Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

straight.

The horse sighed, and Drago tensed and then relaxed as the horse made no further

movement. Beneath him, the lizard was engaged in careful exploration, sniffing about the horse‘s

fetlocks and hooves. It moved behind the horse, and sniffed at the yellowed tail that hung almost

to the ground.

―No,‖ Drago said, and fixed the lizard in the eye.

The lizard blinked, its crest rising rapidly three or four times, then it walked stiff-legged

to the other side of the horse and pretended a great interest in a small stone.

Drago smiled, and turned his head slightly so he could speak to Faraday.

―Come closer. I do not think there is any danger.‖

―Are you sure?‖ But Faraday slipped her pack off and walked closer.

―I think this horse is so ancient,‖ Drago said, ―that his mind has wandered. He‘s as senile

as a wine-soaked octogenarian.‖

Faraday had to think a moment before she understood. ―Ah. The Demons‘ influence has

just slid off his mind like sunshine off a mirror.‖

―Yes. I had wondered if he somehow shared our strange immunity…but maybe it is just

his senility that has protected him.‖ Drago had moved down the hose‘s side, running his hand

down his ridged back, and then down his flank. ―But there‘s something about this

horse…something…‖

His hand drifted lower down the horse‘s near hind leg, and Drago squatted to inspect it

more closely.

―I am sure that I‘ve seen this… Oh Stars! Faraday! ‖

Stunned by what she thought was utter panic in Drago‘s voice, Faraday grabbed him by

the shoulders and pulled him back.

Drago toppled over in the dirt, but his eyes remained on the horse‘s hind leg…on the

faint scar that ran down the horse‘s hock.

His father, Axis, shouting at the stable boy who had so startled the stallion that he’d

kicked down his stable door, cutting his near hind badly.

Axis, holding the stallion’s bridle to keep him still as the surgeon stitched the leg.

Long nights when the lamps had burned in the stable block as watch was kept on the

fevered stallion.

The day, the final horrible day, when Axis had realised the horse’s leg would be too weak

for him to ever be ridden again.

Drago sat up and squatted back at the horse‘s leg, his fingers exploring the scar.

―Faraday, I know this horse!‖

Axis, tears running down his face, turning the stallion loose in the Urqhart Hills so he

could live out the rest of his life in freedom.

The horse woke from his dream, opened his eyes, turned his head, and stared at Drago.

This was the boy who had fed him apples…

This was the boy who had spent so many nights asleep in his manger, escaping some

horror within Sigholt’s grey walls.

This was the boy who for months after the horse had been released into the hills, would

come to seek him out to bring him apples, and make sure he was not too lonely.

Drago stood and faced the horse, now gazing at him with deep black intelligent eyes.

This was no senile nag. This was…―Belaguez,‖ Drago said in wonderment.

―Belaguez?‖ Faraday said. ―But it can’t be! Axis rode him when he was BattleAxe—‖

―He must be fifty years old,‖ Drago said, now rubbing Belaguez‘s ears. The old horse

sighed in contentment, and butted Drago‘s chest with his head.

―No horse lives that old,‖ Faraday said, her forehead creased in a frown as if cross that

the horse had dared to contravene holy law.

Drago shot her an amused look. ―And no woman lives, and dies, and wanders forests as a

deer, and then lives again…does she?‖

Faraday managed a small smile. ―Perhaps some of Axis‘ enchantment seeped into the

horse. What happened to him?‖

―He was crippled in a stable accident,‖ Drago said, indicating the scar, ―when I was about

eight. Axis decided he could no longer be ridden, so he turned him loose in the Urqhart Hills. ‖

―He must have been wandering all these years,‖ Faraday said, and now she, too, was

stroking Belaguez‘s nose.

―We must take him with us,‖ Drago said softly. ―At the very least he‘ll be strong enough

to help us ford the river.‖

At that announcement, the lizard—who had crept back behind the horse‘s

haunches—launched itself into Belaguez‘s tail, and began to haul itself upwards, claw over claw.

Belaguez snorted, and tossed his head, but otherwise made no objection as the lizard

happily attained the summit of the horse‘s haunches and sat, surveying the view.

Faraday‘s eyes drifted between Drago and Belaguez. She finally crossed her arms and

squared her shoulders.

