Sara Douglass

Pilgrim


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felt for her. Torn between son and husband, watching the world that she’d fought for so hard die about her. Losing immortality. Losing enchantment.

      Wondering why Sicarius had attacked her husband, rather than Drago.

      “She went that way,” Faraday inclined her head, “with StarDrifter.”

      Azhure nodded, risked one glance at Drago, then walked off.

      Azhure found Zenith standing close with StarDrifter by a group of tethered horses. They were talking quietly, sharing information about their movements since they had parted on the Island of Mist and Memory.

      As Zenith looked up at her approach, Azhure asked bluntly, “Zenith — or Niah?”

      “Zenith,” her daughter replied softly. “Zenith reborn, not Niah.”

      Azhure hesitated, then nodded. She stood indecisively, as if wondering whether to touch Zenith or not. “Will you tell me what happened?”

      “I know what your mother meant to you,” Zenith said, “and I know what sacrifice she made for you. We have all treasured and revered her memory. But … but the soul that tried to seize mine had changed. She was warped by her dreadful death. All pity had been seared from her. Mother, I was never Niah, and I could not agree to let her kill me so she could live again.”

      Azhure’s eyes were bright with tears, and she put a trembling hand to her mouth. “How?”

      Zenith glanced at StarDrifter, both of them remembering that dreadful night that Zenith had forced the Niah-soul into the girl-child she carried, and had expelled the child from her body, killing her.

      But how could Zenith tell Azhure that? Her mother loved Niah deeply, and treasured her memory, and it would only wound Azhure to be told the manner of Niah’s second death.

      “Something of the Niah who had so sacrificed herself for you remained, mother. When she realised the extent of my distress she acquiesced, and let me be. She said … she said that she had already lived her life, and was content that I should be allowed to live mine.”

      Azhure stared at her, then burst into tears. Zenith leaned forward and gathered Azhure to her, rocking her gently as if she were truly the mother, and not the daughter.

      For his part, StarDrifter just stared at Zenith, realising for the first time how deeply he felt for her. And how differently he felt for her.

      As Caelum inspected his horse’s gear, Askam stepped quietly up beside him.

      “Yes?” Caelum said.

      “Was it wise of Axis to leave Zared in full control of the army, StarSon?” Askam said, and dropped his voice still further. “Remember that he has crowned himself King of Achar. Do you so agree with his actions that you watch as your father virtually presents him with the entire territory of Tencendor? Gods, man! He’s even got control of the Strike Force!”

      Caelum thought carefully before he answered, but when he did his voice was very firm. “Axis made the right choice,” he said. “Zared can command more loyalty than you. Do you not remember what happened when you tried to command his army the morning after the battle?”

      Askam recoiled. “I have lost my sister to him, now must I also lose land and troops. Where is the justice in this, Caelum? Where?”

      “The problems between you and Zared must wait until the TimeKeepers lie broken at our feet, Askam.”

      “And the fact that he apparently stands with Drago against you and your father? Does that not concern you?”

      Caelum paused, unable to answer immediately. “Zared, like so many of us, simply does not know what to do. And like DareWing, perhaps, he wants as many choices as possible left open to him.”

      He sighed. “My friend, giving Zared control of the army is no reflection on you. He is simply the best man to do it.”

      No, Askam thought, no reflection at all. I am simply “not best”. I understand, Caelum StarSon. I understand very, very well.

      “I understand, StarSon,” he said, and then he drifted away into the gathering darkness.

      Zared organised the unit of men, then went to check that Axis had suitable horses for Azhure and himself.

      “Is there such need to rush off so soon?” Zared said quietly to his brother.

      Axis looked at him. “I cannot stay, Zared. Not with Drago here. You must surely understand that.” He paused.

      “Zared, I cannot explain this, but somehow I know the answer to those Demons lies in Star Finger. I cannot wait to get there. And to get Caelum there.”

      Axis stopped and glanced to where Faraday and Drago sat, then moved a step closer to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I cannot trust Drago. I cannot!”

      “I can understand, Axis.”

      “And yet you support him?”

      Zared hesitated. “I trust Faraday when she says that Drago has pledged himself to Caelum. Axis, I do not believe he murdered RiverStar. Caelum treated him badly, the trial was a farce, for the gods’ sakes!”

      “And yet the vision WolfStar conjured showed that Drago murdered —”

      “And have you ever trusted WolfStar?”

      Axis was silent, and Zared let him think for a moment before he continued. “I am prepared to give Drago a chance, Axis. I think that he deserves that one chance.”

      Axis’ face tightened, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “Then will you promise me one thing?”

      Zared raised his eyebrows.

      “Promise me that you will kill him the moment you suspect he works, not for Tencendor and Caelum, but for those Demons. Promise me!”

      Zared slowly nodded. “I will not allow him to betray this land, Axis.”

      “To betray this land any further than he has!” Axis said bitterly, but he accepted Zared’s words, and, after a moment’s thought, gripped his younger brother’s hand. “I do not envy you your task,” he said.

      “Nor I yours,” Zared said quietly. They stared at each other, then Zared turned and walked away.

      Caelum finished checking his horse, disquieted by Askam’s visit, then went to say goodbye to Zared and DareWing. Zared would look after Tencendor — what was left of it — as well as anyone could.

      Drago watched him, then pushed Faraday’s gentle hands away. “Faraday, I must speak with him.”

      “Wait! Drago, your neck —”

      “Faraday, a few steps won’t hurt me, and I need to talk with Caelum. Neither of us should leave it like this.”

      Faraday dropped her hands. “Then stay well clear of your father.”

      Drago nodded, his expression bleak, and walked slowly away.

      Caelum conversed briefly with Zared and DareWing, and then began to walk back to where he could see his parents with the unit of twenty men that Zared had given them. Axis and Azhure, the Alaunt milling about them, were obviously impatient.

      Caelum sighed. On the one hand, he hated to leave Tencendor like this. He felt as though he were abandoning his responsibilities. On the other hand, Star Finger represented such a haven of safety that he could hardly wait to get there. Well might Faraday say that Drago was now the most trustworthy soul this side of death, but Caelum could not believe it. Not when each night the nightmare still thundered through his sleep, and the lance still pierced his heart.

      Suddenly Drago stepped out from behind a tree and stood directly in Caelum’s path.

      Caelum stopped dead, his heart thumping. Drago was pale, and the blood-stained bandage about his neck hardly improved his