Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

from Faraday. ―Is he all right, Faraday? And you…you look dreadful!‖

The staff Drago had been clutching now fell from his fingers and rolled a few paces

away.

―He needs some rest,‖ Faraday said. She tried to smile, and failed. ―We both do.‖

Zenith looked between both of them. Her relief that Faraday was well, and had managed

to ensure Drago‘s safe return, was overwhelmed by her concern at how debilitated both were.

Drago was a heavy weight in her arms, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, while the only

colour in Faraday‘s ashen face were the rings of exhaustion under her eyes. She had clasped her

arms about herself in an effort to stop them shaking.

What happened? Zenith longed to ask.

―The cart,‖ she said, and half-dragged, half-lifted Drago towards it.

―Let me help,‖ Faraday said, and took the weight of his legs.

Between them they managed to lift Drago into the tray of the cart, then Zenith helped

Faraday in.

―Sleep,‖ she said, pulling a blanket over them. ―Sleep.‖

Drago and Faraday shared the bed of the cart, and shared the sleep of the exhausted; and

they shared a dream, although neither would remember it when they woke.

But over the next few days, as they wandered the forest, the scent of a flowering bush

occasionally made one or the other lift a head and pause, and fight for the memory the scent

evoked.

Zenith watched them for a long time. She was torn between relief at their return—thank

the Stars Drago was alive!—and concern for both Faraday and Drago‘s state. What both had

endured, either with the Demons, or within the Star Gate Chamber itself, must have been close to

unbearable. Even though she had been protected by the trees of Minstrelsea, Zenith had felt a

trickle of the despair that had overwhelmed Tencendor when the Demons had broken through,

and she could only imagine what Faraday had gone through so close to the Star Gate.

But Faraday and Drago were not Zenith‘s only concerns. She wished she knew what had

happened to StarDrifter. He‘d been at the Star Gate towards the end, trying to help her parents to

ward it against the Demons.

Would she see him again?

It didn‘t occur to Zenith that she hardly thought about her parents. Now that she knew

Faraday and Drago were safe, she needed to know that StarDrifter was as well. To think that he

was dead…or somehow under the Demons‘ thrall…

Zenith shivered and pulled her cloak closer about her. She could feel how deeply

disturbed the forest was…were the Demons secreted within its trees? Were they even now

creeping closer to where Zenith stood watch over Faraday and Drago?

Zenith‘s head jerked at a movement in the shadows. Something was

there…something…There was another movement, more distinct this time, and Zenith felt her

chest constrict in horror. There! Something lurking behind the ghost oak.

She stumbled toward the donkeys‘ heads, thinking to try and pull them forward, get

herself and her sleeping companions away from whatever it was…escape…but when she tugged

at the nearest donkey‘s halter it refused to budge.

―Damn you!‖ Zenith hissed, and leaned all her weight into the effort. Why in the world

did Faraday travel with these obstinate creatures when she could have chosen a well-trained and

obliging horse?

Zenith tugged again, and wondered if she should take a stick to the damned creatures.

The donkey snorted irritably and yanked her head out of Zenith‘s grasp.

Just as Zenith again reached for the halter, something emerged from the gloom behind the

nearest tree.

Zenith‘s heart lurched. She dropped her hand, stared about for a stick that she could

defend Faraday and Drago with…and then breathed a sigh of relief, wiping trembling hands

down her robe.

It was just one of the fey creatures of the forest, no doubt so disturbed by the presence of

the Demons that it cared not that it wandered so close to Zenith and the donkeys.

It was a strange mixture of lizard and bird. About the size of a small dog, it had the body

of a large iguana, covered with bright blue body feathers, and with a vivid emerald and scarlet

crest. It had impossibly deep black eyes that absorbed the light about it. What it used the light for

Zenith could not say, perhaps as food, but once absorbed, the lizard apparently channelled the

light through some furnace within its body, for it re-emerged from its diamond-like talons in

glinting shafts that shimmered about the forest.

Zenith smiled, for the feathered lizard was a thing of great beauty.

Watching Zenith carefully, the lizard crawled the distance between the tree and the cart,

giving both donkeys and Zenith a wide berth. It sniffed briefly about the wheels of the cart, then,

in an abrupt movement, jumped into the tray.

Zenith moved very slowly so she could see what the lizard was doing—and then stopped,

stunned.

The lizard was sitting close to Drago‘s head, gently running its talons through his loose

hair, almost…almost as if it were combing it, or weaving a cradle of light about his head.

Zenith was vividly reminded of the way the courtyard cats in Sigholt had taken every

opportunity they could to snuggle up to Drago.

Zenith‘s eyes widened, and suddenly the lizard decided to take exception to her presence.

It narrowed its eyes and hissed at her, then leaped to the ground and scuttled away into the trees.

Zenith stared at the place where it had disappeared, then looked back to Drago. She

smoothed the loose strands of his coppery hair (was it brighter now than it had been previously?)

away from his face, studying him carefully. He looked the same—and yet different. His face was

still thin and lined, but the lines were stronger, more clearly defined, as if they had been created

through purpose rather than through resentment and bitterness. And even though he was asleep,

there was a strange ―quiet‖ about him. It was the only way Zenith could describe it to herself. A

quiet that in itself gave purpose—and hope.

His eyelids flickered open at her touch, and his mouth moved as if to smile.

But he was clearly too exhausted even for that effort.

―Zenith,‖ he whispered. ―Are you well?‖

Zenith‘s eyes filled with tears. Had he been worried for her all this time? The last time

he‘d seen her had been in Niah‘s Grove in the far north of the forest, battling the Niah-soul

within her.

She smiled, and took his hand. ―I am well,‖ she said. ―Go back to sleep.‖

Now his mouth did flicker in a faint smile, but his eyes were closed and he was asleep

again even before it faded.

Zenith stood and watched him for some time, cradling his hand gently in hers, then she

looked at Faraday. The woman was deeply asleep, peaceful and unmoving, and Zenith finally set

down Drago‘s hand and moved away from the cart.

Unsure what to do, and unsettled by the continuing agitation she could feel from the

trees, Zenith remembered the staff that Drago had dropped. She walked about until she found

where it had rolled, and she picked it up, studying it curiously.

It was made of a beautiful deep red wood that felt warm in her hands. It was intricately

carved in a pattern that Zenith could not understand. There was a line of characters that wound

about the entire length of the staff, strange characters, made up of what appeared to be small

black circles with short hooked lines attached to them.

The top of the staff was curled over like a shepherd‘s crook, but the knob was carved into

the shape of a lily.

Zenith had never seen anything like it. She hefted the staff, and laid it down next to

Drago.

Then she sighed and walked away, sitting down under a tree. She let her thoughts

meander until they became loose and meaningless, and her head drooped in sleep.

She dreamed she was falling through the sky, but in the instant before she hit the ground

StarDrifter was there, laughing, his arms held out for her.

I will always be there to catch you, I ’ll always be there for you.

And Zenith smiled, and dreamed on.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Zenith awoke with a start.

It was Faraday, looking well and rested.

―Faraday?‖ Zenith said. ―How are you? Is Drago still in the cart? What happened at—‖

―Shush,‖ Faraday said, and sat down beside Zenith. ―I have slept the night through, and

Drago still sleeps. Now,‖ she took a deep breath, and her body tensed, ―let me tell you what

happened in the Chamber of the Star Gate.‖

Zenith sat quietly, listening to the horror of the emergence of the children—but children

no longer, more like birds—and of StarLaughter and the undead child she carried, and then of the

appalling evil of the Demons.

―Oh, Zenith,‖ Faraday said in a voice barely above a whisper. ―They were more than