Pilgrim (43 page)

“This place will be both a blessing and a curse,” StarDrifter remarked, his eyes on the dancing flames.

“Why?” Faraday asked.

StarDrifter turned his gaze lazily towards her. “Who will ever want to leave?” he said. “Who, trapped in this wondrous prison, will ever want freedom?”

His voice was indescribably sad, and its melancholy communicated to all of them. The Icarii, trapped again in an exile, but one that might trap them for eternity. Who would follow a StarMan to leave
this
place, however urgent his summons?

Drago shuddered, and wondered again at the similarity of Sanctuary to the orchards seen in his rush with the Demons across the universe.

“Skies exist to be torn apart,” Katie said, “and towers to be torn down.”

Every eye in the circle riveted itself on her. She smiled happily, revealing two rows of tiny, perfect teeth. She laughed, and her glossy brown curls bounced about with the strength of her merriment.

“Katie,” Drago said. “Who are you?
What are you?
”

She quietened, and regarded him solemnly. “Pilgrim,” she said, “do you not know me?”

Drago shook his head, and Katie dropped her face, and wiped a sudden tear from her eye.

“Then I am no-one,” she whispered, and buried her face in the folds of Faraday’s gown. “I have no meaning.”

Faraday rested a hand on her head, her eyes questioning,
pleading
with Drago, but he only shook his head again.

“I do not know,” he repeated, and spread his hands helplessly.

Partly because the movement of Drago’s hands had reminded StarDrifter of the strange gestures he’d seen Drago making, and partly to divert the mood of the group, he spoke up. “Drago, what is it you have been working with your hands?”

Relieved to be given something to think about other than the orchards of Sanctuary or his failure to comfort Katie, Drago leaned forward, his face enthusiastic. “Enchantment, StarDrifter! I have found a means to access the power of the Star Dance again.”

StarDrifter’s face stiffened. “But I was the one to realise the power of dance to touch—”

“Yes, yes, StarDrifter. I did not mean to slight your achievement, and I apologise if I have hurt your feelings…but dance has such limitations!”

“What do you mean?” StarDrifter was not quite ready to accept the apology.

Drago’s face grew more serious, his tone more compelling. “Think. If an enchantment must be worked by dance…then how vulnerable is the dancer to whatever danger faces him or her. StarDrifter, yes, dance manages to harness the power of the Star Dance, but of what use is dance if the TimeKeepers swallow you whole in the midst of a slow waltz?”

“But Song must have been as awkward,” Faraday said before StarDrifter could answer. “Surely Enchanters had to sing an entire Song before—”

“No,” StarDrifter said, a little reluctantly. “In an Enchanter’s early stages of training he or she would have had to sing the entire Song, yes, but eventually the actual working of the enchantment became so instinctive that all we needed to do was to run a few casual bars through our head, or even only a few notes. Axis could act in seconds.

“Drago, surely we will learn of a way to modify the time it takes to dance a pattern?”

“I
have
already learned it,” Drago said, and he proceeded to tell them what he surmised about the connections between
Star Dance, music, dance and symbol. “All form patterns in their own way. The waterways do this with physical underground canals, Icarii Enchanters used to do it with Song, all apparently can touch the Star Dance with dance—”

“And you formed patterns with your hands!” Zenith said. “Show us.”

“Not so much patterns. More like symbols. Condensed patterns.” Drago hesitated. “A little like StarDrifter said about Enchanters eventually learning to run only a few notes through their minds to effect an enchantment. I take a full Song, convert it to numbers, and then those numbers into a symbol.”

“Numbers?” StarDrifter sounded lost.

“Numbers form pattern as much as music does, StarDrifter. It is a simple thing to convert a Song to its equivalent numerical form, and then that to its condensed symbol.”

A simple thing? Faraday looked at StarDrifter’s and Zenith’s bemused faces, and almost laughed. She swung her gaze back to Drago. Was this how he would use his Acharite magic? And to effect the conversion so effortlessly! Drago had noted StarDrifter’s and Zenith’s expressions as quickly as Faraday.

“StarDrifter…sing me one of the simplest of Songs, and I will show you how to convert to symbol.”

StarDrifter glanced at Zenith, then sang a brief lilting melody.

