Sinner (22 page)

D
rago 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 Icarii 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 Icarii 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.

No, he could find it, but not tonight. Drago glanced at the faint stars twinkling through the forest canopy. Fifty paces before him the forest ended, for Faraday had planted around the Ancient Barrows to leave them easily accessible, but Drago ignored the call of the open spaces and crawled deeper back into the forest.

The lure of the dream beckoned.

The lure of the hunt.

Unknown to Drago, the doe curled up beside him as he slept, as she had curled up every night for the past week. She shared some of the dream, and shook, for she had good reason to fear the hunt.

But at least this time she was not the quarry.

She garnered from the man’s dreams some of the memories that embittered him, and she sorrowed. This man was Axis and Azhure’s child, and she loved both of
them. Azhure as a beloved sister, Axis as…well, as a former lover. No longer did she harbour a passion for him, but he was a dear man to her and he and his concerned her.

Even if she rarely saw Axis or Azhure any more.

She knew why. They, like her, now travelled their own magical existence, and they rarely came back to the forest to see her. Azhure had once often come, but it had now been many seasons since Faraday had seen her. True, sometimes all the Star Gods came to dance in Niah’s Grove, but Faraday did not approach on those occasions.

This man was their son. Faraday remembered that Azhure had been pregnant with Drago and RiverStar when Faraday had first met her. Even then Faraday had an inkling of the trouble these two babes would cause, and she’d later heard of Drago’s crime against his brother.

And here he was, running through the forest, blind to its beauties, and with the Rainbow Sceptre clasped beneath his arm.

That troubled Faraday. Axis had used the Rainbow Sceptre to kill Gorgrael –

but not to save her

– and had then secreted it within Sigholt, intending to study it at more leisure one day. Faraday nuzzled the sack, dreaming and remembering. The five Sentinels, Jack and Zeherah, the seductive Yr, and the irrepressible brothers Ogden and Veremund, had stolen the virulent, strangely corrupting power from the hidden Repositories beneath the waters of the Sacred Lakes to create this Sceptre. They had also given their lives. Faraday recalled that when Axis had wielded the Sceptre, she’d heard echoes of the Sentinels’ laughter in its flaring light – were their spirits still embedded in the Sceptre?

The thought gave Faraday some comfort, but then she tensed as the man moved.

She relaxed slowly – he was only moving deeper into his dream. Running through the forest, hunting, setting…his hawks? What were they? Setting his hawks to the quarry.

What was Drago doing with the Sceptre? Why had he taken it?

Should she do something? Tell someone?

But Faraday let the thought slip away. She so rarely spoke to anyone now. Even the once-constant shadow of the White Stag had faded; at the moment he ran the very upper reaches of the forests in the Avarinheim.

And as for Isfrael…the precious hours she’d spent with her child each year in Niah’s Grove had been too few, and Isfrael had bonded to the Avar rather than her. Now she believed he barely even thought of her let alone sought her out.

Faraday’s thoughts these days were generally vague. Deer-like. She thought about the trails and she thought about the choicest spots to nibble sweet grass and plump berries, but that was largely it. Until Drago had dragged Zenith into Niah’s Grove, for months Faraday’s thoughts hadn’t been directed to anything more than the next grazing spot.

She thought briefly of contacting Axis or Azhure about the Rainbow Sceptre, then let the thought drift away. She snuggled a little closer to the man, appreciating his warmth, and watched as he dreamed.

As he raised his sword to deal the death blow to his quarry, she rose and melted into the shadows.

Drago started out of his dream, breathing heavily, and clutching the Sceptre to himself. He smiled slowly, remembering the satisfaction of his sword driving home to smash bone and cleave heart.

He could almost empathise with his father for
spending so long at war. Was this how Axis had felt when he’d driven the Rainbow Sceptre into Gorgrael’s heart?

He lay for a while, then decided he may as well get up and make an early start. He finished the last of the malfari bread he had taken from an Avar encampment two nights previously, then stood up, brushing leaves from his cloak.

For a moment he stood there in the dim light, one hand scratching at his cheeks and chin. He had not washed or changed in weeks, and his face was thick with a new growth of beard.

But would any of that matter beyond the Star Gate?

No. Nothing would matter beyond the Star Gate save that he find the means to regain his heritage.

