Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

Between the staff and the still-invisible crimson enchantment about the girl, none of the

creepers dared move to within two paces of her.

They fell to their bellies, snarling and spitting, reaching out tentative fingers, then

snatching them back in pain as they encountered the spreading vibrations ( music) of the staff.

Behind the first ranks an immense sea of creepers and crawlers gathered—what had once been

men, women, children, and the Strike Force.

It was a ghastly sight. Zared, as Faraday and Theod, had thought that what they‘d seen

over past months had inured them to those who‘d been taken by the Demons, but never had they

seen this mass of undulating madness, and stench, and sores, and the sickening, sickening waste

of lives and hopes. But they forced themselves to watch. These were people, subjects, friends,

and, in one case, a wife and sons that made up this dark sea.

Leagh watched, not with horror, but with an immense sense of sadness. She could

remember something of the dementia that had seized her mind and soul, and to see this many,

this twenty thousand…

She wept for pity; the others wept with the horror.

It took hours for the twenty thousand to gather. In the lightening sky just before dawn, the

watchers at the cave mouth could see that the entire grassy space had filled and, beyond that,

ravines and gullies awash with people writhing in the dirt, reaching out hands, rolling eyes, and

wailing, wailing, wailing.

During all this time, Katie continued to sing, and Drago to stand immobile behind her.

The feathered lizard, while it had spent the first two hours on the ground by Drago‘s side,

had eventually raised itself to pace back and forth, back and forth before Katie, in case any of the

creepers overcame their horror at the vibrating song of the staff.

―Zared,‖ Faraday said, and found her throat was so dry her voice was harsh and almost

unintelligible. She cleared her throat. ―Zared, Theod. You must now go inside the cave. Dawn

draws nigh, and Mot will spread his vaporous hunger within minutes. Go.‖

―But Leagh—‖ Zared began.

―She will be well,‖ Faraday said. ―Their ravages cannot harm her now. Go!‖

Zared looked once more at Leagh, but she gave him an impatient shove, and so Zared

took an equally reluctant Theod back inside the cave‘s shade.

Far to the east, Mot reined in his black mount, tipped back his head, and stretched his

mouth wide. Hunger filled the land.

Faraday looked to the east, and saw the pink glow of dawn stain the mountain peaks.

Then, just as the pink intensified into red, the light was clouded by the thickening grey

miasma of Mot‘s hunger. Faraday could feel the familiar foul nibbles of the Demon at the edges

of her mind, and she took Leagh‘s hand to reassure her.

―It is horrible,‖ Leagh whispered. ―I can feel him poking and prodding.‖

―He cannot enter, not now,‖ Faraday said, and raised her eyes again to the befouled dawn

light, ―but he can still corrupt the land easily enough.‖

Mot had kicked his mount forward once his hunger had gushed forth, but now he pulled it

to a halt again.

―Another,‖ he said, his lips curling back from his teeth. ― Another resists! How? How?

How?‖

The two magicians, the two unknown magicians, were never far from the Demons‘

minds. Now another had joined their ranks.

Several paces back, tied at his wrists by a short rope leading from the tail of

StarLaughter‘s mount, WolfStar grinned.

―It is the StarSon,‖ he said, hoping his taunt was truth. Caelum was all they had left now!

―Moving against you. Caelum. Remember the name, for it will be your nemesis.‖

―Fool!‖ Mot hissed, and WolfStar doubled over in agony, but not before he‘d heard the

fear in Mot‘s voice.

It was all that enabled him to survive, for as the Qeteb-man had spent himself inside

Niah, so Mot had taken his lengthy pleasure with WolfStar.

Something out the corner of one of Faraday‘s eyes caught her attention and she turned

slightly.

―Drago!‖ she screamed without thought. ― Drago! ‖

Startled, Drago twisted about and looked at Faraday and stared, stunned.

She was pointing to a hilltop in the south-east, but Drago could not tear his eyes away

from her. In Faraday‘s excitement, her crimson cloak had fallen open and now flew back from

her shoulders in the wind, tangling with the long tresses of her heavy chestnut hair.

