occasion to look for it. And seeing it, Faraday looked at Drago, who had now stepped to one side of Caelum.

He saw her gaze, and very slightly inclined his head.

He knows, she thought. Caelum knows. And accepts.

She turned her face aside, lest others see the sorrow there, and question her.

The mood in the chamber had now sharply divided. Axis and Azhure, as their Star God companions and the scholars, were jubilant, but StarDrifter, WingRidge and SpikeFeather, and Drago and Caelum, were far more reserved. Their faces smiled, and their voices spoke glad words, but their eyes were guarded and hid a knowledge that the others, ignorant, could not yet share.

How indescribably sad, Faraday thought. How Fate brings to its knees those who thought themselves invulnerable. Within this shadowed, damp antechamber, buried so deep in the earth, Drago and myself, StarDrifter, WingRidge and SpikeFeather, know the truth of the matter. As did Caelum, for in his eyes Faraday saw the clarity of knowledge and the certainty, and tragedy, of fate.

Yet none of the others realised and knowledge had to remain hidden from them. Faraday knew that the salvation of the land, and its peoples, depended on an ultimately murderous and foul deception.

Again.

Faraday buried her face in the hair of the child she held. May Axis and Azhure forgive me and all those who work to keep the knowledge from them.

“StarDrifter?” Axis asked. “Will you join us above in the examination of this book, and a celebration at the news you brought?”

StarDrifter hesitated, his eyes carefully averted from Caelum. Gods, how could Caelum do this? How could Caelum stand there and smile so? Has he finally found the courage and the nobility to do what he must?

“No,” StarDrifter said eventually. “Zenith, FreeFall and Zared will need help in evacuating Tencendor. I, perhaps with Drago and Faraday,” again his eyes locked with Drago’s, “will return to Fernbrake Lake.”

“Drago,” Axis muttered. Let him go? Alive!

“Drago will bother me no more,” Caelum said, and turned slightly to his brother. “Farewell, Drago.”

He held out his hand.

Drago gripped it, and nodded, but was unable to speak. After a brief pause he disengaged his hand and helped Faraday and the girl to their feet.

“StarDrifter?” Drago said.

“This way.” StarDrifter nodded back down the corridor. “We will travel via the waterways.” He shifted his eyes slightly. “Goodbye, Caelum. May the Stars always shine a path for your footsteps.”

He embraced his grandson briefly, then turned away.

Axis frowned. That sounded almost like a final benediction. What was StarDrifter thinking of?

Then Faraday paused before Caelum. She, like Drago, was incapable of words, for all she saw was the baby boy that
Azhure and Axis loved so much. She leaned forward, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

The girl reached out a hand, and briefly touched Caelum’s. When he glanced down at her fingers, he saw she held a blood-filled poppy in her hand and when he raised his eyes to her face he saw the blood reflected in the tears in her eyes.

No-one else noticed the exchange. WingRidge saluted Caelum, and nodded, and SpikeFeather bowed.

And then they were gone. Drago, Faraday and the girl followed StarDrifter down the corridor, WingRidge and SpikeFeather behind them.

Save for Caelum, those left behind pondered the solemnity and formality, even the finality, of those goodbyes. And, in so wondering, left no room to ask themselves why StarDrifter, WingRidge and SpikeFeather should travel all this way for that one brief message.

There was a scuffle, and suddenly the Alaunt sprang to their paws and dashed down the corridor. Amid their feet was a brief flash of sapphire.

“What was that?” cried Xanon, but no-one answered her as Azhure leapt forward.

“No!” she cried. “Sicarius! Come back!”

Axis caught her and held her back. “Let them go,” he said. “Azhure, they have changed beyond our understanding. Either they know their own destiny, or they have gone mad. Either way it is best to let them go.”

Azhure pulled briefly against his hands, then relaxed in grief-stricken acceptance. They might be mad, but they had accompanied her for decades, and they were a living reminder of who, and what, she had once been.

They walked in silence. When they got to the stairwell that led down to the waterways, Drago halted them and squatted in front of the little girl.

“For many weeks now your cries have rung through our dreams,” Drago said. “Mine and Faraday’s.”

She regarded him solemnly, nibbling her bottom lip. Then she nodded.

“I had been crying a long time,” she said.

“We all have,” Drago responded. He hugged Katie and kissed her cheek, then handed her back to Faraday and turned for the stairwell.