When I have refound my enchantments, he thought, I shall create for myself an image to suit my potential.

He grinned, and laughed at his vanity, and then he set off to look for a way down to the Star Gate.

In the end the entranceway to one of the tombs was not too difficult to find. There was a small encampment of Icarii within the Ancient Barrows, and Drago simply waited until he spotted two of them wing their way to a spot about two hundred paces to the south of the Barrows themselves.

Drago took his time approaching the spot where they’d landed. Not only did he have to travel on foot, but he had to keep to the edges of the forest as much as he could. Even that proved impossible as the Minstrelsea only extended some hundred and fifty paces south of the Barrows, and he had to cover the last fifty paces virtually crawling on his belly through the thick, knee-high grasses of the Tarantaise plains.

Every three or four paces he glanced at the sky, anxiously scanning for Icarii above.

But again luck was with Drago, and he managed to approach the entranceway to the passage without detection. There was a small mound of dirt, perhaps half as high again as a man, and below that was a black hole. From his hiding spot some fifteen paces from the entrance Drago could see a smooth-floored passageway extending down, torches flickering in its depths.

He wriggled deeper into the grasses and pulled some more over him. Would the Icarii come back out? Or had they gone down to keep guard over the Gate? Drago remembered Caelum sending SpikeFeather to stand watch with Orr, but he may have since placed another guard at the Gate.

Well, he thought, I shall cope with whatever and whoever is there as best I can. I shall –

His thoughts were cut off by a movement in the darkness of the passageway, and an instant later two Icarii stepped out. Drago breathed in relief; they were the two he’d seen go down earlier. Well, whatever they had gone down for, they were obviously not a change of guard.

They flew off, Drago hiding his face in the dirt and praying they did not spot him. There was a rush of wings, a movement of air high above him, and then there was nothing but the peaceful noise of the wind in the grasses.

Drago kept his head down until he had slowly counted to five hundred, then he cautiously looked about.

Nothing.

Gathering all his courage, and feeling for the first time a knot of fear in his belly, Drago grabbed his sack and ran for the entranceway.

Far behind him, the red doe stepped cautiously out from the shadow of the forest and trotted after him.

T
he tunnel was cool and moist, and Drago pulled his cloak tighter about him. He was still nervous, but now that nervousness was tinged with excitement and a growing sense that he must step through the Star Gate soon, soon, soon…

He set off at a trot. The downhill slope was smooth, but Drago thought he would wind about in the bowels of the soil forever. His legs grew weak, and his breath short, and eventually Drago was forced to rest for some minutes before continuing at a slower pace.

He walked for what he thought was an eternity. Torches spluttered at infrequent intervals along the walls, and Drago wondered why there were not more of them. Surely the entrance into one of the greatest mysteries of Tencendor deserved a flood of glorious light?

He muttered as he stubbed his toe on an exposed rock, and stopped and rubbed it for a moment. Was this the entranceway to the Star Gate, or was it a trap for him? Had Caelum somehow guessed his destination? Had WolfStar spied out his whereabouts? Were there guards waiting around the next curve? Was
death
waiting around the next curve?

Drago felt his breath grow shorter still, and realised it was due to anxiety rather than effort. He stood a few minutes and deliberately calmed himself. No-one could know where he was. They would have seized him long before this. Neither Caelum nor WolfStar would have left him to wander if they’d known where to find him. No, no-one knew –

A footfall sounded in the tunnel below him and Drago leapt into the shadow of one of the walls, his heart hammering. He stared frantically about, then slithered further down the wall until he reached what shelter one of the wall’s support beams gave him.

Perhaps if he stood very still, and made no sound…but this passageway had nowhere to hide, and even the fitful light of the torches would be enough to reveal him to any but the totally blind.

The tunnel had been carved out of soil and rock, and at the foot of the walls were small piles of rubble that had been left over from its construction. Drago bent down and selected a good-sized rock, feeling sick at the thought of having to use it.

The single footfall now resolved itself into a steady tramping. Just one, Drago thought. Just one. I can handle one if I have to. But his hand was slick with sweat, and he almost dropped the rock.

Whoever approached suddenly began to whistle, startling Drago so much he finally did drop the rock. It was a merry tune – Drago recognised it as a popular ballad often sung at Sigholt.

An Icarii, then?

