Sinner (17 page)

Here he was, rejected, hated, loathed by all…

Well, not quite all. The cats continued to adore him, and as a child and even a youth Drago had spent many nights curled in the hay with the courtyard cats.

And Zenith liked him. That was unbelievable. She was the child he was never allowed near, she was the one
everyone feared he would hurt, and yet Zenith had never regarded him with anything except friendship – and perhaps even love.

Unbidden, a memory crashed through his mind. A night racked with violent storms long ago when the SunSoar children had all been staying with their grandfather StarDrifter in the Temple complex on the Island of Mist and Memory. He had been about twelve then, battling to reconcile his approaching puberty with his ever-increasing resentment, only to realise they complemented each other. He had been lying in bed, watching lightning streak across the night sky, when the door had opened and Zenith, only six or seven, had scampered across the room and flung herself into his arms.

“Please,” she had whispered then, “I’m scared.” And she had clung to him all through the night and Drago, so rarely hugged or cuddled himself, had lain there, holding her tight, wondering that she had come to him first of all in her fright.

Zenith whimpered in her sleep, and the sound broke Drago out of his reverie. “Zenith?”

But Zenith was trapped in her own nightmare and did not hear him.

She was in a house, and the man who approached her had death in his eyes. He forced her to her knees, and then to the floor, and then he’d begun pushing her back.

Back towards the fire.

Oh, how she’d fought him! Her terror had given her abnormal strength, but she could not fight her way free.

Heat lapped at her head, and then flames at her hair. She could feel them crackling amid her hair, she could smell them, and then with a great roar her entire head had been enveloped in a ball of fire.

The agony was extraordinary.

Fire lifted her skin in massive blisters that burst and caught fire themselves. Fire seared through her throat and lungs when she took breath to scream. She tried to beat it out, but her hands caught fire, and then she somehow comprehended that her entire dress was aflame, and she knew she was going to die slowly, horribly, from the outside in, and that the agony would take its own sweet time in killing her.

She’d called out to her daughter, but those words did not mean very much now, not when her entire body was such a mass of torment, and her spirit inside was aware, aware, aware…

Drago jumped back, almost crying out. Zenith had abruptly rolled over and screamed, beating at her body with her hands as if she were consumed by fire. She screamed again, her body convulsing with the strength of it, and Drago gathered her into his arms and tried to calm her.

She struggled against him for a long time, and then finally lay quiet, crying a little.

Caught as she had been in Niah’s torment, Zenith had realised why the sweet-natured woman had changed in death. It had been the manner of her death – the suffering, the fear, the knowledge that no-one would come to save her. She had lain there, helpless, hearing and smelling and
feeling
as she burned into blackened meat that crackled and joints that popped in the heat.

And all the time she had remained aware. Right to the end, when her heart finally gave out.

But her sweet nature had given out first. That had been destroyed along with her body. Even in rebirth, Niah would never be the same again.

“Zenith?”

At Drago’s soft query, Zenith raised her head and smiled.

“Will you tell me what is wrong?”

Her smile faded, but finally she nodded and spoke. “Do you remember the stories of our grandmother Niah? Then listen…”

I
n the east of Tencendor the Fortress Ranges rose from an undersea range and then stretched north in wildly undulating ridges, dividing forest from plain, and the haunts of the Avar from those of the human plain-dwellers. After a score of leagues the Fortress Ranges thickened, then leapt for the sky in a series of massive, almost vertical, razor-backed ridges until they merged with the permanently cloud-shrouded Icescarp Alps. For generations these Alps had been the haunt of the Icarii, condemned to a bitter exile by the Brotherhood of the Seneschal, but now few of the brilliantly coloured birdpeople fluttered about the ice-capped mountains, preferring the milder climes of the Minaret Peaks far to the south.

Each one of the peaks in the Icescarp Alps was a majesty in itself, but of them all the fabled Star Finger was the most exalted. Once it had been called Talon Spike, and had been the home of the Icarii during their exile, but it was now a place of contemplation and study, where the most powerful and knowledgeable among the Icarii Enchanters studied the mysteries of the stars. The mountain had become a place of libraries and halls, of
music and enchantments, and of tremulous discoveries and lingering silences.

Star Finger’s hauntingly beautiful ice-shrouded cliffs and ethereal mists cast a shadow, if not literally then metaphorically, over all of Tencendor.

