his horse, but leaning over the pommel of his saddle and watching intently.
Azhure wet her lips, wondering what words she could use, and tried again.
―Sicarius, I need you to seek.‖
Something shifted in the hound‘s eyes.
―An entrance to a tunnel leading north. Seek! ‖
Damn it! Azhure kept her face as impassive as the hound‘s, but she wanted to curse to the
very stars themselves. This was so…so cumbersome!
Sicarius stared at her, his gaze unwavering.
Azhure fought to keep both her hands and her voice steady. ―Seek, Sicarius.‖
He whined, and shifted. Not anxious…Azhure had the distinct impression he was bored
and just wanted to get back to his investigation of the forest.
In desperation, Azhure closed her eyes and formed a mental image of Star Finger.
Massif…blue…mantled with ice…reaching for stars.
The hound shifted again.
Behind him, his mate FortHeart walked up and sat down, curious.
Azhure fought to repress her frustration, and tried yet again.
Massif…blue…mantled with ice…reaching for stars. Need to get there. FAST! Seek a
way…seek…seek…
Now FortHeart whined, and Sicarius‘ ears flickered. She had picked up a faint flicker of
what Azhure was trying to tell Sicarius, and now in her own peculiar way, and with power that
was born of the craft, not of the Stars, FortHeart shared her understanding with Sicarius. He
trembled, then yelped and wrenched his head out of Azhure‘s hands.
Within an instant both he and FortHeart had disappeared among the trees.
As had all the other Alaunt. There was not a pale shape to be seen anywhere, only silence
from the spot where they‘d disappeared. When the Alaunt hunted, they did so silently and with
deadly accuracy.
At least, that‘s what Azhure hoped they were doing now.
―Mother?‖ Caelum dismounted and squatted by her side, taking her hand. ―You look
exhausted. Are you all right?‖
Azhure smiled for him. ―Yes.‖ She glanced at Axis. ―That was…hard.‖
―Do you think they understood?‖ Axis asked.
She shrugged, then laughed with genuine humour. ―Who knows? Either they will seek
out what we need or they will return with a rabbit for our dinner.‖
Axis grinned as well, and helped Azhure to her feet. ―Well, at least they‘ll prove
themselves useful one way or the other.‖
―Axis,‖ Azhure said, as she dusted her tunic and leggings down, ―where did the power of
the Alaunt derive from?‖
―From the Stars, surely,‖ Axis said.
―I think not, ―Azhure said, even more slowly now. ―I think not. They ran with Jack for
thousands of years. Before that…‖
―Before that they came from WolfStar, didn‘t they?‖ Caelum said.
―Yes,‖ Azhure said. ―But where did he find them?‖ She looked Caelum in the eye. ―What
if they are the creation of the Maze Gate as much as the Prophecy was? And if so… do they
retain their power?‖
―Stars!‖ Caelum breathed. ―Do you mean they might have the same power as the
Sceptre?‖
―Who knows,‖ she said, and then took Axis and Caelum by the hand. ―But if they do…‖
―If they do,‖ Axis said, ―then we have a chance. A good chance.‖
―And one that Drago does not control,‖ Caelum said, and grinned.
―But can we trust the Alaunt?‖ Axis murmured, and turned to stare southwards.
The Alaunt ran.
At least for a while.
Sicarius commanded them to a halt by the banks of a small stream, and the other fourteen
hounds obeyed instantly, sitting down in a perfect circle about their leader.
The forest waited.
Sicarius moved about the circle, seeking each of his companions‘ thoughts, needing a
decision.
Do we find her this dark space?
Do we follow her to the blue massif?
Do we aid her? Do we aid her?
Do we have any choice?
For the moment they were purposeless. They had a while yet to wait before they could
leap into the fray. A while yet before the man opened the gate into the garden.
It has been so long in coming.
But yet is nearly here.
We help them, Sicarius thought, until the hunter is ready and we course again.
Azhure had once hunted with the Wolven Bow, and had once directed the Alaunt to the
hunt, but there was a greater hunt, and a dearer master, and it was only for this hunt and for this
master that the Alaunt had been bred. Their puppyhood had been spent fawning at the feet of
Noah, not WolfStar or Jack.
