Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

neck. Far away Caelum thought he heard Azhure scream, and wondered what they could

possibly be doing to her to cause such horror to suffuse her voice.

And then he drifted deeper towards unconsciousness, pushed himself towards it, because

it would be the only escape from this—

Suddenly, the pressure eased. He felt one Hawkchild lift away, and another fall away,

tearing its claws out of his throat as it did so.

Caelum finally managed to retch, spitting filth and his own blood from his mouth.

The taste brought him back to full consciousness. He slammed one of his elbows into the

remaining Hawkchild that clung to him, simultaneously grasping his sword and swinging it in an

arc.

There was a screech, and the sound of a body scrabbling about on the floor.

For an instant black wings thrashed in his face, and then the Hawkchild had scrambled

free.

―Father?‖

―Caelum!‖ Axis‘ voice was breathless, and somewhat distant, but it was strong.

Caelum blinked his eyes, adjusting them to the darkness, and finally began to discern

shapes.

Pale hounds were leaping and snapping into the air, and both his parents were fighting to

the rear of the cave, their backs to the wall.

He took a step towards them, when, stunningly, a hand fell on his shoulder.

―You are wounded,‖ someone said behind him, and the hand thrust him against the side

wall of the cave. ―Stand back. We will help your parents.‖

Several people leapt past him, seizing wings and legs and literally hurling Hawkchilds

away from Azhure and Axis. Swords flashed, and Caelum thought he saw two of the new

arrivals lunge forward with deadly pikes.

―Adamon,‖ he said, abruptly realising who had spoken to him. Then he slid to his knees,

his injuries finally draining him of strength. It was Adamon, and six or seven companions, some

of them winged. Relieved he didn‘t have to fight either dream or reality any more, Caelum

finally let the greyness claim him.

He awoke to the feel of something dabbing at the wounds on his belly.

It hurt.

―Be still,‖ a soft voice said. ―The Hawkchilds have scored your flesh deeply.‖

Caelum blinked, and then focused on the face bending over him. Xanon, Adamon‘s wife.

She lifted her head slightly and smiled at him, then turned back to her cleansing of his

belly wounds.

―What…how…?‖ He could hardly force the words past his damaged throat.

Then his father appeared at his side, bending down to him.

―Adamon and Xanon came to our aid,‖ Axis said, laying a hand on Caelum‘s shoulder.

―With Pors and Silton and four Icarii from Star Finger.‖

―We were worried.‖ Now Adamon‘s face appeared over Xanon‘s shoulder. ―You were

taking so long to join us at Star Finger that we thought to come down the trails in the hope of

meeting you.‖

―Thank the Stars you did,‖ Axis said softly.

―Mother?‖ Caelum asked.

―Scratched, but not as deeply as you,‖ Axis answered. ―She‘s with the hounds. One or

two of them sustained some deep wounds.‖

Caelum relaxed a little. ―And the Hawkchilds?‖

―Gone,‖ Xanon said. She sat back on her heels, and reached for a rough bandage she‘d

torn from a robe. ―Wounded, but not dead. They have flown into the distant night. For the

moment.‖

―Well, at least we know they, too, can bleed,‖ Axis said, and then looked at Adamon.

―We have no time to waste.‖

Adamon nodded. ―I know.‖ Then his eyes brightened, and he leaned forward and rested

his hand on Axis‘ shoulder, his excitement flowing down through Axis‘ body and arm into

Caelum.

―We have found something!‖ he said.

32

A Seal Hunt…of Sorts

He strode down through the palace corridors, ignoring the glances of those he passed,

down to the courtyard, across to the stables and to the bracket of two loose boxes that held his

stallion and the placidly munching donkeys.

All Zared could think of was how he‘d lost Isabeau.

If only he‘d been more careful. Not let her ride to the hunt while pregnant. Restricted her

to the palace and gentle walks about the garden.

If only…if only he‘d been able to keep her from death.

And now he‘d lost Leagh, too. If only he‘d kept Leagh with him.

If only he’d not trusted his wife to her Demon-rotted brother!