From the northern and eastern faces of Star Finger a great glacier ground its way yet further north to calve its icebergs in the Iskruel Ocean. Here curved the extraordinary landscape of the Icebear Coast. To the south the alps rose sheer and black, while to the north the grey–blue sea crashed onto the pebbled beach, the ice-pack grinding behind it, the sea birds wheeling and crying with eerie voices above.

Few mortal steps ever trod the Icebear Coast. Sometimes a tribe of Ravensbund would move silently along the shoreline, seeking seaweed to make their Tekawai tea, very occasionally a fur trader from the plains far to the south would stand overawed on the pebbles, staring over the unknown waters that extended further north.

More often the pebbles rasped and rattled beneath the great paws of the strange icebear Urbeth as she chased down sea birds and seals, scattering their blood over the shoreline before she retreated to her ice den and her waiting cubs.

And sometimes the Icebear Coast played host to beings far stranger and far more powerful than Urbeth.

They sat about a campfire somewhere on the Icebear Coast. Nine of them, the complete Circle of the Star Gods. Adamon, turning a roasting partridge and smiling about the fire. Xanon, his wife, and Goddess of the Firmament. Zest, Goddess of Earth, and her companion, Narcis, God of the Sun. Across from them sat Flulia, Goddess of Water, Pors, God of Air, and Silton, God of
Fire. Making up the Nine were Axis, Song, and Azhure, Moon.

“You frown, Axis,” Adamon said. “Why?”

Axis sighed. “I worry.”

“The worries of Tencendor should be far behind you.”

“I fought for that land, I watched those who fought with me die. It is hard now to just sit, and watch.”

“Axis,” Adamon said gently, handing him a piece of roast bird. “You are one of us now, and you must let Tencendor and Caelum find their own feet.”

“The weight of Tencendor rests on Caelum’s shoulders. What if he falters? Am I to let Tencendor falter with him?”

“Oh, Axis!” Azhure said shortly. “Caelum will
not
falter! Trust your own son.”

“We understand how you feel, Axis,” Xanon said in her gentle voice. “That Tencendor relives, and that we are Nine, is so much due to your and Azhure’s efforts. But now you are not what you once were. You must move on.”

“You let me deal with Gorgrael. You were happy enough to let me wander the plains and mountains of Tencendor then.”

“Gorgrael was personal, Axis,” Adamon said, “and your battle with him concerned us greatly. If you had lost then
he
would have taken his place among us as God of Song. Now we must
all
move on, and you must let Caelum rule from the Throne of the Stars. Leave mortal worries for mortal shoulders.”

“You are right,” Axis said after a small silence. “It is just that the past few days have been so disturbing. I long to be there. To help in some way. Stars! Our daughter is dead!”

“We grieve with you and Azhure for RiverStar’s death,” Pors said, and by his side Flulia took Azhure’s hand, and stroked it.

Axis nodded, unable for the moment to speak.

“I knew here,” Azhure touched her head, “that Axis and I would eventually outlive our children. But we thought that we had hundreds of years…that we could watch them grow and love and give us grandchildren. To see RiverStar die, and so cruelly, and,” her voice hardened, “at her own brother’s hands makes it hard for Axis and me to sit and watch.”

Her hand now touched her breast. “My heart cannot let go my mortal concerns so easily.”

There was silence as the other gods shared their grief, and tried to impart comfort. They were much older than Axis and Azhure, and had seen their own mortal families die into dust thousands of years previously. They had come to terms with their immortality – Axis and Azhure still had to embrace unending life with equanimity.

“And now Drago has run,” Axis said. All the gods were aware of the search for Drago.

“Leave it, Axis,” Xanon said, and touched his knee. “Leave it. They inhabit a different world to you and I. Leave them to that world and all the pain it contains.”

“There
is
one problem we should not discard so quickly,” Azhure said, and looked about the Circle. “WolfStar.”

The others nodded slowly. WolfStar. His reappearance was disturbing. For all their powers, the Star Gods still could not entirely understand WolfStar, nor where he went for so many years or what he did when he was gone.

Anything they did not understand made them wonder if they should fear it.

“We will watch,” Adamon said eventually. “It is all we can do.”

“And the Star Gate?” Azhure asked. “Should we watch that, too?”

“The voices,” Adamon reflected. “The Icarii nation’s murdered children, come back to haunt their killer.”

“There is something wrong,” Axis said, and he suddenly leapt to his feet and paced back and forth just inside the circle of light from the fire. “There is something wrong!”

“Axis?” Azhure glanced worriedly at Adamon, then rose to her feet and took Axis’ arm, bringing him to a halt. “What?”

