Crusader. Novel by Sara Douglass

destroy everything else, Gwendylyr, and if they control the power of the Enemy, then they will inevitably

get into the Field.”

Gwendylyr clung to Theod, burying her face in his chest, fearing the truth of his words, and totally

unable to speak.

Theod met Zared’s eyes over her head. They were as hard, as angry, as implacable as his own.

Of the entire group, only Goldman seemed at ease, bending down and ruffling the thick hair on

FortHeart’s head, and clucking to her as if she was a child.

The hound relaxed into his hand, seemingly grateful for the reassurance.

“What will you do?” Axis asked DragonStar.

DragonStar shrugged a little. “What I must. And you?”

Axis smiled slightly. “This place must have some other way out. I cannot believe the Enemy

built Sanctuary without a back door.”

A back door to where? To what? DragonStar wondered, but said nothing. He gripped Axis’ hand

and arm again, then let go.

“Goldman, girls … it is time we left.” And he adjusted the Wolven where it hung over his shoulder,

raised his sword, and drew the door of light.

“Come,” DragonStar said, “let us dare Spiredore one last time.”

Chapter 28

Destruction

The Mother sat on the bench outside Ur’s cottage and contemplated death. Even the mere

contemplation of Her utter annihilation seemed out of place, let alone the imminent reality of it.

The Mother knew She was about to die, but She simply couldn’t quite come to grips with

the concept. She represented the life and well-being of the land of Tencendor, and in the past, even

though wars and destruction had rained above and through the land, nothing had come close to harming

the land itself.

But now Tencendor lay wasted and barren. The Earth Tree and the forests were gone, the Lakes

were dried up, all hope and love had been consumed and translated into the despicable.

All that was left was here, and the Mother knew that this, too, would shortly be gone.

She could hear the Demons hunting through the glades and forests of the Sacred Groves.

The noise was appalling. Trees screamed and tore themselves up by the roots in an attempt to get

away from the Demons. The Horned Ones bellowed and roared …

… and fell, one by one, as the Demons ate them alive and absorbed their power.

The Mother winced every time another was consumed, for She could feel the teeth slice into Her

own flesh as Demon fangs tore into the Horned One.

There was a whistling and a screaming in the air: the sound of Death approaching. The sky was being

torn apart, the earth destroyed, and the Mother put Her hands over Her face and wept.

Isfrael crouched, one arm flung over his head.

He wept and bellowed at the same time as both fury and fright coursed through him.

Everything he had ever loved was being destroyed about him.

The corpse of a Horned One lay torn apart not five paces from him, and a Demon —

Barzula, Isfrael thought — was tearing into it with the fangs and talons of a bear.

The Demon had, somewhat incongruously, chosen the body of a stag to go with the bear’s

teeth and claws … then again, Isfrael thought in some detached part of his mind, maybe the Demon

had chosen deliberately.

Now the Sacred Groves were being sacrificed, but for what, Isfrael wasn’t so sure. His own

stupidity? No! He had done only what he’d thought best, and there was still a possible way out.

“Filth,” Isfrael said, lowering the arm from his face, “I need to talk with you.”

Barzula stopped and raised his blood-soaked head. “I revel in filth, fool. You flatter me by your

ill-intentioned curse.”

Isfrael half-rose, meaning to further speak, but something seized him about the neck from behind,

and the Mage-King screamed in agony.

Claws sliced down to his spine, narrowly missing the throbbing arteries in either side of his

neck.

“Then speak,” a voice whispered behind him, and Isfrael whimpered through his pain, for he

recognised the voice of Qeteb.

“There is much still I can tell you,” Isfrael stammered. “Much information I can give you —”

“When I consume you,” Qeteb said, not only tightening his grip about Isfrael’s neck, but sinking the

claws of his other hand — Mother! What form had he assumed to inflict such agony? — into the

base of Isfrael’s spine, holding him so high in the air that Isfrael’s legs writhed a full pace above the

ground, “when I consume you then I consume all your knowledge and memories. Think that I need to

bargain with you?”

