Some back door that they can escape from.”
“But we must help!” StarLaughter cried, sitting up straight and turning a frantic face to stare at
DragonStar. “I must do something! WolfStar must get out! We must —”
“Stars damn it, StarLaughter! You’ve spent thousands of years plotting his death. Now that it might
be imminent, I find it hard to believe that you’re in a panic that his death might actually be accomplished!”
StarLaughter drew completely away from him, her face frozen.
DragonStar reached out a hand. “StarLaughter, forgive me. I have a great deal on my mind.”
Slowly, reluctantly, she took his hand. “I had hoped you would support me,” she said, and turned
her face aside.
“StarLaughter, I honestly will do nothing to stand in your way. Indeed, I wish you the best. You and
WolfStar make the perfect couple. I just find it so hard to believe that hate can turn so quickly,” and so
completely, he thought, “to love.”
StarLaughter relaxed and smiled prettily. “Oh, DragonStar, you just do not understand love. It takes
many twists and turns until it reaches its home.”
And to that DragonStar had nothing to say, although he smiled wryly.
After a while, and after some more desultory conversation, StarLaughter moved off, no doubt
to plan her single-handed rescue of WolfStar from Sanctuary, and DragonStar also stood up.
The view of dawn breaking far to the east had been entirely spoilt for him.
The Strike Force were waiting in the lower corridors of Star Finger, and DragonStar spent almost
two hours talking quietly but intently with them. Eventually, in groups of three Wing each, the members of
the Strike Force rose like silver into the air above the wasteland and sped off in four different directions.
By mid-morning Faraday sheltered in a huddle of rubble that had, she thought, once been a customs post
on the road into Carlon. It had been a substantial stone building of some three or four rooms, and its
destruction at the hands of some demonic band of creatures had left a goodly pile of stone for her to hide
within. Indeed, part of the rubble formed its own gloomy cave, and all Faraday was surprised about was
that it hadn’t already been occupied by some family of maniacal hogs, or rats, or perhaps even
cannibalistic hens.
Instead, it was surprisingly clean and even partly warm, as it was a haven from the wind, although
the floor was rough, and no matter how Faraday shifted, she could not find a comfortable spot.
Finally, Faraday rose. It was time to look out on the Maze.
It was … frightening. She remembered when she’d walked past this area with Zenith in the
shadow-lands, but even the horror of that vision could not compete with the actuality.
The Maze enveloped what had once been Grail Lake, as well as the blackened ruins of Carlon.
But it was now sending tentacles of twisted corridors and dead-end walks out into the
surrounding landscape. Mother! Were the Demons planning on turning the entire wasteland into a
Maze? Or was this some demented plan of the long-dead Enemy?
Faraday’s pile of rubble was on a small hillock that commanded a crossroads linking
Romsdale, Avonsdale and
Carlon. The perfect site for a customs post, but also a perfect site for observing what went on within the
Maze.
It writhed with activity. There were … gods! there must be billions of creatures seething
through its twisted veins! The Maze’s walls sheltered a mass of life so dense that Faraday could
hardly pick out individual creatures. She was up high and perhaps half a league from the Maze, but even
so the mass within the Maze seemed unusually coherent.
Almost… coagulated.
“Oh, gods!” Faraday whispered as she realised what the Demons had made of the Maze. It
was now the gigantic heart of the wasteland and within it seethed a black blood composed of the
billions of creatures that swayed to the call of the Demons.
At any moment it would pump those creatures out into the wasteland.
Even as she watched, the Maze appeared to give a perceptible heave, and from four gates
flowed four streams of dark, writhing evil.
One of the streams headed directly for her.
Of all the five witches, DareWing and Goldman had the most salubrious surroundings. They found
Cauldron Lake almost untouched by the destruction and malevolence that had wasted most of
Tencendor. The gold and crystal forest stood virtually unscathed, although some of the outer rings of
trees had fallen over and shattered as the forests surrounding it had burned to ash, but, most
importantly, Cauldron Keep still stood.
