Chapter 17

Escape from Sanctuary

Isfrael was impatient to make his deal with the Demons. Then he would escape with the Avar to the Sacred Groves, and leave the Acharites and Icarii to their fate.

But he had one small problem. Getting out of Sanctuary.

DragonStar could do it, wielding Enemy Acharite magic to do so, but Isfrael could not. This place was crafted of Enemy enchantment, and only those of Acharite blood — and who had reawoken into their powers — could use it. Isfrael had Acharite blood aplenty from his parents, Axis and Faraday, but he'd not been through the process of death that was needed to be able to make use of the power, and Isfrael had no intention of dying for his ambitions.

No, there had to be some other way to get out.

He sat under a great spreading whalebone tree in the heart of the forest that Sanctuary had created in order to make the Avar feel at home. Isfrael did not appreciate Sanctuary's efforts at all. The entire forest seemed false: it did not sing, and it did not vibrate with power.

And the Avar watched him out of the corner of their eyes ... almost as if they were keeping an eye on him, by the Horned Ones, rather than waiting for his will!

Although the Avar people tolerated Isfrael among them, the Avar Banes avoided him completely, and that made Isfrael more furious than anything else. He knew the Banes talked with Faraday, although they took pains to do so in private.

The Banes — perhaps all Avar — are keeping secrets from me, thought Isfrael, and the wild blond curls on his forehead

tightened into even crisper, angrier knots, and his horns twinkled, as if they sharpened themselves on his thoughts.

His fingers dug into the soft earth at his side.

How could he get out of here?

Isfrael remembered how DragonStar drew the doorway of light to move to and from Sanctuary —

through Spiredore, Isfrael thought — and he lusted for a doorway for himself.

He almost laughed. DragonStar was hardly likely to give him the doorway, was he? And Isfrael did not like his chances of trying to wrest it off the man: he'd likely set his pet lizard (another of Minstrelsea's creatures that had betrayed Isfrael) or one of his hounds to his destruction.

There had to be some other way.

And then Isfrael stilled as memory came to his aid.

Faraday had used the doorway to evacuate the Avar from the forests into Sanctuary!

The same doorway, or a different one?

Isfrael could hardly breathe for excitement. DragonStar and his "witches" (Isfrael would have laughed had he not been so preoccupied) had had only a relatively few days to evacuate all of Tencendor. If Faraday had been given a doorway with which to work, then had the others?

Probably ... probably ...

And of the others, Leagh was the most trusting ... and the most vulnerable.

Isfrael smiled.

Zared laughed at something Theod had just said, but there was a hard edge to his merriment. Here he sat with Theod and Herme in this marbled palace in Sanctuary, drinking the finest of wines and nibbling on the most delectable of fruits, and yet above their heads Tencendor lay wasted with horror.

And Leagh, as also Gwendylyr, were going to have to go out there and do personal battle with the Demons in order to retrieve it.

Zared did not like it at all, and neither did Theod. Herme hardly said a word, feeling both guilty and relieved that his wife didn't have to face a Demon.

The three men sat with Leagh and Gwendylyr in a square chamber that opened out onto a balcony.

Scents of wildflowers and grasses wafted in.

It should have been peaceful, but Zared was left itching with the need to do something. He and Theod had kept themselves as busy as they could, making sure the Acharites were settled, reconstituting what councils they could, trying to keep people busy, but it was a sham business.

All Zared wanted to do was get on a horse and lead an army somewhere ... or, at the very least, be given the chance to build a permanent home for his people somewhere. He hated being trapped in this boring prettiness.

Gwendylyr leaned forward and threw her set of gaming sticks onto the ghemt board, then clapped her hands in delight. She was winning, and loving it.

Herme chuckled and reached for some more wine, while Theod rolled his eyes in mock despair at Zared, and conceded his squares on the board to his wife. "And with that, my love, you have won the entire board!"

Gwendylyr grinned, and gathered up everyone's gaming sticks. "Another game?"

"No!" the others chorused, holding up their hands in protest.

"I do not trust your witches skills," Herme said, with a grin to take away any implied criticism in his words.

"Well, perhaps we can play again this evening," Leagh said. "I think we need time to plan our strategies against you, Gwendylyr."

"As you wish." Gwendylyr was still smiling as she packed the sticks and board away. "It will but delay the humiliation."

"Gods!" Zared said. "Did she always get her way like this in your home, Theod?"

"Aye. It got so bad I used to actually enjoy going over the county accounts in the evening rather than spend time with Gwendylyr."

But Theod's tone was light, and his eyes dancing, and none of the others doubted his love for his wife.