―Well,‖ she said, ―as long as you‘re comfortable travelling with an ancient relic from

your father‘s reign…‖

Drago took his time in responding, and when he did, his eyes were merry with mischief.

―Oh, I‘m getting quite used to travelling with ancient relics from my father‘s reign.‖

28

Sunken Castles

―Find this Sanctuary,‖ Drago had told WingRidge and SpikeFeather, and so they had

done their best.

But Sanctuary, whatever that might be, was proving difficult to locate.

WingRidge had set the entire Lake Guard to the task, six hundred birdmen and women,

haunting the waterways in small punts or walking the banks with smoking torches held aloft.

―I know nothing,‖ SpikeFeather kept telling WingRidge, ―of any place beneath here that

might harbour so many hundreds of thousands of people.‖

―Then why,‖ WingRidge invariably shot back to his companion, ―did you spend so

damned many years down here with the Ferryman, if not to learn these secrets?‖

―I do not think even the Ferryman knew,‖ SpikeFeather finally said stiffly one day as

they stood in a cavern in the waterways halfway between the Lake of Life and Fernbrake Lake.

―Apparently Orr was not privy to this secret, nor were any of his Charonite predecessors.‖

―He who seeks only finds what he wants to find,‖ WingRidge said obscurely, and then

placed his hands on his hips and looked about the cavern. There were several other members of

the Lake Guard standing to one side, their ivory uniforms gleaming softly in the lamplight, the

golden knots in the centre of their chests sending bright sparks of light about the cavern.

―We have wandered these passages for weeks,‖ WingRidge said, now studying the blank

rock walls as if he might find inspiration there. ―And nothing. In the meantime the Demons have

retrieved what they needed from Cauldron Lake and must now be drawing close to the Lake of

Life.‖

―There must be a clue somewhere!‖ SpikeFeather said. ―Does the Maze Gate say

anything?‖

WingRidge shook his head, still studying the rock. He, as with most members of the Lake

Guard at various times, had gone back to the Maze Gate under Grail Lake to study more

carefully its inscriptions—but nothing. There were only the symbols depicting the rise of Qeteb

and StarSon, the devastation of Tencendor, and the beginning of a final battle between Qeteb and

the Crusader.

There had been a new symbol depicted amongst the script devoted to destruction, a lily,

but WingRidge did not think the lilies related anything of Sanctuary.

The Maze Gate was mute when it came to sanctuaries.

―Then do you suppose Drago misheard?‖ SpikeFeather asked.

WingRidge finally turned back to the birdman. ―No. He heard correctly enough, and we

have been set to the task, and we are failing, dammit!‖

―Captain?‖ One of the Lake Guardsmen had stepped forth.

―Yes, GapFeather?‖

―Captain, there must be a clue somewhere. Something that stares us in the eye, and yet

we remain blind.‖

―I thank you for that observation, GapFeather,‖ WingRidge said, ―but unless the

blindfold has been suddenly removed from your eyes, I fail to see how this—‖

―Captain, pardon my interruption, but here in these waterways we are blind. We can

explore only a small portion of the whole. What we need to be able to do is see the whole.‖

―What do you mean?‖

GapFeather glanced quickly at his companions for support. ―We need to see a map of the

waterways. That may well give us an indication of where to look. Even what to look for.‖

WingRidge nodded. ―A good point. SpikeFeather?‖

―What?‖

―A map, SpikeFeather! Do you know of a map of the—‖

SpikeFeather threw up his hands in disgust. ―No. Gods, WingRidge, don‘t you think I

would have thought of that first? I have never seen a map of the waterways. Orr never spoke of

one, and—‖

―Sigholt,‖ WingRidge said quietly, his eyes still on SpikeFeather.

―Sigholt?‖

―Sigholt. Sigholt is ancient, it is in itself almost a part of the waterways, as it is so closely

tied to the Lake. And…‖

―And?‖

―And it has at its heart a map room.‖

SpikeFeather was still not convinced. ―But I‘ve never seen a map of the waterways there.

And Axis, and then Caelum, who both used the room, have never mentioned one to me—and I‘m sure they would have.‖

WingRidge stood silently, his fingers thumping gently against his hips, his wings held