Pilgrim (51 page)

WolfStar screamed, doubling over, and Sheol let go her grip as he tumbled to the ground.

“Where is the girl-child you have filled with our property?” she asked tonelessly.

“Find her yourself, bitch!” WolfStar gasped.

Sheol half-smiled and she turned her head to Raspu. “My brother,” she said, her voice almost gurgling out of her throat, “it seems WolfStar needs some persuasion.”

She stepped back, taking StarLaughter by the arm and pulling her away as well. “Watch,” she said in the birdwoman’s ear, “as your murderer gets a fraction of what he has dealt out.”

WolfStar blinked away the tears of agony in his eyes, and looked towards Raspu.

The Demon stepped forward, stopped, then tore the robe from his body. It was a mass of compacted sores, running with whatever pestilence Raspu had chosen to wear that day.

“You berate StarLaughter for her coldness amid the act of love,” Raspu said, his voice far worse than Sheol’s as it bubbled up through his throat from pus-filled lungs, “and yet I do not think you can possibly know the
true
coldness of love. Get to your knees, WolfStar, and then bend over, your face in the dirt.”

“
No!
”

Raspu roared with laughter. “Do as I say, birdman!”

Power girdled WolfStar, and suddenly he was lifted up, thrown to his knees, doubled over, and his face pressed so far into dirt he began to choke on it.

Then, worse of all, he felt the presence of Raspu behind him, felt the Demon drop to
his
knees behind him, felt glacial hands tearing his breeches to shreds, and then felt the icy coldness of pure pestilent desire worm and shove its frightful way into his body.

WolfStar convulsed with horror, trying to struggle free from the rape being visited on him, but Raspu’s power was too strong. WolfStar screamed, and then screamed again, inhaling dirt deep into his lungs as what felt like blunt frozen steel impaled his body, plunging deeper and deeper, until it
felt as if the contents of his entire abdomen had succumbed to the invasion and were being clubbed into pulp.

“Tell us where the girl-child is!” he heard Sheol’s voice scream from somewhere very far away, but WolfStar did not answer,
could
not answer, and he did not know what was worse, the feel of Raspu’s horror punching and pummelling its way through his body, or the sound of StarLaughter howling with merriment.

“How does it
feel
, beloved husband?” she shouted from somewhere very far above him. “Do you now understand why
I
did not writhe with enjoyment every time you penetrated me?”

Tell us where the girl-child is!
Sheol’s insistent voice screamed in his mind, but still WolfStar could not speak. His hands groped blindly before him, and his face scored through the earth again and again as Raspu pushed home his rape with frightful eagerness.

Then the Demon screamed himself, and jerked about like a marionette, and WolfStar felt pestilence bubble forth and
boil
through his body, searing through him until its caustic effluent bubbled up through his lungs and throat and he choked on the foulness, dribbling it through his clenched teeth and down his chin.

Where is the girl-child?

One of WolfStar’s hands, seemingly of its own will, clawed through the dirt until it lifted and pointed, quivering as if in the final extremities of the shaking sickness, towards a group of bushes on the eastern side of the glade.

“Very good,” said Raspu, standing and re-robing himself in an unsullied garment with a wave of his hand. “Shall we fetch her?”

StarLaughter stared at the immobile and expressionless girl and loathed her. This,
this
, is what WolfStar preferred to her?

“As WolfStar, so her,” Raspu whispered in her ear.

StarLaughter looked at him. His cheeks were still flushed, and his breath trembled with expectation.

“But far, far worse,” he said, and StarLaughter smiled.

She turned a little further, and there was WolfStar, crouched behind her, his face ghastly wan and still wracked with pain, his eyes deep with hate, his naked body bruised, bloody and still smeared with Raspu’s attentions.

A thick leather collar had sunk deep into the flesh of his throat, and a golden chain ran from it to StarLaughter’s hand. She had not realised revenge could ever feel this good, and she glowed with love for her companions.

Later, perhaps, Mot could assuage his hunger upon WolfStar, and then Barzula could plummet his tempest deep into her husband. StarLaughter smiled with pure coldness, and sent her thoughts and images spearing into WolfStar’s mind.

He quivered, but whether with hate or fear she could not tell.

I hope it is fear, earth-creeper
, she whispered into his mind,
for you shall have much to fear.
Her smile widened.
Again and again. Morning, noon and night.

