Pilgrim (44 page)

She managed to shock Zenith into silence for a moment, then Zenith looked away, her face working, her eyes suddenly bright with tears.

“Zenith,” Faraday said. “I am sorry. Please…what is wrong? I would have thought…that you and StarDrifter…it just seems so natural that you and he…”

“And yet it feels so wrong,” Zenith said, brushing her tears away with the fingers of one hand.

Faraday remained silent, waiting.

“I have always loved and trusted StarDrifter deeply,” Zenith said, her voice low. She stared past Faraday at the dragonflies dancing above the pond. “So many people only see him as the superficial Enchanter, concerned simply with matters of lust and bright power, but to me…well, he has always been there for me, always willing to fight for me. Always willing to risk his life for me.”

“And he has always loved you.”

“Yes. And now…when we left the Silent Woman Woods to travel north to the Minaret Peaks we both admitted that the nature of that love had changed.”

“But…”

“StarDrifter has no difficulties in perceiving me as a lover—”

Faraday repressed a small, wry smile. StarDrifter would have no difficulties in perceiving anything vaguely female as a lover if the mood took him.

“—but,” Zenith finished on a whisper, “I feel repelled by the thought of bedding with my grandfather.”

Faraday did not reply immediately. On the one hand she could understand Zenith’s misgivings, her repulsion at the thought of sleeping with her grandfather. She remembered her own grandfather, a kindly, white-moustached man, and Faraday knew she could not even conceive of bedding with him.

On the other hand, Faraday was more than a little surprised by Zenith’s reaction. Faraday well knew the SunSoar attraction each to the other, and if she had a grandfather who looked like StarDrifter, and who exuded sexual magnetism with every step…

But here was Zenith, and she was miserable, and she needed understanding, not wide-eyed wonder that she hadn’t leapt into StarDrifter’s bed at the first hint of an invitation.

“I think I can understand how you feel,” Faraday eventually said. “Have you talked to StarDrifter about it? Has he been impatient with you? Has he scared you?”

“StarDrifter has been so patient, so tender…but I have not told him how I feel. He would only be puzzled. How could he understand how any woman, even a granddaughter, could feel shamed by his touch?”

Faraday could not help a laugh. StarDrifter would find it difficult, if not impossible, to believe any woman could not find him sexually attractive. Azhure may have refused him, but she’d been physically drawn to him, and StarDrifter had known it. “You must talk to him, Zenith.”

“I know, I know. But I feel so ashamed that I cannot do this for him. I owe it to him, surely, after all he has done and been for me.”

Faraday looked at Zenith sharply. “Zenith…
do
you want the relationship to change?
Do
you want to become his lover?”

“Of course!” Zenith said, perhaps too quickly, and Faraday nodded to herself in understanding. “Of course I do! Ah! This is
my
fault!
Mine!
There is no reason why I should feel as I do. Don’t I owe him at least this? Isn’t he responsible for saving my life? Shouldn’t I be grateful enough to—”

“
Stop!
” Faraday said, and grabbed at Zenith’s hand. “Stop saying that!”

She took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “Zenith, I have never seen two people more right for each other than you and StarDrifter. But the conflict inside you is not wrong, or
anything to feel guilty about. You have spent your life loving StarDrifter only as a grandfather, while StarDrifter,” she risked a grin, “has spent his entire life regarding everything female as a potential lover. I swear his eyes likely even followed MorningStar speculatively on occasion.”

Faraday was rewarded with a small smile from Zenith as the birdwoman pictured StarDrifter intent on his own mother’s seduction.

“You cannot berate yourself as you do,” Faraday continued. “And you cannot bed with StarDrifter out of gratefulness, or because you feel that you owe him something.”

Faraday gave Zenith’s hand a slight shake. “Zenith, when it feels comfortable and natural, then go to him. Not before.”

Zenith’s mouth twisted. “And
when
is it going to feel ‘comfortable and natural’?”

Faraday lifted a hand and softly stroked Zenith’s cheek. “It will happen ‘whenever’, Zenith. No-one can tell the ‘when’. For now bask in his love, trust him—and trust him enough to tell him exactly how you feel—but do not let misplaced guilt drive you into something you feel hesitant about. You owe StarDrifter nothing, Zenith. Nothing.”

