Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

them open. Which one?

From the door on the far right came the faint hum of vast power, but Drago understood he

should not take that one.

He walked through the middle doorway instead. Before him stretched yet another

corridor, but very short, and ending in yet another doorway through which…through which

Drago thought he could see stars.

Stars?

Hesitant now, Drago walked down the corridor to the door, took a deep breath, and

stepped through.

He stood in a strange room. The walls, ceiling, benches and even parts of the floor were

covered with metal plates, and these plates were studded with knobs and bright jewel-like lights.

Before him were the high backs of several chairs, facing enormous windows that looked out

upon the universe.

One of the chairs before him swivelled, revealing a silverhaired man in its depths. He

wore a uniform made of a leathery black material; gold braid hung at his shoulders and encircled

the cuffs of his sleeves, and in his first glance Drago saw a black, peaked cap, gold braid about

its brim, sitting on the bench behind him.

But it was the man‘s face underneath his silvery hair which riveted Drago‘s attention.

It was lined with care…and more. Agonising pain had scored a network of deep lines into

the man‘s skin. His right hand clenched spasmodically in the tunic over his chest, and he

breathed erratically, great deep breaths that tore through his throat.

A slight movement distracted Drago‘s attention momentarily. The blue-feathered lizard

sat to one side under an empty chair, his black eyes unblinking on the man in the chair.

―Drago,‖ said the man, and Drago looked back to him.

―You are Faraday‘s Noah,‖ he said, and then stepped forward to touch Noah‘s shoulder.

―What is wrong?‖

Noah‘s mouth twisted. ―I am suffering the ill-effects of redundancy,‖ he said. ―No, no,

that is wrong. I am simply being recycled.‖

―I don‘t understand,‖ Drago said. He touched Noah‘s shoulder again, leaving his hand

resting there this time. ―What can I do to help?‖

Noah lifted his own hand to pat Drago‘s. ―First of all, you can sit down. Then you can

listen and accept.‖

―I meant,‖ Drago said softly, ―what can I do to aid you?‖

―Me?‖ Noah raised tortured brown eyes and looked into Drago‘s violet gaze. ―You can

do nothing to help me. I am dying. After all this time, I am finally, finally dying.‖

Then he grunted with pain, doubling over in the chair.

Drago dropped his staff and grabbed him, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do.

In the end he just knelt by the chair and held Noah, trying to give some measure of comfort.

Noah managed to straighten. His face was slick with sweat.

―We have all been waiting too long,‖ he whispered harshly, ―for me to die before I tell

you what you must know.‖

―All?‖ Drago said.

Noah lifted a trembling hand and pointed to the window filled with the tens of thousands

of stars beyond.

―All of us,‖ he repeated. ―The Stars.‖

14

In the Chamber of the Enemy

Noah looked at one of the empty chairs, as if considering asking Drago to sit in it, then

gave a tired sigh and took Drago‘s hand in his. He glanced at the newly-healed scar on Drago‘s

neck, but said nothing.

Drago settled on the floor, moving the staff to one side as the lizard crept over and curled

up against his legs.

―Tell me,‖ Drago said, and Noah nodded, raised his head, and searched the panels under

the window.

―Will you press the copper knob on the panel?‖ Noah asked, and Drago leaned over,

hesitated, then firmly pressed a glowing knob.

Instantly the view from the forward window changed. The stars disappeared, and Drago

found himself looking out on a world filled with mountains and valleys, plains and oceans.

He frowned. ―I have not seen this place before.‖

―Nay. This is not Tencendor, although it is much like it. It is my world. My home.‖

Drago looked at Noah. Beneath his pain, the man‘s face was lined with memory and

regret.

―And its name?‖ he said.

Noah‘s hand clenched a little more deeply into the black leather of his tunic. ―Not

important. For all I know it no longer exists. It has been hundreds of thousands of years since I

have seen it.‖

The view altered. There were the same mountains and valleys, plains and oceans, but all

had changed.