“And there is always your son, WolfStar!” Sheol cried merrily, clapping her hands. Her sapphire eyes glowed very bright. “Don’t you think
he
lusts for revenge as well? When cognisance finally fills your son’s eyes, WolfStar, what revenge do you think
he
might like to visit on your body?”

“My son no more,” WolfStar rasped. “If ever he was.”

StarLaughter’s face tightened, and she jerked the chain tight.

WolfStar choked, and fell over, his hands tight about the collar.

StarLaughter smiled sweetly.

“The Lake,” Sheol said. “We have what we need, and we have wasted enough time here.”

“Hardly a waste,” StarLaughter murmured, and jerked again at WolfStar’s chain. “For I find that I have enjoyed myself mightily.”

“
W
hat I did to Leagh,” Drago said, “I can do for only a few more. There are potentially twenty thousand out there running wild through the Western Ranges. It would kill me to bring them all back.”

“But—” Theod said, his face tight.

“Three more,” Drago said, “can I bring back as I did Leagh. Only three.”

“You said that—” Theod started to shout.

“The others I can save,” Drago said, his own voice tenser now. He’d realised over the past two days what the effort to return Leagh back had caused him, and he knew he could never repeat that twenty thousand times. Not all at once.

And knowing that broke his heart.

“I can save them,” he repeated, “but only by moving them on.”

“Moving them on?” Zared asked carefully. He, Leagh, Theod, Faraday, Katie and Herme stood in one of the smaller chambers of the palace, a fire burning brightly and the drapes half-drawn to keep the bitterness of early spring at bay.

“Through death—” Drago said, and before he could say any more Katie finished for him.

“Into the field of flowers,” she said.

Faraday and Leagh had told all present what they’d seen during Drago’s enchantment, but even so Theod was slow to nod his head in understanding.

“Which three?” he asked.

Drago looked at Leagh and Faraday, then back to Theod. “Gwendylyr will be the first.”

Theod’s face crumpled in relief. “And then my two sons.”

“No.”

“
No?
”

“Theod,” Zared said quietly, but with clear warning. He stepped forward to a spot where he could intervene between the two men if need be.

“Then
who
else?” Theod spat.

Drago hesitated. Gwendylyr had been an easy decision to reach. With Faraday and Leagh, she would make the third in the triangle he’d need against the Demons. Drago’s three witches.

“Jannymire Goldman,” he said.

Zared’s face reflected his surprise, as did Theod’s and Herme’s.

“Goldman?” Herme said. He had kept very quiet until this point, reluctant to speak of things among those he did not truly understand.

Drago nodded, but did not explain himself. He walked over to the fire, standing before it, his hands clasped gently behind his back.

“And who is the third?” Zared asked.

“If suitable,” Drago said, speaking into the fire, “I will also bring back DareWing FullHeart.”

“If suitable?” Theod asked, his hand jerking in a curt, impatient and utterly frustrated gesture. “
If suitable?
Pray, what do you mean by, ‘if suitable’?”

Drago turned about, looking at Faraday to answer. She was a little disconcerted. Since their clash on the roof of the palace, Faraday had been unsure of Drago, or of her reactions to him. They’d passed some small time in
company since then, but never alone, and they had maintained a rigorous politeness that tore at Faraday’s soul.

But what else could she do? Did she want to live, or did she want to love?

Drago raised his eyebrows, waiting, and Faraday forced her mind back to the issue at hand. If DareWing was suitable? What did he mean? Then she remembered what Urbeth had told them, and she realised what he meant.

“We went to Gorkenfort,” she said, “and—”

“
What in curses names does Gorkenfort have to do with this?
” Theod yelled.

“Listen,” Zared cautioned. “And let her speak.”

“And while we were there we met with Urbeth,” Faraday continued, finally looking away from Drago back to the others. “You know of her?”

All nodded. The story of Urbeth had been one of the more puzzling of those to emerge from Axis’ battle with Gorgrael.

“She talked to us of many things, among which she passed across the secret of the Acharite bloodline.”

Faraday’s mouth twitched in secret amusement as she told them, if not the truth of the father of the Acharite race, then of their potential for enchantment, but only once they’d passed through death.

Leagh gasped, and then a beautiful smile graced her face. “No wonder I feel…” her voice trailed off. “No wonder I feel as I do,” she finished quietly, and Zared looked at her wonderingly.

