Your ancestral mother. Listen to her if you will not listen to me.‖
And ignore her if you dare.
Drago stared at him, then slowly sank down to the floor before the dying man.
―How can I let Tencendor be destroyed?‖ he asked again, his voice breaking. ―I came
back through the Star Gate to save it, and yet you tell me to stand witness to its destruction!
Would you have me deepen my sin against the land?‖
Noah reached out a hand and gently cupped Drago‘s chin. ―You are a Pilgrim,‖ he said,
―and all pilgrims must first learn their own soul, and the power of their own soul, before they can
save anyone else. If you take but one piece of advice from me, Prince of Flowers—‖
Prince of Flowers?
―—then take this. Go north, and listen to your mother.‖
Drago was silent a long time. The lizard crawled into his lap, and Drago sat stroking it
absently, his eyes unfocused.
When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with acceptance. ―I will go north to
Gorkenfort. What else can I do?‖
―The craft are not insensitive to the devastation that will occur. Somewhere within the
waterways, I know not where for I have not been granted the knowledge, lies a sanctuary. A
place of shelter. The craft would not let the peoples of this land suffer ultimate extinction. Do
you understand?‖
Drago nodded. ―If the craft have that much compassion,‖ he asked, ―then why do they let
you die?‖
―So that another may be reborn,‖ Noah said, but speaking with the voice of the craft.
So that another may be reborn? he thought, and then his eyes filled with tears as he
understood what the craft were doing. They were using his life to create another, and the beauty
of that other was enough for Noah to accept his death with gladness.
―Drago,‖ he said, ―I have not much time. Will you tell Faraday something for me?‖
―What?‖
―Ask Faraday to find that which I lost. She will know. Now go, Drago. Go. I would die
alone, as I have spent an eternity alone.‖
Drago slowly stood, picking up his staff. ―Goodbye, Noah.‖
―Goodbye, Prince of Flowers.‖
He sat in his chair in the empty chamber, staring at the screen full of stars, and let their
love and comfort infuse him. He could feel the life ebbing from him, but it no longer hurt, and it
no longer distressed him.
―Katie,‖ he said. ―Be strong.‖
His chest heaved, and again, then fell still.
In the dank basement, surrounded by dark and the stale air of a thousand years past, a
light glowed faintly, and then flared into sudden brilliance.
When it faded, the thin voice of a desperate child filled the darkness.
―Mama? Mama? Where are you? I‘m lost! Mama? Mama! ‖
The sacrifice had begun.
15
Hidden Conversations
Drago hesitated outside the doorway to Noah‘s chamber, then turned back. The doorway
had closed behind him, and there was no longer a panel of knobs by which to gain access.
―How can I do this to Caelum?‖
But no-one in this barren corridor, least of all the lizard, was going to answer him, so
Drago took a deep breath and walked slowly back to the rectangular chamber.
Here he again hesitated. He‘d meant to retrace his steps to the crystal forest, and from
there to rejoin Faraday, but on impulse he took one of the other open doorways.
And found himself in the waterways.
Drago stopped dead. Before him a tunnel disappeared into the distance, a deep channel
running down its centre. He walked to the white-stoned edge of the waterway and looked down.
The river that ran there was deep emerald. In its depths shone the stars.
The stars are everywhere, thought Drago. Somewhere, surely, still lingers the Star Dance.
But where? In these waterways? In the craft of the Enemy? Or will this puzzling ―mother‖
awaiting in Gorkenfort tell me?
―We must find it,‖ he said aloud to the lizard, ―if Caelum is to defeat the—‖
―Did you listen to nothing Noah told you?‖ a soft voice said, and Drago spun about.
Walking along the banks of the waterway were WingRidge CurlClaw, Captain of the
Lake Guard, and the unmistakable red plumage of SpikeFeather TrueSong behind him.
Where had they come from?
―What are you doing here?‖ Drago said, taking a step back.
WingRidge stopped a pace away, SpikeFeather just behind. Both birdmen studied Drago
carefully, and both glanced curiously at the blue lizard under his arm.
―You know why we are here,‖ WingRidge said softly. His face was a mixture of awe,
determination, and sheer unadulterated relief. He lifted a hand and placed it on Drago‘s chest.