His companions silently agreed.
Is there time to hunt before we scent out this dark space? FortHeart asked.
Sicarius turned on his haunches and nipped her on her shoulder.
We do not hunt in this forest. Not yet. There is a bloodier prey awaiting us than rabbits
and mice and deer.
FortHeart yelped and leaped to one side, but did not retaliate.
They loped off, travelling pathways that had not been explored in years, and some that
had never been trodden by mortal feet previously. They sought…and they found.
They knew these secret pathways better than any of the Sentinels had ever done. They
were of the land, and part of the land.
Far above circled almost thirty black shapes. Their wings were stretched tight in the
thermals, the scrawny clawed hands at their tips opening and closing with frustration that they
could not yet hunt.
Their bright black eyes, as sharp as the birds they‘d been named after, watched the prey
scurry far below the forest canopy.
―Hounds?‖ whispered one, watching their flickering shapes move through the shadows.
―Magician hounds!‖ whispered another, and the entire small flock of the Hawkchilds
wheeled and dipped, agitated almost beyond measure.
Magicians! Had not their masters set them to hunt out the magicians remaining of this
world?
―Magicians?‖ whispered one. ―Magicians? They are no magicians that I have ever
known.‖
Its words tumbled fast over its tongue, warped in their speaking.
―Dogs!‖ cried another.
―Hounds!‖ cried yet another.
―They run for that man and woman and their son.‖
―StarSon?‖
―StarSon?‖
StarSon?
―What name is he called by?‖
―Caelum!‖
As one they hissed and fluttered. ―That is the name!‖
And then, in a single, smooth and totally co-ordinated movement, they all flipped onto
their backs and floated in the thermals, their eyes staring blankly upwards towards the sun, their
minds communing.
The TimeKeepers travelled the central Skarabost Plains. Their black horses strode forth
on untiring legs, their paws eating into the grass and killing the distance that still needed to be
travelled to the Lake of Life.
Sigholt lay before them.
Sigholt!
StarLaughter sat her horse with ease. She had never been happier in her…well, in any of
her lives or existences. She had power again, and she revelled in its soothing caress. In her arms
she rocked the toddler boy, rejoicing in his warmth. Next—breath. StarLaughter could hardly
wait to hear him draw breath for the first time, and she longed to be woken in the midnight hours
by his squalling.
And then to feel him squirming in her arms.
But he would be too large then, wouldn‘t he? By the time they got to Fernbrake Lake and
he gained movement, DragonStar would be a youth.
―My baby!‖ she whispered, and smiled. By that time she would no longer be able to hold
him to her breast, but by then, the loss would be no loss at all.
She kicked her horse into greater efforts, and fixed her eyes on the Demons ahead.
About StarLaughter fluttered her torn, blue robe, rusted into great stiff patches by dried
blood, and behind her streamed her dark hair and white wings.
The Queen of Heaven she might be, yet StarLaughter looked more demonic than any of
her companions.
― Sssss. ‖ Raspu held up his hand, bringing the group to a halt. ―Listen.‖
The Demons crooked their heads slightly to the east, and StarLaughter looked that way,
too. She knew what was happening—the flock of twenty-seven Hawkchilds that was scavenging
the forests looking for the StarSon were communing with the TimeKeepers—but she could not
hear them herself.
―What is it?‖ she asked. ―What do they say? Have they found him?‖
―Shush!‖ Barzula said, his eyes intense, but his voice was not unkind, and StarLaughter
tried to stifle her impatience.
Slowly Sheol smiled, and then the other Demons followed suit. Smiled, and then howled
with laughter.
―What is it?‖ StarLaughter cried.
Sheol turned her head to the birdwoman. ―They have located the StarSon,‖ she said, ―and
he walks into a dark trap.‖
She lifted her face into the sun. ― Trap! ‖ she screamed.
21
Why? Why? Why?
Faraday was terribly wounded by the donkeys‘ rejection. Never previously had they
snapped so at her, or kicked. Why, if they had wanted some different path from hers, had they let
her know it in such a mean-spirited manner?
She travelled silently, and Drago let her be, walking by her side, only speaking in low
tones when they needed to camp and erect their tent, or to warn her of a particularly deep chasm