As comforting and as welcoming as it always had been for those it loved.
As DareWing and Goldman walked in, the lizard only a half-step behind, they found a fire burning in
a central hearth, two beds made up with feather pillows and deep quilts, rugs spread between deep
armchairs and chaise longues, and a general air of welcome for all three.
The Keep had laid a magnificent table: smoked hams, fresh vegetables and herbs, eight different
cheeses, five loaves of breads, cakes, buns, biscuits, honey, fruit and steaming tea, and a bowl of food
for the lizard set close to the fire.
Goldman rubbed his hands, and sat down at the table.
DareWing just stood and stared.
Gwendylyr, ever practical, merely sighed as she surveyed the destruction of the Lake of Life and Sigholt.
The destruction of Sigholt had been so well managed that, unlike Faraday, there was not even a pile of
rubble suitable for a sheltering spot.
Gwendylyr looked about. The Lake seethed and bubbled with pestilence — it literally stank of the
Demons — and could offer no succour.
Sigholt’s sad remains were of no use.
She turned and studied the Urqhart Hills. Ah … there! A stream-bed led down through a
narrow gully to what had once been a moat. Gwendylyr frowned, trying to remember the old stories of
the days when Axis had battled Gorgrael. Hadn’t Belial once managed to unblock an old spring in a cave
nearby? The lines of Gwendylyr’s forehead deepened as she dredged back through all her memories …
that gully extended into the hills about half a league, and then should end in the cave.
Smiling with satisfaction, Gwendylyr picked up her skirts and moved up the gully, stepping
daintily over fallen rocks and crevices as she went. Whatever state she found the cave in Gwendylyr
knew she could make it do.
Physically and mentally exhausted, Leagh sank against the stump of a tree just below the ridge of the
crater surrounding Fernbrake Lake … or what had once been a lake.
Now it was a desiccated garden, a maddened, swirling combination of rose thorns and wind topping
the small hillock in its centre.
Leagh lifted a hand to wipe a tear from her face, and found it was shaking.
Quickly she clenched it and let it sink to the earth. She closed her eyes, then opened them again
almost instantly, still seeing Qeteb striding towards her.
Better the view of this desecration than the memory of Qeteb.
But instead of Qeteb, Leagh saw something step out of the bloodied rose wind atop the hillock.
It was one of the Demons. Sheol, for it had a female form.
And another … Leagh frowned. Another female? Oh gods! It was Niah, but a Niah
indisputably a Demon. DragonStar had been right then. Qeteb had indeed infused the Niah-woman
with Rox’s soul.
Two more Demons stepped out of the twisting thorns, and then one more.
Qeteb.
Leagh shrank as close as she could to the earth, wriggling slightly further behind the tree stump.
Qeteb turned his visored face in her direction, and Leagh felt, if not saw, his malicious grin.
Tremble not, sweet thing, a voice whispered in her head, for I have other and better prey to
occupy me for the moment. But fear not either, for I have not forgotten you. Others will be along
to attend you shortly.
His laughter rang out, threatening to overwhelm Leagh, and she twisted away, jamming fingers in her
ears and screwing her eyes shut.
When Leagh finally found the courage to open her eyes again, she saw Sheol, the last of the Demons
now above ground, step into the hole that led to the stairwell to Sanctuary.
“I pray to every god in every existence,” Leagh whispered, “that you have found a way out of there,
Axis.”
Chapter 38
Sanctuary No More
Through the night and into the morning Axis rode Sal through the frantic preparations, sometimes
stopping to murmur encouragement, other times to help lift provisions into a cart. And always he kept
turning his eyes to the sky.
In the end, it was the woman he was helping to settle her children into an already crowded cart that
suddenly exclaimed and pointed upwards.
Axis jerked his eyes skyward.
Emerald cracks were zigzagging and wriggling their way from a point just off-centre across the entire