“Ah! I’d rather that you blamed me! I am sick of questions … what to do? When to do it? How?
How? How? It took us forty years of questions before we came anywhere close to a single answer, and
even then we only patched up the problem, we did not solve it. What is your question?”
“You reflected the Demon’s hatred back at him, thus trapping him.”
“Yes. Is that your question?”
“No. It trapped him, and it dismembered him, but it did not kill him. Why not?”
Fischer looked at the man carefully. He was pretty enough, and had a strange charismatic appeal,
but Fischer did not know if he would be strong enough to do what was necessary. If he was merely told,
then he would never get the strength. If he discovered it for himself, then he just might have a hope.
“I cannot answer the question,” Fischer said, “but I have a piece of advice. Evil cannot be destroyed,
it merely festers.”
“Why can’t you answer the question?”
“I cannot teach you what is right or wrong. In this battle the answers must come from your spirit.
You must learn what will work against the Demons.” Fischer looked at him steadily. “You must learn
from our mistakes.”
DragonStar stared, and then relaxed. “Thank you, Fischer.”
Fischer grinned, and nodded his head. “My pleasure, m’boy. Finish it for us, I beg you. Our world
was destroyed. I hope yours will be reborn.”
DragonStar started to say something, but jerked in surprise as a stone fell from the archway and
thudded into the ground behind Fischer.
Fischer likewise jumped, then scurried back under the arch as another, and then another, stone fell.
“Finish it this time,” he whispered, and then the entire arch caved in, and the last DragonStar saw of
Fischer was the man’s arms raised in a hopeless attempt to protect himself against the falling masonry.
There was a rumble, and the archway collapsed into the moat.
Finish it for us.
DragonStar stood there a long time, staring into the moat and the pile of rubble he could dimly see in
its depths.
Then he pulled the Song Book out from under his arm and leafed slowly through it.
The Enchanted Song Book did not tell him how to destroy the Demons at all. It was literally a list of
the Enemy’s previous mistakes.
What the Enchanted Song Book told him was what not to do.
DragonStar hesitated, then, with a quick twist of his wrist, tossed the Song Book into the moat.
It flared briefly as it fell, its pages rippling and cracking in the wind of its passing, then it vanished.
DragonStar smiled sadly, then let it fade. He did not have much time, and he had much strength to
gain before he could put this knowledge to use.
Chapter 17
Escape from Sanctuary
Isfrael was impatient to make his deal with the Demons. Then he would escape with the Avar to the
Sacred Groves, and leave the Acharites and Icarii to their fate.
But he had one small problem. Getting out of Sanctuary.
DragonStar could do it, wielding Enemy Acharite magic to do so, but Isfrael could not. This place
was crafted of Enemy enchantment, and only those of Acharite blood — and who had reawoken into
their powers — could use it. Isfrael had Acharite blood aplenty from his parents, Axis and Faraday, but
he’d not been through the process of death that was needed to be able to make use of the power, and
Isfrael had no intention of dying for his ambitions.
No, there had to be some other way to get out.
He sat under a great spreading whalebone tree in the heart of the forest that Sanctuary had created
in order to make the Avar feel at home. Isfrael did not appreciate Sanctuary’s efforts at all. The entire
forest seemed false: it did not sing, and it did not vibrate with power.
And the Avar watched him out of the corner of their eyes … almost as if they were keeping an eye
on him, by the Horned Ones, rather than waiting for his will!
Although the Avar people tolerated Isfrael among them, the Avar Banes avoided him completely,
and that made Isfrael more furious than anything else. He knew the Banes talked with Faraday,
although they took pains to do so in private.
The Banes — perhaps all Avar — are keeping secrets from me, thought Isfrael, and the wild
blond curls on his forehead
tightened into even crisper, angrier knots, and his horns twinkled, as if they sharpened themselves on his
thoughts.
His fingers dug into the soft earth at his side.
How could he get out of here?
Isfrael remembered how DragonStar drew the doorway of light to move to and from Sanctuary —
through Spiredore, Isfrael thought — and he lusted for a doorway for himself.
He almost laughed. DragonStar was hardly likely to give him the doorway, was he? And Isfrael
did not like his chances of trying to wrest it off the man: he’d likely set his pet lizard
(another of Minstrelsea’s creatures that had betrayed Isfrael) or one of his hounds to his destruction.
There had to be some other way.
And then Isfrael stilled as memory came to his aid.
Faraday had used the doorway to evacuate the Avar from the forests into Sanctuary!
The same doorway, or a different one?
Isfrael could hardly breathe for excitement. DragonStar and his “witches” (Isfrael would have
laughed had he not been so preoccupied) had had only a relatively few days to evacuate all of
Tencendor. If Faraday had been given a doorway with which to work, then had the others?
Probably … probably …
And of the others, Leagh was the most trusting … and the most vulnerable.
Isfrael smiled.
Zared laughed at something Theod had just said, but there was a hard edge to his merriment. Here he sat
with Theod and Herme in this marbled palace in Sanctuary, drinking the finest of wines and nibbling on
the most delectable of fruits, and yet above their heads Tencendor lay wasted with horror.
And Leagh, as also Gwendylyr, were going to have to go out there and do personal battle with
the Demons in order to retrieve it.
Zared did not like it at all, and neither did Theod. Herme hardly said a word, feeling both guilty and
relieved that his wife didn’t have to face a Demon.
The three men sat with Leagh and Gwendylyr in a square chamber that opened out onto a balcony.
Scents of wildflowers and grasses wafted in.
It should have been peaceful, but Zared was left itching with the need to do something. He and
Theod had kept themselves as busy as they could, making sure the Acharites were settled, reconstituting
what councils they could, trying to keep people busy, but it was a sham business.
All Zared wanted to do was get on a horse and lead an army somewhere … or, at the very least, be
given the chance to build a permanent home for his people somewhere. He hated being trapped
in this boring prettiness.
Gwendylyr leaned forward and threw her set of gaming sticks onto the ghemt board, then clapped
her hands in delight. She was winning, and loving it.
Herme chuckled and reached for some more wine, while Theod rolled his eyes in mock despair at
Zared, and conceded his squares on the board to his wife. “And with that, my love, you have won the
entire board!”
Gwendylyr grinned, and gathered up everyone’s gaming sticks. “Another game?”
“No!” the others chorused, holding up their hands in protest.
“I do not trust your witches skills,” Herme said, with a grin to take away any implied criticism in his
words.
“Well, perhaps we can play again this evening,” Leagh said. “I think we need time to plan our
strategies against you, Gwendylyr.”
“As you wish.” Gwendylyr was still smiling as she packed the sticks and board away. “It will but
delay the humiliation.”
“Gods!” Zared said. “Did she always get her way like this in your home, Theod?”
“Aye. It got so bad I used to actually enjoy going over the county accounts in the evening rather than
spend time with Gwendylyr.”
But Theod’s tone was light, and his eyes dancing, and none of the others doubted his love for his
wife.
Leagh sighed, and rose. “I must lie down for a while — I must admit this futile tussle against
Gwendylyr has exhausted me. Will you excuse me?”
Zared stood as well. “Let me come with you, Leagh.”
She smiled, and put a hand on his chest. “No. Let me rest a while in peace, and then perhaps you
and I can go for a walk in the orchards. I can amaze you with my ability to climb the highest fruit trees in
search of the juiciest fruits.”
Zared opened his mouth to protest, then realised she was making fun of him. He smiled, very gently