Pilgrim

by Sara Douglass

  Caelum stared into DragonStar’s deep violet eyes, and saw in their depths not only power and surety, but something far, far lovelier.

  The rich field of flowers.

  “Will I—?” he began, and DragonStar leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you will.”

  Caelum gripped DragonStar in a fierce hug, and tears flowed freely down both the brothers’ faces.

  “I am glad,” Caelum whispered, “that I have finally known my brother, DragonStar.”

  The cloud rolled closer.

  “Where must I go?” Caelum asked.

  “I will show you.”

  The Demons screamed and shrieked and wept in their overweening hysteria. For so long, so very, very long they had been riding towards this…

  And now it lay before them.

  As the Demons rode to within a half-league of the Maze Gate they began to change. All resemblance of human bodies vanished, and they took on shifting, lumpish forms that one moment resembled eels, the next grossly deformed frogs or dogs. Appendages wove forth from all aspects and every shifting plane of their bodies, some tentacle-like with pop-eyes at their extremities, others like grasping many-fingered hands. They barked and howled and slurped, slipping in and out of one grotesque transformation after the other.

  WolfStar retched, but StarLaughter whooped and screamed with joy.

  Such power! Such revenge!

  And soon her son would come into what was rightly his!

  Above wheeled a cloud of Hawkchilds, screeching with the Demons. They swept over Spiredore and saw—

  The StarSon! The StarSon atop the white, white tower!

  What does he do? Sheol asked of them.

  Nothing. He stands, his hands on the parapet, and waits.

  Fool! He but waits for his death!

  And all the time the Dark Tower wept and wailed and sobbed: Come! Come! Come!

  The Demons swept under the Maze Gate and it did not hinder them.

  They swept through the Maze, and neither did its conundrums impede them. Indeed, their way was as an avenue, wide and smooth and kind, leading them directly to the Dark Tower. Behind them swept the vast army of slavish animals and lost souls, finally free to join their master.

  The Maze filled with the demonically insane, a great sweeping tide of fury and darkness.

  The Demons paid the horde no attention. They were almost out of control. They gibbered and slobbered, scratching deep gouges of joy into their mounts’ necks, and still the black beasts ran, ran straight for the Dark Tower.

  The door to the mausoleum swung open, and Demons and mounts and their companions together swept in.

  On his tower, Caelum sighed and stepped into the stairwell. “Take me to the Maze Gate,” he requested.

  The Demons sat their mounts still and silent.

  They stared at the tomb with the black armour spread out atop it.

  The Demons had once again regained their humanoid forms. Tears trickled down their faces.

  It was very hard to believe that, after all they’d been through, the time and the trouble and the trials, they were finally here.

  Silently, reverently, they climbed down from their mounts.

  StarLaughter also slid down, and strode over to WolfStar. “Watch,” she murmured as she cut his bonds and pulled him down from his beast into a heap on the black marble floor. “Watch as your son gains his heritage!”

  The Demons helped the Niah-woman and the Qeteb-man to dismount. The Niah-woman they took over to the side, out of the way, and indicated that StarLaughter stand with her.

  StarLaughter obeyed, dragging WolfStar over at her heels, and smiled cruelly at her husband. “See,” she said, “what will become of our son.”

  The Demons grouped reverently about the Qeteb-man and guided him towards the tomb. Once there they patted and fondled him, and then each Demon picked up a piece of the armour and, mumbling strange words in an even stranger tone, laid it against Qeteb’s flesh and tied it to his body.

  It fit perfectly—but not because the armour fit Qeteb. Instead, as successive plates were fitted against his body, the Midday Demon’s flesh swelled to horrible proportions to fill every space inside the armour.

  The air grew heavy, and WolfStar could not stop a dreadful sense of oppression sweep over him.

  StarLaughter, intent on watching her son, let the chain tethered to WolfStar’s collar drift unheeded to the floor.

  Slowly, very, very slowly, WolfStar backed away, his fingers fumbling at the loathed collar until it fell to the floor.

  He backed into the shadows of the pillars, and wondered: Should I escape? Or attempt some rescue of Niah?

