Within the hour the three boats glided onto the Lake of Life, and Drago sat up and looked
about keenly.
―Lakesview is deserted,‖ he said.
―The Lake Guard arranged its abandonment when we knew the Demons approached,‖
WingRidge said.
―Where are the people now?‖
―In the surrounding hills. We did not know where, or how, to take them further. Should I
now start moving them to Fernbrake?‖
Drago shook his head. ―Not by normal means, no. It would take too long. We have…‖ he
frowned slightly, ―we have only some three or four weeks before the Demons will complete their
quest. Before Qeteb—‖
The others in the boat seemed to draw in their breath as one at the dreadful name.
―—walks again. The peoples of Tencendor must use other means to approach Sanctuary
than their legs, methinks.‖
― How? ‖ StarDrifter asked. ―Dammit, Drago, stop giving us ambiguities to pin our lives
on.‖
―StarDrifter, I am sorry. Sigholt will give all who linger nearby a direct route into
Sanctuary. Believe me.‖
And with that, StarDrifter had to be content.
The boats glided to a stop at the wooden pier that sat some fifteen paces north of the moat
that surrounded Sigholt. Everyone, dogs and lizard included, were glad to get out of the craft.
The waters of the Lake seemed somehow corrupted; thick and loathsome, they yielded
reluctantly to the demands of the boats.
―It has been the touch of the Demons,‖ Drago said, looking back over the waters as
StarDrifter helped Faraday and Katie from the boat. ―The waters no longer wish to live. Within
weeks they will have evaporated completely away.‖
Faraday looked back, and shuddered. She wished she could have seen this place when it
had been vibrant with life and magic, but her duties, whether as wife to Borneheld, or as Tree
Friend, had always kept her well away from it. She turned and looked up at the silvery-grey
Keep. Here was Axis and Azhure‘s home, she thought. Here they lived for decades in laughter
and love while I trod the byways of the forests, looking for tender grass shoots and missing my
son.
Here is where my son grew up to adolescence. Without me.
Surprised by her sudden spurt of bitterness, Faraday dropped her eyes and looked at
Drago, only to see sadness and bitterness in his face as well.
Sigholt contained no good memories for him, either.
Or was he thinking of her rejection?
―Come,‖ he said, and walked forward without looking at the others.
―Wait!‖ Faraday cried. She ran after Drago, caught at his arm and pulled him to a halt,
and then looked at StarDrifter.
―Will you take Katie on with you, StarDrifter? We won‘t be long.‖
He nodded, picked up the girl, and then the three Icarii walked forward, leaving Drago
and Faraday by the shores of the Lake. He was silent, looking at her.
―I cannot, Drago,‖ she whispered. ―You know that.‖
He let his eyes drift over the waters. ―I love you, Faraday.‖
She flinched. ―I did not ask for that.‖
He looked back at her. ―No. You didn‘t, did you? I apologise for putting you in a difficult
position. It must have been embarrassing for you.‖
Her jaw tightened. ―We have a journey to make, you and I, and it will be difficult enough
without your sarcasm to add to its trials.‖
His eyes narrowed, and she could not tell if he was angry or trying to repress merriment.
―I am a SunSoar, Faraday. I do not take rejection well.‖
Her lips twitched—he was laughing at her! And suddenly she burst into laughter.
―Are we friends, Drago?‖
―Friends, Faraday.‖ He held out his hand, and she took it with only the slightest
hesitation. He pressed it gently, then let it go, and they walked after the others.
―And you know the other thing about us SunSoar males, Faraday?‖
―No…what?‖
―We never give up.‖
They walked directly to the bridge, the hounds sniffing curiously about, the feathered
lizard investigating the undersides of several stones, as if he expected to find a meal awaiting
him there.
Drago stopped before the bridge, and turned back to the others. ―Wait for me here,‖ he
said, and before anyone could ask him any questions Drago had stepped onto the bridge.
―Well, second son,‖ the bridge said. ―You return at last. Is Zenith well?‖
―Yes,‖ Drago said. ―Far better than when she last crossed you.‖
―Good.‖ The bridge hesitated. ―Drago, you have surprised me.‖
Drago‘s mouth quirked. ―I have surprised many people, including myself.‖
―And will surprise more to come,‖ the bridge said. ―Sigholt waits for you.‖
Drago nodded, glancing at the Keep. ―Bridge…you destroyed Rox.‖
―Yes,‖ the bridge said happily.