His question was answered immediately as an Enchanter stepped around the lower curve of the tunnel. Drago knew her by sight and reputation, PaleStar SnapWing.

Stars! he thought, panicking, what am I going to do?
She’ll see me any moment! His mind came up with several frenzied excuses to explain his presence – he was on an errand for Caelum, he was looking for Zenith, he’d got lost on an afternoon stroll about Sigholt – but they were so ridiculous that even in his current predicament he had to fight the urge to laugh.

PaleStar would well know of his trial and subsequent escape.

She was almost level with him now, and Drago wondered if he could possibly wrestle her to the ground before she had a chance to use her Enchanter powers, or if she’d pin his back against the tunnel wall like a –

She walked straight past, still whistling, and continued up the tunnel.

Drago could not believe it. He stared after her, completely stunned. How could she have
failed
to see him? A half-blind old man would have spotted him easily enough, let alone an Icarii Enchanter with magically enhanced vision.

Stars, but he’d been only an arm’s length from her!

Slowly he lowered his gaze to the sack under one arm, finally wondering if the Sceptre had been aiding him all along.

Drago stared at it for a long time, then he eventually resumed his walk down to the Star Gate, no longer attempting to muffle his footsteps.

Further up the tunnel the red doe also slunk against the wall as she heard PaleStar approach. She, too, watched in disbelief as the Enchanter walked straight by her.

Once Palestar SnapWing left him, Orr stood before the Star Gate and stared. He had taken the watch upon the Gate entirely upon himself. There was something very, very wrong. Something
beyond
WolfStar’s story of the
murdered, whispering children, but Orr did not know what it was. Unlike any Icarii or even human guard, Orr did not need rest or sustenance. So here he stood, as he had for weeks now, wrapped in his ruby cloak, staring into the depths of the Star Gate, listening to the poor, dead children whispering for vengeance.

WolfStar? WolfStar? We’re coming…
we’re coming to hunt you…

And yet, something else, beyond that, and Orr wished desperately that he understood what it was.

There was a movement, and then a scuffle of feet, and Orr whirled about. A dishevelled man had stepped into the chamber from beneath one of the archways. His eyes were wide, staring about the chamber.

“Where is it?” the man asked.

“Begone!” Orr said. “You have no right to be here!”

“Is this not the Star Gate chamber?”

“You have no right –”

The man ignored him, sidling around Orr and striding to the very centre of the chamber.

Then he halted, transfixed by what he at first thought was a small pool in the centre of the chamber.

Not a pool at all, but the universe. Beyond the rim of this circular wall wheeled galaxies and solar systems. Comets and asteroids chased each other through clouds of gas and vivid interstellar wastes. Colours, every imaginable colour, swirled and shaded one into the next. It was frighteningly beautiful…and absolutely irresistible. The sack grew heavy and warm in his hands.

Outraged at this invasion, Orr reached out –

– and Drago spun around. “Don’t stop me now!” he snapped.

“What are you doing?” Orr grabbed at Drago’s arm, missed, and seized the sack instead.

He let go immediately and stepped back, appalled, his
eyes round and staring at the sack. “
What are you doing with the Rainbow Sceptre?
”

In desperation, thinking the Ferryman was going to lunge at him again, Drago drew the Sceptre out of the sack and waved it at Orr. “Stay back!”

He was torn between watching Orr, and looking back into the Star Gate. He felt that it called to him…
Come to me! Come! Dance with me! Be my lover!…
and he was overwhelmed by an all-consuming need to step through.

Drago looked back at the Gate.

The instant he did so, Orr darted forward and grabbed the Sceptre.

Something happened once Orr felt his hands touch the smooth wood of the rod.

Visions flooded his head.

A labyrinth. Darkness. He was trapped. No way out.

Hunting, hunters, questors.

Questors through the universe, hunting…hunting…

And something in the Maze. Something that watched for him. Something malevolent. Something that
writhed and twisted through the Maze, coming for him!

Orr screamed and sank to his knees, although his hands remained tight about the rod of the Sceptre. Drago tried desperately to pull it from his grasp, but the Ferryman’s hands were unnaturally locked about the Sceptre.

Qeteb.

The word, or name, Orr did not know or care which, filled his mind. It so intensified his terror that he flung back his head and screamed,
Qeteb!

