―Of course not,‖ Barzula and Mot said as one.
―But it would be best to remove him now,‖ Barzula added. ―He has, as Sheol said, grown
to be an irritating nuisance. He has prevented us feeding.‖
―He has hidden our food!‖ Sheol said.
―No-one prevents us feeding,‖ Qeteb whispered, and strode to the door. As he passed
close to the column behind which WolfStar hid, the Enchanter risked another glance.
Qeteb‘s black armour rippled and moved as skin would, and his wings…his wings had
changed completely from golden to black, their feathers now dull metal plates.
The Midday Demon was made entirely of metal. No flesh, no feather—and certainly no
mortal weakness—remained.
The Demons hurried after their Great Father, Sheol seizing Niah by an arm as she passed.
Best to keep the automaton safe now that Qeteb had approved her.
For an instant, StarLaughter stared after the Demons, then she strode after them. ―Think
not to abandon me now,‖ she said.
Very carefully, WolfStar raised his head and looked about. Then, grimacing with pain, he
inched forwards.
71
The Hunt
Caelum strode through the maze. He wore no armour, just a simple linen shirt and dark
breeches. His black hair curled back from his brow, his face was composed, although pale.
―I hope to every star in the sky,‖ he whispered, ―that you make what I am about to do
worthwhile, brother.‖
There was no answer, not in words, but Caelum nevertheless felt DragonStar‘s presence,
and it comforted him.
As with the Demons‘ voyage, the Maze allowed Caelum a direct route towards the Dark
Tower. Walls twenty, sometimes thirty, paces high reared on either side of him, sometimes so
close his shoulders brushed against them, sometimes so wide it seemed to Caelum as if strode
through a stone…field.
Writhing, wriggling symbols covered all the walls. If Caelum had felt the urge to read
them he would have found the task impossible, for they moved too fast, but Caelum had no eyes
for anything save the journey before him, and no thought but for what had to be done.
The sky was so low and so dense with dark clouds Caelum could not tell the time of day.
The atmosphere was thick, humid and almost warm, despite the time of year.
Caelum began to sweat.
Animals, and occasionally those which had once been human, appeared in greater
numbers. They eyed Caelum hungrily, but they hung back, whispering, moaning and growling as
he passed.
This prey belonged to their master.
Gradually, as Caelum walked further and further into the Maze, he realised that the
animals no longer looked at him, but had turned their eyes towards the centre of the Maze.
Something came.
Despite his resolve, despite having accepted his fate a long time previously, Caelum grew
nauseous, his palms damp, his muscles weak and trembly. Had Axis felt this way when he‘d
gone into Gorgrael‘s Ice Fortress? No. No, he hadn‘t, because Axis had always been supremely
confident. Axis had always known he would win.
No, this was the way Faraday had felt when she’d walked towards the Ice Fortress.
Caelum walked. After a while he came to a circular space. It had only two exits. One
through which he‘d entered, the other directly across the circle in the opposite wall.
Caelum‘s gait faltered, and he stopped.
He knew what would come through the opposite opening.
The Demons, powerful beyond imagining, hungry beyond anything they‘d ever
experienced previously, and furious beyond compare, rode their mad mounts in a devilish black
cloud through the twists and turns of the Maze.
At their head rode Qeteb, his lance secured to his saddle, a massive black sword in his
hand, his armoured body drawing in all light about it, his arms flung wide, his head back.
I’m coming for you StarSon!
Die, die, die, he must die, for this StarSon had learned too many secrets of the Enemy.
What if he learned enough to deny Qeteb a life again? What if he grew strong enough to deny
Qeteb his world?
Die, die he must, and when he was dead, this world, this wasteland, would be Qeteb‘s
forever, and every beetle that crawled its surface would be his forever, and nothing, nothing,
nothing would dare breathe or live without Qeteb‘s gracious consent.
And under Qeteb‘s terms, of course.
Qeteb began to laugh, a howling litany of madness, that streamed out behind him in a
maniacal wake, a rippling cloud of malevolence.
