Sinner by Sara Douglass. Book One of The Wayfarer Redemption

“Leagh?”

It was Zared’s voice, and Leagh rolled over weakly. He was on his knees beside her, as soaked as she, and the wetness running down his cheeks was not all due to the Azle.

“Do you want to die that badly?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and she shook her head slightly.

“No,” she whispered, and realised that she meant it.

That night the army camped a half-hour’s ride south of the river, next to four or five small hills. Nestling among these hills was a shepherd’s summer hut, deserted now, and there Zared carried Leagh to spend the night.

He dismissed those concerned men who hovered about, laying Leagh on a rough bed by one wall. Then he built a fire in the hearth, and set some food and wine to warm.

And then he came over to her, not talking, and stripped both her and himself of their wet clothes.

She protested, for the air was chill, but Zared took no notice, and once they were both naked he led her to the fire and rubbed them down with a blanket one of the men had left.

“Gods,” he muttered as his fingers traced the bruise left by the mare’s hoof, but found the ribs themselves relatively undamaged. To her shame, he then conducted a careful examination of her body, looking for other hurts, until he was satisfied that the bruise on her ribs was the extent of it.

He turned her round to face him, and cupped her face in his hands.

“Leagh, were you trying to hurt me by doing that? If so, then you succeeded. I thought you were dead.”

She tried to drop her eyes, but Zared lifted her head so he could meet them. “Leagh, were you trying to hurt -”

“You lied to me!” she spat. “You have hurt me ten times more than I you!”

He winced. “I simply did not tell you my plans to -”

“You said we would ride to Severin and marry! Instead you drag me about with your army like a harlot!”

“I intend to marry you, Leagh! I -”

“And what is it makes you sure I still consent to marry you?” she said softly, and wrenched out of his hands.

To her anger, he roared with laughter. “Leagh! Look at us! Here we stand companionably naked, and after a week of sharing a bed and a passion. Do you think you have any choice?”

“If I say my shame was the product of rape,” she said, pronouncing every word clearly, “then I would have every choice. My honour would be restored, yours tarnished. I would still have my choice of husband -”

“Even with your belly swelling with my child?”

“If it swells. And after the shock of that river crossing I have no doubt that I will lose any child conceived to this point. Any child conceived after this point can still be -”

“No! Leagh, I cannot believe you say this! Damn it, we love each other! How can you stand there and talk so calmly of ridding yourself of our child?”

“Because I doubt that you do indeed love me, Zared. Now I wonder if it is my lands you lust after more.”

“How dare you say that to me?” he roared, and then cursed himself as he saw her flinch. He reached out for her, hugging her stiff body to his. “Leagh, I am sorry… but I could not believe you said that. Listen to me, as soon as I can find a notary we will marry.”

She did not reply, and Zared rubbed his hands over her body, trying to arouse her. “Leagh, I know you enjoy my touch… why deny that?”

Again she did not answer.

“Leagh…” he murmured, kissing her hair, her cheek, her neck. “Be my wife. Do not punish me for the actions I have been forced to take to wive you. Did I not say that I would fight for you? Well, if I march at the head of an army now it is only for love of you. It was the only way I knew I could have you.”

Leagh began to weaken, confused. Was that right? Was this all just for her? To convince Caelum to approve their marriage?

Or was there something else?

She murmured, trying to pull away from him, but again, as on their first night, he was too strong, and he pulled her down to the floor before the fire.

As he made love to her, Leagh thought she would choose to believe him. He had been rash and foolhardy, but he did love her, didn’t he? And perhaps over the next few days she could gently persuade him to forget his crazed idea of taking Kastaleon and march back north. They could quietly marry in Severin, and there they would weather Caelum’s certain anger.

Yes, she would persuade him to return to Severin. Once they were there, both Caelum and Askam would accept the inevitable.

The Ancient Barrows Drago moved faster now that he knew where he needed to go. Sometimes he took food from an Avar camp. Not much, just whatever he needed to feed himself for a day or two. No-one ever spotted him -he moved like a night-shadow itself – and if it hadn’t been for the doe following him, Drago believed he would have passed through Minstrelsea completely unnoticed.

The doe, Faraday, still worried him. He rarely saw her, but occasionally he heard a faint footfall behind him, or the rustle of a shrub as she passed. Two or three times he tried to shoo her away, and when he did that she disappeared for a while, but the next day he would again become aware of her presence.

He was still worried about Zenith, partly because the doe remained behind him. Was Zenith well… or consumed? He’d hated to leave her like that, but he hadn’t the skills to help her, and just maybe StarDrifter or the priestesses on the island did.

Drago hoped StarDrifter would indeed be there to catch Zenith.

But if thoughts of the doe and Zenith ate at him, his dreams comforted him. Night after night he rode to the hunt, riding his great horse, the hawks to the side and ahead of him, and they sometimes slithered along the ground, sometimes flew through the air, but they always found their quarry. Drago grew to anticipate the final confrontation with his always nameless and faceless quarry. It would cower on the ground before him, and he would raise his sword, and plunge it down, and always at that point he would wake with an almost orgasmic ecstasy consuming him. He would lie awake for perhaps an hour, reliving every part of the hunt, remembering the thrill as the sword pierced the heart of his quarry, the ecstasy of its death.

And so he moved south.

It should have taken him many weeks, maybe even months, to reach his destination, but Drago found himself spotting landmarks that astounded him with the speed of their appearance. The Minaret Peaks (those he skirted as best he could, avoiding the tens of thousands of Icarü that thronged there), then the trading city of Arcen, just beyond the forest’s western border.

Drago had no idea why he was moving so fast – or why the Avar or Isfrael hadn’t confronted him yet.

Perhaps Caelum had decided to let him go. Drago’s mouth quirked at that particular thought. “Caelum would be more likely to make love to Gorgrael’s corpse,” he muttered, grinning, “than let me pass unhindered.”

Maybe his power wasn’t trapped so deep, after all. Or perhaps his powers were resurfacing the further he moved from his family?

Drago shrugged. It didn’t matter, he was free, he had a purpose, and here on these green trails no-one spat at him.

Always the Sceptre rode under his arm, safe in its sack.

And so, finally, some three weeks after he had fled Sigholt, Drago approached the Ancient Barrows. Here was where the ancient Enchanter-Talons had been buried so they could make their eventual way down to the Star Gate which existed beneath the tombs. Each barrow was an entranceway into the Star Gate itself, but Drago knew there were other passages secreted about these parts, passages more accessible than trying to dig down into one of the huge Barrows.

But where? And how well were they guarded?

Although Drago knew of the Star Gate, and had heard it described countless times, he had never seen it himself. Only Icarü Enchanters were allowed near its lip to reap the rewards of gazing into its depths. Drago had been kept well away.

But if Drago had not actually seen the Star Gate, nor knew the exact location of its entrances, then he’d heard rumours, and he’d heard Caelum and other Enchanters talking from time to time. And Zenith had occasionally chatted to him about the times she’d been down.