all, but a full, pouting lip. Its beaked mouth was open, and the men saw that it had no teeth, only
hard-ridged bone where once had been gums. It had wings held out behind it—but at their tips
clenched and unclenched small hands…a child‘s hands, and that recognition made the horror
even worse.
It walked forward on a bird‘s legs, tufted with black feathers down to the mid-joint, and
then scaled to end in a four-toed claw that alternatively flexed and splayed delicately as the
creature walked.
It was entirely feathered in dull black.
―Hello,‖ it whispered, tilting its head to one side curiously. Abruptly, its head tilted the
other way, as if the creature tried to view its prey from all angles, assessing the possibilities.
Completely frozen, none of the men moved or spoke.
―Hello,‖ it said again.
It had now walked to within several paces of the men, and Brandon finally found the
courage to heft his sword before him.
―Who are you?‖ he challenged. ―One of the Demons?‖
The creature laughed, a peculiar dry whispery sound that sent chills of fear through the
men. ―Nay. I am a child, come to look for its home.‖
It took a step closer.
―And for he who condemned me. Do you know of him? WolfStar?‖
Suddenly whispers surrounded the men. They rippled in from all sides—seemingly
coming from within the rock itself.
The creature spread its wings, and lunged.
Reflexively, Brandon thrust his sword forward—but it had hardly moved before he found
his wrist grasped from behind.
A black-feathered wing had wrapped about him, and the small hand at its tip had caught
at his sword arm with frightening strength.
There was one at his back!
Brandon twisted his head, registering that both his companions were now gripped by two
of the creatures, but before he could do or say anything else, a beak sliced down into his neck.
―Blood,‖ whispered the creature in front, and sank its own beak into Brandon‘s belly.
It withdrew, holding a lump of something wet and red in its beak. ―This is what it feels
like to die a murdered death, man,‖ it said, the words gurgling out past the lump of flesh. ―Pity
us, that we have had to wait so long for a revenge.‖
Then, pitiless, the Hawkchild ripped the man apart.
The flock fed quickly, before, as one, they turned to the dark entrance. They lifted into
the air and swept inside.
None of the sentries stationed along the way ever saw or heard them approach. The
black-feathered Hawkchilds were absorbed by the darkness of the tunnel, and by the time they
swooped down into the circle of light cast by the brand each sentry carried, it was far, far too
late.
Axis, Azhure and Caelum were left with five of their escort when the tunnel abruptly
levelled out—and changed.
It changed into the same kind of tunnel that Azhure remembered from her previous
experience. The floor was coated with a hard, shiny black substance, and as soon as Axis‘ horse
placed its first hoof on it, a light blinked on overhead. Another lit up some five paces ahead.
Sicarius trotted ahead, lights blinking on as he went. After some forty paces the lights
revealed the rest of the pack of Alaunt, sitting patiently in a group, waiting for Sicarius and those
he led.
―No trap,‖ Axis said, his shoulder slumping in relief.
Azhure nodded. ―The way will be easy from here on, if hard sleeping at night.‖
She looked about. ―I wonder how long we will have to travel this roadway?‖
―As long as it takes us to get to Star Finger, I hope,‖ Caelum said. ―Come, let us ride.
This surface will allow us a good pace before we stop to rest.‖
Axis murmured to the captain, and then signalled to the rear rider to go back and fetch the
rest of the unit. It would take them a while to catch up, but catch up they would.
The rider died after the second turn he took.
They‘d ridden for perhaps half an hour when Axis began to feel cold.
―Azhure?‖ he said, turning his horse slightly so he could look at her. ―Do you—‖
He stopped, appalled. Past Azhure and Caelum, past the remaining four men of their
escort, at the very farthest reaches of the portion of the tunnel that still remained lighted, Axis
saw a cloud of darkness billowing towards them.
―Stars!‖ he whispered, ―what is that?‖
Sicarius heard the horses stop, and turned to look over his shoulder.
The coldness of pure horror passed through him.
Everything that was in him screamed at him to defend those he was with, everything
within him screamed to Attack! Attack! Attack!
And yet he could not. He could not.
The StarSon needed his pack intact for the hunt, and Sicarius could not risk them in a fray
now.
With a half-yelp, half-howl of sheer frustration and anger, Sicarius led the Alaunt in a flat
run down the tunnel, as far away from the black cloud as they could get.
Leaving his charges to defend themselves as best they could.
25
Askam
Askam had been able to come to terms with nothing since Caelum‘s astounding decision
to accept the traitor Zared into his force in order to meet whatever threatened from beyond the
Star Gate. In a matter of weeks, Askam had seen his entire inheritance—Carlon and the lands of
the West—disappear through Zared‘s treachery, his sister‘s disloyalty, and Caelum‘s
incomprehensible decision not to hang Zared the instant he‘d got his hands on him.
Had his father, Belial, fought for nothing? he wondered. What would Belial have thought,
knowing that all he‘d achieved had been lost within a generation?
Well, Askam had learned one immensely valuable lesson from all he‘d witnessed—and
lost—and that was that bold action more often won the day (and the land and the inheritance)
than did complaining about the actions of traitors.
Action provided what justice this world harboured, and possession was more potent than
right.
And so, even while he fumbled one-handed with the cursed piece of weaving under the
trees of the Silent Woman Woods, Askam decided on a course of action that would regain him
the possession of that which was his.
Damn it! Zared was using every opportunity, even this invasion by the TimeKeepers, to
consolidate his hold on the West. And no doubt Zared was working hand in hand with Drago
who, in his own fashion, was simply the pawn of the Demons.
―Well,‖ Askam had said, his eyes sliding over his empty coat sleeve, ―as Zared does, so
will I take every opportunity offered me.‖
Among the combined forces there were still men confused about the issue of leadership.
How was it that one day Zared could be the hunted, and the next the commander? Askam played
to those confusions, and added in the spice of uncertainty about what was happening to families
back home.
―Zared intends to course out into the Arcness Plains to win himself yet more territory,‖
Askam whispered around carefully selected campfires at night. ―He wants to conquer all of the
old lands of Achar! But wait…maybe that is not his plan. Zared listens to the vile Drago, and we
all know that Drago walks in the company of Demons!‖
Askam would lean forward to drive home his point, his eyes glittering with passion.
―Tencendor is doomed if we blindly follow Zared. What about your wives and children
back in Carlon? Who will protect them from the horrors that now sweep Tencendor? Caelum has
gone north to study at Star Finger, Zared has his personal ambitions to cater for, but I… I…sit here and worry for you, and for your families.‖
His words fell on fertile worries. What did happen to their families in Carlon?
―But what can you do to help us?‖ Jaspar asked. About him some fourteen men sat
listening intently.
―I can act,‖ Askam said, remembering Leagh‘s words: People will willingly tear out their
hearts for a man who will do rather than expect.
Jaspar looked at Askam for a long moment, then turned and conversed with his
companions in low tones.
Satisfied, Askam rose from that campfire and left them to their decision. He knew what it
would be.
By the time Zared led the horsed soldiers and Strike Force out of the Silent Woman
Woods, Askam had almost four hundred men who would follow him. They wanted to go home,
they wanted to be able to look after their families, and they were not particularly thrilled with the
notion of chasing about Tencendor in the employment of the Demonic-inspired Drago or the
land-hungry Zared.
Askam‘s lies had worked their evil well.
He chose the first night they were camped, making sure that all the men who were his
were under the same squares of cloth. Askam had noted how cleverly the shade cloths worked,
and in the dead of night, when they had the space of many hours before first light, he managed to