“It is a Song for making a fire flare,” Zenith said as StarDrifter finished.

“Good,” Drago said. “Now, all you have to do is convert the tune to its numerical equivalent,” and without apparent effort he ran off a series of numbers, “and then those numbers to their symbolic equivalent, which you must visualise,” and he very slowly sketched a complicated symbol through the air.

Then, Drago drew it again, but with such speed, fluidity and grace that those watching could hardly follow his movements.

Instantly the fire flared.

There was a silence.

“I have absolutely no idea how you did that,” StarDrifter said. “Zenith?”

She shook her head. “It is beyond me. Those numbers, and the conversion of numerical formula to symbolic representation. Ah! No, I cannot do it. Drago, why can’t you just teach us the symbols we need to sketch?”

“I don’t see why not,” Drago said, and slowly sketched the symbol through the air. “But you must do it with speed, for the form falls apart given too long to linger unaided in mid-air.”

Both StarDrifter and Zenith—and Faraday, who was overcome with curiosity—attempted to copy Drago’s hand actions, but none could sketch the symbol with the accuracy, speed and fluidity of Drago.

Frustrated words were spoken by StarDrifter, who could not believe he could fail at anything magical, and by Drago, who thought the whole process so impossibly simple that only a dullard could fumble it.

“Drago,” Faraday eventually said, gently. “Do you remember what Urbeth said to us?”

“Urbeth?” StarDrifter and Zenith said together.

Drago stared at her. What?

“We have come back through death,” Faraday reminded him, “and thus can touch our—”

“That doesn’t explain why you fumble as badly as StarDrifter.”

StarDrifter glared at Drago, but did not speak.

“I think,” Faraday said, with a gentleness even more profound than in her last statement, “that much of the ability you display, Drago, is purely and simply
you.
It is StarSon DragonStar who works those symbols with such ease.”

Zenith suddenly understood what Faraday was saying, and she, too, looked at Drago and smiled with exquisite tenderness. She laid a hand on his arm. “Drago, welcome to
your own unique ability. You are a mage beyond that which Tencendor has seen before.”

“You
are
StarSon,” StarDrifter said, all trace of frustration and resentment now gone from his voice.

Drago dropped his eyes and stared at his hands, now carefully folded in his lap. “StarSon…as a man it has taken me a long time to come to terms with what I once demanded as my right. As an infant I destroyed Caelum and all he could be. As a man my actions have wreaked destruction upon Tencendor. It has been hard to snatch Caelum’s heritage away for a second time.”

Drago glanced at the staff, which lay at his side, and then looked about the circle. “If we survive this time, I think the legends will decorate Caelum with the glory, not me.”

StarDrifter and Faraday lowered their eyes, wondering if Drago was right. Well, and who would not deny Caelum some bardic glory for his dreadful role?

Drago shuddered, and looked at the sky as if it were transparent. “I feel the darkness of the Demons drawing closer and closer to the Lake above.”

“We must contact Zared,” Zenith said, “and work out how best to get the Acharites into this shelter.”

Drago nodded, too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice that Faraday was sitting stiffly, her eyes lost in some distant memory.

“We also, somehow, need to persuade Isfrael that the Avar need the shelter of Sanctuary. The forests will—”

“The forests will die?” Faraday suddenly asked, her voice brittle.

“Faraday,” Drago said gently, finally catching some of her mood. “The Demons hate the forests, and while they cannot do much about them now, once Qeteb is risen they will work to make sure every leaf is stripped from every tree. The Avar can shelter under their shade for now, but…Faraday, you
knew
this.”

“Ah!” Zenith said, far too brightly, “here comes WingRidge, no doubt with news about the length of the lines of Icarii above.”

Later, Drago wandered slowly up to Faraday, who was seated on the ground with Katie, combing out the child’s hair.

He smiled and squatted down beside them, and thought to make some light conversation, but even as he opened his mouth he was forestalled by an angry shout.

“Drago!”

Drago cursed silently and stood up.

It was Isfrael, his face dark with hatred and loathing, and for one dreadful moment Drago thought it was directed at him for daring to sit so close to his mother.

But Isfrael had other concerns on his mind. “WolfStar has been spotted lurking among the trees surrounding Fernbrake Lake.”

