Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

doorframes, and a thick layer of ice glittered in the late afternoon sun from the spires of the town

and the towers of the fort.

Winter had claimed Gorkentown far earlier than it had anything else.

―Something is wrong,‖ Drago said, leaning to one side to scoop a handful of snow from a

door ledge into his sack. ―Why is everything destroyed? Magariz rebuilt this town as a major

trading point with the Ravensbundmen.‖

―We have ridden into memory, I think,‖ Faraday said. ―For this is how Gorkentown

appeared when it had been attacked by Gorgrael‘s Skraelings. And thus…thus I rode into the

town to meet Borneheld.‖

―Borneheld is dead,‖ Drago said roughly. He wondered if she surrounded herself

deliberately with the ghosts of dead husbands and dream-children to protect herself from him.

―For you, perhaps.‖

Drago wished he hadn‘t brought Faraday here, and wondered what he could do to bridge

the distance between them.

He tried to push Faraday from his mind—hard when she clung so close to his back—and

studied the town. Should it be this sunk in ice? Was it the effects of the Demons? Or the power of Faraday‘s memory?

Or she who waited them in the fort?

He remembered the grey-haired woman, sinking her teeth into the spine of the seal, and

he shivered himself.

―We have no choice,‖ Faraday said. ―Either of us. Come, let us urge this ancient horse

forwards a trifle faster. Night approaches, and I‘d prefer to be in the shelter of the Keep when it

falls.‖

The gates to Gorkenfort stood as open as had the gates to the town. Belaguez halted of his

own accord as he approached them, and he lifted his head and whinnied, as if caught in memory

himself.

―Your father fought all along this street,‖ Faraday said, indicating the curved road that

ran between a row of tenements and the fort walls. ―It was their final line of defence against the

Skraelings after a night spent retreating towards the fort. Borneheld…‖

She lifted her head and stared at the walls rising high above them. ―Borneheld had

ordered that the gates not be opened to admit him. He wanted him dead.‖

―But…‖

―Margariz ordered them open,‖ Faraday said. ―And I sank my hands into your father‘s

body and healed him. I loved him so desperately. I could not see him die.‖

Drago tensed, then booted Belaguez forward.

As the town, so the fort. The inner courtyard was deserted, piles of goods left adrift as if

everything had been abandoned in a hurry so terrifying that precious belongings were dropped

forgotten as people fled in a thousand differing directions.

Hinges moaned in the wind, and a squall of four or five ravens launched themselves

screaming into the twilight air high above.

A door banged, and Faraday jumped and cried out.

Drago swung a leg over Belaguez‘s wither and dropped to the ground, slipping slightly in

the ice. He turned and held out his arms for Faraday.

―Come—we need to seek shelter. I can smell a storm on this wind.‖

She stared at him, as if lost in some appalling memory.

―I am not Borneheld,‖ Drago said. ― Come on. Can you not hear the wind? We have little

time.‖

Faraday blinked, then leaned down to Drago. He seized her waist and lifted her down

from the horse, slapping Belaguez‘s rump so that he ambled—apparently totally unconcerned

about the nearing tempest—into an open stable door.

The feathered lizard gave a high-pitched cry and slithered over Belaguez‘s hindquarters,

scampering over the snow and ice-covered paving stones to follow Drago as he carried Faraday

inside the door to the Keep.

The lizard scrambled in behind them, and Drago let Faraday slide to her feet, and

slammed the door closed.

Then he turned and looked about him.

They were in an entrance chamber, bare save for its ancient, rotted tapestries and banners.

Nothing but cold, damp, dark stone walls and the fungus-encrusted wall-hangings. Not a

lamp or a candle, and certainly no gilt-edged explanation.

―Through here,‖ Faraday said, stepping over to a closed door. ―The Great Hall.‖

Surely, Drago thought, surely whatever he needed to find would be in here. But the Hall

was as bare as the entrance chamber, except for a table and chairs scattered around the massive

fireplace at the far end.