Underneath the crimson cloak Drago saw that Faraday had finally abandoned the

rough-woven peasant dress and boots. Instead she wore a white linen robe, startling in its

simplicity, that fell in a deep vee from her shoulders to a plain leather belt about her waist (in

which, he noted, was stuck the arrow he‘d shot earlier), then in thick folds of drapery to her feet,

now clad in light leather shoes elegant enough for the most discerning of queens.

Drago slowly ran his eyes back up her body to her face. It was alive with excitement, her

green eyes sparkling, her mouth slightly open, tendrils of hair drifting across forehead and

cheeks. He had never, never, imagined she could be this lovely, this magical.

How could his father have ever treated her as he had?

―Drago!‖ Faraday shouted again, her finger stabbing impatiently at the hilltop.

Slowly, reluctantly, Drago swung his eyes about…and stopped, even more stunned than

he had been at the sight of Faraday.

At the top of the hill reared Belaguez. Stars foamed about his head and neck, and

streamed in a great banner from his tail. The stallion screamed, reaching for the sky with

plunging hooves, and the faintest remnant of pink dawn light caught his body, turning the Star

Stallion red, and his mane and tail into raging flames.

―It is time,‖ Drago said, and made a curt, sweeping gesture before him, like a scythe

mowing sweet spring meadow grass.

With that motion he cut the supports of the enchantment. A gossamer web fell slowly,

inevitably, surely from the sky, trapping the entire twenty thousand under its enchanted light.

Above, the stallion dropped to all four hooves, stared, and then disappeared down the far

side of the hill.

63

The Fields of Resurrection…and the Streets of Death

―Leagh! Faraday! Will you join me? Bring the blankets.‖

The women picked up the blankets where they‘d laid them on the ground, reassured

Zared and Theod who paced about agitatedly just inside the cave mouth, and began a careful

descent of the hill. Every now and then they would pause and survey the scene before them. It

was light now, and the mass of creepers were clearly revealed.

All of them lay still and silent under the enchantment, although eyes still rolled, and

occasionally a hand or shoulder twitched. The net lay over them like a glowing silvery haze, its

delicate strands barely visible.

As they neared the foot of the hill, Drago held out a hand to aid them the final pace or

two.

―Leagh?‖ he asked, his eyes concerned. ―How do you feel?‖

―Tired,‖ she said, ―but not too tired. What do you need us to do?‖

―Would you know Gwendylyr if you saw her?‖

―Yes. She and I played as children, and I stood at her side when she married Theod.‖

Drago nodded. ―Good. Faraday, do you know DareWing?‖

She hesitated. ―It has been many years. I knew him as a Crest-Leader when I was,‖ she

dropped her eyes, ―with your father at Carlon.‖

Faraday paused, then looked up at Drago through half-lowered lashes. ―But I think I

would know him again.‖

Drago stared at her, then collected himself. ―Good. We need to search for the three that I

can bring back, and separate them from the others.‖

―There is no need to ‗search‘,‖ Faraday said, ―for are they not lost? I will lead you

straight to them.‖

―Then why didn‘t you say so in the first place?‖ Drago said, angry that she had allowed

the conversation to drift on long enough so that she could again mention the time she‘d spent in

his father‘s bed.

―You were too busy organising!‖ Faraday snapped, and then took a deep breath as Leagh

stared at her incredulously.

―I am sorry,‖ Faraday said. ―It has been a bad night.‖

Drago gave a curt nod, accepting her apology. ―Then find them.‖

Herme stood at a safe distance from the rosy dawn light spilling in the window in his

chamber and fidgeted.

Something was not right.

Naturally, little had been ―right‖ for months, but today the ―feel‖ of something else not

right was very, very strong.

―Ah!‖ he said, and turned from the view. ―Guard!‖

The door opened and a well-armed and armoured guard entered.

―Fetch Captain Gustus.‖

The guard nodded, and closed the door behind him. Within five minutes Gustus, captain

of Zared‘s home guard, entered the room and saluted.

―Gustus.‖ Herme indicated the barely touched breakfast table. ―Have you eaten?‖