Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

guilty. As for StarDrifter, he felt as if Zenith might flinch every time he so much as glanced at

her.

―They are there,‖ he said quietly. He looked beyond the screen of trees and across the

Lake.

―Where? I cannot see them!‖

StarDrifter hesitated, then pointed. ―There. Between the holyoak and the whalebone tree.

Do you see?‖

She stared, then nodded.

―And you, Isfrael?‖

Isfrael stood with them, his entire body rigid with fury. News had been brought to him

but an hour previously of the corpses found in the glade where WolfStar had been kept. Isfrael

did not know if the Enchanter had gone with the Demons willingly, or if he had been

forced—more blood found on the ground suggested that more force had been required than

persuasion—but Isfrael did not care about the niceties of the difference. WolfStar was now with

the Demons, as was that half-dead but bewitched she-creature he had carried about with him, and

that, as well as the deaths of three good men, was all that mattered.

―And does the sight make you reconsider Drago‘s plea that you evacuate your people into

Sanctuary?‖ StarDrifter asked. StarDrifter could not understand Isfrael. The Mage-King accepted

that Drago was the StarSon, yet stubbornly resisted any suggestion that he send the Avar into

safety.

Isfrael did not reply, not even blinking as he stared at the dim dusk-cloaked forms on

their black creatures in the distance.

―Your magic could not stop them, Isfrael.‖ StarDrifter‘s voice had hardened. ―They

discarded it as if it were a wisp of a child‘s imagination. Would you condemn the Avar to death

for the sake of your pride?‖

―The forests—‖ Isfrael began.

―The forests will be burned to the ground when Qeteb rises,‖ StarDrifter hissed. ―I trust

that you will enjoy watching as your people roast for your stupidity!‖

Isfrael finally turned to his grandfather. ―I know what is best for my people,‖ he said.

―Cease your useless interfering!‖

StarDrifter‘s mouth hardened into a thin line. Curse Isfrael! He was as stubborn—and as

blind—as a braindamaged mule.

Beside them, Zenith‘s breath jerked in her throat. Both StarDrifter and Isfrael stared at

her, then turned to see where she looked.

―Oh dear sweet gods of creation,‖ Zenith whispered. ―It is WolfStar! What have they

done to him! ‖

StarDrifter‘s eyes jerked momentarily to Zenith‘s face. What was that emotion in her

voice? Horror? Or sympathy? Then he looked back to the scene before him.

The Demons advanced from treeline to water‘s edge with more than usual

circumspection. There was something odd, something different, in this place, but they could not

smell it or taste it or see it or hear it, and that made them very, very cautious.

Was there another trap of the Enemy‘s here? Another bridge to snatch at one of them?

Their jewel-bright eyes glowed, searching the landscape. The Demons studied the terrain

carefully, slowly, but their eyes did not linger when they passed over the line of trees that Drago

had created to screen the Icarii evacuation.

Slightly to one side of them, and closer to the hidden entrance to Sanctuary, StarLaughter

stood with WolfStar still collared and chained to her hand. The Enchanter crouched, as

motionless as StarLaughter‘s still occasionally cruel hand would allow, for every movement

ripped agony through him. He knew he‘d been cruelly injured by Raspu‘s rape; not only the rape

itself, but whatever essence the Demon had spurted into his body felt like it was eating away at

his entrails, and corroding his lungs.

Even breathing was torment.

WolfStar wondered if he would survive whatever Mot or Barzula chose to do to him, but

he wondered more whether Tencendor would survive what the Demons did with Niah. Was there

a chance he could yet get her away from them?

Just behind StarLaughter and WolfStar, completely motionless and vacant, stood the boy

and girl. Both were naked, their pale, gleaming pubescent bodies empty vessels for whatever

would fill them here, and StarLaughter, in either cruel jest or hopeful anticipation, had put them

hand in hand.

―Your son and your lover,‖ she said to WolfStar when she‘d done it. ―Will you allow

your son the pleasure of your lover? Will you smile indulgently when you watch them couple?‖

WolfStar had turned away, refusing to respond to her taunts.