  Completely unaware of WolfStar’s slow drift away, one of the Demons fitted another piece of armour to Qeteb’s body, and again flesh swelled to meet metal for a perfect fit.

  Now there was only the visor to go.

  Sheol lifted it from the tomb, aided by Mot, and raised it over Qeteb’s head.

  WolfStar stared from the shadows. Qeteb’s face was transforming into something hideous as the Demons slowly lowered the visor.

  Gods! WolfStar could not bear to look any further, and pushed his face against the cold floor.

  Silence, and then a faint clunk as the visor was secured into the neck and shoulder fittings of the armour.

  Everything left above in the land of Tencendor paused, and then turned in the direction of the Maze.

  The forests fell silent, the waves ceased to batter the rocky shoreline of the Icebear coast, the animals crowding the Maze outside the Dark Tower fell to their bellies, the Hawkchilds settled on the top of the Maze’s walls and folded their wings.

  Seated atop his white stallion, the StarSon lifted his eyes and wept.

  Underneath the stallion’s hooves, the great bridge of Sigholt groaned and fell silent.

  A great roar pounded forth from the heart of the Maze.

  I am reborn!

  Qeteb raised his black-metalled fists and thrust them above his head.

  I am reborn!

  WolfStar dug his fingers into his ears and screwed his eyes tight shut, praying for death!

  “I am reborn,” Qeteb whispered in a voice hoarse with disuse, and his visored head slowly turned about the circle of the mausoleum.

  It stilled each time as Qeteb locked eyes with each of his companion Demons.

  “Where is Rox?” he whispered harshly.

  “Great Father,” Sheol said, her eyes downcast lest Qeteb think her presumptuous, “the Enemy laid a trap, and he was destroyed.”

  Qeteb growled. The noise was so low it could not be heard, but its vibrations rippled out across the floor. Qeteb’s hands lowered to his sides, and they slowly clenched.

  “Then I shall destroy!” he cried, and he flung out his arms and splayed open his hands, bending back so far the face of his visor looked directly into the dome of the mausoleum.

  Hate rippled forth over the land of Tencendor.

  Caelum, standing outside the Maze Gate, felt it coming, and huddled behind the protective wall of the archway so it fled by without touching him.

  The forests felt it coming, and screamed—and the next instant their leaves exploded from them in a great, rising cloud of pain.

  Star Finger felt it coming and shuddered, and the next instant it exploded as well and crumbled into the glacier surrounding its eastern and northern walls.

  Urbeth and her daughters felt it coming, and buried their noses deep into the snow and it did not touch them.

  DragonStar felt it coming, and he gripped the mane of his stallion. “Steady,” he said, and, protected by the bridge, the hate rushed over without harming them.

  “Who?” Qeteb demanded, pointing at the two female figures to one side.

  WolfStar crouched as close to the floor as he could. Niah was lost now, lost, all his dreams and plans were dust, and the only thought that crowded WolfStar’s head was escape. Escape, and somehow regroup.
And Caelum. Somehow…somehow…

  As Qeteb walked towards Niah and StarLaughter, WolfStar slithered carefully ever further into the shadows.

  Qeteb stopped before the two females. His visored face turned slowly towards StarLaughter. “Who?” the Midday Demon demanded.

  “I am your mother!” StarLaughter said, her voice proud. “I have loved you and protected you and nourished you and—”

  “Who?” Qeteb said yet again, and raised one mailed fist.

  “I am your mother,” StarLaughter repeated, “and you are—”

  “I have no mother!” Qeteb screamed abruptly. “I am whole within myself!”

  StarLaughter went rigid with shock—and with pure terror. She cast her eyes frantically about, seeking escape, but Qeteb had already forgotten her.

  “Who?” he said, indicating Niah.

  “Your wife,” Sheol said.

  Now secreted in darkness a dozen columns away, WolfStar lowered his head and wept silent tears.

  “Wife?” Qeteb said, and stroked Niah’s cheek with surprisingly gentle fingers.

  Niah showed no response.