“I don’t know!” Axis cried, and kicked at a pebble in utter frustration. “I don’t know
what
it is, but there
is
something wrong. The Star Dance seems…not quite as it should.”

“It is your grief and worry about your family that so disturbs you,” Xanon said soothingly. “The voices are nothing. They will not hurt us, nor this wondrous land.”

“We heard them occasionally during the time when Artor imprisoned us in the interstellar wastes,” Silton said. “Trifling voices.”

“They are there,” Zest agreed, “but they are harmless enough.”

“Are you
certain?
” Axis said.

“Absolutely,” Adamon replied. “They drift about the interstellar spaces calling WolfStar’s name, looking for vengeance.” He suddenly laughed. “No wonder he chose to return from his death so quickly! I would not like to have such as these on my tail!”

“And they will not come back through the Star Gate?” Axis asked.

“WolfStar was right when he told Caelum they do not have the skills to step back through,” Adamon said as firmly as he could. “They are relatively powerless, kept alive only by their need for revenge. Axis, leave it be. Drift with us. We are your home now, not Sigholt. We are your family, not Caelum.”

L
eagh dressed herself in the dawn chill, despondent and apathetic. She was to go home with Herme and Theod, it seemed, and there wait for however Askam and Caelum decided to dispose of her future.

Over the past few days she had wept until she’d realised that weeping did no good. Then she had sat and wiped her eyes and decided that her only choice was to accept what life had dealt her. She loved Zared, but she was not to be allowed to consummate that love. Well, that was the lot of a princess. It was foolish to dream of being a peasant woman and choosing as her mate a man she loved. She was not. She had been raised in privilege, and lived in privilege, and for that privilege she had to mate with whomever her brother and Caelum decided would be best.

“I must trust them,” she muttered as she laced her boots over her breeches – Leagh always rode astride – “and I must believe that they will choose a man kind and compassionate.” Her mouth curled bitterly. “As well as politically acceptable.”

She must forget Zared. She would rarely, if ever, see him again anyway. “Gods, let Caelum find me a husband
a thousand leagues away from Zared,” she said, staring at the door. “For I could not bear to meet with him again.”

Mentally shaking herself from her thoughts, Leagh looked about the room, finally picking up a blue cloak. There was nothing else to take home, for she’d brought nothing with her. In the time she’d been in Sigholt, she had shared with Zenith.

Gods! Where was Zenith?
If anything served to take her mind away from her own problems, it was fear for her friend. Where could Zenith have got to? Something had been troubling her in the past few days, but Zenith had not been able to speak of it, and now she had gone. Had Drago been involved? Having killed one sister, had he then stolen his other one?

But Leagh could not quite believe that Drago
had
killed RiverStar, despite the vision WolfStar had conjured. And despite his aura of diffidence, Leagh truly thought that Drago cared for Zenith. He could not have done her harm.

Yet none of this solved the problem of Zenith’s disappearance. Where was–

There was a knock at the door, and Leagh jumped. Hurriedly stuffing her hair into a cap, she opened the door to find Duke Theod standing there.

He bowed theatrically. “My Lady? May I escort you to your mount?”

Leagh smiled, for she liked Theod, and the thought of a week or more in his company was no hardship.

Then her smiled died a little, for behind Theod stood Askam, and though Leagh loved her brother, he was so closely tied to her loss of Zared that his presence made her heart ache.

“Leagh,” he said gently as she exited her chamber. “I am sorry that Caelum and I have caused you so much sorrow, but –”

“But say no more,” Leagh said, and laid a finger on his mouth, “for to do so would only break my heart. Leave it, Askam. I will accept in time.”

He nodded. “Would you like me to come down to the courtyard?”

She smiled, knowing that even though Askam hated Zared, he truly did feel for her own pain. “No. Wave me farewell from the parapets. When will you come home to Carlon?”

Askam shrugged. “Caelum wants me to stay for a while, lead a few more patrols through the Urqhart Hills in case –” his eyes slid fractionally towards Theod, “– any track has been overlooked.”

“I assure you, my Lord,” Theod said stiffly, “that Herrne and I were
most
thorough.”

“I am sure you were,” Askam soothed. “But Caelum wants to be certain. What if Drago hid in the Keep for a few hours, and then slipped out after your patrol had left?”

“Is Caelum up?” Leagh asked.