And now, was Leagh also…? No! He could not think of it.

―I will rescue her,‖ he said to his stallion as he threw a saddle across its back. ―How far

can Askam have run?‖

―Don‘t be such a fool, Zared!‖ Herme cried, running into the stable. His face was red and

sweating. He had dashed all the way from the audience chamber of the palace where a guard had

told him of Zared‘s stern-faced march through the corridors and down to the stables.

Thank all gods in creation he‘d got here soon enough. He began to say something else,

checked himself, then continued in a moderate voice that was nevertheless tight with frustration.

―Sire, I entreat you to listen to reason. There is no shelter beyond Carlon‘s walls, and

dusk fell many hours ago. Leagh…Leagh would have succumbed—‖

―No!‖ Zared jerked the girth of his saddle tight and reached for the bridle hanging on a

hook nearby. ―Askam and his men had shade cloth with them. They could have…they must

have…‖

Theod entered the stable, his own face flushed, and looked mildly surprised that the older

Herme had managed to get there first.

―Zared,‖ he said, somewhat breathlessly, ―you know as well as we that Askam and his

command must have been infected by the Demons. They would not use the shade cloth. My

friend, Leagh is…is…‖

He could not continue, and turned away, his hand over his eyes.

Zared stared at Theod, then shifted his eyes to Herme. ―I will rescue her,‖ he repeated.

―Damn it, I cannot let her lie out there.‖

―For the gods‘ sakes, listen to reason!‖ Herme roared, startling the other two men. ―You

owe responsibility to your people before you do to your wife. Have you forgotten already who

you are? You are a King, Zared, and married to your people as much as you are married to the

woman who is your wife.‖

Zared stared at him flatly, almost hating Herme for his words, and hating his own mind

for dredging up the memory of using almost the exact words to Leagh when he was trying to

persuade her to marry him despite her doubts.

Herme swung an arm dramatically towards the stable door leading to the courtyard and

the streets beyond. ―Your people need you to help them, Zared. The very last thing they need of you is to waste your own life trying to rescue a woman who is already surely as mad as her

brother.‖

― How dare you say those words to me! ‖ Zared screamed, and would have lunged forward

had not Theod seized his shoulders and held him back.

―How dare you say to me she is mad,‖ Zared said again, this time in a whisper. ―How

dare you say to me she is lost.‖

Again Theod‘s and Herme‘s eyes met, and they were almost as despairing as Zared‘s

were.

―We can do nothing,‖ Herme murmured. ―Nothing.‖

Very gently he eased the bridle from Zared‘s trembling hands.

―Nothing,‖ he whispered again, and then gathered Zared into his arms. ―I am so very,

very sorry, my friend.‖

Zared stood stiffly for a moment, and then he broke down, sobbing.

Herme stood there and held him as he wept, Theod standing close to one side, a hand on

Zared‘s shoulder.

Theod raised his eyes and looked at Herme, and neither man was surprised to see that the

other had tears sliding down his cheeks. For his part, Herme knew that Theod was thinking of his

own wife and two young sons far to the north. Gwendylyr was of an age with Leagh.

In the adjoining loose box the donkeys had stopped their munching and were staring at

the three men. One of them shifted her gaze slightly, and the single lamp hanging on a post

glinted in her eyes. For one instant the donkey‘s eyes reflected the carnage of dead seals atop the

ice-pack.

The donkeys stayed still long after the men had gone.

Then one turned to the other and spoke with the mind voice. It has been a very long time

since we have hunted, sister.

That is so.

And meanwhile the man-Zared laments for the woman-Leagh.

That is so.

We have been quiescent too long. Shall we hunt the seal tonight, sister? Aye!

The streets of Carlon were still, deserted. Nothing moved, save the grey terror that hung

down in thick veils from the sky and the two white donkeys who moved silently between the

tenement buildings.

The terror did not touch them…it did not even notice them.

The donkeys plodded forward, their heads nodding with every step, their ears drooping

amiably.

Their tongues hungered for the wetness of blood.