Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

rather than drop down from the sky—the infinitely more preferable way for any Icarii to

approach the city. They initially assumed that the sense of gloom they experienced as they

approached was due to their restricted flight underneath the trees. But the instant they‘d alighted

before the entrance to the Talon‘s palace they had to reassess their initial assumption.

―Why is it so dark?‖ Zenith said, drawing her wings in close against her back and

hugging her arms about her.

StarDrifter hesitated before answering.

―I should have expected this,‖ he murmured, and Zenith looked at him.

―Expected what? Why?‖

In answer StarDrifter took her by the elbow and led her under the great pink stone

archway. A long corridor stretched before them, and Zenith frowned. In previous visits she

remembered this corridor as glowing with soft light, and pleasantly warm.

Now rank torches sputtered fitfully down its length, and chill air swept out to envelop

them.

The corridor was empty of all life. Where the guards? Where the always hovering

servants ready to provide a welcome for unexpected guests?

StarDrifter stood and stared, and felt an inexpressible sadness sweep over him. He knew

what was wrong, but because he hadn‘t thought through the full implications of the Demons‘

effects on the daily lives of the Icarii, he‘d not been prepared for this sight.

―StarDrifter?‖ Zenith said, and he turned and half-smiled reassuringly at her. She was

unsure, and nervous, and StarDrifter‘s heart went out to her. He ran his hand softly along her arm

and gently disengaged one of her hands from her tightly-crossed arms and cradled it in his own.

―There has always been so much we took for granted,‖ he said. ―So much.‖

He sighed and looked back down the corridor. ―Why no light? No warmth? Because for

thousands of years the Icarii have relied on their Enchanters to weave light and warmth from the

Star Dance.‖

―Oh,‖ Zenith said, and then shivered. ―This place feels like a tomb.‖

―It might well become one,‖ StarDrifter said. ―Come, let us find a friendly face.‖

As they walked through the outer corridors and halls, StarDrifter contemplated the

potential ruin of Icarii life with sadness and, he was surprised to realise, more than a little

cynicism. For too long, perhaps, no Icarii had ever soiled his or her hands with agricultural

pursuits, for had they not always had Enchanters who could coax the most delicious of foods into

existence with merely a breath of Song? No Icarii had ever chopped wood, nor lugged it about

the corridors of Talon Spike or their Minaret Peaks, nor had they spent their mornings choking as

they cleaned out their ash-filled hearths; always there had been enchantment to provide them

with clean glowing braziers. No Icarii had ever scorched his or her hand on a hot pot, or a

wayward candle, or cursed the hours spent peeling vegetables in a cold kitchen. Their lives had

been spent in pleasurable pursuits, whether physical sports and games, challenging intellectual

conundrums or the ever-appealing pursuit of love.

Now enchantment had disappeared from their lives, and the Icarii were obviously finding

it hard to cope with the most simple demands of daily life.

As they walked down the cold corridor, StarDrifter‘s thoughts drifted from the Icarii‘s

ever-appealing pursuit of love to his own problems with Zenith. He glanced at her walking quiet

at his side. Since Arcen, StarDrifter had been careful not to scare Zenith by pushing her on the

issue of their relationship. He hadn‘t realised how badly Zenith had been scarred by WolfStar‘s

rape, but now that he did know, StarDrifter was determined to give Zenith the time and space she needed. She loved him, she‘d admitted that, and there was no Axis lurking in the wings to steal

this woman from him, and so, somewhat uncharacteristically, StarDrifter was prepared to bide

his time.

His thoughts meandered, wondering what it would be like when Zenith finally did come

to his bed…

―Watch where you‘re going!‖ a hoarse, unknown voice cried.

Zenith gave a sharp cry of surprise and wrenched StarDrifter to one side.

StarDrifter blinked, concentrated on the moment rather than the wishful, and then his

eyes widened in surprise.

He and Zenith had rounded a bend in the corridor to meet a group of four Avar and a

male and female Icarii, all six now staring angrily at StarDrifter. There was an overturned basket

and a dozen pieces of halo fruit scattered over the floor, and StarDrifter realised the group had

been in the midst of an acrimonious argument over the possession of the crop of fruit the Icarii

pair had obviously plucked from the Minstrelsea forest.

