Pilgrim (42 page)

Symbols.

The Maze Gate was surrounded with symbols!

Song, dance, movement all formed patterns. As did symbols.

Drago lifted his right hand, studying it. Idly, he flexed his fingers, and then, in some almost subconscious process he was barely aware of, he transferred the pattern of the dance into a series of numbers, and from there into a complicated symbol.

“Do as I ask,” he said, his voice strangely powerful, and his fingers sketched the symbol with fluid grace before the tapestry.

Instantly the Wolven glowed, then formed into solid wood from the silken threads that had trapped it, and it clattered to the floor. A moment afterwards the quiver full of arrows likewise dropped to the floor.

The cats were now sitting, and as one, always as one, they looked from Drago to Wolven and back to Drago again.

Their eyes were wide with wonder.

Drago’s heart was hammering in his chest. “Show me,” he whispered, “the enchantment for creating a juicy mutton pie.”

The staff again vibrated in his hand, and Drago noted the pattern the notes formed, translated them into music, then into the movement of dance, and from there into numbers and symbol.

“Do as I ask,” he said, sketching the symbol in the air, and a juicy mutton pie formed a pace in front of the watching semi-circle of cats.

Drago laughed, then spun about in sheer exuberance.

He had power back!

And his Acharite blood was truly in full ascendancy.

He stilled and smiled gently at the cats. “Eat,” he said, waving at the pie, and the cats set to.

S
tarDrifter paced back and forth, back and forth. Where was Drago? He’d been gone hours.

“We
must
go look for him!” he said, coming to a halt before WingRidge.

WingRidge, annoyingly calm, shook his head.

“Wait,” he said.

Faraday smiled. She was sitting to one side, Katie asleep in her lap. “Wait,” she echoed, and StarDrifter bit down a tart reply and walked away a pace or two.

Wait! Ah, bah!

The Alaunt sat and lay about in no particular order, half-asleep, utterly unconcerned. Just behind them the lizard lay, lazily combing out his feathers with a talon.

SpikeFeather had wandered off to chat to the bridge who was now happily engaged in relating the tale of how Rox had been foolish enough to step on her back. She’d told StarDrifter the same tale, and WingRidge; then Faraday and the girl, and now StarDrifter felt like shouting at her to shut up, for who needed it told an eighth time?

But he bit back his tongue. If it made the bridge happy to repeat the story for the next thirty lifetimes, StarDrifter supposed she had a complete right to. No-one else had managed a single scratch on the Demons’ equanimity, let alone eat one whole.

One of the Alaunt lifted his head, and stared at the bridge. StarDrifter spun about as Faraday tensed and Katie awoke.

Drago was striding back across the bridge, smiling and greeting both the bridge and SpikeFeather. Over Drago’s left shoulder was slung the Wolven bow and quiver, and behind him trotted a dozen mangy cats in single file, all with their tails held up in complete feline self-satisfaction and superiority. StarDrifter’s face went slack in disbelief.

“They are only cats, StarDrifter,” Drago said, his eyes dancing, as he stopped in front of his grandfather. “There is no need to look so surprised.”

“
What is this?
” StarDrifter said. One hand fleetingly touched the Wolven, as if it might scorch him.

“Evidence of Sigholt’s gift,” Drago said, and turned to help Faraday to her feet.

“
Evidence
of Sigholt’s gift?” Faraday asked, her eyes searching his. Something had happened.

“I will tell you and you, StarDrifter,” Drago said, “but not here. It is more than time Sanctuary released her secrets. Come, step back to the bridge.”

He clicked his fingers, and whistled to the Alaunt, and they rose obediently and stepped onto the bridge. The feathered lizard yawned, blinked slowly at Drago, then did the same.

Cats yowled and greeted both hounds and lizard with the deep affection usually reserved for the most generous and softhearted of kitchen hands, and wound about canine, reptilian and Icarii legs with equal friendliness.

“Drago’s travelling menagerie,” StarDrifter muttered. “Please do not tell me you are going to add these courtyard cats to our retinue, Drago!”

Drago looked between the cats and StarDrifter. “If they want to come, then who am I to stop them?” he asked, and then faced the end of the bridge that led into HoldHard Pass and raised his hand.

“Connect this place to Spiredore,” he said to the bridge. “Do as I ask.”

And as he spoke, his right hand wove through the air so fast, and with such fluidity, that StarDrifter could not follow it.

“What…” he began, and then the road beyond the bridge shimmered and altered, forming into a close tunnel of blue mist.

“Come,” Drago said, and led them into Spiredore.

In two days Zenith had accomplished miracles, although she felt that her voice would soon give out from its constant use. She’d been forced to use everything from sweet charm to strident threat to get the Icarii in the Minaret Peaks ready to evacuate towards Fernbrake Lake. Even FreeFall’s support and backing was not always enough to convince the Icarii that they should once again prepare for exile from their beloved southern lands, even though to a place more wondrous than their previous exile.

