Crusader. Novel by Sara Douglass

over Dare Wing and the members of the Strike Force that had gathered around.

DragonStar’s face tightened, but he did not respond to WolfStar’s taunt. “Whose blood is

this?”

“Caelum’s.”

DragonStar rocked back on his heels in surprise. “Caelum’s? You were there when Qeteb —”

“Killed him? Yes. The fool boy, he walked straight onto the tip of the Demon’s sword. Had you

enchanted him into stupidity, Drago? Or was it a natural fault … Caelum ever had a sackful of

those.”

DragonStar reached out and buried his fingers in WolfStar’s hair, and the birdman winced in pain.

Was everyone going to haul him about Tencendor by the roots of his hair?

“Caelum died a hero’s death!” DragonStar said.

“How can you be sure of that?” WolfStar snapped. “Were you watching?”

“What happened?”

WolfStar chose not to respond.

DragonStar gave the Enchanter’s head a wrench. “What happened?”

WolfStar growled, and grabbed at DragonStar’s hand with both of his own.

DragonStar’s grip did not loosen, and WolfStar could not pry him free.

“What happened?” DragonStar gave WolfStar’s head such a twist that all present could hear

the bones in the birdman’s neck crack.

“Caelum walked into the portion of the Maze where I lay,” WolfStar ground out, hate and

resentment for DragonStar filling every nuance of his voice, “as if he were walking into a picnic ground.

He had a stupid, vacant smile on his face.”

He was already walking through the Field of Flowers, thought DragonStar, and the smile he

had on his face must have been beauteous, not stupid. “And then?”

“Then Qeteb rode his black nightmare up behind Caelum, and Caelum turned.”

“And?”

“And Qeteb ran his sword through Caelum — Gods! The boy reached out and grabbed the blade

as it sliced into him!”

DragonStar stared at WolfStar. There was something else … something that WolfStar was not

deliberately holding back but thought so unimportant as not worth the relation.

“And what else?” DragonStar said, his tone compelling.

WolfStar sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Caelum said something to the Demon that drove

him crazy.”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Oh, how I do love you’.”

DragonStar still stared at WolfStar, but his eyes were far, far away. Caelum must have turned in the

Field of Flowers and seen RiverStar. He had spoken to her, not Qeteb.

But what he’d said had driven the Demon … “crazy”?

DragonStar refocussed his eyes on WolfStar. “I apologise for what I am about to do to you,” he

said, “but methinks you have used it on many a soul before now.”

And DragonStar forced the memory of Caelum’s death up from WolfStar’s subconscious into the full

light of consciousness.

Caelum, turning, smiling, holding out his hand. “Oh, how I do love you.”

And Qeteb going crazy with … what? Hate?

Or … fear?

“For thousands of years you have roamed about doing nothing but mischief in the name of

ultimate good,” DragonStar said, “but finally I think you may have done this land a service. Come on,

stand up.”

DragonStar got to his feet, and — once again — WolfStar found himself being hauled upwards by

his hair.

He shouted with rage and squirmed about, but DragonStar’s grip did not loosen.

DragonStar turned to DareWing. He was annoyed with the birdman for leaving the Field of Flowers,

but for the moment that annoyance could wait. “None of the Demons are about, and I think this

place safe enough for the time being. Watch Belaguez and the Alaunt for me, will you? I think I know just

the place for WolfStar … if it can bear the shock.”

And, so saying, DragonStar unsheathed the lily sword, drew his rectangle of light, and stepped

through Spiredore as quickly as he could into Sanctuary, dragging WolfStar with him.

Chapter 16

Fischer

DragonStar moved briskly through Spiredore — gods alone knew how dangerous it was getting

now — while dragging WolfStar behind him. The birdman was muttering something

incoherently about StarLaughter and the tower and his hair, but DragonStar paid him no heed.

His mind was full of jumbled thoughts and images, and they were all to do with Caelum’s smiling,

love-filled face, and the mystery of the Enchanted Song Book, which, somewhat unbelievably,

for he had not been aware of it for some time, DragonStar still clutched under his free arm.

