Pilgrim by Sara Douglas

StarLaughter stared expressionlessly at Sheol, then in a sudden, horrific movement, she

bared her teeth in a gesture half-smile, half-snarl.

43

The Bridges of Tencendor

StarDrifter hurriedly dropped his arm from Zenith‘s shoulders, realising that he may well

have gone too far. Stars! How long did she need before she would accept him?

Zenith turned away slightly, lowering her eyes so that StarDrifter would not see the guilt

she was certain shone forth.

―Well?‖ SpikeFeather cried. ―Shall we go down?‖

―Yes,‖ StarDrifter said, a little too quickly. ―Let us go and see this Sanctuary of

Drago‘s.‖

The stairwell curved down in a spiral, as did most of the entrances to the Underworld, but

the steps down were wide and the gradient gentle. They wished they could have used their wings

to float down, but the internal space that the stairs encircled was too tight for the Icarii wingspan.

And so not only do I lose the sound of the Star Dance, StarDrifter thought, but I also lose the use

of my proudest possession, my wings. But the thought did not cause him too much distress, for

he was still tingling with the excitement of his discovery.

What if he could map all the Songs he knew into dance? Could he then regain the same

power as he‘d once enjoyed? But he did not know how to map music into movement.

StarDrifter had succeeded in the enchantment necessary to open the door to Sanctuary

only because the pattern of the stone maze had shown him the steps to take.

But if I think, StarDrifter reasoned, if I think it through, surely I will learn the secret.

Thus encouraged, he stepped lightly down into whatever mystery awaited them below.

Behind him trod Zenith. Her eyes and thoughts were not on the mysteries below, or even

on StarDrifter‘s discovery, but on the play of the tendons and sinews of his back, and the smooth

transition they made from flesh to wing. Then her eyes travelled further and were trapped by the

hidden play of the muscles of his buttocks and thighs beneath the skintight fabric of his golden

breeches.

Why can’t I put my pruderies to one side? she thought. Are my inhibitions destroying

me?

The walk was long, hours long, and legs ached and tempers frayed well before it was

over. Darkness, and terror, had fallen in the world above, but here in the sheltered entrance

stairwell of Sanctuary the shadows were dissipated by the subtle radiance that emanated from the

pink walls. Even if legs ached, then terror did not find them, for from deep below rose the hope

of Sanctuary.

StarDrifter‘s eyes occasionally wandered to the walls. They reminded him of the walls on

the stairwell leading from the Nordra down to the waterways. Patterns of women and children

engaged in joyous dance had been traced into the walls, and sometimes StarDrifter lifted his hand and let his fingers trail over the tracings, wondering at the dance they performed, and

wondering at its use.

Behind, Zenith‘s eyes were trapped by his lean-fingered hand drifting so lightly across

the carvings.

Finally, when by WingRidge‘s calculation it had reached midnight in the world above,

they came to the end of the stairwell. The Icarii sighed and jested in relief, bending to rub calves

and stretching their hands upwards to ease cramped muscles.

They stood in a circular domed chamber. Some fifteen paces directly across from the foot

of the stairs were two massive, arched doors.

WingRidge and SpikeFeather walked closer to inspect them.

As with the Maze Gate, while the doors were of plain wood, the stone surrounds had been

carved into the symbols of the Enemy.

―What does it say?‖ StarDrifter asked, walking up.

―Again and again it mentions StarSon,‖ WingRidge said, pointing to the recurring

symbols of the sun-surmounted star. ―But basically the script states that behind these doors lies

Sanctuary, a haven for all the races of Tencendor. It is a welcoming message, and full of hope.‖

The others had wandered up.

―Will you open it?‖ JestWing asked. All he could think of were the Icarii huddled

miserably in the Minaret Peaks, hungry and cold and with nothing but their despair to comfort

them. Stars! Fernbrake was so close that the majority of them could be safe in Sanctuary within a

week.

―I don‘t see why not,‖ WingRidge said slowly, his hands still moving gracefully over the

symbols. ―There is no caution or bar against entry, as there is on the Maze Gate. SpikeFeather?