  “Wife,” Qeteb said yet again. He paused. “A wife.” A rasp of laughter came from behind the visor. “A wife who neither talks nor thinks?”

  He turned back to the other Demons. “She will do well!”

  The Demons, particularly Sheol, visibly relaxed.

  For her part, StarLaughter had regained a little of her equilibrium. He will accept a wife but not a mother? she thought. What kind of son is that?

  Qeteb, thinking to explore this wife further, turned back towards Niah when he spotted WolfStar amid the shadows and stopped. “Who—” he began, but a voice drifted in the doorway, interrupting him.

  “I am Caelum StarSon,” it said, “and I dare you to butcher me, Qeteb!”

  “He thinks to destroy us!” Sheol said, moving to stand by Qeteb’s dull metalled shoulder. “In the past few weeks his power has grown to be…irritating. It would be best, perhaps, to remove him now.”

  “No-one can best me!” Qeteb roared, WolfStar completely forgotten. “He is no threat!”

  “Of course not,” Barzula and Mot said as one.

  “But it would be best to remove him now,” Barzula added. “He has, as Sheol said, grown to be an irritating nuisance. He has prevented us feeding.”

  “He has hidden our food!” Sheol said.

  “No-one prevents us feeding,” Qeteb whispered, and strode to the door. As he passed close to the column behind which WolfStar hid, the Enchanter risked another glance.

  Qeteb’s black armour rippled and moved as skin would, and his wings…his wings had changed completely from golden to black, their feathers now dull metal plates.

  The Midday Demon was made entirely of metal. No flesh, no feather—and certainly no mortal weakness—remained.

  The Demons hurried after their Great Father, Sheol seizing Niah by an arm as she passed. Best to keep the automaton safe now that Qeteb had approved her.

  For an instant, StarLaughter stared after the Demons, then she strode after them. “Think not to abandon me now,” she said.

  Very carefully, WolfStar raised his head and looked about. Then, grimacing with pain, he inched forwards.

  71

  The Hunt

  Caelum strode through the maze. He wore no armour, just a simple linen shirt and dark breeches. His black hair curled back from his brow, his face was composed, although pale.

  “I hope to every star in the sky,” he whispered, “that you make what I am about to do worthwhile, brother.”

  There was no answer, not in words, but Caelum nevertheless felt DragonStar’s presence, and it comforted him.

  As with the Demons’ voyage, the Maze allowed Caelum a direct route towards the Dark Tower. Walls twenty, sometimes thirty, paces high reared on either side of him, sometimes so close his shoulders brushed against them, sometimes so wide it seemed to Caelum as if strode through a stone…field.

  Writhing, wriggling symbols covered all the walls. If Caelum had felt the urge to read them he would have found the task impossible, for they moved too fast, but Caelum had no eyes for anything save the journey before him, and no thought but for what had to be done.

  The sky was so low and so dense with dark clouds Caelum could not tell the time of day. The atmosphere was thick, humid and almost warm, despite the time of year.

  Caelum began to sweat.

  Animals, and occasionally those which had once been human, appeared in greater numbers. They eyed Caelum hungrily, but they hung back, whispering, moaning and growling as he passed.

  This prey belonged to their master.

  Gradually, as Caelum walked further and further into the Maze, he realised that the animals no longer looked at him, but had turned their eyes towards the centre of the Maze.

  Something came.

  Despite his resolve, despite having accepted his fate a long time previously, Caelum grew nauseous, his palms damp, his muscles weak and trembly. Had Axis felt this way when he’d gone into Gorgrael’s Ice Fortress? No. No, he hadn’t, because Axis had always been supremely confident. Axis had always known he would win.

  No, this was the way Faraday had felt when she’d walked towards the Ice Fortress.

  Caelum walked. After a while he came to a circular space. It had only two exits. One through which he’d entered, the other directly across the circle in the opposite wall.

  Caelum’s gait faltered, and he stopped.

  He knew what would come through the opposite opening.

  The Demons, powerful beyond imagining, hungry beyond anything they’d ever experienced previously, and furious beyond compare, rode their mad mounts in a devilish black cloud through the twists and turns of the Maze.

