“No!” Drago cried hoarsely, “that ‘memory’ was a phantasm of someone else’s imagination. I did not kill RiverStar!”
“The Song of Recall never lies,” Caelum said very calmly. “You are sentenced to death, Drago SunSoar. An arrow to the heart as the sun rises in the morning. Thus I speak, thus shall it be so.” He paused, and gestured to the four guards from the Strike Force. “Take him away.”
As Caelum stepped down from the dais and Drago was led from the Hall, the Lake Guard snapped to attention, swords to foreheads.
17
The Lake Guard on Duty
Zenith sank down onto the floor by her bed and rubbed her head. “Go away, go away, go away,” she murmured.
But Niah refused to go. She had been buried in Zenith since birth, content until now with sending only the odd memory bubbling to the surface of Zenith’s conscious mind, and enjoying the occasional excursion in something like control of Zenith’s mind. But since WolfStar’s kiss, since his insistence, Niah was prepared to fight for supremacy.
All the tales Zenith had heard of Niah were of a sweet-natured woman who had willingly given her life for Azhure. But this presence she felt within her was anything but sweet-natured. Had death done this to Niah?
Whatever Caelum had said, Zenith knew in the very pits of her soul – her soul, dammit! – that the Niah presence was a very different being to herself. There were two of them, not one.
I am not Niah! she thought, and then cried aloud as the Niah voice responded, biting like fire into her mind.
I am you – do either of us have any choice?
“I am not you and I have every choice, damn you!”
You want what I want. You always have.
“Has all my life thus far been a lie?” Zenith cried to the empty room. “Have none of my decisions been my own, only what this Niah-voice has whispered to me?”
Who could help her against this insistent voice? And even if someone wanted to help, then what could they do? Over the past few days Zenith had tried everything she could, used every one of her not inconsiderable powers, and yet nothing had dampened Niah’s insistence – or curbed her growing strength. And if Zenith could not repress her…who could? Caelum, maybe, but Caelum believed that accepting Niah was Zenith’s destiny. That she would just have to “adjust”.
“No! Never!”
Desperate for comfort, Zenith tried to conjure the image of StarDrifter. She wanted to hear him say again that all would be well, and that he would always be there for her.
But no matter how hard she tried, all Zenith could manage was a flickering, insubstantial image that faded after only moments.
Was this Niah who so interfered with her power, or something, someone else?
Briefly Zenith remembered the apparent difficulty Caelum had in using the Song of Recall, but at that moment Niah made a renewed surge for supremacy, and Zenith forgot everything save the struggle for her sanity.
She searched frantically for something to hold on to, some thought that was even stronger than Niah.
What?
Drago! Yes, she had to concentrate on Drago. His problems were far worse than hers, for he had only hours to live; already the night had quietened into absolute stillness.
“Drago,” she muttered through clenched teeth, clinging to his name and his plight as a charm against the incursions of this hated voice within her. “Drago.”
WolfStar…where is he now, I wonder?
She fought to think of Drago…
Think of how you will enjoy his embrace, my dear. He is SunSoar. He has the blood you crave…
In desperation, Zenith concentrated on the horrific vision WolfStar had summoned, and that finally blocked out the Niah-voice. The Song of Recall never lied, all Enchanters knew that…but Zenith found it difficult to believe that the vision had been entirely the truth, either. Especially when it was a vision conjured through WolfStar’s magic. WolfStar was capable of anything, and he loathed Drago as much as Caelum did.
Neither Caelum nor WolfStar had been prepared to believe anything save that Drago must have killed his sister.
No-one had been prepared to believe anything but that, it seemed.
And so now Drago had to die. He had been condemned, not for what he may or may not have done to RiverStar, but for what he’d done to Caelum all those years ago.
What could she do to help Drago? It was no use going to Caelum. The only other person who still believed in Drago was Leagh, and as sweet as she might be, Leagh would be little help here in Sigholt. Stars, but Caelum had her under almost as close a guard as Drago!
Zared might have helped, but Zared was not here.
Zenith’s mouth twisted bitterly. The only people left who had any power to help were her parents, but they distrusted Drago as much as Caelum did, and Zenith was astute enough to realise Drago’s sentence was as much their work as Caelum’s or WolfStar’s.
That left her. She was the only one who could help him. Again her mouth twisted. Both she and Drago were condemned to their different fates by events decades old.
Well, she wasn’t going to succumb to her fate without a struggle, and damned if she was going to see Drago condemned to his, either. Sigholt was a prison and a death for both of them. In the morning an arrow waited for Drago’s heart, and no doubt WolfStar would appear to claim hers, too.
Both she and Drago would die if they stayed.
No.
Again, Zenith suppressed the voice, thankful to find it easier now. Yes, Drago must be saved. And in saving Drago perhaps she would help herself.
Zenith wrapped a cloak about her shoulders and slipped from the room. There was only one place they could go, one person who might yet help them. StarDrifter. He would listen to them, and maybe he knew the magics needed to extinguish Niah’s bid for freedom. Zenith wasn’t sure how they would manage to get there – she didn’t dare use the enchantments of the bridge and Spiredore, for Caelum would be able to follow them that way – but they would manage somehow.
