Pilgrim. Sara Douglass

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СКАЧАТЬ than through resentment and bitterness. And even though he was asleep, there was a strange “quiet” about him. It was the only way Zenith could describe it to herself. A quiet that in itself gave purpose — and hope.

      His eyelids flickered open at her touch, and his mouth moved as if to smile.

      But he was clearly too exhausted even for that effort.

      “Zenith,” he whispered. “Are you well?”

      Zenith’s eyes filled with tears. Had he been worried for her all this time? The last time he’d seen her had been in Niah’s Grove in the far north of the forest, battling the Niah-soul within her.

      She smiled, and took his hand. “I am well,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”

      Now his mouth did flicker in a faint smile, but his eyes were closed and he was asleep again even before it faded.

      Zenith stood and watched him for some time, cradling his hand gently in hers, then she looked at Faraday. The woman was deeply asleep, peaceful and unmoving, and Zenith finally set down Drago’s hand and moved away from the cart.

      Unsure what to do, and unsettled by the continuing agitation she could feel from the trees, Zenith remembered the staff that Drago had dropped. She walked about until she found where it had rolled, and she picked it up, studying it curiously.

      It was made of a beautiful deep red wood that felt warm in her hands. It was intricately carved in a pattern that Zenith could not understand. There was a line of characters that wound about the entire length of the staff, strange characters, made up of what appeared to be small black circles with short hooked lines attached to them.

      The top of the staff was curled over like a shepherd’s crook, but the knob was carved into the shape of a lily.

      Zenith had never seen anything like it. She hefted the staff, and laid it down next to Drago.

      Then she sighed and walked away, sitting down under a tree. She let her thoughts meander until they became loose and meaningless, and her head drooped in sleep.

      She dreamed she was falling through the sky, but in the instant before she hit the ground StarDrifter was there, laughing, his arms held out for her.

      I will always be there to catch you, I’ll always be there for you.

      And Zenith smiled, and dreamed on.

      A hand touched her shoulder, and Zenith awoke with a start.

      It was Faraday, looking well and rested.

      “Faraday?” Zenith said. “How are you? Is Drago still in the cart? What happened at —”

      “Shush,” Faraday said, and sat down beside Zenith. “I have slept the night through, and Drago still sleeps. Now,” she took a deep breath, and her body tensed, “let me tell you what happened in the Chamber of the Star Gate.”

      Zenith sat quietly, listening to the horror of the emergence of the children — but children no longer, more like birds — and of StarLaughter and the undead child she carried, and then of the appalling evil of the Demons.

      “Oh, Zenith,” Faraday said in a voice barely above a whisper. “They were more than dreadful. Anyone caught outside of shelter during the times when they hunt will suffer an appalling death — and a worse life if they are spared death.”

      She stopped, and took Zenith’s hand, unable to look her in the face.

      “Zenith, the Demons destroyed the Star Gate.”

      Zenith stared at Faraday, for a moment unable to comprehend the enormity of what she’d just heard.

      “Destroyed the Star Gate?” she repeated, frowning. “But they can’t. I mean … that would mean …”

      Zenith trailed off. If the Star Gate was destroyed that would mean the sound of the Star Dance would never filter through Tencendor, even if the TimeKeeper Demons could be stopped.

      “No,” Zenith said. “I cannot believe that. The Star Gate can’t be destroyed. It can’t. It can’t!”

      Faraday was weeping now. “I’m sorry, Zenith. I …”

      Zenith grabbed at her, hugging her tight, and now both wept. Although Zenith had known that the approach of the Demons meant that the Star Dance would be blocked, she had not even imagined that the Demons would actually destroy the Star Gate on their way through.

      There was not even a hope for the Dance to ever resume.

      “Our entire lives without the Dance?” Zenith whispered. “Even if we can best these Demons, we will never again have the Star Dance?”

      Faraday wiped her eyes and sat up straight. “I don’t know, Zenith. I just don’t.”

      “Faraday … did you see StarDrifter at the Star Gate?”

      “No. I am sorry, Zenith. I don’t know where he is … but I am sure he is safe.”

      “Oh.” Zenith’s face went expressionless for a moment. “And the Sceptre?” she finally said.

      “That, at least, is safe.” Faraday looked back to the cart. “But transformed, as is everything that comes through the Star Gate. Come. It is time to wake Drago up. There are some clothes for him in the box under the seat of the cart, and we all need to eat.”

      “And then?”

      “Then we go find Zared, make sure he is well.”

      “And then?”

      Faraday smiled, and stood, holding out her hand for Zenith. “And then we begin to search for a hope. Come.”

      Despair and then, as night settled upon the land, terror swept over Tencendor, but it left him unscathed. He was lost in his dreams, and the Demons could not touch him. He shuffled from leg to leg, trying to ease his arthritic weight, but none of it helped. He wished death would come back and take him once more.

       His head drooped. He’d thought to have escaped both the sadnesses of life and the crippling pains of the body. If he hoped hard enough, would death come back?

       4 What To Do?

      The might of Tencendor’s once proud army now stood in groups of five or six under the trees of the northern Silent Woman Woods, eyes shifting nervously. Some members of the Icarii Strike Force preferred to huddle in the lower branches of the trees, as if that way they could be slightly closer to the stars they had lost contact with. Thirty thousand men and Icarii adrift in a world they no longer understood.

      Their leader, StarSon Caelum, walked slowly about, the fingers of one hand rubbing at his chin and cheek, his eyes sliding away from the fear in his men’s faces, thinking that now he knew how Drago must have felt when his Icarii powers had been quashed.

      There was nothing left. No Star Dance. No enchantment. СКАЧАТЬ