But Orr screamed with his power only, not his voice, and Drago did not hear him.

Although someone else did. Far above, Orr’s apprentice, SpikeFeather, paused in his stroll about the roof of Sigholt and whispered, “Qeteb!”

Grail!
the Sceptre screamed at Orr, and this Orr also screamed in his mind.

Grail King!

And SpikeFeather repeated the words.

The red doe, crouched behind one of the pillars of the chamber, shuddered as a presence seeped through her.

And yet something
more
reached out to her, reached out via the Sceptre although it emanated from somewhere else. Reached out and touched her. Spoke softly to her.

She shuddered again, and felt power seep through her.

Drago and Orr rocked back and forth, each struggling for control of the Sceptre, back and forth, and both the Sceptre and Orr continued to scream.

Beware the Grail King in the Maze!

“The Maze! The Maze!” Orr whispered. He let go the Sceptre in horror.

Attend the Maze!

Drago heard nothing. No words whispered through his mind. All Drago knew was that Orr had finally released his grip on the Sceptre. He spun it about and the cloth that had protected the head, which had been loosened in the struggle, flew off, and rainbow light flooded the chamber.

It pulsed about, searching, humming with intense power and, as it hit an archway on the far side of the chamber, it enveloped the small red doe.

The doe started, round-eyed but not scared, and fell to the ground. Her legs kicked, her entire body convulsed, and then she exploded. Blood, tissue, and bone fragments erupted about the chamber, but neither of the two combatants noticed, because Drago, in trying to correct his balance and stop Orr from seizing the Sceptre again, unintentionally brought the Sceptre down on Orr’s head with a sharp crack.

The Ferryman fell to the floor, his wounded head
smacking against the marble so hard it cracked open yet further, smearing blood and brain tissue across the floor.

Atop Sigholt, SpikeFeather started, and wondered what had happened that his contact with Orr was so abruptly broken.

Drago managed to regain his balance without falling into the Star Gate. Terrified by the pulsing light washing about the chamber, not knowing what he had unleashed, he slipped the sack back over the Sceptre.

The light died instantly, and Drago took a deep breath. He stared, appalled, at Orr’s body. As he watched, it suddenly glowed and then, stunningly, vanished, leaving only the ruby cloak puddled on the floor as any indication that Orr had ever existed.

Drago swallowed, then looked across the chamber.

There was blood everywhere. Fragments of fur, and bone.

And, in the middle of all this gore, lay a naked woman. She lay sprawled on her belly, her raised head towards Drago, and her green eyes were wide, and full of some emotion that Drago could not discern.

She stretched out a hand, then let it drop. “You are Axis’ son,” she said, and pushed herself into a sitting position. “He couldn’t save me. He couldn’t – or wouldn’t. And yet you…look what
you
have done.”

Then her eyes dropped. “And look at all this blood,” she whispered. “Look, everywhere…that is
my
blood.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Drago said, thinking she was blaming him.

He grabbed Orr’s cloak and threw it about the woman’s shoulders. “There…you’ll be warm now. Please, tell no-one I was here –”

Even as he said it, Drago knew she would tell. She had to. She was Faraday, and she was tied to his parents with bonds of love and suffering. She would tell.

“– please,” he finished lamely.

Faraday raised her eyes and stared at him, and then said something that made no sense.

“I have to take WolfStar’s place,” she said. “And you must come with me.”

“No! I cannot! I must –”

“You
must
come with me,” she said more firmly, and clasped the cloak about her with one hand as if she were about to rise.

“No!” Drago shouted. “I am going through the Star Gate. I
must!
I –”

“Then if you do that,” Faraday said, apparently unperturbed, “you must come with me when you get back.”

“If I come back,” Drago said, each word harsh with emotion, “it will only be to reclaim my heritage and to take my rightful place in Tencendor.”

“Of course,” she said, and smiled with extraordinary loveliness. “I would not have it any other way.”

Drago opened his mouth to shout, but could find no response to her ambiguities.

Damn her!
Why did she speak in such riddles?

He reached out a trembling hand, then snatched it back.

Then, before he forgot himself completely, Drago tucked the sack firmly under his arm, averted his eyes from the strange expectation and –
curse
her! – confidence in Faraday’s face, and ran towards the Star Gate.

He stepped onto the wall with one foot, then cast himself into the universe.