The arrow exploded into a firestorm. It hailed down a rain of molten lead droplets that ate into
Barzula’s body until it sizzled and smoked.
The woman smiled, although her eyes were now sad and compassionate.
The hail of molten lead became worse, and from somewhere, and despite the noose about his neck,
Barzula screamed.
It was the final sound he made. His entire body was now smouldering, the lead eating into his flesh,
and within moments he began to disintegrate.
Lumps of flesh fell to the wooden platform where, as with Mot, they sizzled before disappearing.
More flesh fell, and now, that which hung suspended from the noose was not recognisable as
humanoid, but only as a clump of burning meat.
Soon, it, too, fell to the platform, sizzled, and was gone.
The arrow fell into the woman’s hand, and as had the emaciated man, she returned it to DragonStar,
solemnly thanking him.
And, then, to Sheol.
The woman with the child stepped forth and said: “When you and yours broke through the Star
Gate into this beautiful land, I was hanging out my washing. Despair overwhelmed me, and caused
me to consider my toddling child’s future life. I thought that she would only suffer, perhaps at the hands of
an abusive husband, and so I lifted her up and twisted the washing line about her neck, strangling her unto
death.”
The woman paused, and sobbed, a hand to her mouth. “I killed my own daughter. Now you
shall know your own time!”
Again the arrow sprang, slithering into movement and climbing to the top of the scaffold.
And the entire scaffold changed …
… into a washing line strung between two forked poles.
The rope around Sheol’s neck hauled her upward, upward, upward until it twisted among the rope
of the washing line, and this time the Demon did strangle, her face and eyes bulging as the washing line
tightened, tightened, tightened about her neck.
Sheol despaired.
Somehow she managed to extend a hand to DragonStar, her bulging eyes pleading, but his face was
implacable, and Sheol dropped her hand.
Strands of rope ravelled down from the line, twisting themselves about Sheol’s entire body
until she was encased in tightening coils of rope.
They squeezed.
Blood and slivers of flesh oozed out from between the coils of rope.
The woman, unperturbed, leaned down and unwound her own washing line from about her
child’s neck, and then she lifted the child up, and the child smiled, and flung her arms about her mother’s
neck.
Sheol fell apart. Again, as with Barzula, flesh and blood dropped to the platform, sizzling and
disappearing.
Eventually there was nothing left to squeeze, and the ropes themselves dropped to the platform and
disappeared.
The arrow fell down, caught this time by the child, and she and her mother returned it to DragonStar.
The woman had tears of joy running down her face. “We thank you,” she said as she handed back
the arrow.
DragonStar also wept, for he had lived with the guilt of this child’s death for a very long time, and he
accepted the arrow and slid it home with its companions.
As one, the crowd lowered their hands and turned their faces to DragonStar?
And us? And us?
DragonStar turned to the old man, who had been sitting quietly in the driver’s seat of the cart. The
man sighed, and climbed down.
As he did so, he transformed … into the Butler.
DragonStar grinned, and said to the crowd: “I think you will find that the Butler, efficient accountant
that he is, has each and every one of your names in his account book. Present yourself to him and he will
tick off your name, make his accounting, and show you through the gate into the garden. There, you will
rest amid the flowers.”
The woman with the child, who was still standing at DragonStar’s knee, spoke for the entire crowd.
“Thank you,” she said again, but with such joy that DragonStar had to fight back more tears.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 69
Light and Love
Qeteb slogged his way through the ploughed field, cursing and grunting. He had to be able to get out
of here somehow. After all, wasn’t he destined to win? Hadn’t his Demons won out
against DragonStar’s pitiful witches, three against two?
That he was still in the Maze, Qeteb had no doubt. The ridges and furrows of the ploughed
earth did not run even or straight. Instead they formed twists and conundrums, and Qeteb knew that if
only he could find his way through the puzzle of the field, he would win his freedom.
For his companions he cared naught. They had served their usefulness — nay! They had become a
liability, and Qeteb was glad to be rid of them.
No doubt they were already writhing on the end of the pretty StarSon’s sword.
Well, there they could stay for all Qeteb cared. He could exist without them, whereas they were
nothing without him.
He grinned, and slogged on, dragging each foot up from the earth before sinking it down again.
His grin faded. Damn this!
The clamour of hounds sounded again, this time much closer, and Qeteb stopped and swung his
head around, his eyes staring.
Far distant, far, far distant, he thought he could see a horse and rider.
The Hunter coursed, his stallion dancing over the earth, his hounds streaming out behind him.
He was his mother’s son.
Behind the hounds ambled a bear cub, its mouth gaping in a cheerful grin.
And behind man and stallion and hounds and bear cub streamed millions upon millions of
flowers, erupting from the sterile earth, waving their beauty into sun and wind.
Qeteb turned away, preparing to run — if he could, in this damn mud — and was stunned into
immobility.
Before him stood a beautiful man with curly black hair and dark blue eyes, his face awash with pity
and love. At his back, her hands resting on the man’s shoulders, stood a woman with bright curly golden
hair, and an expression of peace and contentment upon her lovely face.
Qeteb tried to back away, but the sticky earth clung to his feet and ankles, and he found he could
not move.
“You are trapped,” said Caelum.
“No! “Qeteb said. “No!”
“You shall not win,” said RiverStar, and she leaned close to Caelum and planted a soft kiss on his
neck, one of her hands rubbing caressingly up into his hair.
Her brother turned his face slightly, and smiled for her, then looked back to Qeteb.
“You cannot win,” he said. “Don’t you know that?”
“I won!” Qeteb shouted, his hands clenched into great fists at his sides. “DragonStar’s witches
failed!”
RiverStar laughed, soft and prettily and deep in her throat, and that sound drove Qeteb into rage.
“I won!” he screamed, trying to reach the pair and tear them apart. But the field would not
let him move, and Caelum and RiverStar stood maddeningly undamaged just two paces before
him.
“I won! I won! I won!”
“No,” said Caelum. “You did not. All of DragonStar’s witches won. Faraday won, for she
chose self-sacrifice rather than let a child she loved die.”
“But the child still died!”
“Nevertheless,” RiverStar said, her voice hard, “she won. She offered herself for Love.
Sheol had to let Faraday go for you to win.”
“And those two demented fools who rescued that cub? They were crushed to death, damn it!”
Caelum laughed. “Death means nothing,” he said, “for do not I and my sister stand here before you?”
“They also,” said RiverStar, “offered themselves for Love. They were prepared to lose the
confrontation rather than let the cub die. Mot and Barzula, on the other hand, preferred to
sacrifice Love. They lost. ”
“All DragonStar’s witches won,” Caelum said. “Your fate is assured.”
And then he turned and gathered RiverStar into his arms, and kissed her, and then they both faded
from view as Qeteb roared and screamed and bellowed.
No! It could not be!
He turned again, vaguely hoping that somewhere behind him he would see his five companions riding
to his rescue — where were they when he needed them? — but there was nothing but the ploughed field,
and the much, much closer horse and rider.
The clamour of hounds rose up about his ears.
Qeteb set his back to the Hunter, his eyes jerking at the confusing patterns in the plough lines before
him, and the field allowed the Midday Demon to continue his hopeless slog through its clinging earth.
DragonStar raised himself in his saddle and screamed. The Wolven was now slung over
his back. He drew forth the lily sword and thrust it into the sky.
At his signal, the Alaunt surged forward, past Hunter and Star Stallion, and towards the
distant figure struggling through the field.
The Hunt was on!
Qeteb turned once more —
— always turning, turning, turning, lost and confused in the