Crusader. Novel by Sara Douglass

The Demons were vile, worse than vile, but maybe they could be used.

They could help him into what Isfrael coveted more than anything else: the Sacred Groves. In the

Sacred Groves Isfrael could regain his standing. Faraday would be nothing if Isfrael controlled the

Sacred Groves.

The Avar would come back to him then.

But if he wanted the Demons to aid him, then Isfrael would need something. Information,

perhaps, to exchange. And information good enough to enable Isfrael to navigate safely the hazards of

demonic negotiations.

What? What would the Demons want?

Souls. They wanted souls. It is what gave them power.

So what might deliver more souls into the hands of the Demons? Isfrael grinned to himself.

Sanctuary would. The Demons needed the key to Sanctuary.

Now all he needed to do was find it himself.

Isfrael turned and walked into Sanctuary, turning thoughts over and over in his mind. The Demons

could be used — but it would be more than dangerous. And was he ready to risk everyone in

Sanctuary?

Yes! Yes! But only if he could manage to get the Avar out before the Demons gobbled up everyone

else within this pastel prison.

Isfrael’s steps slowed as he contemplated the Avar safe forever within the Sacred Groves: no axes,

no damned Icarii arrogance, and no Faraday to destroy his power.

Chapter 11

StarLaughter

StarLaughter was far too insane to be intimidated by Qeteb’s threat. She stood as Qeteb stepped into the

tower, the door closing behind him, and then she slowly turned and stared across the bleak wasteland to

the east.

A cold and heartless, soulless, loveless desert. A frigid wind blew dust balls red with sparks and

flames over the crazily-cracked surface of the ground. No vegetation survived, save for the occasional

malodorous and cancerous versions of small shrubs and isolated grain stalks: weeping, fleshy lumps grew

down their stalks and stems. Creatures — of both animal and humanoid origins — crept about its

surface, whispering and wailing, digging claws in themselves and in whoever approached, copulating with

rocks, and eating dust.

But the violent, twisting landscape of StarLaughter’s mind was far more desolate than this nightmare

which stretched before her.

She stood, and she stared, and even the occasional crazed creature that paused to nibble at her

ankles did not distract her.

StarLaughter was alone. That thought dominated her mind.

She was alone. The Demons had abandoned her. The Hawkchilds had abandoned her.

Even, if Qeteb was to be believed, her son had abandoned her.

No! No! She must not let herself think that!

StarLaughter shuddered, and she moaned, a small rope of dribble escaping her lips.

The Demons had stolen her son, and there was no-one left who could help her.

How many thousands of years had she quested, believing the Demons’ lies when they said they

would help her gain revenge for her and her son’s deaths? How much power, aid and advice had she

given the Demons, thinking they would help her? Thinking they believed her? Thinking that they had

loved her?

“And all they did was betray me,” she whispered.

And all the while laughing at her behind her back?

StarLaughter screamed, her body jerking in a fit of madness.

“They stole my son!” she finally managed to wail. “They stole my son!”

She collapsed onto the ground again, writhing and moaning in misery amid the dirt. She was so

alone; no-one to help her, no-one to understand the depth of betrayal she had suffered, no-one who

would understand the depth of maternal grief she felt, no-one who could help her rescue her son from

Qeteb’s metalled madnesses.

That her son still somehow existed within Qeteb StarLaughter had no doubts.

All she had to do was rescue him … somehow.

But there was no-one to help her! No-one who could understand —

Suddenly StarLaughter stilled, her eyes crazed with hope, and her dribbling mouth opened in a circle

of amazement that she hadn’t thought of this before.

Yes … yes, there was one who could understand her, wasn’t there! There was one who would help

her!

StarLaughter giggled, the pure joy of hope (mad, mad hope) suffusing her being, and she clambered

to her feet again.

WolfStar!

Gone from her mind were the thousands of years lusting for revenge against him.

Gone was her hatred of him.