Faraday rose, and pushed Katie behind her skirts, as if WolfStar would this moment appear and snatch the child.

Drago saw StarDrifter and Zenith nearby. His sister had blanched whiter than StarDrifter’s wing feathers and StarDrifter was standing awkwardly, as if he did not know whether to comfort Zenith or not.

“Zenith,” Drago said. “WolfStar shall not harm you again, I
swear
it. I will not allow him to cross the bridge. Do you believe me?”

He had taken her hands in his, and now gave them a slight shake. Zenith nodded miserably, and Drago turned to Faraday.

“Faraday, will you…?”

Faraday put her arms about Zenith. “I will look after her.”

Drago turned back to Isfrael. “Where?”

Isfrael opened his mouth, but was not given the chance to speak.

“I’m coming, too,” StarDrifter said. His entire stance radiated aggressive anger.

Drago hesitated, then nodded. “Why not?” he said.

Isfrael’s mouth twisted wryly as he looked at StarDrifter—the Mother only knew what WolfStar would do to StarDrifter!—then he turned and led the other two back towards the bridge, pushing through the Icarii still coming across.

“Come on,” Faraday said gently, putting her arm about Zenith’s waist. “We can move further back into Sanctuary, if you like.”

Zenith let Faraday lead her down a path towards a group of farrah fruit trees encircling a small, still pond that reflected the myriad of dragonflies and butterflies that hovered and danced above its surface.

Katie walked silently to Zenith’s other side and slipped a hand into the birdwoman’s. Zenith, surprised, looked down and gave the girl a hesitant smile.

Katie smiled back, and squeezed Zenith’s hand.

“She is a lovely girl,” Zenith said.

“Yes,” Faraday said. She looked at Katie, loving her, and loving what she had brought into Faraday’s life.

The sweetness of a child curled up against her breast at night. The exultation in knowing that it was to her that Katie would run whenever she had a question or needed reassurance. The sheer, quiet joy of Katie’s laughter and the delight of her kiss as she wrapped her arms about Faraday’s neck.

Faraday felt more protective of Katie than she did of anything or anyone else, although she did not know if that was because she’d been denied the love of her son, or because there was something innately special and magical about Katie that cried out to something deep in Faraday’s soul.

Faraday knew she would kill without hesitation anyone or anything that threatened Katie, and she gloried in that protective instinct.

“You adore her,” Zenith said as they sank down under one of the farrah trees and watched Katie chase butterflies about the pond.

“You cannot know how much,” Faraday said in a low tone, and, watching Faraday’s face, Zenith realised the strength and determination of the woman’s love and fierce protectiveness.

“Where did she come from?” Zenith asked, and Faraday told her of how Katie had cried disconsolately in her dreams night after night, “Until I cried myself.” Then Faraday spoke of how she and Drago had discovered the girl wrapped around the Enchanted Song Book in Star Finger’s basement, and how Katie had run to Faraday, when she had rejected Caelum.

Faraday smiled in delight. “Zenith, it was worth almost every hardship I have ever gone through to watch Axis’ face at that moment. This lovely little girl had rejected Caelum…and chosen me.”

Zenith stared at Faraday, taken aback by this revelation of her continuing bitterness towards Axis. Then she shook herself, and changed the subject slightly.

“And Drago? How do you feel about him?” Zenith could not help but wonder what had developed between the two. Some of the looks she’d caught her brother sending Faraday were…well…almost unbearably frustrated.

Faraday’s voice tightened noticeably. “I am here to help him, Zenith, and I will do all that I can for him.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Zenith said quietly.

“I will never allow myself to love a man again,” Faraday said. “How can I? All men have ever done is abuse me, trick me, hide my fate in shadows, and then stand by to watch me die. All for a greater cause, of course.”

“Self-pity does not become you, either,” Zenith said, and Faraday whipped her head about to look at her with flashing eyes.

“I did not sit here to hear your sanctimonious advice, Zenith!”

“Then if you cannot trust yourself to love again, why bother clinging to life,” Zenith snapped back.

Faraday took a huge breath, fighting to control her temper. “Then why is it I see you and StarDrifter circling
each other like two callow adolescents terrified of the consequences of even holding hands?”