Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

out through his mouth, and Qeteb leaning down harder and harder on the blade until Caelum felt

his spine splinter and shatter and…

…would death ever come?

Or would Qeteb keep him eternally on the point of his sword? Would he spend eternity

itself impaled, screaming for merciful oblivion?

Caelum began to cry. Is this how RiverStar had felt? Had death been an eternity for her as

well?

He stumbled about another twist in the Maze, and fell over. For a heartbeat he lay there,

then he scrambled to his feet again, his hands and face bleeding where he‘d scraped them against the rough stone of the Maze, and floundered forward.

―I‘m sorry, RiverStar,‖ he muttered between gasps for air. ―Forgive me…‖

And everything about him changed.

The Maze vanished, and in its place Caelum found himself running through a field of

flowers.

His strength returned, and he ran freely, joyfully, through this most wondrous of fields.

The sun was warm overhead, the scent almost, but not quite, overwhelming, the colours

exquisite, the grass and leaves green and damp with freshness.

Behind Caelum, Qeteb grew tired of the chase. He hungered for the pain and horror he

would see reflected on the StarSon‘s face when he drove his sword through his chest. He would

feed from the pain and the horror!

Qeteb screamed, and drove his mount forward.

Caelum slowed to a walk the better to savour the sights and scents. He smiled gently,

oblivious to everything but the beauty surrounding him.

WolfStar could crawl no more. He was trapped within the magic of the Maze, and he had

no idea where it had taken him. He propped himself up against a wall, holding his belly with one

hand, dragging air into his lungs.

Suddenly Caelum walked about the corner and came directly towards him.

He had a beatific smile on his face.

―Caelum StarSon!‖ Qeteb screamed, and stood in his stirrups and raised his sword.

Caelum, now directly before WolfStar, turned and stared at the horror approaching.

“Caelum?”

Caelum turned and stared.

RiverStar stood there…but not the RiverStar he remembered. Her features and loveliness

were the same, but her expression was tempered by understanding and gentleness.

“Oh, how I love you,” he said.

Caelum turned and stared at the rearing, plunging creature above him, and at the Demon

screaming on its back.

―Oh, how I love you,‖ he said.

―No!‖ Qeteb shrieked, driven beyond the realms of anger, not only by Caelum‘s words,

but by the serene expression on his face.

The Demon drove down his sword.

RiverStar smiled and held out a flower.

A lily.

“For you,” she said.

“I thank you,” Caelum said, and reached out a hand and took the flower.

WolfStar could not believe it. As the sword plunged downwards, Caelum held out his

hand and seized the blade.

It made not a whit of difference.

The sword sliced through Caelum‘s hand and plunged into his chest, driving Caelum

back against WolfStar, who grunted with shock and shifted slightly to one side so the blade

would not impale him as well.

Qeteb leaned his entire weight down on the sword, twisting it as deep as he could go,

feeling bone and muscle and cartilage tear and rip, seeing the bright blood bubble from the

StarSon‘s mouth.

And still the man smiled.

“Welcome,” RiverStar said, “into the field of flowers.”

And she leaned forward and kissed him.

“Here,” Caelum said, “shall we finally be husband and wife.”

She smiled anew, tears glistening in her eyes, and he took her hand, and they walked

deeper into the field of flowers.

WolfStar screamed and screamed, unable to believe the horror that Qeteb visited on

Caelum‘s corpse. Again and again the Demon drove his sword into Caelum, time and time again,

until all that was left of Caelum was a mass of redmangled flesh that was barely recognisable.

And still, somehow, unbelievably, his smile and utter serenity continued to shine through.

Qeteb did not even seem to understand that WolfStar was present. All he wanted to do

was wipe that smile from Caelum‘s face, because that smile was what truly hurt, that smile was

what cut deeply into him, that smile was what needed to be destroyed before all else.

Finally, Qeteb leaped down from his mount and crushed what remained of Caelum‘s head

between his mailed hands, crushed it until all resemblance to a head had gone, crushed it until

bone and blood and brain and teeth enmeshed into one shapeless mess.

The smile had finally gone.

