“No! Never!”
Desperate for comfort, Zenith tried to conjure the image of StarDrifter. She wanted to hear him say again that all would be well, and that he would always be there for her.
But no matter how hard she tried, all Zenith could manage was a flickering, insubstantial image that faded after only moments.
Was this Niah who so interfered with her power, or something, someone else?
Briefly Zenith remembered the apparent difficulty Caelum had in using the Song of Recall, but at that moment Niah made a renewed surge for supremacy, and Zenith forgot everything save the struggle for her sanity.
She searched frantically for something to hold on to, some thought that was even stronger than Niah.
What?
Drago! Yes, she had to concentrate on Drago. His problems were far worse than hers, for he had only hours to live; already the night had quietened into absolute stillness.
“Drago,” she muttered through clenched teeth, clinging to his name and his plight as a charm against the incursions of this hated voice within her. “Drago.”
WolfStar… where is he now, I wonder?
She fought to think of Drago…
Think of how you will enjoy his embrace, my dear. He is SunSoar. He has the blood you crave…
In desperation, Zenith concentrated on the horrific vision WolfStar had summoned, and that finally blocked out the Niah-voice. The Song of Recall never lied, all Enchanters knew that… but Zenith found it difficult to believe that the vision had been entirely the truth, either. Especially when it was a vision conjured through WolfStar’s magic. WolfStar was capable of anything, and he loathed Drago as much as Caelum did.
Neither Caelum nor WolfStar had been prepared to believe anything save that Drago must have killed his sister.
No-one had been prepared to believe anything but that, it seemed.
And so now Drago had to die. He had been condemned, not for what he may or may not have done to RiverStar, but for what he’d done to Caelum all those years ago.
What could she do to help Drago? It was no use going to Caelum. The only other person who still believed in Drago was Leagh, and as sweet as she might be, Leagh would be little help here in Sigholt. Stars, but Caelum had her under almost as close a guard as Drago!
Zared might have helped, but Zared was not here.
Zenith’s mouth twisted bitterly. The only people left who had any power to help were her parents, but they distrusted Drago as much as Caelum did, and Zenith was astute enough to realise Drago’s sentence was as much their work as Caelum’s or WolfStar’s.
That left her. She was the only one who could help him. Again her mouth twisted. Both she and Drago were condemned to their different fates by events decades old.
Well, she wasn’t going to succumb to her fate without a struggle, and damned if she was going to see Drago condemned to his, either. Sigholt was a prison and a death for both of them. In the morning an arrow waited for Drago’s heart, and no doubt WolfStar would appear to claim hers, too.
Both she and Drago would die if they stayed.
No.
Again, Zenith suppressed the voice, thankful to find it easier now. Yes, Drago must be saved. And in saving Drago perhaps she would help herself.
Zenith wrapped a cloak about her shoulders and slipped from the room. There was only one place they could go, one person who might yet help them. StarDrifter. He would listen to them, and maybe he knew the magics needed to extinguish Niah’s bid for freedom. Zenith wasn’t sure how they would manage to get there -she didn’t dare use the enchantments of the bridge and Spiredore, for Caelum would be able to follow them that way – but they would manage somehow.
The upper corridors were deserted. All were in bed. Sleeping soundly, no doubt, Zenith thought, before the final threat to their peace of mind was put away in the morning.
But the lower corridors leading to the holding cells in the foundations of Sigholt were deserted as well, and Zenith frowned.
Why no guards?
She moved carefully, peering about corners before slipping down each corridor. Few torches were lit, and those that were guttered in a faint draught that came from nowhere.
No-one? Why? Was she in a dream? Surely Drago merited a guard? Zenith thought Caelum would have posted them at least six deep.
She turned around the final corner and jerked to a halt, her eyes wide and frightened.
One of the Lake Guard stood there, his ivory uniform gleaming in the dim light, the golden knot emblem seeming to leap out at her. He stood straight, but not at attention, his wings carefully folded behind his back. Zenith did not know his name. The Lake Guard might be a constant presence about Sigholt, but they kept to themselves.
“What do you do here, my Lady Zenith?”
She clutched the cloak a little more tightly to her, and kept her own wings folded against her back. “I have come to see my brother. He dies in the morning.”
“So I have heard,” the guard said. “Well, it is good that you are here. We have been waiting for someone.”
What a curious remark, Zenith thought, but then forgot it as the guard unlocked the cell door and pushed it open. “He waits.”
Odd, odd people, she thought vaguely, then pushed past him into the cell.
Drago sat crouched in a corner, his back to the wall, staring at her. Everything about him radiated bitterness, directed even at her. She would live in the morning, and he would not.
“I do not deserve to die,” he said.
“You surely deserve to have some sense battered into you,” Zenith said. “Drago, are you prepared to help yourself?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“The corridors are deserted, and only one guard stands outside this cell. Sigholt sleeps. If I call the guard in, could you tackle him? Perhaps stand behind the door, so, and leap at him as he enters?”
Something other than bitterness gleamed in Drago’s eyes, but Zenith wasn’t sure what it was. “Why help me, Zenith?”
“Because we both need to get out of this prison, but mostly because you are my brother and I love you,” she said softly.
“No-one loves me!” he said. “I am Drago!”
She gazed levelly at him. “If you want to live, then I am your only chance.”
“Why help me?” he asked again. “Caelum is going to be more than upset with you.”
“I cannot stay here either, Drago. We each have our fates to escape.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cannot explain here and now, Drago. Do you want to escape?”
He waited a moment longer, studying her. She had the appearance of calmness, but there was something she was holding in. Drago realised she was only a breath away from snapping completely. “Yes. Yes, I do want to escape.”
He pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to stretch cramped muscles, then moved behind the door. “Call the guard.”
Zenith stood in the centre of the cell and faced the door. “I am ready to leave now, guard,” she called.
Silence.
Her eyes moved to Drago, and he jerked his head to the door. “Again,” he whispered.
Zenith called out again, her voice now clearly strained, but again her request was met only by silence.
She trembled, and Drago shifted in irritation. “Once more!”
So she called once more, but still only silence.
Drago cursed softly, and banged on the door with his fist.
Nothing.
Zenith glanced at Drago, trembled, then walked to the door. She hesitated, then banged on it with the flat of her hand. “Open up! Please!”
Stillness.
Again Zenith hesitated, then, suddenly making up her mind, she seized the handle and pulled.
The door swung open, and Zenith almost fell over. She leapt back, giving Drago room to subdue the guard when he entered, but beyond the open doorway there was only flickering light and waiting silence.
Zenith took a step into the corridor and looked about. The guard had disappeared.
Why?
But no time for questions now, time only to seize the chance offered.
“Come on!” she hissed, reaching back into the cell and hauling Drago’s sleeve. “Come on!”
He crept out of the cell, huddling in the shadow of the wall, his eyes suspicious. “Where are the guards?”
“You don’t know? Well, neither do I. Drago, get moving. Now!”
“It’s a trick. They’re waiting further down the corridor. I know it.”
“Well, my Enchanter powers tell me the way is clear. There is nothing.”
“I know it is a trap! Caelum will be waiting -”
She almost hit him in her frustration. “Move! Now! Or I swear I will do no more to help you!”
And without a further look she marched down the corridor.