Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

fingers of one hand absently tracing the golden knot on his tunic. ―Knots—mazes—may take a

thousand varied forms, and this one is very different to the Maze beyond the Gate. I cannot

understand it.‖

If WingRidge expected SpikeFeather to be disappointed, he was wrong. The red-plumed

birdman simply shrugged, and asked everyone to stand outside the circle.

―It will be simple enough to decipher,‖ SpikeFeather said, and walked slowly over the

maze.

―Ah!‖ he exclaimed after only a few minutes. ―Here is where it begins!‖

He began to follow a pathway over the maze, his body swaying with the natural rhythm

of the Icarii.

―What is he doing?‖ Zenith said, finally moving to stand next to StarDrifter.

He did not answer, and Zenith looked at him. StarDrifter was frowning, staring at

SpikeFeather, but Zenith thought she could see just the faintest glimmer of excitement in the pale

blue of his eyes and the skin stretched tight over his cheekbones.

―StarDrifter?‖

―I don‘t believe it!‖ he whispered. ―I can‘t believe we have all been so stupid.‖

Then he strode into the circle, grabbing a startled SpikeFeather by the elbow.

―Out,‖ StarDrifter said. ―Let me, SpikeFeather. Please, let me do this.‖

SpikeFeather almost objected, then stopped himself. StarDrifter had once been a

powerful Enchanter, second only to Axis and his family in strength. He would do this far better

than SpikeFeather could. So he nodded, and left the circle, joining Zenith and the other Icarii grouped about her.

StarDrifter moved to the spot where SpikeFeather had originally said the pathway began,

and stood completely still, his golden head bowed, his luminescent white wings spread across the

stone behind him.

Zenith frowned herself, and laid a soft hand on SpikeFeather‘s arm. ―What is

happening?‖

SpikeFeather caught WingRidge‘s eyes, then glanced briefly at the other Icarii standing

about, as puzzled as Zenith.

―I found the entrance to the Maze Gate by executing a dance,‖ SpikeFeather explained.

―The pattern of the Maze here describes the pattern of a dance, a dance that will open the

doorway into Sanctuary.‖

Zenith jerked her head back to StarDrifter. A dance? A pattern?

An enchantment?

Now StarDrifter commenced the dance. He used his entire body, wings, arms, legs and

torso all twisting and dipping in exquisite deliberateness that described the movements of the

dance.

Zenith stared at him, everything else forgotten. All she could think of was how stunningly

beautiful StarDrifter was. She saw the strength and beauty in the line and swell of muscle over

his naked arms and torso, the indefinable air of mystery that clung to the chiselled bone structure

of his face and saved it from arrogance, the pale, fine skin, the golden hair, and the sheer

loveliness of his long-fingered hands, now sweeping slowly through the air.

Stars! Why couldn’t she allow herself to enjoy him as a lover?

For the first time, Zenith realised that that was what she wanted above all else. She

wanted StarDrifter as a lover, but she did not know how to accept him as a lover. He came with too many complex confusions and emotions.

Why couldn‘t he be my cousin, or even uncle? Anything would be better than

grandfather. Anything.

Tears filled Zenith‘s eyes, and she felt SpikeFeather place a hand on her shoulder. She

glanced at him, and he nodded and gave her a small smile, and even though Zenith knew he

couldn‘t possibly know her dilemma, she let herself be comforted nevertheless.

StarDrifter moved ever more deliberately into his dance. He proceeded slowly, and with

precision, but with such supple fluidity no part of his body was ever still. Feet, hands, wings all

followed the movement prescribed in the stone patterns before him.

Now he increased the tempo of his dance slightly, and Zenith realised he was repeating

the pattern.

And then…then StarDrifter began to sing.

As an Enchanter, when he‘d had the use of the Star Dance, StarDrifter had been

renowned for the power and beauty of his voice. Now, even though he no longer had the use of

the Star Dance, his voice was still beautiful and utterly compelling.

Zenith felt the tears slide down her cheeks, feeling the waste of her life to this point. She

had sat in her chamber in Sigholt, and done what? Nothing, save use her power to frivolous ends.

Meanwhile, StarDrifter, who had enjoyed only a fraction of the power of Axis‘ brood, had

studied the beauty and mystery of the very air about him.