Qeteb stopped, stared—still not seeming to realise WolfStar‘s presence—and then turned

back to the crowd of watching Demons and screamed.

― Tencendor is mine! I shall consume it! ‖

Tencendor died. Rivers dried up, fields crumbled into dust, mountains cracked into

jagged, sterile peaks.

The forests were raped and then murdered as they screamed their defiance. Roots were

torn from the ground, trunks snapped, leaves were flayed from branches, and entire trees were

flung about the landscape as a windstorm throws dried tumbleweeds.

The groves and glades of the Avarinheim and Minstrelsea were exposed first to a hot red

sun, a ball of fire, and then to a gale of pure maliciousness.

All magic died.

Everything.

All creatures that had somehow escaped both the Demons‘ attentions to this point, or the

emptying of Tencendor by DragonStar‘s witches, succumbed to madness.

Every one.

Tencendor, haven of enchantment and of mystery for ten thousand generations, died in a

single instant.

Gone.

WolfStar gathered what remained of Caelum‘s corpse into his arms and wept, caring not

if the Demon turned and drove his sword into him as well.

A single object remained in the smoking wasteland that had once been spreading forest.

The enchanted wooden bowl that the silver-backed Horned One had once given Faraday

as a means to access the Sacred Groves. It had lain forgotten for forty years after Faraday had

completed the planting of the forests. She‘d witnessed the rush of the fey creatures into the trees,

and had then unharnessed the white donkeys to let them run free. Crippled by her labour pains,

Faraday then entered the Sacred Groves to bear Isfrael.

She‘d forgotten the bowl.

Everyone had.

Now here it sat.

Waiting for whoever might chance upon it.

Epilogue

He rode his stallion deep into the wasteland.

A man dressed in nothing but a white linen loincloth and clad only with a jewelled sword

and purse.

He was sad, but joyous at the same time.

Tencendor was dead, but it could be reborn.

Barren dust swirled about the white stallion‘s legs, and the man whispered into the

wasteland, the whisper reaching across a hundred leagues and deep into the heart of the Maze.

―My name is DragonStar StarSon, Demon, and I am the Enemy reborn. Know that this

time I shall not just trap you, but destroy you for all time.‖

Know that this time I shall not just trap you, but destroy you for all time.

There was a horrible, painful jolt of surprise deep within him, and then Qeteb nodded in

recognition.

This pitiful cursed mangled wreck had been a decoy, a decoy to allow the true StarSon to

grow to maturity.

And to do something else…but what?

―No,‖ Qeteb whispered back. ―Know that I have waited a hundred thousand years

planning for this moment, and that this time, I shall destroy you. Now it will be on my terms, in my wasteland.‖

DragonStar smiled at the Demon‘s ignorance.

No, he thought. On my terms, for now that Tencendor has died, the battle will be fought

in the field of flowers, and not the wasteland.

This time the Enemy will finish what they started so long ago. Here, on this world, where

the Star Dance had always wanted it.

Here, where the Garden would be replanted.

He stared about the wasteland, knowing that the magic only waited, then patted the Star

Stallion‘s neck, pulled his sword from its scabbard, and, drawing a doorway of light before him,

rode through into Sanctuary.

Glossary

ACHAR: the realm that once stretched over most of the continent, bounded by the

Andeis, Tyrre and Widowmaker Seas, the Avarinheim and the Icescarp Alps. Now integrated

into Tencendor, although Zared had claimed back the title of King.

ACHARITES: a term used fairly generally to encompass all humans within Tencendor.

ADAMON: one of the nine Star Gods of the Icarii, Adamon is the eldest and the God of

the Firmament.

AFTERLIFE: all three races, the Acharites, the Icarii and the Avar believe in the

existence of an AfterLife, although exactly what they believe depends on their particular culture.

ALAUNT: a legendary pack of hounds that now run with Azhure. They are all of the

Lesser immortals.

ALDENI: a small province in western Achar, devoted to small crop cultivation. It is

administered by Duke Theod.

ANDAKILSA, River: the extreme northern river of Ichtar, dividing Ichtar from

Ravensbund. Under normal circumstances, it remains free of ice all year round and flows into the