“And how long will StarDrifter wait? Wouldn’t it be better to—”

Faraday’s hands now cupped Zenith’s face. “StarDrifter will wait for you, Zenith. Never, never doubt that.” She kissed Zenith’s cheek. “And I think a period of celibacy will do the man good. It will strengthen his character,” she added with a grin.

Zenith stared at Faraday, then sighed, her entire body relaxing.

“Thank you,” she said.

W
olfStar crouched in the shadows of the forests surrounding Fernbrake Lake. Beside him, docile and soulless, sat the Niah-girl, her vacant stare emptying her face of any of the beauty that should have been her right. Black wings, almost fully grown, sprouted from her back. Her breasts were immature, but already temptingly full, and her hips curved with promise, but neither fullness nor promise was enough to tempt WolfStar to a tasting. His eyes flitted her way, and he barely suppressed a grimace—after this Lake she’d be able to walk for herself and he wouldn’t have to cart her half-dead, half-alive body over his shoulder across half of Tencendor.

Gods, but if he’d known Niah was going to be this much trouble he’d never have promised her rebirth in the first instance!

No, no, he mustn’t think like that. As a mate Niah had proved a disappointing failure (and even as that thought crossed his mind WolfStar let himself wonder where Zenith was), but as a weapon she would prove awesomely useful.

What better to counter and then destroy the Demons, than with a creation of their own kind?

WolfStar meant to recreate Niah, using the same source of power that the Demons used to recreate Qeteb, so she could become a weapon even more potent than the lost Rainbow
Sceptre. Who cared if Drago had made off with that gaudy bit of glassware? WolfStar would present the reborn Niah to Caelum, and let the StarSon use her to destroy the Demons.

It was such a simple plan, and yet so potent, that WolfStar knew it could not fail. Let Axis and Azhure and sundry other useless Star Gods scurry about Star Finger trying to find some dusty secret Caelum could toss in the Demons’ general direction.
He
, WolfStar, would be the one to give Caelum what he truly needed to stop the TimeKeepers.

WolfStar patted Niah’s knee absently, and then frowned as his eye caught a movement across the Lake. What was happening? Icarii by the thousand-fold were slowly moving along the pathway leading down from the rim of the crater to the Lake.

There they were descending through what appeared to be a hole in the ground. What were they doing? Where were they going? Were they stealing the power
he
needed?

“No!” he cried, and rose to his feet, his golden wings held out tense behind him.

“WolfStar,” a man said, and WolfStar growled and spun about.

“You!” he spat, utterly shocked. “Why are you not dead?”

Drago smiled wryly. “How many times have I been asked
that
question during my lifetime?” he said, and walked slowly forward from the trees that had concealed him.

Behind him came two other figures, but WolfStar paid them no heed for the moment. He shifted so he stood between Drago and Niah, narrowing his eyes as he studied his grandson. The man
looked
ordinary enough, with his lined face and sad eyes. But he had the Wolven and its quiver of arrows slung over his back, and that only reinforced WolfStar’s belief that the man was a traitor and a trickster. He’d not only stolen the Sceptre—now he’d somehow wrangled the Wolven from his mother. WolfStar knew better than to trust the benign image that Drago now projected.

Drago halted two paces from WolfStar.

“What mischief do you do?” WolfStar asked, standing straight and tall. Even without the Star Dance, WolfStar knew he could best this fool before him.

“I think I do none compared to what
you
do,” Drago said, and nodded at the Niah-form sitting unperturbed behind WolfStar. “What mischief do you make now, WolfStar?”

WolfStar moved slightly so he was between Niah and Drago. “Do not touch her, boy.”

Drago raised his eyes back to WolfStar. “You think to mirror Qeteb’s rise in her, don’t you? Have you been stealing power from under the Demons’ noses, WolfStar?”

WolfStar remained silent, but his lips curled in a snarl. Drago thought to snatch
her
as well!

Drago felt a coldness swamp him. That
is
what WolfStar was doing! Damn him! Did he not know with what horror he played? In the name of all stars in creation, what did he think would emerge from this process? A sweet, pliable Niah? No, a demon escaped from the firepits of the AfterLife, more like.

“And what treachery are
you
up to, Drago?” WolfStar countered as he saw understanding sweep the man’s face.