Isfrael had not helped.

He’d been with FreeFall and EvenSong when Zenith had returned from Fernbrake with the stunning news of Sanctuary’s discovery, and the slightly less exciting news that no-one could yet reach it.

“Ah,” he’d said, as Zenith had told her news, “Drago’s Sanctuary. Why am I not surprised to hear, that while it does exist, it can’t be approached?”

Zenith had rounded on him, furious. “It will serve to save you and yours, as well as the Icarii and Acharite,” she’d snapped.

“The Avar will move nowhere,” Isfrael had retorted, his tone very quiet. “The trees protect us.”

“For now,” Zenith had said, and turned her back on him.

Dubious, frightened, their cold and hunger the only reason to even consider exile, let alone attempt it, the Icarii had at last listened to Zenith’s and FreeFall’s arguments and threats.

Now they stretched in long, murmuring lines that wound under the sheltering trees of Minstrelsea, rose up the slopes towards the crater that cradled Fernbrake Lake, and then
spilled over the ridge and down to the edge of the Lake itself, the line stopping at the edge of the trees.

And so they stood, while Zenith, FreeFall, EvenSong and Isfrael waited in the domed chamber at the doors of Sanctuary.

“He
will
return soon,” Zenith said. “StarDrifter was certain they could quickly locate Drago—”

“Even if he
did
,” Isfrael said, his arms crossed over his bare chest, and his curls in angry disarray about his horns, “will Drago return with StarDrifter?

“And…” he lifted one hand to wave it languidly at the silvery trace-work of the bridge spanning the chasm into Sanctuary, “will he have any idea of how to convince this bridge to let the Icarii past?”

“You should have more faith in your brother,” a woman’s voice said behind them, and they turned to see Faraday walk down the stairs into the chamber. She was holding the hand of the small girl who walked with her.

Behind her came StarDrifter and Drago, then WingRidge, SpikeFeather and, Zenith was astounded to note, the Alaunt hounds, together with the feathered lizard (which she could see was now much larger) and a line of cats. Zenith stood, transfixed, and then she laughed in sheer exuberance and stepped forward to embrace Faraday fiercely.

“I have missed you,” she whispered, and Faraday murmured something back before Zenith extracted herself, smiled at the girl, and then stepped into Drago’s arms.

“What have you brought us,” Zenith said as she leaned back. “The Alaunt. The Wolven! What? Have you divested mother of
all
her trappings?”

“Both Alaunt and Wolven have their own minds and their own choices,” Drago said, “and for the moment it appears that they have chosen to walk with me.”

“Along with half the cats of Tencendor,” StarDrifter muttered, but his eyes crinkled with amusement, and he smiled
as Zenith stepped over to him. She hesitated, then leaned forward and gave him a stiff hug and peck on the cheek.

The brightness in StarDrifter’s eyes faded, and Faraday frowned as she looked between the two of them.

“The Icarii wait above,” FreeFall said, after he’d greeted Drago and his companions. “Drago? Will you…can you…?”

Even with the accoutrements of power that Drago carried with him, FreeFall’s doubt was evident in his voice. Drago nodded, but he did not speak. He stared across the bridge into Sanctuary, transfixed by its beauty. Would anyone ever want to leave?

Brushing past Isfrael, Drago walked slowly through the door, pausing for a moment as his eyes scanned the symbols carved about its frame, then approached the bridge.

It was sister to Sigholt’s bridge, he realised. The silvertracery web to match her sister’s many-legged skills.

Drago put a foot on the bridge, and then the other.

“Are you true?” she asked.

“Yes,” Drago replied. “I am true.” He took another step, running his right hand lightly along one fragile handrail.

“But,” the bridge said in a voice almost a whisper, “are you
he
who is true?”

“Yes, I am he who is true.”

Silence, then the bridge spoke again. “Show me.”

Drago’s mind spoke the request, and the staff vibrated slightly in his hand, and almost as soon as his eyes traced the pattern appearing on the wood, so he lifted his right hand and translated the pattern into symbol.

“Yes,” the bridge said. “You are he who is true. Welcome to my heart, DragonStar SunSoar…and welcome home after so long away.”

“I thank you, bridge,” Drago said. “May I lead my friends across your back?”

“With pleasure,” she assented, “although I must question each and every one of them.” Drago’s mouth twisted wryly—Tencendor
would take months to evacuate if she paused to ask everyone of their truth.

“Don’t you think you could do it in groups, bridge? The need is somewhat…urgent.”

She thought about it. “Well…”

“I would not ask were it not important.”

“Oh, very well. Groups. No more than seventy-seven per group.”