“So why DareWing?” Theod asked, and all could hear the unspoken question in his voice: if Acharites are so useful, why bring the Icarii DareWing back and not one of my sons?

“Theod,” Faraday said, and stepped forward so she could take his hands in hers. “For countless generations before the Wars of the Axe, Icarii men took lovers from among Acharite women, believing their human blood would add vitality to the Icarii race. When these women bore children, the Icarii carried the babes off to raise them as full-blood Icarii.”

“Thus many Icarii carry Acharite heritage in their veins,” Drago said, “although they may not realise it. If DareWing is one of those, then he will be more than useful.”

“But this Acharite blood must be thin indeed by now,” Zared said.

“Even the hint of its memory will be enough,” Drago replied.

“But my sons…” Theod said helplessly, and Faraday’s heart almost broke. She understood why Drago had chosen as he had, but the knowing could not lessen Theod’s grief. She could not look him in the eye, and dropped her face.

Katie pushed between Faraday and Theod, and took one of the man’s hands.

“Sir Duke,” she said in a clear piping voice, shaking his hand so that he would look down into her face. “Trust in Drago. Your sons will be well.”

Theod’s face twisted, and he turned it away. “My sons will die,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “and I will mourn them all the days of my life.”

Katie’s hands tightened. “You will be too busy laughing
with
them to mourn them,” she said. “Wait.”

“We will go once dusk has passed,” Drago said, “and the night is clean and peaceful.”

The afternoon was spent either resting or pacing, depending on the temperament of each who waited. Zared sat a long hour at Leagh’s bedside, watching her rest, until he could stand it no longer and got to his feet and wandered about the room, straightening that which did not need to be straightened, and neatening the already neat.

He did not like it that Leagh should go with them, however magically easy the journey that Drago might procure for them. She was still emaciated and physically drained from her ordeal, and her fatigue was doubled by the fact that her body sent what little vitality it had to spare into the baby she harboured.

And Zared did not want her to face any risk. He had lost
Isabeau through his lack of foresight—through lack of
good sense, dammit!
—and he’d all but lost Leagh the same way, and the gods must be crazy if they thought he might be prepared to risk Leagh again.

But he had little choice, did he? Drago was insistent that Leagh come with them.

Ah! The tension and worry was almost too much, and Zared determined to find Drago and insist that Leagh stay in Carlon. What could she do? Faraday would be there for whatever magical assistance Drago might need.

Checking to make sure Leagh still slept peacefully, Zared slipped quietly from the room and went to find Drago.

He found him, eventually, on the parapets. It was late afternoon, the dusk only an hour away but still currently safe enough to step into the open.

Drago stood at the far north-eastern parapet, resting his chin on his folded arms on the chest-high stone, staring out at the mass of animals that crowded against the walls. He had his copper hair neatly tied in a tail at the nape of his neck, and was wearing light-coloured breeches, calf-high close-fitting leather boots and a white linen shirt. He had his staff with him, but the sack was nowhere to be seen. Zared thought Drago looked far more elegant than he’d seen him in a long time…and more like Axis than Zared felt either Drago or his father would care to admit.

“Some sword practice, nephew?” Zared asked as he walked quietly up behind Drago, and was rewarded as Drago jumped.

Zared grinned. “Your new-found enchantments have not deepened your hearing, then?”

Drago returned the grin. “I was lost in thought.”

Then his grin faded, and he looked back at the creatures spreading like a bleak wave of sin beyond Carlon’s walls. “If I had ever imagined this horror…” he said softly.

“Then what?” Zared joined him in studying the force that swelled against the walls. “What? You would never have gone through the Star Gate? Drago, Fate has us all
twisted in its relentless talons. If WolfStar hadn’t thrown those children through, if the Enemy hadn’t crashed in this land in the first instance…well, what chance that we would be here at all?”

Drago’s eyes twinkled. If the Enemy hadn’t crashed here, what chance that we would be here? None! Not if Noah hadn’t seduced Urbeth into his bed!

But he said nothing, and let Zared continue.

Zared swivelled from the view and leaned on the parapet with one elbow, studying Drago’s now unreadable face. “Spend no time bemoaning the past, or the fates that brought us to this moment, but instead think of the Tencendor that awaits.”

Drago raised one eyebrow slightly. “I did not realise you were the philosopher, Zared. Tell me, what
is
this Tencendor that awaits?”