Do you concur?‖

―I am not as practiced as you at reading this language, WingRidge,‖ he said, and took a

deep breath, ―but nothing ventured, nothing gained.‖

―Or lost,‖ someone muttered at the back, but no-one took offence at the remark.

WingRidge dropped his hand from the stone and looked back at his companions. ―Shall

I?‖

―Yes!‖ StarDrifter said. ―Yes!‖

WingRidge stepped before the double doors and took firm grip on the brass handles. The

muscles in his arms and shoulders visibly tensed, then his wrists turned, and his whole body

leaned forward.

The doors swung silently and gracefully open.

As soon as WingRidge felt them move, he let go the handles and stood back.

For a very long time they stood there, silent, stunned by the beauty and wonder of

Sanctuary.

All of them had wet eyes or tears sliding gently down cheeks.

Zenith stood open-mouthed, and StarDrifter‘s wings had sagged in astonishment.

―I…I had no idea.‖ SpikeFeather stumbled over the words. ―None. Whoever

thought…the Charonites never knew…oh, Stars. ‖

Beyond the gates arched a graceful bridge constructed of what appeared to be silver. It

managed to convey both the strength of fire-tempered steel and the grace and beauty of an orbed

spider‘s tracery web. It covered a chasm whose depths were lost in billowing white clouds.

Beyond the bridge, a road wound across a grassy plain that was liberally sprinkled with

flowers and spreading shrubs. Above soared the dome of a deep blue sky, a sun shining

incongruously over this UnderWorld landscape. The road extended perhaps half a league and it

led towards a blue and white mountain range with jagged peaks surpassing even those of the

Icescarp Alps. The mountains formed an impenetrable wall…save for the mouth of a valley that

absorbed the end of the road. Even though it was distant, the Icarii could see that the valley was

beauteous beyond any they had ever seen before.

StarDrifter walked slowly forward. He passed through the doors, and then set foot on the

bridge.

He did not take his eyes off the distant valley.

―Are you true?‖ the bridge asked with the cadence of a songstress.

―Yes,‖ StarDrifter said. ―I am true,‖ and took another step forward until his full weight

rested on the bridge.

―You are not he who is true,‖ the bridge cried, and without further ado, vanished.

StarDrifter plummeted into the chasm in a flash of white and gold.

―Ah,‖ said WingRidge, his voice heavy with the sagacious wisdom of hindsight.

The TimeKeeper Demons sat their black horses through the midnight hour and stared at

the bridge stretching into Sigholt.

They were powerful, more powerful than they had been in many, many tens of thousands

of years. They had fed well of the souls of Tencendor, and they had increased their power further

with each Lake they visited. They still had some distance to go before they attained their full

powers—two lakes‘ distance—but now they were more dangerous, and hungrier, than Tencendor

had yet seen them. Or felt them.

They hated the Keep rising silvery grey before them. They hated it because of its inherent

beauty and gracefulness, but mostly they hated it because it did not fear them.

In fact, the Keep of Sigholt chose to ignore them.

Slightly to one side, StarLaughter watched the Demons rather than the bridge. She did not

totally understand their antipathy towards the Keep. It was irritating, yes, and the bridge was

more than annoying, but why worry about one stone Keep when further power and glory awaited

them to the south?

Her son was more important.

She turned her lovely head slightly to run her eyes over her boy. Surely no fairer youth

than he had ever existed. It was all she could do not to lean across the distance that separated

them—for now the boy‘s size required him to ride his own black mount—and run her hand over

his soft, warm skin. Feel his chest rise and fall with every breath.

He was only movement and soul away from wholeness, and when that happened

StarLaughter thought she would not be able to bear the strength of her happiness, nor her love for

her boy.

So why did the Demons waste time here, staring at the Keep, when they should be

hasting south towards Fernbrake?

―Something waits within that stone,‖ Sheol said.

―But the Keep is deserted,‖ StarLaughter said. ―All have run for the hills.‖

She swivelled a little in her saddle so she could see the first of the Urqhart Hills guarding

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