Gone was any sane thought that WolfStar was highly unlikely to want to have anything to do with

her.

Instead, StarLaughter’s mind embraced memories warped by her madness into untruths.

WolfStar, years older than her, tenderly playing with her when she’d been a toddler.

WolfStar, desperately in love with her (although, sweet fool, he would never admit it to her),

teaching her to fly when her wings had first emerged.

WolfStar, unable to keep his raging desire under control any longer, seducing her when she’d been

but eleven.

StarLaughter trembled, and laughed softly. He’d never been able to deny his love for her!

He’d been so powerful, so commanding, and StarLaughter knew the entire Icarii race had envied her

when she’d married him.

How lucky WolfStar had been! StarLaughter knew she’d been the perfect wife for him, her beauty

and power complementing WolfStar’s own attractions and abilities.

And how she had helped him! WolfStar’s lust for the throne had been more than matched by

StarLaughter’s own desire for power. She had been the one to suggest the murder of WolfStar’s father,

StarKnight.

She had been the one to fire the arrow that sent StarKnight tumbling out of the sky.

And for the throne that she helped him take, WolfStar had loved her.

He’d adored her!

StarLaughter knew that even now adoration could not be very far beneath the surface of

WolfStar’s sneers and outward contempt.

No, WolfStar still loved her, and WolfStar would aid her in the rescue of their son.

After all, wasn’t it his son who’d been stolen as well?

And hadn’t he adored his son, and adored her for conceiving him?

StarLaughter’s face softened into something resembling love as she stared blank-eyed into the

wasted landscape. How wrong she’d been to seek revenge on WolfStar. She’d always adored him, she

could understand that now, and it would take but a little effort on her part to make

WolfStar understand that he still adored her.

“We are SunSoar lovers, you and I,” she whispered, one hand clutching at the tattered blue robe

above her breasts. “One being, one soul. Nothing can keep us apart. Nothing.”

And on these twisted thoughts, StarLaughter built hope.

“I have to get away from Qeteb,” StarLaughter said, at what seemed like hours later. “And then find

WolfStar. Oh, how happy he will be to see me!”

She jerked her eyes around the land, seeking answers. Where could she go? Where would be safe

from Qeteb?

“I know the nooks and crannies of this land better than any Demon,” she whispered, and then she

nodded slightly. Yes, she knew a place to hide. A place that felt right. A place that called her.

But it would take her a while to get there … unless …

She turned her head and regarded Spiredore thoughtfully.

Chapter 12

The Key to Sanctuary

Faraday and Gwendylyr were wandering through an orchard of green apples and cotton trees laden with

pale pink and blue flowers. With them walked Azhure and two of the Star Gods, Pors and Silton. They

were chatting about DragonStar, and what had happened in something called the crystal dome, but the

man who observed them did not care to listen as closely as he could have.

Isfrael had other things to think about, and other deeds to be done. He stood unobserved and

watched the walkers for a short while, then he slipped silently away amid the thickness of the

heavily-laden boughs of the cotton trees.

Their beauty and scent left him unmoved.

Isfrael had no qualms about what he was going to do. He did not think of it so much as a betrayal or

a treachery, but as an inevitability. Sanctuary was bound to crumple before the power of the Demons at

some stage or the other, and whether or not Isfrael speeded up the process was immaterial.

What was important was regaining his position at the head of the Avar, managing to exclude

Faraday (didn’t the Avar realise that the time of their precious Tree Friend was well and truly over?)

once and for all, and managing to save the Avar from the inevitable destruction of Sanctuary.

Isfrael wanted the forests, he wanted his position as Mage-King back, and he wanted the Avar to

be safe forever from the axes and arrogance of the other two humanoid races. There was only one place

left in this existence where he could accomplish this.

The Sacred Groves.

There the Mother still dwelt, there the trees grew thick and magical, there the Horned Ones still

walked in power.

There, Isfrael could regain his place.

And perhaps … perhaps Shra’s soul had found its way there when she’d died.