Zared breathed deeply. “A Tencendor free of
everything
, dammit, but its own destiny. No prophecies, no long-buried Enemies, no Demons hurtling through space to tear it apart. Give Tencendor back the right to control its own destiny, Drago, and I swear that you will take your rightful place at its helm.”

“Never say that!” Drago straightened, his violet eyes snapping with anger. “Once I have helped right the wrong that I helped perpetuate then I do not want leadership of
anything
save my own life and destiny.
I
do not want to snatch at a crown, Zared!”

Zared looked at Drago carefully, ignoring the jibe. “And if not you, Drago, then
who
? Neither Axis nor Azhure retain the right to lead the land and its peoples forward. And Caelum…well…” He paused. “Who?
Who?
”

A muscle twitched in Drago’s jaw, then his face relaxed. “We are indeed confident of victory, Zared, if here we stand fighting over who wants the glory afterwards.”

Zared’s own mouth twitched in a smile. “I thought we were fighting over who did
not
want it!”

Drago laughed softly, then looked back over the creatures which thronged the plains beyond Carlon. “I do not like this, my friend.”

“They increase by the day. The guards used to try and count them once a day, but they gave that up a long time ago. Now they just estimate the depth of the swarm about Carlon’s walls.”

“And?”

“And in the past week it has more than doubled,” Zared said softly. “I think every creature—and every lost Acharite—that has been infected has found its way to Carlon.”

To the Grail, and the Grail Lord, Drago thought, but did not speak it. “Zared…when did Theod arrive back?”

“Theod? The same night you and Faraday—and your menagerie—arrived.”

“But how?” Drago waved a hand to the swarms beating against the walls. “
How?
I gained the impression he’d come through alone…”

“He had. And Herme and myself had the same suspicions you perhaps entertain—”

Drago shook his head. “His mind is his own, even if it is over-burdened with grief.”

“Well…Theod told us a remarkable story that, had it not been corroborated by several of the guards, I would find it hard to credit. He said that after he’d lost Gwendylyr, as the others, in the Western Ranges, a fabulous white stallion with a mane and tail of angry stars had appeared before him.”

Drago stared, then smiled thoughtfully as he realised who the horse must be.

Zared only thought the smile a sign of scepticism. “Drago, this is true…I
believe
Theod!”

“Go on, uncle. I am not questioning you.”

“Well…” Zared repeated the tale Theod had told him. “When the horse approached the ranks of the creatures outside, stars fell from his mane, burning a path before and
about himself. The creatures howled and clamoured, but they could not approach the horse. And so this star stallion carried Theod to the gates.”

“Star stallion,” Drago repeated to himself. “How appropriate.”

He lifted his voice. “And where is this stallion now?”

Zared shrugged his shoulders. “No-one knows. He vanished the moment Theod dropped from his back.”

“North.” Drago stared in that direction, then looked back to the closer problem of the hordes snapping and howling outside the walls.

“Apart from the obvious dangers to those who venture beyond the gates,” he said, “have the creatures posed any other threat?”

Zared took his time in answering, and when he finally answered his voice was tinged with deep disquiet. “Look at them.”

He waved his hand out, and almost as if the swarm of creatures had heard him, they screeched and screamed and howled, stamping a million feet from the tiny to the massive on the cold-baked earth.

Zared flinched. “Look at them,
hear
them. There are oxen and calves, vetches and ermine, cats and rats, snakes and creeping lice.
Everything
that once inhabited this land, that walked, crawled and hopped, has found its way here. I dread the moment that some of them find even the tiniest crack in the city’s defences. Gods, Drago! When are you going to get us to this Sanctuary?” Suddenly all thought of leaving Leagh safe behind in Carlon fled Zared’s mind. Safety in Carlon? It was an illusory thing. Those creatures outside were waiting for something, and Zared did not want to be here when that something arrived.

“When we come back from the Western Ranges,” Drago said. “Believe me, that needs to be attended first.”

Zared stared at Drago. “You need Gwendylyr and Leagh and Faraday—”

“And Goldman and DareWing, if useful. Yes. Without them few people here would have a chance to get through. There are what…”

“Over two hundred thousand.”

“Over two hundred thousand to get across to Spiredore, and I do not think Carlon has the fleet to ferry them over the Lake…do you?”