“Yes, but he is closeted with FreeFall and Isfrael, who also depart within the hour,” Askam said. “Sa’Domai left late last night. Caelum asked me to farewell you for him.” Askam kissed her on one cheek, then the other. “There, that’s from Caelum, and that’s from me.”

“My Lord, my Lady,” Theod said, “the sun grows warm, and we have a long way to go.”

“Farewell,” Askam whispered, kissing Leagh’s cheek once more, then he turned to Theod. “Do not lose her,” he said, his voice hard, “for she is precious to me.”

No doubt, thought Theod, but he bowed. “I will take the utmost care of her, my Lord. I know her value.”

Then he had Leagh by the elbow, and they were descending the stairs.

Despite her sadness over Zared, and her worries about Zenith, Leagh found that her heart lifted as they exited the Keep and clattered over the bridge.

“Farewell, lovely Leagh!” the bridge cried, and Leagh laughed.

“Farewell to thee also, fair bridge. May your arches never crumble.”

“And your spirits never falter,” the bridge responded, and then Leagh, with Herme to one side and Theod to the other, was over the bridge and into the blue mists.

They rode south for many hours, then turned slightly east, heading for the trail that would lead them through the southern Urqhart Hills to Jervois Landing. They broke clear of the mist mid-afternoon, to find the hills bathed in sunshine and the skies awash with migrating brown Skelder birds, heading south from the Icescarp Alps towards their wintering fields in Coroleas.

“You always know when autumn bites deep,” Herme remarked, his eyes to the sky, “when the Skelder birds abandon Tencendor.”

Yet even though it was DeadLeaf-month, the sun was still strong, and Leagh let her cloak flare back from her shoulders in the westerly wind.

“Theod, will you take the riverboat south with us at Jervois Landing, or will you ride west to your home estates?”

Theod hesitated, glancing at Herme. “I still have to make my plans, Leagh. I will stay with you a while yet, though.”

Leagh nodded, and let the topic slide. It would be a ride of perhaps two or three days to Jervois Landing, and at the moment she was so excited at the thought that they would camp this evening in the ruins of Hsingard that she could think of little else.

Hsingard had once been a lovely and substantial stone city, the capital of Ichtar. But during Axis’ war with Gorgrael, the Destroyer’s Skraelings had invaded it, destroyed it, and built themselves massive breeding hatcheries in its basements. In some wondrous manner that Leagh did not quite understand, Azhure had in a single night destroyed all the Skraelings and hatchlings, and now Hsingard lay a sad sprawl of tumbled ruins.

There might be no life in it, but it made a good camp site.

Four of Herme and Theod’s men stretched canvas covers over several piles of stones, creating a spacious and deeply shadowed shelter removed from the camp of the thirty-six men of the escort. Leagh sat and watched as Theod made a fire. A man fetched food from one of the packs on the supply mules, and within a half-hour of pulling their horses into the ruins everyone was seated, eating.

There was little conversation. It had been a hard ride to get from Sigholt to Hsingard in one day and Leagh soon found herself wishing Herme and Theod would move off to their sleeping rolls so she could curl up and get as much rest as she could on the hard ground. But they seemed curiously reluctant, even when the rest of the camp had settled for the night, and they sat tossing sticks into the fire, and occasionally looking about into the night.

“Gentlemen, are you afraid that there are Skraelings left within the ruins?”

Herme jumped slightly, and looked at Leagh. “Nay, sweet lady. It’s just that you never know whether or not brigands might creep by in the night, and –”

“You have posted no guards.”

“Foolish of us,” Herme said, and turned to Theod. “Why didn’t you think of that?”

“Me? I…ah…”

Theod was saved from further comment by the sound of a distant horse.

Leagh tensed a little. “Who could that be?”

“I’ll look,” Theod said hurriedly, rising and walking off into the night.

Leagh noticed he hadn’t taken his sword. “Herme, what’s going on?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Herme said soothingly, and was about to say something more when they heard Theod talking quietly with someone in the distance.

Herme hesitated, then rose to his feet. “Leagh, stay here. Whatever happens, do not move.”

And he was gone.

Leagh pulled her cloak about her nervously and stared before her. Despite Herme’s caution, she was tempted to move further back into the ruins. The only thing that stopped her was the thought that she didn’t know what might be behind her, awaiting her arrival.

Whoever Theod had found to talk to had now been joined by Herme. Leagh could hear low voices, now so far away she couldn’t really distinguish them.

They stopped, and she tensed.

Silence.

Then the sound of someone walking towards her.