It was extraordinary, StarDrifter thought, that the Avar had pursued the Icarii inside the

city. He opened his mouth to say something, but the Avars‘ attention had swung back to the fruit

and the guilty Icarii.

One of the Avar jabbed his fist angrily in the direction of the Icarii male.

―The forest is ours to forage, birdman! What gives you the right to—‖

―My starving children give me the right!‖ the birdman yelled, his bright yellow feathers

standing up along the length of his neck and across his shoulders. ―The forest is not yours

exclusively.‖

StarDrifter and Zenith shared a shocked look, and StarDrifter decided he ought to do

something. He stepped forward and held out his hands placatingly.

―My friends, what is wrong? Surely,‖ he turned slightly to the birdman, ―there is no need

to expend such anger over a simple basket of halo fruit?‖

―That fruit,‖ the birdman said in a voice still vibrating with emotion, ―means survival for

my wife and children.‖

He paused and looked at StarDrifter carefully. ―You are StarDrifter SunSoar, are you

not?‖

StarDrifter nodded. ―And this is Axis and Azhure‘s daughter, Zenith SunSoar.‖

The Icarii birdman‘s lip curled slightly. ―And as always, the SunSoar clan looks

remarkably well-fed. Does your family have stocks of food, SunSoar, that might feed my

family?‖

The Avar had stepped back slightly, looking carefully between the two groups of Icarii.

Nevertheless, the largest Avar male, probably the Clan leader, had not stepped so far from the

fruit that he could not seize it if the opportunity presented itself.

―I am sorry, we have no food ourselves,‖ Zenith said. ―Forgive me, I do not know you

and your wife‘s—‖

The birdman belatedly found some manners. ―My name is GristleCrest SweptNest,‖ he

said, with only the barest inclination of his head. ―And this my wife, PalmStar.‖

GristleCrest very slightly stressed the ―Star‖ of his wife‘s name, conveying just the

faintest touch of disrespect. StarDrifter shivered involuntarily. If Enchanters had lost their

powers, had they then lost all value and respect in the eyes of ordinary Icarii?

Zenith nodded at the two Icarii, and then politely enquired after the Avar.

―Jokam, of the StillPond Clan,‖ the man said. ―My wife, my brother, and my nephew.‖

He did not extend Zenith the courtesy of their names.

GristleCrest took a deep breath, his neck and shoulders corded with tension. ―StarDrifter,

Zenith, do you retain your enchantment?‖

For an instant hope flared in PalmStar‘s eyes, but it faded as StarDrifter and Zenith shook

their heads.

―No,‖ StarDrifter said. ―We have lost the Star Dance, as have all Enchanters.‖

―Then you can well imagine life in the Minaret Peaks without enchantment, SunSoar,‖

GristleCrest said. ―No light, no heat, no food.‖

―We have seen the darkness, and felt the chill,‖ Zenith said. ―But we had not thought that

you might be—‖

―Starving,‖ PalmStar said. Her voice was flat. ―And worse. Scores of Icarii have died

trying to fly through the corridors and shafts we have no torches for. My own sister, an

Enchanter for the Stars‘ sakes!, died yesterday evening—she slammed into a rock face when

flying to find food for her children.‖

She turned her face away, unable to look at StarDrifter or Zenith. ―Other Icarii lie

crippled, their wings broken through accident. Others yet lie unable to move because of the cold,

or because they have not eaten enough to find the strength to move.‖

StarDrifter briefly closed his eyes. All this sadness and misery and death within only

weeks of the Demons‘ arrival. Would there be an Icarii race left in a year? In six months?

―Even our gods have deserted us,‖ GristleCrest said, very quietly now, his eyes fixed on

StarDrifter. ―Where are they, SunSoar? Where your son? Where Azhure? Where the StarSon?

How long before all the Gods survey is a pile of bones? Even the Acharites could not bring us to

our knees so effectively.‖

―We have news,‖ StarDrifter said, ―but should share it first with the Talon—‖

―Ah,‖ GristleCrest spat, ―and no doubt you SunSoars will decide to save only each

other!‖

―That is not fair!‖ Zenith said. ―We will do all we can—‖

But GristleCrest and PalmStar were gone, snatching a few pieces of fruit as they went.

The Avar silently gathered the rest into the basket, stared equally as silently at StarDrifter

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