Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

blinked away the stinging tears in his eyes. ―Herme? Herme?‖

―Who…?‖ There came the sound of coughing, and then Herme materialised out of the

smoke. His face was smudged and lined with sweat. His scabbard was empty, but his hands were

swordless. ―Drago? Is that you?‖

―Yes. What is happening?‖

Herme opened his mouth, waved a hand helplessly, and had to obviously battle tears

before he found the strength to speak. ―Rodents swarmed from the sewers. Gods, millions of

them. They attacked nothing but children, for the gods‘ sakes! Our weapons were useless against them. Too many. Too small. People fled to attics and high rooms, and some set fire to their

stairwells to prevent the rodents following…soon…soon…‖

―Where are we?‖

―Where?‖ Herme looked puzzled, then his face cleared as he realised no-one could see

where they were. ―We‘re in the guard room of the palace. Your palace, sire,‖ Herme added,

belatedly catching sight of Zared and the others. ―Gwendylyr, is that you? And Goldman?‖

They nodded, but did not speak as Drago carried on. ―How bad are the fires?‖

Herme smiled darkly. ― Bad. The palace, and the two or three streets surrounding it, has

not yet caught afire. This heat and smoke is from the rest of the city.‖

―And the people?‖

―Burning.‖

Drago stared at him, then he spun on his heel, stared into the dense smoke, and gave a

piercing whistle.

He waited.

Herme shifted from foot to foot, looked at Zared, who, while he was tense, just indicated

Drago with his head and gave a small reassuring nod. He had his arm about Leagh, making sure

she kept the hood of her cloak tight about her face to block out as much smoke as possible.

There was a sharp bark in the distance, then another much closer, and the next instant

ivory shapes materialised out of the smoke. Sicarius rushed forward and greeted Drago

ecstatically, his paws on the man‘s shoulders, licking his face.

Drago quickly pushed him down, but he had to restrain a grin.

As the hounds milled about, one of the cats appeared, two mice hanging lifeless from its

mouth. Another cat loomed from the haze, and then soon the room was milling with Alaunt and

cats, pushing through and rubbing up against legs indiscriminately in their joy at seeing Drago

back.

Drago started to say something, then choked on the thick smoke. ―Enough!‖ he muttered,

and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the small box of light.

While the others watched, Herme in utter amazement, Drago stretched it out into its full

size again.

―Spiredore!‖ he shouted, ―take this smoke and smother the damn Demons with it!‖

Leagh stared at him. ―Drago…are you sure? They will know that—‖

―They will know anyway,‖ he said. ―And I might as well make the knowing

uncomfortable for them.‖

And pray to every god in creation, he thought, that they do not know the who behind the

doing!

Within moments the room cleared of smoke, save for a thick tendril that the enchanted

doorway pulled from a nearby window into its depths.

Herme gave a final cough, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Behind him, Gustus and

Gwain, silent and unnoticed until now, stared in amazement at Drago.

―Do you have a map of the city handy?‖ Drago asked.

The TimeKeeper Demons were running their mounts at full speed across the northern

Plains of Tare. WolfStar was tied across the back of Rox‘s former mount, his hands and ankles

tied under its belly, his face dragging through the thick dust kicked up by passage of the black

beasts. The Qeteb-man sat his own mount easily, the Niah-woman before him. His thick hands

held on to her, running automatically up and down her body, kneading her soft flesh as they

went.

The smoke enveloped them without warning.

WolfStar did not immediately know what had gone wrong, for the presence of the smoke

made relatively little impact on his own problems breathing through the thick dust, but he jerked

as his mount faltered, and the Demons and StarLaughter cried out.

The Demons‘ cries were unintelligible, animalistic shrieks of rage and frustration, and

soon the black mounts were milling about in confusion.

Magic!

Enchantment!

Carlon!

Magicians! Magicians!

―What?‖ WolfStar heard StarLaughter cry out. ―What is happening?‖

There was a continuation of the enraged shrieks for a moment, then Mot roared an

answer.

