Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

―You were hardly innocent, StarLaughter. You lusted for power as much as I.‖

―Our son was innocent, and yet you murdered him,‖ StarLaughter whispered. ―Two

hundred and more you sent to the grave to garner yet more power for yourself. Never think to

judge me for what you would have done yourself had you the chance!‖

―Our son was corrupted with your blood from the moment he was conceived. Stars only

know if I was the father, or if any one of the dozens of birdmen you coupled with behind my

back planted him in you.‖

StarLaughter shrieked with rage. ―I lay with no-one but you! And Stars only know my

experience of love at your hands was enough to dissuade me from anyone else‘s bed!‖

WolfStar tensed, and his eyes blazed. Had he ever loved this woman? No! How could he

have done!

―Your frigid character mirrored itself in your performance in bed,‖ he said. ―I sighed with

relief when you said you were pregnant. I would as soon lie with a corpse as with you.‖

It was too much; all StarLaughter could think of was that he‘d murdered her, and then

betrayed her with another. Her face contorted with loathing, she summoned every last skerrick of

power the Demons had given her and threw it all at WolfStar.

He gasped, and collapsed to one knee, doubling about the crippling agony that had but a

moment ago been his belly.

―And so I suffered,‖ she hissed, ―giving birth to your son in the lifeless wastes beyond the

Star Gate!‖

―Is that the best you can do?‖ he rasped, raising his face to her. ―The best? I would have

expected more from—‖

She strode the distance between them to kick him under the throat, but in the instant

before her foot struck home WolfStar seized it and pulled her down by his side. In one furious

movement he straddled her back, burying one hand in her hair and pushing her face into the

earth.

―In the dirt, StarLaughter,‖ he said. ―In the dirt, where you belong! I curse the day I ever took you as my wife. I curse the day I ever took you to my bed. I curse the day I—‖

―For our part, WolfStar SunSoar,‖ a voice thin with hunger said behind him, ―we are

truly grateful you did all the aforementioned. Your son has proved a boon to us.‖

WolfStar gave StarLaughter‘s head a sickening wrench, then he leaped to his feet and

turned about in the same graceful movement.

He stared at the emaciated man standing before him, knowing instinctively who—and

what—he was.

―Demon,‖ he said, his voice flat, ―get you gone from this land!‖

―Never!‖ a woman‘s voice said merrily, and Sheol stepped forth, Raspu just behind her.

―It feeds us too well, songless Enchanter, for us to ever want to leave.‖

―It is not your land,‖ WolfStar said, hiding the revulsion that filled him.

―All lands that feed us are ours,‖ Sheol said, gliding forward and circling WolfStar so

close he could feel the graze of her robe against his skin. ―But more to the point, has not this land

of yours harboured what was stolen from us so long ago? You, and every sentient being as well

as half-conscious beast that walks or crawls this land, is as much accomplice to the harm that

was done us as those who brought our brother here.‖

―Then take him…and go.‖

―Nay, good birdman.‖ Sheol had stopped her inspection, and now stood close beside him,

a hand lightly resting on his belly. WolfStar had to fight the shudder of revulsion that threatened

to ripple through him.

―Nay,‖ she repeated in a whisper. ―We think we like this land. We have travelled

homeless and rootless too long. This,‖ she stamped her foot lightly, ―will become our paradise.

And you…‖ her hand rubbed slightly, and WolfStar turned his head away, his jaw tightening,

―shall become our plaything.‖

―He dies!‖ StarLaughter shouted. ―You promised me he would die!‖

Sheol pressed the length of her body against WolfStar‘s, and what he could feel roiling

beneath her robe finally made his body quiver with disgust.

―There are many ways of dying,‖ Sheol whispered, and her hand suddenly shot down, her

fingers tightening like talons about his genitals, ―and many states of death.‖

WolfStar screamed, doubling over, and Sheol let go her grip as he tumbled to the ground.

―Where is the girl-child you have filled with our property?‖ she asked tonelessly.

―Find her yourself, bitch!‖ WolfStar gasped.