The SunSoars had squabbled and plotted and torn their lives to shreds. StarDrifter had

learned to understand the rhythms of life itself, and had enjoyed life.

Had any of his grandchildren?

StarDrifter twirled and dipped, his voice soaring into the gathering dusk, his arms fully

extended, his wings catching the final rays of the sun to send slivers of silvery light scattering

about the clearing.

Zenith put a hand to her mouth, unable to stop herself from crying. She cried for the

waste the SunSoars had made of their lives, she cried for the beauty that StarDrifter was forcing

her to witness, and she cried for herself that she could not allow herself to love the man she had

been born for.

Now StarDrifter twirled, so fast she could hardly distinguish individual movements. She

sensed the warmth as someone halted behind her.

―All my life I have heard stories of StarDrifter,‖ WingRidge whispered, one of his hands

now on her other shoulder. ―I had heard of his self-absorption and selfishness. Of his quests and

lusts for women. Of his pettinesses. But no-one ever told me…no-one ever told me that he was a

Master.‖

At that precise moment StarDrifter‘s song and his dance soared to a climax, and he came

to a halt, flinging his arms and wings out.

Somewhere a bell tolled, its rich melodious tones reverberating about the clearing.

Individual stones started to move, sliding silently to one side.

StarDrifter rose into the air on his wings, twisting higher and higher in an ecstasy of joy,

then dropped down to alight before Zenith, SpikeFeather and WingRidge.

―Don‘t you understand?‖ he cried, and, seizing Zenith by the shoulders, he pulled her

from WingRidge‘s and SpikeFeather‘s grasp.

She did not object.

―Don‘t you understand?‖

―StarDrifter?‖

―Zenith, you are lovelier than the very stars themselves, but must I shake you to move

your thoughts into coherence? My darling girl, don’t you understand what I just did?‖

She stared into his eyes, too consumed by emotion to speak.

―I just used the same enchantment to open the door into Sanctuary as I used to open the

rock door before the Nordra door to the Underworld. Don’t you understand? ‖

Now StarDrifter looked over Zenith‘s shoulder to all the Icarii standing behind her.

―I did not use music at all, but—‖

―But dance!‖ SpikeFeather cried.

―Yes,‖ StarDrifter said, quieter now. He dropped his eyes back to Zenith‘s face, and she

felt his hands tighten on her shoulders.

―Music and dance are but patterns, Zenith. Icarii Enchanters once wove the pattern of

music to channel the power of the Star Dance. I just used the pattern of dance.‖

―But…how did you use the power of the Star Dance?‖ Zenith said. ―It has been cut off.‖

―I…I don‘t know. Perhaps—‖

―You did not touch the power of the Star Dance,‖ WingRidge said, ―but the power of the

craft themselves.‖ The power of the Star Dance that had infused the craft during their millennia

in space. Then he grinned. ―And I do not think it would have required the power of an Enchanter

to open the Sanctuary door. SpikeFeather would have been as successful.‖

He laughed. ―And had a beetle crawled about in the right pattern then the door would

have opened for it, as well.‖

But no-one, thought Zenith, could have used that power or executed that dance with the

grace and beauty of StarDrifter. Still excited, StarDrifter slid his arm around her shoulders, and Zenith did not object.

The patchy-bald rat scrabbled its way through the darkness, embracing the foul scents

and dampnesses of the sewer.

This was home, and it was where he would eventually launch his revenge on the two-legs

who had harried him and his kind all their lives. He paused, and listened. Ten thousand claws

scrabbled behind him, and this was only one sewer. Many other sewers, ten times a thousand

sewers, were filled with the sweet sounds of scrabbling, gnawing revenge.

And hunger.

It was not only revenge that drove the patchy-bald rat. His masters wanted those who

sheltered in the tenements above…but they‘d promised him his fun, first.

There, another voice probing his mind. The badger, checking on the rat‘s progress. The

rat quivered in delight at the thought of the slaughter ahead. As he burrowed and tunnelled and

probed underground, so the badger and his every-growing crowd of beasts and demented

two-legs thronged and probed the sheer walls of Carlon.

The city was surrounded by increasing numbers of Demon-controlled animals. While the