She swallowed, suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was. The nearest forms of sleeping solders were at least twenty paces away, and the cul-de-sac of tumbled stones that the men had stretched a canvas over for her was as much a trap as it was a shelter.

The steps came closer, and slowly she rose to her feet, prepared to run if she had to.

Then she froze, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Zared had stepped into the flickering circle of firelight.

“Hello, Leagh,” he said. “May I join you?”

She just stared stupidly.

“Leagh?” He stepped forward.

“What are you doing here?” Shock had made her voice harsh, and Zared faltered.

“Leagh?”

“Zared…
what are you doing here?
”

He grinned, and walked around the fire towards her. “That is a stupid question to ask the man who loves you.”

And then he had his arms wrapped about her, and was kissing her, but Leagh was still too shocked and bewildered to play the lover, and she pushed her hands against his chest until her mouth was free.

“Zared, what are you –”

He sighed, and his arms loosened a little. “I said I would fight for you, Leagh…but I didn’t realise the battle would be so hard.”

“But –”

“Theod and Herme said they would bring you to Hsingard. I’ve been waiting here for some three or four days.”

“Why?”

Zared sighed. “Why do you think? Did
you
accept Caelum’s decision?”

“We have no choice, Zared. Caelum is –”

“
Do
we have no choice?” he interrupted softly, then his hand was buried in her hair and he stopped her protests with a kiss that was considerably deeper and more thorough than the last.

“Come back to Severin with me,” he whispered eventually. “Come with me and be my wife.”

“But Caelum said –”

“What in curses’ sakes can Caelum do once we
are
married?”

She was silent, thinking.

Zared held her as close as he could, rocking her gently back and forth. “Be my wife, Leagh. Be courageous enough to be my wife.”

Leagh’s head was swimming with conflicting ideas and emotions. Zared, so close, so warm, offering her what she so desperately wanted. But she was Leagh, Princess of the West, and she couldn’t just run off with a man her overlord had expressly forbidden her to marry. And what would Askam say? What would Askam
do?
Would she ever see Carlon again? Was Zared worth being totally ostracised from elite Tencendorian society – for Leagh had no doubt that was what would happen.

And then she was overcome with remorse for thinking that. Here was the man who loved her, and she him. He would only ever be her true chance for happiness, and she was worried about her social standing?

But how deeply would she hurt Askam? And what would Caelum do?

“Sweetheart.” Zared kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck. “What say you? Will you come back to Severin with me, will you be my wife?”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but kissed her again, moulding her body to his.

It was too much. Leagh just didn’t have the courage to say no.

“Yes?” Zared asked, and she simply nodded her head, her eyes swimming with tears, both for love of Zared, and fear of what her actions would do to Askam.

He smiled, and Leagh frowned slightly, thinking it an odd expression, almost one of triumph.

He shifted slightly, and Leagh realised he was pulling her back into the canvas-covered rock shelter.

“No,” she said, and she truly meant it.

“What does a week or two matter, my love?” he
asked, his strength too much for her. “The public notary in Severin can marry us soon enough, and I can assure you there will be no physical inspection of the goods beforehand.”

Leagh blushed a deep red. “No.”

And yet now here they were, deep within the shelter, and Zared had pulled the flap to, shutting them into an almost total darkness.

“Don’t rush me –” she started, but he laughed softly.

“Rush? Why rush? We have a long autumn night ahead of us, my love, and I am in no mood to rush.”

His fingers were at her throat, and suddenly her cloak fell away, and then his hands, his insistent, strong hands, had pushed her jacket over her shoulders and halfway down her arms.

Then he stopped and Leagh, her arms trapped, could do nothing as he unbuttoned her linen shirt and ran his hands and then his lips over her bared breasts.

She considered screaming – but was deeply embarrassed at the thought of what the men who answered her scream would find.

“No,” she said yet again, but her voice was weakened with indecision, and he heard it.

He laughed again, low, and held her to him, running his mouth from her breast to her throat and then to her own mouth. His hands finally jerked off her jacket and shirt, and then she was somehow lying on her back amid the blankets and he was a dark shape and weight above her.

He murmured in her ear, sweet words that meant nothing but nevertheless relaxed her, and she lifted her hips of her own accord when he pulled at the waistband of her breeches, and let him slide them off.

“You are so beautiful, Leagh,” he whispered, “so precious.”

And she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms about him, and like the peasant woman she had always dreamed of being, she let the man she loved enter her body and love her. If there was a child from this, she thought, then so be it, and Askam and Caelum must accept it.