Now Zenith dragged her eyes away from WolfStar‘s battered body to the girl beyond

him. ―Gods! It‘s Niah!‖ she cried. ―Oh dear gods, it‘s Niah!‖

Her hands were to her cheeks, her eyes huge. Everything about the scene before her filled

her with horror. Whether the sight of the Demons, or the bloodied and fouled WolfStar, or the

horrible, horrible sight of Niah resurrected when Zenith had been sure that she had disposed of her once and for all, Zenith could not cope with it all at once, and she turned away, leaning on a

tree for support.

As it was with Zenith, so with StarDrifter and Isfrael, although they did not have the

same depth of revulsion at the sight of Niah as she‘d had.

―That must be WolfStar‘s son,‖ Isfrael eventually said quietly, inclining his head towards

the boy.

―Qeteb half-reborn,‖ said StarDrifter, also taking pains to keep his voice low, although it

was apparent the enchantment shielded them from the Demon‘s eyes and ears. He glanced

behind him. The lines of the Icarii were thinning now. In the past few days most had managed to

find their way down to Sanctuary, and it was only the few who‘d had to come from outlying

areas that were now scurrying down the stairwell as fast as they could go.

He turned back to watch the Demons.

―How do we go down?‖ StarLaughter asked. She was impatient to see her son gain a little

more of Qeteb‘s life. The sooner he could wreak his own revenge on his father the better. And

the merrier! StarLaughter spared a glance in WolfStar‘s direction. She hoped the Enchanter

would survive to endure his full-grown son‘s hatred.

Sheol cut back on her temper. ―We have told you before we do not go down again. From

this point what we need comes up. ‖

The Demons had grown in power feasting on the souls of the living creatures of

Tencendor. They were nowhere near their full power, but they‘d glutted enough to pull what they

needed to them, rather than the other way around.

Movement. Movement lay below, waiting lustfully.

Sheol moved forward to the very edge of the Lake, the waters lapping her toes, then

seized the neckline of her robe in her hands, and ripped the cloth apart.

She threw the discarded halves to one size, and stood naked before the Lake the Avar

called the Mother.

StarLaughter stared amazed. Sheol had the form of a female dog. Only her head and arms

were vaguely human.

Sheol dropped to all fours, her arms in the water to the elbows, her hind legs resting on

the sand. Her body was thin and covered with a brindle pelt. A short tail stood erect, and between

her hind legs hung pendulous dugs, as if she‘d only recently nursed a litter of puppies.

StarLaughter‘s mouth curled in distaste. Couldn‘t Sheol have thought of a more

appropriate form?

Sheol growled, and hung her head down. Saliva dripped from her jaws in a grey foam,

reminiscent of the haze that issued forth from the Demons‘ mouths during their hours of feeding.

There was a rasping to one side, and StarLaughter tore her eyes away from Sheol.

Raspu. Panting, his eyes on Sheol‘s hindquarters, and StarLaughter‘s mouth curled even

further in distaste. Surely not!

In the next instant Raspu had torn away his own clothing, revealing a body also shaped

liked a dog‘s—a great muscled mastiff—but with the flexibility of a serpent, and then he was

down on all fours by Sheol‘s side, quivering and whining and drooling.

Another movement, and Mot and Barzula had also torn away their clothes, revealing

dog-like forms, and were prancing about in the shallows of the water, tipping their heads back to

howl at the new moon just risen above the trees.

Their heads lengthened and sharpened into serpent heads, their tongues forking in and

out, tasting the air.

―‘Tis not me who should be collared and chained,‖ WolfStar said behind StarLaughter,

and she turned and pulled viciously at the chain until he cried out and wept with agony.

―They are more faithful than you,‖ she spat. ―And dog-like yourself, with the morals of a

snake, it is no wonder you appeal to their lusts!‖

She pulled and twisted the chain again, and was rewarded with a howl of pain.

―Grovel, WolfStar!‖ she whispered. ― Grovel before me and I may yet grant you a speedy

death!‖

Only StarDrifter and Isfrael were now left to watch from the trees, their horror increasing

with every moment that passed. As Sheol had revealed her bitch-form, Zenith had stumbled

away, her hand to her mouth. WingRidge, who had been watching the three of them from the