It enveloped WolfStar, crawling as fast as his ruined body would allow him, and he
curled into a tight ball, crying with despair.
All he‘d done, all he‘d planned, come to this…to this.
Caelum stood in the centre of the open space and waited. As yet he could hear only
distant murmurs, but he could feel the Demons‘ approach.
It felt like a motionless wind, rushing at him from all directions. Trapping him, binding
his arms by his side, stripping him of all hope.
Caelum sobbed, and his entire body sagged, but just before he collapsed on the ground, a
vision filled his mind with such loveliness that he gasped, and straightened.
A single white lily in a field of blue.
Caelum blinked tears away. ―Thank you,‖ he whispered, and the next instant he heard a
sound in the Maze, and a pool of darkness drained into the space from the opposite opening.
A diabolical apparition emerged from it.
A dark rider, on a dark mount, a great black sword in his hand. Worse, far, far, worse
than any of Caelum‘s foulest nightmares.
Behind the black rider, his party of hunters, gibbering with delight.
The prey had been sighted.
Caelum held out his arms wide. ―I am StarSon Caelum!‖ he cried, his voice mercifully
clear and strong. ―Get you gone from this land, Demon!‖
And he began to dance.
He danced the worst dance of all those in the Enchanted Song Book, because he knew
that this might be his only chance to…impress…the Demon. His arms and legs flailed, his head
jerked about on his neck like a puppet in the hands of a convulsing child, his breath wailed in fits
and starts from his mouth.
It was the Dance of Death.
Qeteb roared, and prepared to dig his heels into his mount. He recognised the dance for
what it was—simply another method by which the Enemy had originally trapped him.
This StarSon must be stopped, before he stopped Qeteb.
But just as Qeteb prepared to ride to deal the jerking human death, he paused,
stared…and roared again, but in laughter this time.
This was a parody of power, a parody of the Dance of Death.
The man had access only to a shadow of power—the dance was useless…save for the
amusement it afforded Qeteb. His laughter became consuming, and soon the entire Maze was
laughing: every Demon, every animal, every scrap of existence it contained, save for Caelum
consumed in his dance, WolfStar, who had now resumed his painful crawl towards the Demons,
and Niah and StarLaughter, waiting forgotten near the Dark Tower.
Caelum faltered to a halt, hearing the laughter ringing through him even as he struggled
to draw breath. He‘d done everything he could, every step, every movement had been correct.
And yet nothing.
Save for the laughter.
Caelum stood with his hands on his knees, jerking in his breath, staring at the horror
waiting across the space, and wondered if death in truth would be as painful and as humiliating
as death in dream.
Qeteb finally dug his heels into his mount and raised his sword. ―To the hunt!‖ he roared.
― The hunt! ‖
Caelum turned and ran.
It was as terrifying as his dreams. Always Qeteb and his hunting party thundered a bare
ten paces behind him, whichever way he twisted, whatever turn he took. The Maze closed in
about him, trapping him in a labyrinth of hopelessness.
Above the Hawkchilds dipped and soared, screeching and wailing and giggling, driving
him ever forward, ever forward, making sure the quarry gave the Huntmaster a good run for his
entertainment. Sometimes they swooped so low their wings beat about his head, and Caelum fell
to the ground, screaming in terror, his arms wrapped about his face.
Then he‘d struggle to his feet again as he felt the approaching hunt through the trembling
ground, and he‘d falter forward, his breath rasping through his throat.
And always the hot breath of the hunters behind him.
Once, when he faltered, Qeteb rode close enough that he could prick Caelum in the
buttocks with the tip of his sword, and Caelum screamed and darted forward, and Qeteb laughed,
and held back the hunt for a few minutes.
―Let him think he has evaded us,‖ he whispered.
But Caelum knew he would never evade the hunt. They would catch him, as they had
always done, and he would die with the tip of the sword or lance, or whatever it was Qeteb chose
to drive into him, slicing through breast and lung and heart until he died with his life bubbling