The upper corridors were deserted. All were in bed. Sleeping soundly, no doubt, Zenith thought, before the final threat to their peace of mind was put away in the morning.
But the lower corridors leading to the holding cells in the foundations of Sigholt were deserted as well, and Zenith frowned.
Why no guards?
She moved carefully, peering about corners before slipping down each corridor. Few torches were lit, and those that were guttered in a faint draught that came from nowhere.
No-one? Why? Was she in a dream? Surely Drago merited a guard? Zenith thought Caelum would have posted them at least six deep.
She turned around the final corner and jerked to a halt, her eyes wide and frightened.
One of the Lake Guard stood there, his ivory uniform gleaming in the dim light, the golden knot emblem seeming to leap out at her. He stood straight, but not at attention, his wings carefully folded behind his back. Zenith did not know his name. The Lake Guard might be a constant presence about Sigholt, but they kept to themselves.
“What do you do here, my Lady Zenith?”
She clutched the cloak a little more tightly to her, and kept her own wings folded against her back. “I have come to see my brother. He dies in the morning.”
“So I have heard,” the guard said. “Well, it is good that you are here. We have been waiting for someone.”
What a curious remark, Zenith thought, but then forgot it as the guard unlocked the cell door and pushed it open. “He waits.”
Odd, odd people, she thought vaguely, then pushed past him into the cell.
Drago sat crouched in a corner, his back to the wall, staring at her. Everything about him radiated bitterness, directed even at her. She would live in the morning, and he would not.
“I do not deserve to die,” he said.
“You surely deserve to have some sense battered into you,” Zenith said. “Drago, are you prepared to help yourself?”
His eyes narrowed. “Wha
t do you mean?”
“The corridors are deserted, and only one guard stands outside this cell. Sigholt sleeps. If I call the guard in, could you tackle him? Perhaps stand behind the door, so, and leap at him as he enters?”
Something other than bitterness gleamed in Drago’s eyes, but Zenith wasn’t sure what it was. “Why help me, Zenith?”
“Because we both need to get out of this prison, but mostly because you are my brother and I love you,” she said softly.
“No-one loves me!” he said. “I am Drago!”
She gazed levelly at him. “If you want to live, then I am your only chance.”
“Why help me?” he asked again. “Caelum is going to be more than upset with you.”
“I cannot stay here either, Drago. We each have our fates to escape.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cannot explain here and now, Drago. Do you want to escape?”
He waited a moment longer, studying her. She had the appearance of calmness, but there was something she was holding in. Drago realised she was only a breath away from snapping completely. “Yes. Yes, I do want to escape.”
He pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to stretch cramped muscles, then moved behind the door. “Call the guard.”
Zenith stood in the centre of the cell and faced the door. “I am ready to leave now, guard,” she called.
Silence.
Her eyes moved to Drago, and he jerked his head to the door. “Again,” he whispered.
Zenith called out again, her voice now clearly strained, but again her request was met only by silence.
She trembled, and Drago shifted in irritation. “Once more!”
So she called once more, but still only silence.
Drago cursed softly, and banged on the door with his fist.
Nothing.
Zenith glanced at Drago, trembled, then walked to the door. She hesitated, then banged on it with the flat of her hand. “Open up! Please!”
Stillness.
Again Zenith hesitated, then, suddenly making up her mind, she seized the handle and pulled.
The door swung open, and Zenith almost fell over. She leapt back, giving Drago room to subdue the guard when he entered, but beyond the open doorway there was only flickering light and waiting silence.
Zenith took a step into the corridor and looked about. The guard had disappeared.
Why?
But no time for questions now, time only to seize the chance offered.
“Come on!” she hissed, reaching back into the cell and hauling Drago’s sleeve. “Come on!”
He crept out of the cell, huddling in the shadow of the wall, his eyes suspicious. “Where are the guards?”
“You don’t know? Well, neither do I. Drago, get moving. Now!”
“It’s a trick. They’re waiting further down the corridor. I know it.”
“Well, my Enchanter powers tell me the way is clear. There is nothing.”
“I know it is a trap! Caelum will be waiting –”
She almost hit him in her frustration. “Move! Now! Or I swear I will do no more to help you!”
And without a further look she marched down the corridor.
Still Drago hesitated. Then suddenly the concept finally hit home. Escape! Escape – and if he escaped, would he then finally be able to seize control of his own destiny and heritage?
Yes, he would damn well make the opportunity! Drago straightened and ran after Zenith.
The corridors remained empty, and Zenith led Drago towards a small door in the side wall of Sigholt. But as they turned down the final corridor, Drago caught at his sister’s arm.
He had the most curious expression on his face, and his head was tilted, almost as if he were listening to something.
“Wait,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s something I have to get.”
“What?’
“Zenith, for forty years I have been punished for my infant escapade. For forty years I have been denied my heritage. Now I want to snatch a piece of it back.”
“Damn you to all the black pits of the interstellar wastes, Drago! We have no time for this!”