Now they were a wasteland of pain and despair, of tempest, pestilence and starvation.

Maddened people and animals roamed, tearing at their own bodies and at the bodies of any who

ventured near them. Their eyes were blank save for their madness, and ropes of saliva hung from

their mouths. All the people were naked, their bodies emaciated and covered with boils and

streaks of rot. They lived, but in a hell that Drago could barely comprehend.

―The same world,‖ Noah rasped into the silence, ―after the TimeKeeper Demons had

come to ravage. Drago, listen to this my story.‖

The view in the window shifted again, back to the stars.

―We do not know from where they came. We simply woke one morning to find half our

world gone mad with hunger, and the pain continued through the day, and then into the night.‖

Drago remembered how the TimeKeepers had leapt from world to world. No doubt

they‘d found some other poor soul to drain in order to enter Noah‘s world.

―Hunger, then such tempest as we‘d never before endured, and then midday—oh God!

Midday! ‖ Noah shuddered violently, struggled to control himself, then continued, his voice

hoarse with the remembered horror.

―Midday is too terrible to even speak about—thank every god you pray to, Drago, that

Tencendor has not yet been subjected to Qeteb‘s malice!‖

Yet. The word echoed about the spaces between them.

Drago studied Noah‘s face. The man seemed in more pain than when Drago had first

entered. ―But you found a way to trap him.‖

―It took us forty years, Drago.‖

― Forty years? ‖

―Can you imagine,‖ he whispered, ―what those forty years were like?‖

―How did your people survive?‖

―In caves and tunnels and basements, mostly. Drago, your first lesson, and one Faraday

already understands, is that the Demons, even Qeteb, cannot touch any who rest under shade.

They cannot work their evil in shade. For some reason, the mere fact of shade protects the mind

and soul from their touch.‖

There was more, but Noah was in too much pain to be bothered explaining it to Drago.

The man would discover it soon enough, in any case.

―Ah, thus the forest keeps myself, Zared and his army,‖ Drago slid a glance towards the

feathered lizard, ―and all the fey creatures safe.‖

―Until the Demons gain enough power to strip the leaves, yes.‖

―And Qeteb? How did you manage to capture him?‖

―With mirrors. We trapped him inside a chamber that was completely mirrored. He could

not escape, and any power he used was turned back against him.‖

―Mirrors? How could they—‖

Noah grunted, and his face paled even more than it was already. He took several deep

breaths, and then spoke rapidly, as if he knew he had not much longer.

―Mirrors…we mirrored him back to himself, we mirrored his hate back to himself.

But…‖ Noah suppressed a groan, and momentarily closed his eyes, ―unfortunately you will not

have the same success now. The TimeKeepers are somewhat wary of mirrors and reflections.‖

―And so you—‖

―And so we—or those who had the skill among us, for not all among us commanded the

strength—dismembered him. They took his breath and warmth and movement and soul and

separated them.‖

―His body?‖

Noah shrugged. ―It was useless. I think we burned it, although I am not sure.‖

And thus the need for a new body to house Qeteb, thought Drago.

―No-one initially knew what to do with these life components,‖ Noah continued. His

voice and breath were easier now, as if his pain had levelled out. ―In themselves they were still

horrendously dangerous. We tried to destroy them, but found we could not. The other

TimeKeepers were doing their best to steal them back from us—and they were powerful. Too

powerful for us to hold out against for very long.‖

―So you decided to flee through the universe with them.‖

―Yes. It was the best we could do. I volunteered to lead the fleet of craft—‖

―Craft?‖

Noah looked up at the chamber. ―We sit in the command chamber of the command craft.

The craft are, ah, like ships that sail the seas, but these sail the universe.‖

Drago nodded hesitantly, struggling to come to grips with the concept.

―We set sail with four craft, one for each of Qeteb‘s life components, for we dared not

store them in the same place. It was a mission that all of us—‖

―Us?‖

Noah‘s mouth thinned at the constant interruption—could the man not see he was in