Sheol half-smiled and she turned her head to Raspu. ―My brother,‖ she said, her voice

almost gurgling out of her throat, ―it seems WolfStar needs some persuasion.‖

She stepped back, taking StarLaughter by the arm and pulling her away as well. ―Watch,‖

she said in the birdwoman‘s ear, ―as your murderer gets a fraction of what he has dealt out.‖

WolfStar blinked away the tears of agony in his eyes, and looked towards Raspu.

The Demon stepped forward, stopped, then tore the robe from his body. It was a mass of

compacted sores, running with whatever pestilence Raspu had chosen to wear that day.

―You berate StarLaughter for her coldness amid the act of love,‖ Raspu said, his voice far

worse than Sheol‘s as it bubbled up through his throat from pus-filled lungs, ―and yet I do not

think you can possibly know the true coldness of love. Get to your knees, WolfStar, and then

bend over, your face in the dirt.‖

― No! ‖

Raspu roared with laughter. ―Do as I say, birdman!‖

Power girdled WolfStar, and suddenly he was lifted up, thrown to his knees, doubled

over, and his face pressed so far into dirt he began to choke on it.

Then, worse of all, he felt the presence of Raspu behind him, felt the Demon drop to his

knees behind him, felt glacial hands tearing his breeches to shreds, and then felt the icy coldness

of pure pestilent desire worm and shove its frightful way into his body.

WolfStar convulsed with horror, trying to struggle free from the rape being visited on

him, but Raspu‘s power was too strong. WolfStar screamed, and then screamed again, inhaling

dirt deep into his lungs as what felt like blunt frozen steel impaled his body, plunging deeper and

deeper, until it felt as if the contents of his entire abdomen had succumbed to the invasion and

were being clubbed into pulp.

―Tell us where the girl-child is!‖ he heard Sheol‘s voice scream from somewhere very far

away, but WolfStar did not answer, could not answer, and he did not know what was worse, the

feel of Raspu‘s horror punching and pummelling its way through his body, or the sound of

StarLaughter howling with merriment.

―How does it feel, beloved husband?‖ she shouted from somewhere very far above him.

―Do you now understand why I did not writhe with enjoyment every time you penetrated me?‖

Tell us where the girl-child is! Sheol‘s insistent voice screamed in his mind, but still

WolfStar could not speak. His hands groped blindly before him, and his face scored through the

earth again and again as Raspu pushed home his rape with frightful eagerness.

Then the Demon screamed himself, and jerked about like a marionette, and WolfStar felt

pestilence bubble forth and boil through his body, searing through him until its caustic effluent bubbled up through his lungs and throat and he choked on the foulness, dribbling it through his

clenched teeth and down his chin.

Where is the girl-child?

One of WolfStar‘s hands, seemingly of its own will, clawed through the dirt until it lifted

and pointed, quivering as if in the final extremities of the shaking sickness, towards a group of

bushes on the eastern side of the glade.

―Very good,‖ said Raspu, standing and re-robing himself in an unsullied garment with a

wave of his hand. ―Shall we fetch her?‖

StarLaughter stared at the immobile and expressionless girl and loathed her. This, this, is

what WolfStar preferred to her?

―As WolfStar, so her,‖ Raspu whispered in her ear.

StarLaughter looked at him. His cheeks were still flushed, and his breath trembled with

expectation.

―But far, far worse,‖ he said, and StarLaughter smiled.

She turned a little further, and there was WolfStar, crouched behind her, his face ghastly

wan and still wracked with pain, his eyes deep with hate, his naked body bruised, bloody and still

smeared with Raspu‘s attentions.

A thick leather collar had sunk deep into the flesh of his throat, and a golden chain ran

from it to StarLaughter‘s hand. She had not realised revenge could ever feel this good, and she

glowed with love for her companions.

Later, perhaps, Mot could assuage his hunger upon WolfStar, and then Barzula could

plummet his tempest deep into her husband. StarLaughter smiled with pure coldness, and sent

her thoughts and images spearing into WolfStar‘s mind.

He quivered, but whether with hate or fear she could not tell.

I hope it is fear, earth-creeper, she whispered into his mind, for you shall have much to

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