Drago seized Zenith’s chin in his hand. She stiffened in both affront and fright, but although he had pulled her close, he did not hurt her. “Was I treated fairly in that trial, Zenith. Was I?”
“No,” she said.
“Have I ever been given a chance to redeem myself?”
“You have had forty years to redeem yourself, Drago,” she said. “Do not blame that lack on Caelum as well.”
His face twisted and he stepped back. “Wait here for me, Zenith.”
“Drago –” She reached out a hand, but he had already gone.
Damn him! In her frustration and anger, Zenith slammed a fist into the rough stone wall, then bit down a cry of pain as the stone bruised her flesh. What was Drago up to?
She waited, the uncertainty agonising. Then, when she had made up her mind to go after him, she heard his soft footfalls approach.
“What were you doing?” she hissed as Drago rejoined her. He carried a bundle, a small hessian sack bulging with something Zenith could not see, even when she probed it with her mind.
“What is in the sack, Drago? And how is it no-one saw or felt you?”
He laughed humourlessly. “I know how to creep about these corridors undetected, Zenith. Being naturally sly has its uses.”
“The sack?”
He shrugged. “Nothing important.”
Important enough to risk recapture, Zenith thought, and strange enough that I cannot scry out its contents.
You have done your best, girl. Now go back to bed and wait for our lover. WolfStar can warm the hours before dawn. He waits. I can feel him. I want to feel him.
Zenith gave a low cry and clutched at her head.
“Zenith? What is it?”
“We’ve got to get out of here, Drago. We must!”
Drago stared at her, but she seemed to have recovered from her momentary lapse, and what she said was sensible enough. He had already dared too much and wasted too much time in retrieving this…this insurance.
“Then move!” He grabbed her elbow and pushed through the door into the night.
There were a few guards about the central courtyard, but Zenith held her head high and smiled, and pulled Drago close, his head against her shoulder and her arm about his waist. The guards paid them little attention. Zenith and…a lover perhaps…out for a night stroll.
Through the gate, and to the bridge.
The bridge. The magical guardian of the way into Sigholt. Would she challenge them? Stop them?
“Greetings, lovely Zenith,” the bridge remarked, and then her voice tightened. “And you, treacherous son.”
Drago stiffened. Even the bridge knew how to hurt.
Zenith spoke rapidly, hoping the bridge would continue to keep her voice down. “We are out for a stroll, bridge. Do not concern yourself about us.”
“There has been trouble in the past few days,” the bridge said. “And Drago has been amid the thick of it. I cannot let you pass. I will not let you past. He tricked me once before.”
“No!” Zenith said. “Please, bridge, we mean no –”
“No.”
Zenith could feel Drago rigid next to her, and was terrified he would attempt to run across the bridge, regardless of the consequences.
“We can always swim the moat,” she whispered.
“No matter what you do,” the bridge said, her voice implacable, “you will not get past. Especially with what you carry, hated son.”
Zenith looked again at the sack Drago had under his arm. What was it?
“You seem to have misunderstood, bridge,” said a low voice, and Zenith and Drago swivelled about in shock.
WingRidge CurlClaw walked slowly towards the bridge from the Keep. He nodded at them, and then spoke again to the bridge.
“Drago walks as one with that sack. Let
him pass –”
“I do not believe it!” the bridge hissed. “Him?”
“Always,” WingRidge said.
There was utter silence. Zenith couldn’t believe what was happening – what was WingRidge doing? What was he saying? Why hadn’t guards swarmed out of Sigholt to seize them? Why –
“Then pass,” the bridge said grumpily.
“Go on,” WingRidge said, and pushed Zenith. “Go!”
Drago needed no further prompting. He set off across the bridge at a run, and after a moment’s hesitation Zenith followed him.
“It would help,” WingRidge said to the bridge, “if you did not mention what has just happened or what I have just told you.”
The bridge thought about that. “I find it difficult to believe that Drago –”
“The Maze unwinds in many and varied ways,” WingRidge said, “and few understand its conundrums.”
18
Hunting Drago
Caelum had called Askam, Herme and Theod to the map-room just before dawn to arrange the final details for Drago’s execution, when WingRidge and another of the Lake Guard knocked and entered.
The Lake Guardsman stepped past his captain, and bowed. “Drago is no longer there, StarSon.”
“What?” Caelum stopped himself from seizing the birdman’s tunic only with the most strenuous of efforts. “What do you mean – ‘Drago is no longer there’?”
The birdman’s face remained expressionless. “StarSon, when we opened the cell this morning he was gone.”
Herme and Theod exchanged looks, neither sure what to think, and Askam muttered under his breath.
Caelum looked at WingRidge. “How could this have happened?”
“As yet I cannot say, StarSon. Perhaps SkyLazer,” he indicated the birdman who’d entered with him, “can further enlighten us. He was in charge of Drago’s guard last night.”
“SkyLazer? Well, man, you tell us how this could have happened!”
“StarSon, we had guards posted the entire length of the corridors leading to the cell. Three guards stood outside Drago’s cell itself. They have reported that there were no visitors and no sounds throughout the night. They are good men all, StarSon, but if you like I can summon them and you can test the truth of their report for yourself.”