Drago sighed. ―I can understand your wish to do so,‖ he said, ―but nevertheless the
Demons need to succeed in their quest to resurrect Qeteb.‖
The bridge was silent, sulking.
―I only took a bite,‖ she eventually said.
―Nevertheless,‖ Drago repeated.
―The Demons will manage well enough without him.‖
―I hope so.‖ Then Drago gave a quirky grin. ―I‘m glad you finally managed to take a bite
at someone. ‖
The bridge considered whether or not to be offended at this remark—was he referring to
the fact that he‘d managed to dupe her when he was but an infant?—then decided to laugh softly.
―I have waited aeons for a chance like that,‖ she admitted.
―Did he taste good?‖
―Delicious!‖
Drago laughed with her. ―Well, then, despite my reservations, I do thank you for making
the night a safer place. Bridge…bridge, from the depths of my heart I do apologise for my
trickery of you so long ago.‖
―And I have been waiting some forty years to hear that,‖ she said softly. ―Go now,
DragonStar SunSoar, and collect another trifle of your heritage.‖
Drago resumed walking along the bridge‘s back. When he was about to step onto the
gravelled walkway before Sigholt‘s open gates, the bridge spoke again: ―I am glad you came
home, DragonStar.‖
Drago faltered a little in his stride, then recovered. ―Thank you, bridge.‖
And then he was through the gates and into the inner courtyard of Sigholt.
Everything was still, silent. Hay bales, half-empty crates and tangled tack lay scattered
about the cobbles, bespeaking the haste in which the Keep had been evacuated. Wisps of blue
mist drifted about the courtyard, losing and then refinding themselves among the half-open
doorways. Yet Drago understood that Sigholt felt in no way abandoned. She was just waiting,
waiting for whatever millennium approached.
And waiting for him.
There was a slight movement to one side, and Drago looked.
Nothing.
No…there it was again. A deeper shadow moving behind an overturned barrel, and yet
another shadow behind that one.
Drago‘s eyes narrowed, then he squatted down and snapped his fingers, his mouth
moving towards a smile.
Three of the shadows leaped out towards him—and resolved themselves into cats. Nine
more rushed out in a group behind the first three. Tabbies, blacks, tortoiseshells and
indeterminate patches, stripes and splotches—and there a sudden flash of white. All the result of
countless generations of unsupervised and noisy breeding beneath the stamping hooves of the
stable horses.
Sigholt‘s cats, come to greet Drago. Four purred and bumped about him, half a dozen
leapt onto his shoulders and clambered down his back, sinking in their claws in an ecstasy of
greeting and love. Two more batted at and played with the laces of his boots.
Drago grinned, trying to rub all of them at least once, and detaching the grey tabby that
had decided to cling joyously to his hair.
―Have you missed me, then?‖ he asked, and the cats doubled their attentions.
―I have a pack of great hounds waiting the other side of the bridge,‖ he said, laughing
now. ―Shall I invite them in?‖
The cats knew an empty threat when they heard one. They shook with the strength of
their purrs, dribbled with the power of their love, and kneaded Drago‘s flesh with the intensity of
their adoration.
And Drago adored them in return. He hadn‘t realised how much he‘d missed them over
the past months, and now memories of their friendship and comfort in his otherwise friendless
and comfortless childhood came flooding back.
The toddling boy left to scream in fear and rejection on the damp cobbles of the inner
courtyard. The cats, bumping sympathetic noses against his face, and cuddling their warm bodies
next to his.
Drago closed his eyes, and buried his face in one of the furry bodies.
―Well now,‖ he said, when he thought it time to introduce a bit of decorum into
proceedings. ―It seems Sigholt has something for me. Do you perchance know—‖
Before he‘d finished speaking, every one of the cats had jumped away from him to stand
stiff and watchful a pace away. Then, as one, the cats turned about and marched towards the
kitchen door, their tails held high in the air.
―Either they want to be fed, or they do know more of Sigholt than its rat holes,‖ Drago