“I aid Caelum as best I—”

WolfStar brayed with laughter, and Drago involuntarily stepped back a pace.

“
You?
” WolfStar chortled. “Aiding
Caelum
? I can only imagine how thrilled Caelum must be about that.”

“I can hardly see that
you
are helping Caelum, WolfStar,” someone else said, and StarDrifter stepped out from the shadows behind Drago.

A step behind StarDrifter came Isfrael.

“Well,” WolfStar sneered, trying to hide his disquiet. Damn! Would they try to take Niah? “Look what we have here. The pretty but completely ineffectual StarDrifter and the twig-encrusted Lord of the Avar. Has Drago ensnared you into his treacheries as well?”

“You are hardly one to talk of treachery,” Isfrael said. “Why is it
you
do not move to aid Caelum?”

“I have ever walked alone,” WolfStar snarled.

“Cursed be the day you were ever conceived,” StarDrifter cried, and took a step past Drago. All he could see was the piece of filth that had raped and then repeatedly abused Zenith. And now here he was with the frightful fruit of his rape, hoping to recreate Niah again. Would Zenith never be safe?

Drago caught StarDrifter’s arm and pulled him back. “You can do nothing. Be still.”

Furious, StarDrifter tried to jerk his arm out of Drago’s grasp, but found he could not; the man had more strength than appearances suggested.

“He wanders
my
forests,” Isfrael said behind Drago. “Give him to me.”

WolfStar had had enough. These fools would ruin what small hope Tencendor had left if they tried to snatch Niah away from him! He took a step backwards, half-bent to grab at the girl’s arm to pick her up and run, then caught a movement of Drago’s hand out of the corner of his eye.

WolfStar cried out in surprise and some pain, and dropped to the ground. His legs would not move, and his wings were useless!

“A temporary device only,” Drago said, “until we can hold you more securely.”

“No!” WolfStar shouted. “Let me go! Curse you,
let me go
!”

His turned frantic eyes towards Niah.
What would Drago do with her!
Damn him,
curse him
, to everlasting torment at the gnawing jaws of belly worms!

WolfStar moaned, trying to struggle, yet finding his body would not obey him. He should have taken more care, been more circumspect—and yet how could he have known that Drago would re-emerge and ensnare him with whatever Demon-fed power he’d grown?

“Let me go,” WolfStar said, almost whispering with hate this time.

Drago stared at the Enchanter. What could be done with WolfStar? Drago knew that had he been Axis the decision would have been an easy one: kill him.

But Drago was not his father, and he could not forget that although WolfStar had done massive harm in Tencendor, he had also done much that was right.

Including killing many Enchanter children, and his own wife? Driving them into the arms of Demons to be thrown back against the land? And what about Zenith? How much harm had WolfStar done
her
soul?

“Well?” StarDrifter hissed.

Drago glanced at him. His grandfather’s face was furious, but Drago knew that StarDrifter was hardly the right person to entrust with WolfStar’s confinement.

He sighed. “Will you keep him, Isfrael?”

Isfrael took a deep breath of triumph, and placed a hand on Drago’s shoulder.

“I do not mean for you to kill him,” Drago said softly. “Merely to hold him until we can decide what to do with him.”

Isfrael’s face flushed with anger. “I—”

“You do
not
have the right to kill him,” Drago said, and held Isfrael’s stare. “He must face justice for what he has done, whether to those he murdered, to Tencendor generally, or to Zenith.”

Drago shot StarDrifter a sympathetic glance, and finally let his arm go. “But not yet. Wait until we have bested the Demons and Tencendor is ours again. Then shall we let Tencendor sit in judgement of him.”

Isfrael hesitated, then jerked his head in assent.

“Can you hold him safely?” Drago asked.

“Yes,” Isfrael said, and from the surrounding forest sprang eight swarthy, well-muscled Avar men with coils of ropes and stakes. Once four or five of them had seized and bound the furious Enchanter, Drago waved his hand, dissolving the enchantment that had held WolfStar. Isfrael
surely had enough skill left to keep the Enchanter out of mischief.

As six of the Avar men carried WolfStar away, another picked Niah up and followed them.

“Isfrael?” Drago said as the Mage-King moved to follow his men. “
Do not let him escape!
”

Isfrael stared at Drago, and then he was gone.

“He should have been killed,” StarDrifter said. “It would have been safer.”