Suddenly they were tumbling through the doorway of light onto the approach to Sanctuary, and

DragonStar briefly wondered how he’d managed it with his hands full of the Song Book and WolfStar.

“Where are we?” WolfStar gasped, rubbing his head as DragonStar finally let him go.

“Somewhere I imagine you thought you’d never see,” DragonStar said. “Somewhere safe.

Sanctuary.”

“What?”

DragonStar did not answer. An Icarii birdwoman was spiralling above them in the sky, and

DragonStar beckoned her down.

“This is WolfStar SunSoar,” he said, and the birdwoman paled. “He is injured. Can you arrange that

he be taken where his injuries can be healed? But, ware! Do not trust him.”

She shook her head violently.

“I ask also that Axis and Azhure supervise his care,” DragonStar said.

The birdwoman nodded soberly and rose back in the air. DragonStar waited impatiently — refusing

to respond to any of WolfStar’s taunts or answer any of his questions — until he could see Axis and a

group of four or five men draw near with a stretcher. He nodded to the group and smiled to his

father, then he stepped back into Spiredore without further ado, the Song Book still in his grasp.

DragonStar had someone he needed to talk to.

Someone who could confirm what DragonStar had finally realised was probably the true purpose of

the Enchanted Song Book.

The bridge at Spiredore was in mourning. Her sister was gone — a necessary precaution — but the

bridge still missed her.

She was immensely grateful when she felt DragonStar’s feet upon her back.

“StarSon! You have come home!”

“Only briefly, bridge. I admit myself glad you still stand.”

“I can resist the Demons a while longer, StarSon.”

He nodded, looking about. Sigholt was still standing, but it looked wan, as if its life was draining

away.

“None of us will last for much longer,” the bridge said, sadly.

DragonStar’s attention re-sharpened on the bridge. “None of you? What about Spiredore?”

“She also will die,” the bridge said. “The Enemy’s heritage has passed into you, StarSon, and none of

us have much purpose left.”

Spiredore would die? But what would that mean? He’d be trapped either in Sanctuary, or in the

wasteland.

And either would be fatal, both to him and to his witches, and, eventually, to Tencendor.

“Do you feel strong enough for a last request, bridge?”

“A conversation?” she said hopefully.

DragonStar smiled, but it was sad. “Yes … but not with you, bridge. I would like to speak to the

trap you harbour within you.”

“That effort will kill me,” she said, and DragonStar felt tears spring to his eyes.

“I know,” he said.

The bridge hesitated. “I will do it for you. StarSon?”

“Yes?”

“Win for us.”

“I will,” he whispered. “Bridge … bridge, know that you go with the love of many.”

She did not speak, but he could feel her emotion shuddering through her, and he stepped onto the

roadway that led into HoldHard Pass.

“Goodbye,” she said … and transformed.

Not into her arachnoid form, but into the shape of an archway constructed of pale,

unmortared blocks of stone.

Goodbye bridge…

The archway formed over the moat between the road and Sigholt, its lip touching the ground several

paces away from DragonStar.

A man walked out of the arch.

He was white-haired and emaciated, and his entire form trembled as he walked. His face was deeply

lined, his eyes faded and tired.

“Who are you?” he said, stopping a pace before DragonStar.

“My name is DragonStar SunSoar,” he said, “and I am the result of your mistakes.”

The old man cackled with laughter. “DragonStar? What kind of a name is that?”

He peered about him. “Where are we? Topside again?”

DragonStar wondered if the old man still thought he was on his home world. “What is your name?”

“Me? Oh, my name is Fischer. Where am I?”

DragonStar stared at him. He’d talked to the bridge about the moment when this man — a vastly

younger version, apparently — had appeared and taunted Rox and the other Demons. Then the man had

been full of confidence and knowledge. Now?

Ah, but that man was only a phantasm of the trap. The bridge had sent him the

original. No wonder the effort had killed her.

“You are in the remains of a land called Tencendor,” DragonStar said, “where the craft

from your world crashed tens of thousands of years ago.”

Fischer looked sharply at him. “Ah, and the Demons have followed?”

“Look about you.”

“Aye,” Fischer said, and grimaced. “Aye, they followed. Have you summoned me to blame me?”

“No. I need to ask you a question.”