The Hall was freezing, far worse than outside, and Drago pulled his cloak tighter about

him, trying to repress his shivering.

Faraday stood and looked at the far fireplace.

There Borneheld had stood and stared at her with his frightful, open lust as she‘d entered,

stunning in an emerald and ivory silk gown that had bared her breasts more than concealed

them…

The same gown that Gorgrael, with equal lust, had forced her to wear so he too could—

―No!‖ she cried and spun about.

Here, in this Hall, Axis had stared at her, believing she‘d betrayed him with his brother,

and so precipitating, perhaps, his own betrayal of her.

― No! ‖ she cried again. ― No! ‖

Appalled, Drago caught her to him. She struggled blindly, sobbing, and Drago dragged

her from the Hall, realising the horror of her memories, even if he was unable to participate in

them.

In the antechamber Faraday calmed, although she still shook, and tears continued to

course down her face.

―There must be a room upstairs where we can light a fire and warm ourselves,‖ he said.

―Faraday, can you—‖

―I can walk,‖ she said, and hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks.

―I shouldn‘t have brought you here,‖ Drago said, but took her arm and led her yet deeper

into the Keep.

Up the stone stairwell he found a bedchamber with enough wood stacked into the grate to

sustain a hot fire for the night. Leaving Faraday standing by the bed, the lizard playing with the

laces of her boots, Drago squatted down and lit the fire.

Fnally he rose once the flames took hold and caught sight of Faraday, completely still,

looking at him with her great eyes. Gods, she was so lovely!

―You should wear silks rather than that peasant gown, Faraday.‖

―I have had enough of the lies and betrayals silks bring.‖

―Why so cold to me, Faraday? What have I done?‖

She turned her face away.

―Is it Axis, is that why you refuse to love me?‖

She looked back at him, her eyes even more stricken than before. Why had he spoken

those words?

―Why should I love you, Drago?‖

He winced, and she immediately regretted her words. She fought to find something else

to say, and then said the first thing that came to her mind.

―Did you know that this was the chamber of my marriage night, Drago? That this was

where Borneheld took my virginity?‖

―Are you determined to throw every past lover in my face, Faraday?‖

―I am determined never to be betrayed again, never to be hurt again,‖ she countered.

Drago strode across the room, angry with her. Damn it, why did she deny what he knew

existed between them?

He took her shoulders in hands suddenly surprisingly gentle. ―I would not betray you,

Faraday.‖

―And yet you betray this land by refusing to accept what Noah told you, by refusing to

accept what I know, and what WingRidge and all his damned Lake Guard knows, and what

Isfrael and StarDrifter and Zenith know!‖

Drago shifted his eyes so he did not have to bear the angry scrutiny in her own.

― You are the StarSon, Drago. You! ‖

Still he did not speak, and Faraday, her frustration at his obstinacy almost unbearable,

tore at the throat laces of the gown. She pulled the bodice apart, exposing the swell of her

breasts.

―If you accept your heritage, Drago, if you accept your role as StarSon, then you may bed

me. Tonight. Here. Now. But tell me that you are the StarSon.‖

―And what shall I tell Caelum?‖ Drago said softly, once more looking her in the eye.

―That I again betrayed him? And this time for a night with our father‘s lover?‖

The colour drained from Faraday‘s face and she wrenched away from him, jerking the

bodice closed over her breasts.

―What lies between us,‖ Drago snapped, ―needs no blackmail to force a consummation!‖

He turned and strode over to the door. ―I‘ll get some food from our packs,‖ he said, then

slammed the door behind him.

Faraday lowered her head into her hands, and her shoulders shuddered.

―Never, never say you love me,‖ she whispered into the lonely night, ―for that I could not

bear.‖

She trod the snowdrifts with the firmness of one who regarded the winter as a lover.

About her Gorkentown lay windswept and frosty, and she raised her great head and

sniffed the thickening wind, half-expecting to find the scent of prey upon it.

But there was nothing, and so she rumbled a great sigh, and padded further into the town.

Puffs of snow lifted into the air with every step she took.