“Thank you, bridge,” Drago said with considerable relief and then lifted his head.

“Will you come, Faraday?” he asked.

She hesitated a moment before stepping forward, staring at the man on the bridge holding out his hand to her, fighting down the emotions that outstretched hand ignited in her. Damn him! Then, finding some refuge in humour (would he never give up?), she led the girl forward.

“Are you true?” the bridge asked.

“Yes,” Faraday said.

“You speak the truth, Faraday,” the bridge responded. “Welcome to my heart.”

Then the bridge spoke to the girl.

“Are you true?”

The girl replied without any hesitation. “I
am
truth.”

“Yes,” the bridge said. “You are truth. Do well, Katie.”

Katie inclined her head, and she and Faraday joined Drago on the far bank.

“You ‘are’ truth?” Drago questioned the girl, and when Katie remained silent he looked at Faraday, but Faraday shrugged her shoulders.

“All will spin to a conclusion eventually,” she said, and with that Drago supposed he had to be content.

Sanctuary was not quite what Drago expected.

He walked slowly across the grassy plains towards the entrance to the valley. A gentle warm breeze billowed the grass and the blue-and-white star-shaped flowers into
spreading ripples before them. By Drago’s side walked Faraday and Katie, and StarDrifter and Zenith. Isfrael walked behind StarDrifter. He and Faraday had nodded to each other, but had exchanged no words. Now his face was carefully set in a neutral expression, although his current distaste had little to do with his mother. Isfrael did not like the idea of being underground, even though the sky yawned apparently limitless above, and the verdant valley and snow-capped mountains stretched infinitely before him.

WingRidge and SpikeFeather had remained behind at the bridge and stairwell, supervising the evacuation of the Icarii nation into Sanctuary.

As successive groups of Icarii successfully negotiated both the silver tracery of the bridge and her questioning and took to flight, the leading group was overtaken by the birdmen and women. By the time Drago approached the valley mouth, Sanctuary had already been well-peopled with Icarii.

“How strange,” Faraday murmured as they walked between the twin towers of rock that guarded the entrance. “I could have sworn that there was at least a half-league to travel between bridge and valley, yet here we are as if we have but just walked fifty paces.”

“The grass ripples with enchantment as well as flowers,” StarDrifter said. “Oh, look! It is an orchard.”

All, except Drago, exclaimed at the beauty of Sanctuary. Before them stretched a valley that appeared to be almost entirely taken up with an orchard of astounding beauty. Thousands of trees grew well-spaced along mown lawns, their branches so laden with fruit they almost touched the ground. They could see the glint of ponds and streams here and there, and tasselled linen hammocks swung between trees above scattered silken pillows and cushions below.

Katie broke free from Faraday and ran to the nearest tree, taking a piece of fruit from a low-slung branch and sinking her teeth into it.

“Beautiful!” she cried, juice running down her chin, and Faraday walked over to her, and wiped it away with a smile.

“This place seems well enough,” Isfrael said, “if you like ordered orchards before the wild beauty of the forests.” He had his arms crossed and his legs placed apart. He looked like a judge about to deliver an execution penalty.

“There are palaces further in!” a voice above them cried, and a youthful Icarii called MurmurWing dropped down before them. “Filled with dormitories and fountains and well-fattened storerooms!”

He looked at the faces before him and, disconcerted by Isfrael’s stiff stance and Drago’s carefully bland face, stumbled out a few more words, and equally awkwardly rose into the air and flew back into Sanctuary.

“Drago?” Faraday said. “What’s wrong? You look like a goat has stuck his hoof down your throat.”

Drago jerked out of his reverie, and made a bad attempt at a smile. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. I’m…I’m sure that all will be comfortable here…if we can ever get them past the bridge in time to enjoy it! Come,” he held out his hand for Zenith, “let’s explore this magical land a little further.”

And yet as they walked and investigated and exclaimed at every new delight, all Drago could think of was that Sanctuary looked nothing less than an extended version of all the orchards of all the worlds that the TimeKeeper Demons had dragged him through. Every time a shadow flitted among the trees, or an Icarii descended from above, Drago jumped, more than half-expecting it to be one of the Hawkchilds.

What should he make of this? What?

Sanctuary, surely—but a Sanctuary for
whom
?

A few hours later Drago, Faraday and Katie, Zenith, and StarDrifter, sat about a cheerful fire in a side gully of the main valley of Sanctuary. Isfrael had sat with them a while before returning to the forests of the Overworld with a somewhat theatrical shudder at the well-ordered orchards of
Sanctuary. All day the Icarii, eyes wide in wonder, had been walking down the stairwell to the door and then across the chasm—stopping in groups to be examined by the bridge—before launching themselves into the inviting thermals of the approach to Sanctuary.