―You are here as I am here,‖ Drago said, a hard edge to his voice. ―We must do all we
can to aid the StarSon.‖
WingRidge‘s mouth curled. ―And what to you mean by that, Drago?‖
Drago stared at him. ―Caelum needs our help.‖
WingRidge inclined his head. ―Caelum will need aid, assuredly.‖
Drago looked at WingRidge, then at SpikeFeather standing obviously confused behind
the Captain of the Lake Guard‘s shoulder, then turned to look back the way he‘d come.
―Noah told me…he told me…‖
―I do hope you had the grace to listen, and the courage to accept,‖ WingRidge said, and
now his voice was hard, and his eyes flinty.
Drago looked back at him. ―Why are you here, WingRidge?‖
―I am here to aid the StarSon.‖
―Then why are you here?‖
WingRidge remained silent, his eyes unblinking as they regarding Drago.
A muscle flickered in Drago‘s cheek. ―I came back through the Star Gate to aid
Tencendor.‖
―Good,‖ WingRidge said quietly.
―In whatever way I can.‖
―Even better.‖
―I did not come back to disinherit my brother!‖
―There is no question of that.‖
―Then we understand each other?‖
WingRidge startled the others by bursting into laughter. ―Yes, Drago, I think that we do.
Now, in what direction did Noah set your wandering feet?‖
―I must go north. To Gorkenfort.‖
For the first time WingRidge looked mildly disconcerted, but with a languid shrug of his
shoulders said, ―North is good. You will meet with Caelum in the north, eventually.‖
―Noah…Noah told me that Tencendor must die. We must allow Qeteb‘s resurrection.‖
―Surely we can stop the Demons before—‖ SpikeFeather began, his face horrified, but
WingRidge turned about and placed a hand on the birdman‘s shoulder.
―Trust,‖ he said. ―Please. Did you not see this in the Maze Gate?‖
SpikeFeather nodded unhappily.
―The Maze Gate?‖ Drago asked.
―Under Grail Lake lies a Maze,‖ WingRidge said. ―Each of the craft have grown into
different forms over the millennia. Here, the crystal forest cradled Qeteb‘s warmth. The Maze
cradles Qeteb‘s soul. At the entrance to the Maze lies a Gate, and it is the script about the Maze
Gate that the craft used to speak to…well, to whomever, over the aeons. The Maze Gate tells of
many things. It, too, awaits the StarSon.‖
Drago ignored the last remark. ―And this Maze Gate speaks of Tencendor‘s destruction?‖
―It has been written,‖ WingRidge said, ―and thus it must be. Do not dread it too much,
Drago. Does not the field need to lay fallow for it to flower full bright in the season that follows
the night?‖
The man speaks in nothing but riddles, Drago thought irritably, and then remembered that
Noah had also mentioned flowers. Prince of Flowers. He stared at WingRidge, and the captain
smiled at him, his eyes now soft.
Still pondering the consequences of turning Tencendor into an uninhabitable wasteland,
SpikeFeather had completely missed the exchange. ― And Qeteb is to be allowed a resurrection,‖
he said. ―How can this be?‖
WingRidge did not look away from Drago as he answered. ―How can the StarSon defeat
a memory? A ghost? Only when Qeteb‘s scattered life parts unite in flesh and blood can they be
destroyed. Eventually, the StarSon and Qeteb will face each other.‖
―And Caelum will defeat him,‖ Drago said.
―The StarSon will defeat him,‖ WingRidge said. ―Will you agree to that, Drago? That the
StarSon shall defeat Qeteb?‖
SpikeFeather shifted, uncertain what to make of the conversation. He had the
uncomfortable feeling that WingRidge and Drago were somehow weaving a hidden dialogue
over and above their spoken words.
―I can agree to that,‖ Drago said softly. ―The StarSon shall defeat Qeteb.‖
―Then our purpose is as one,‖ WingRidge said. ―We both serve the StarSon and we both
serve Tencendor.‖
He held out his hand, and after a brief hesitation Drago took it.
―That is an interesting staff you hold,‖ WingRidge observed, not letting go of Drago‘s
hand.
―You know what it is.‖
―Aye. I know what it is.‖ WingRidge clasped his other hand over Drago‘s, holding it
securely between both of his. ―The Sceptre. Never let it go.‖
―But—‖ SpikeFeather said, remembering the entwined symbols of StarSon and Sceptre
about the Maze Gate…and then suddenly the entire conversation between WingRidge and Drago