And he wriggled his claws in even deeper, and Isfrael felt such agony course through his body that

he gibbered, begging for death.

“I hold here the trees in my hands,” Qeteb said, “I hold here the Mage-King of the forests —”

His claws sunk deeper, deeper, and Isfrael screamed.

“— the life of the trees —”

Far away, tucked into the cellar of her cottage, Ur cackled with laughter. “Not yet, not yet,” she

whispered.

“— and the hope of the Avar,” Qeteb finished. “All … all …” his claws started to tighten and clench

within IsfraePs body, “at the tips of my fingers!”

And he clenched his claws as hard as he could, tearing Isfrael’s neck and lower spine

apart.

Beyond sound, Isfrael writhed about Qeteb’s hands, his face twisting, his eyes bulging, and …

… and Qeteb’s own eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open, for as Isfrael died, so indeed did

the Mage-King’s memories and knowledge pass into the Demon’s own understanding. Most of them

were trifling, concerned only with power and ambition (and these qualities Qeteb already had enough of

to last him through the next few hundred worlds he chose to ravage), but there was one thing, one

thing that made the Midday Demon caper about, howling and screaming with mirth, for this one

memory would be enough to completely destroy the StarSon, even if the man’s witches did manage to

do well against the other five Demons. A memory that would aid Qeteb into a final victory.

A memory of Faraday and her role in the previous battle for supremacy within Tencendor.

The bait, the sacrifice, that which Gorgrael used in order to distract Axis away from his

purpose to annihilate the Destroyer.

It hadn’t worked, Axis was too single-minded, too selfish (not a flaw at all, under the

circumstances) to be distracted. Besides, he had truly loved Azhure, and was thus prepared to

watch Faraday die.

But DragonStar was another matter. Here was a man much too warm, and far too caring, to

let Faraday sacrifice herself again. He loved Faraday before any other, and he would sacrifice

Tencendor, and himself, rather than let her die again so alone and terrified.

DragonStar was not the man his father was.

“I have you!” Qeteb roared through the entire universe. “I have you, you weak-hearted

bastard!”

I have you, you weak-hearted bastard!

The words echoed through Spiredore, where DragonStar had just led his group.

I have you …

DragonStar’s head jerked up, and he halted halfway down a stair.

I have you …

“Pay no attention,” he muttered, but his voice was weak, and it trembled, and the other four with him

shuddered.

I have you…

DragonStar pointed down the blue-misted tunnel that appeared at the end of the stairwell.

“Here … we are here …”

He almost ran as he started down the tunnel, desperate to get away from Qeteb’s mocking laughter.

I have you…

Qeteb shook Isfrael’s corpse until it fell apart, and then the Demon’s form metamorphosed,

fluid and beautiful, changing into that of a gigantic black raven.

He cocked his head as if curious, his bright, beady eyes flitting about the clearing, then he

carefully placed one of his claws on Isfrael’s body, holding it firm, and dipped his beaked head and tore

into the flesh.

With each morsel of flesh and sliver of bone that slipped down his throat, Qeteb consumed yet more

of the power of the trees and the earth.

By the time the Demon had devoured the entire bloody mess his feathers were iridescent with

power, and the raven tipped back its head and cackled with happiness.

Nothing would stand in its way now.

Nothing.

Not even the Mother.

The raven snapped shut its beak and cocked its head, thinking. Its eyes blinked rapidly.

The Mother. Another meal sat waiting ahead! The raven burped, then flapped its wings and rose into

the air. As it did so it crowed, calling to the other four Demons.

They lifted their snouts from the dead flesh they’d been consuming and looked to the black

shadow circling in the air. Then, as one, they loped to the east, where waited the final meal.

Urbeth snarled, and paced restlessly in a circle through the snow. Behind her, shore-bound icebergs