―It is the StarSon! He thinks to frustrate us! Fool!‖

WolfStar, even consumed with his own struggle to find air to breathe, nevertheless

managed a triumphant—and relieved—grin to himself. He has frustrated you, you imp! he

thought.

But the next moment a tunnel of clear air appeared through the smoke, and the mounts

began their run southwards again.

―To Carlon!‖ Sheol shrieked. ―To Carlon!‖

And Qeteb.

Faraday ran across the bridge, ignoring its polite greeting, and started up the stairs to the

Overworld. Damn, how long was this going to take? It seemed that within minutes she was out

of breath, her legs and chest screaming in pain, but she gritted her teeth, clung to the railing and

literally hauled herself upwards. She had hours of this climb to look forward to.

What was happening in Carlon?

She paused, out of breath, and stood with her hands resting on her thighs, her head

hanging down, heaving in as much air as she could. Finally, she took a great breath, shook the

hair out of her eyes, and started back on the long climb.

―Damn you,‖ she whispered, and hit the railing in frustration. ―I need to get to the top!‖

And the next instant a breath of cold air ruffled her robe, and a shaft of weak sunlight

bathed her face.

She blinked, utterly astonished. How had she done that?

But there was no time for further thought, for here was WingRidge walking across the

grass towards her.

―My Lady Faraday?‖ he said. ―What do you here?‖

―Come to fetch you,‖ Faraday said. She looked about, paling a little as she saw what had

become of Fernbrake Lake, then noted that only a few Icarii were moving down the path towards

the stairwell.

―The Icarii have evacuated?‖ she asked.

WingRidge nodded.

―And the Avar?‖

―Isfrael claims he can protect them better.‖

Faraday‘s patience snapped and the words were out before she even thought. ― Has he

muddled his mind fucking deer arse? What does he think to do against the cursed Demons?‖

WingRidge stared, speechless. His perception of Faraday had just been stood on its head.

―Qeteb is only a soul away from seizing their minds forever,‖ Faraday said, still furiously

angry. ―And Isfrael just says he can protect them better? Ah!‖

She made a curt gesture of utter impatience and frustration, and WingRidge thought it

prudent to steer the conversation back to her original statement. ―You said you had come to fetch

me?‖

Faraday took a deep breath and calmed herself. Isfrael would have to wait…but what

would that wait cost the Avar?

―Drago needs you,‖ she said. ―In Carlon. Now. With as many of the Lake Guard as you

can muster.‖

―I have only a few score with me here,‖ WingRidge said. ―The rest are…are at the Maze

Gate.‖

―What are they doing there?‖ Faraday asked.

―Attending to its needs,‖ WingRidge said, ignoring Faraday‘s exasperated look. ―What

are we waiting for? How do we get to Carlon?‖

―First,‖ Faraday said, ―we have to get down those stairs again.‖

The floor of the room vibrated gently, and Drago strode over to the window as Gustus

rummaged about in a drawer for a map.

What he saw through the flames and smoke rising from the city made him grip the

windowsill in support. The waters of Grail Lake were now so shallow that he could clearly see

the Maze in their depths.

And the Maze was rising. Slowly, but inevitably. It had been waiting tens of thousands of

years for this moment.

Drago raised his eyes slightly. Spiredore stood apparently serene and unconcerned by the

growing conflagration over the Lake.

And unapproachable.

There was no way anyone could cross the Lake now, and time had run out for the people

of Carlon to be gathered in some square for a dash through the army outside.

Drago turned back into the room, and glanced at the rectangle of light. Smoke was still

filtering through a far window and through the doorway. Not only had the room cleared of

smoke, but a large portion of Carlon as well.

It was time to give the doorway something else to do.

―What we will do,‖ he said, ―is to get the people of Carlon through this doorway. It will

take them via Spiredore to Sanctuary.‖

―So all we have to do,‖ Herme said in a voice heavy with sarcasm, ―is get all the people

of Carlon out of their burning homes and into this room, and then everything will just be wonderful.‖

―Herme,‖ Zared said warningly, but he, too, looked at Drago with raised eyebrows.