  At their head rode Qeteb, his lance secured to his saddle, a massive black sword in his hand, his armoured body drawing in all light about it, his arms flung wide, his head back.

  I’m coming for you StarSon!

  Die, die, die, he must die, for this StarSon had learned too many secrets of the Enemy. What if he learned enough to deny Qeteb a life again? What if he grew strong enough to deny Qeteb his world?

  Die, die he must, and when he was dead, this world, this wasteland, would be Qeteb’s forever, and every beetle that crawled its surface would be his forever, and nothing, nothing, nothing would dare breathe or live without Qeteb’s gracious consent.

  And under Qeteb’s terms, of course.

  Qeteb began to laugh, a howling litany of madness, that streamed out behind him in a maniacal wake, a rippling cloud of malevolence.

  It enveloped WolfStar, crawling as fast as his ruined body would allow him, and he curled into a tight ball, crying with despair.

  All he’d done, all he’d planned, come to this…to this.

  Caelum stood in the centre of the open space and waited. As yet he could hear only distant murmurs, but he could feel the Demons’ approach.

  It felt like a motionless wind, rushing at him from all directions. Trapping him, binding his arms by his side, stripping him of all hope.

  Caelum sobbed, and his entire body sagged, but just before he collapsed on the ground, a vision filled his mind with such loveliness that he gasped, and straightened.

  A single white lily in a field of blue.

  Caelum blinked tears away. “Thank you,” he whispered, and the next instant he heard a sound in the Maze, and a pool of darkness drained into the space from the opposite opening.

  A diabolical apparition emerged from it.

  A dark rider, on a dark mount, a great black sword in his hand. Worse, far, far, worse than any of Caelum’s foulest nightmares.

  Behind the black rider, his party of hunters, gibbering with delight.

  The prey had been sighted.

  Caelum held out his arms wide. “I am StarSon Caelum!” he cried, his voice mercifully clear and strong. “Get you gone from this land, Demon!”

  And he began to dance.

  He
danced the worst dance of all those in the Enchanted Song Book, because he knew that this might be his only chance to…impress…the Demon. His arms and legs flailed, his head jerked about on his neck like a puppet in the hands of a convulsing child, his breath wailed in fits and starts from his mouth.

  It was the Dance of Death.

  Qeteb roared, and prepared to dig his heels into his mount. He recognised the dance for what it was—simply another method by which the Enemy had originally trapped him.

  This StarSon must be stopped, before he stopped Qeteb.

  But just as Qeteb prepared to ride to deal the jerking human death, he paused, stared…and roared again, but in laughter this time.

  This was a parody of power, a parody of the Dance of Death.

  The man had access only to a shadow of power—the dance was useless…save for the amusement it afforded Qeteb. His laughter became consuming, and soon the entire Maze was laughing: every Demon, every animal, every scrap of existence it contained, save for Caelum consumed in his dance, WolfStar, who had now resumed his painful crawl towards the Demons, and Niah and StarLaughter, waiting forgotten near the Dark Tower.

  Caelum faltered to a halt, hearing the laughter ringing through him even as he struggled to draw breath. He’d done everything he could, every step, every movement had been correct. And yet nothing.

  Save for the laughter.

  Caelum stood with his hands on his knees, jerking in his breath, staring at the horror waiting across the space, and wondered if death in truth would be as painful and as humiliating as death in dream.

  Qeteb finally dug his heels into his mount and raised his sword. “To the hunt!” he roared. “The hunt!”

  Caelum turned and ran.

  It was as terrifying as his dreams. Always Qeteb and his hunting party thundered a bare ten paces behind him, whichever way he twisted, whatever turn he took. The Maze closed in about him, trapping him in a labyrinth of hopelessness.

  Above the Hawkchilds dipped and soared, screeching and wailing and giggling, driving him ever forward, ever forward, making sure the quarry gave the Huntmaster a good run for his entertainment. Sometimes they swooped so low their wings beat about his head, and Caelum fell to the ground, screaming in terror, his arms wrapped about his face.