“There has been too much killing,” Drago said, then silently walked the way back to the entrance to Sanctuary.

Once there, Drago asked one of the Lake Guard guiding the Icarii down the stairwell to send word to Faraday to meet him at the bridge, then he turned back to watch the horizon, his face creased in thought.

“What is it?” StarDrifter asked quietly, concerned by the worry evident in Drago’s face.

“The Demons are but four days away—and it will take more days than that to get all the Icarii into Sanctuary.”

“Can we suspend the evacuation while the Demons are here?”

Drago shook his head. “I would prefer not to.”

“We have little choice—” StarDrifter began, but Drago turned and smiled at him with such sweetness that StarDrifter was taken aback.

“Perhaps there is,” Drago said. “See?” He pointed to the north. “The Demons will come through from that direction. Not only because it is the most direct path from the Lake of Life, but because there are no trees on that side of Fernbrake’s crater. They will want to steer clear of the trees.”

“And the Icarii are filing down into the crater from the south, and through the trees.”

“Exactly. Perhaps I can arrange it so that the Demons will never see the Icarii, nor the entrance to Sanctuary. Wait here.”

Drago walked to the nearest tree and laid his hand on her trunk.

“I beg your indulgence,” he whispered, “and crave your understanding in what I now do.”

He leaned upwards and broke off a small branch and then broke that into several dozen smaller pieces.

“What are you doing?” StarDrifter asked.

“Come with me,” Drago said, and led the way around the gentle curve of the Lake to the point where the path wound down out of the forested slope and arced towards the entrance to Sanctuary. There, oblivious of the curious stares of the Icarii walking along the path, Drago bent and placed one of the broken pieces of wood in the ground.

He straightened. “StarDrifter, will you aid me by placing a handful of water from the Lake about each of these twigs I plant?”

StarDrifter nodded, his eyes narrowed in thought. Stars! Surely Drago did not command the power to…?

He did as his grandson asked, and for each twig that Drago placed in the ground about the curve of the path, StarDrifter carefully placed a handful of the emerald water in the depression that surrounded it.

When Drago reached the entrance to Sanctuary, he planted the final half a dozen twigs before it, and waited patiently for StarDrifter to water them.

“You can’t do it,” StarDrifter said as he rose from the final twig.

Drago grinned. “Really? Faraday did, so why can’t I? Stand back a pace, StarDrifter. I would not want you damaged.”

Frowning, StarDrifter stepped back, watching Drago. The man had lowered his eyes, as if in concentration, and he hefted the staff slightly in his left hand his fingers opening and then closing about it. StarDrifter thought he saw a very slight flicker go through the muscles of Drago’s hand where it clenched about the wood, but he could not be sure.

The next moment Drago raised his face, and his left hand
drew a symbol so fast and so fluidly that StarDrifter could not follow it.

“Do as I ask,” Drago said, his voice curiously flat, and an instant later StarDrifter—as every Icarii within fifty paces—cried out in surprise.

Where Drago had planted the twigs, now rose massive trees. Even taller and more dense than usual for the Minstrelsea, they unravelled in the space of two breaths, and when they were finally still, the spaces between them were so filled with jutting branches and overhanging foliage that no-one could see through them.

It was not only branch and foliage that protected the Icarii from view, for between each tree also hung such threatening shadow that StarDrifter knew no-one would be tempted to walk through to investigate.

The passage from Minstrelsea to Sanctuary was completely hidden.

“Ye gods!” StarDrifter murmured, and looked at Drago.

“Faraday?”

She turned from where she’d been waiting at the valley end of the silver-tracery bridge and looked at Drago walking across the bridge towards her. Maybe they had come to some kind of compromise regarding their relationship, and maybe Drago had accepted her decision with unusual good humour for a SunSoar—but he had also pointed out he
was
a SunSoar male, and Faraday was only too well aware what difficulties might lie ahead for her.

Beside her Katie looked on patiently, her hand, as always, clasped in Faraday’s. Now Faraday tightened her grip slightly on the girl’s fingers.

StarDrifter was a step behind Drago and, as they neared, Faraday switched her eyes to him. “StarDrifter, we should talk—” she began, but Drago interrupted her.

“No. You can talk to StarDrifter some other time. For now we have to go to Carlon.”