Leagh sighed, and rose. "I must lie down for a while — I must admit this futile tussle against Gwendylyr has exhausted me. Will you excuse me?"

Zared stood as well. "Let me come with you, Leagh."

She smiled, and put a hand on his chest. "No. Let me rest a while in peace, and then perhaps you and I can go for a walk in the orchards. I can amaze you with my ability to climb the highest fruit trees in search of the juiciest fruits."

Zared opened his mouth to protest, then realised she was making fun of him. He smiled, very gently and with utter love, and kissed her hand. "Rest well, my sweet."

Herme rose as well, his face drawn and tired, and offered to escort Leagh to her chamber.

She smiled, and took his arm.

After they'd left the room, Zared turned to the other two and finally let the worry shine unhindered from his eyes. "How will she manage in the wasteland against a Demon," he said, his voice desperate.

"How?"

Leagh slept, and dreamed.

She wandered through the Field of Flowers, so content and relaxed she was half dreaming even amid her dream.

Her hand was on her belly, and she and her unborn child talked — not with words, but with thoughts and emotions and laughter. She loved her child, and her child her, and while neither could wait for the time when the child would be born, they were not impatient for it.

The child curled up, protected and loved, deep within Leagh's body, and that contented both of them.

Leagh walked, and let the scent of the lilies seep into her innermost being.

The unborn child screamed.

Leagh jerked out of her reverie, although not out of the dream; wild-eyed she stared about, almost tripping in her hasty attempts to circle and spot the danger.

Her hands clutched protectively over her belly, no protection at all against knife or spear or iron-studded and hard- wielded club.

The child screamed again, and Leagh panicked.

What was wrong?

She twisted about still more ... and saw it.

Perhaps thirty paces distant stood a great black bull. Its eyes were red flames, its breath sulphurous smoke, its face a mask of hate.

Give it to me, it bellowed in her mind, or I will gore that child out of your belly.

One foreleg pawed the ground, and his haunches bunched.

Leagh screamed, and, turning, ran.

She felt the thunder of the bull's hooves through her own feet, and she could hear the horrendous wet panting of his breath.

Something hard and vicious dug into the small of her back and sent her sprawling.

Leagh hands scrabbled in the bare earth — the flowers had fled! — and tried to get up, tried to get away —

A horn caught under her ribcage and flipped her over, and the bull thrust his sweaty, ghastly face into hers.

Saliva dribbled from his mouth, and drenched the neckline of her robe.

Give it to me, give it to me!

"What?" Leagh screamed. "What?"

The bull lifted one of its massive, splayed fore-hooves — it was the size of a plate! — and thudded it down on her belly.

Give it to me!

"What? What? Take it, anything, oh gods no don't do that don't don't don't stop it stop it stop it

..."

The bull leant its entire weight on its hoof, and Leagh could feel her child screaming, trying to get away ... its flesh tearing, its skull bursting, she could feel her belly bursting apart, she could feel the bull squirming his hoof right down through her ruined belly to her spine, oh gods the pain the pain the pain

...

Leagh jerked out of her sleep, still screaming —

— and found she could not move. A man — she could smell him — had one heavy hand on her throat, and the other one dug into her belly, its fingers probing, probing, oh god, don't don't don't...

"Give it to me," a voice rasped, and Leagh finally opened her eyes and stared into the face of Isfrael.

So panicked she could hardly breathe, let alone think, Leagh tried to fight him off, but he was so strong, so strong, and the instant she started to squirm his fingers dug agonisingly into her belly, and she could feel her child squirm, and Leagh slid completely into panic. She screamed, then screamed again, then —

He lifted his hand from her belly and struck her face so hard she blacked out for a heartbeat or two.

"Give it to me," he roared. "Give it to me!"

"What?" she finally managed. The hand was back on her belly again, and he was leaning virtually his entire weight on it.

"The door!"

"The door?" And then she screamed again as his fingers dug even deeper (how was that possible?) into her flesh.

"The door of light! Where is it?"

The door of light? For a moment Leagh could not comprehend what he meant, and then she remembered.

The doorway of light that DragonStar had given each of his witches, save for DareWing who was too sick. She'd compressed it down into a cube, and put it where? Where? All Leagh wanted to do was give it to him, get him away from her, get him away from her baby.

"In the pocket of my robe, you vile bastard," she hissed, and instantly the pressure was gone from her throat and belly, and she rolled away from him and slid onto the floor.

She could hear Isfrael scrabbling about on the other side of the bed ... then nothing.

"Is this it?" Leagh heard him say, and she hauled herself onto her knees.

He held the cube of light in his hand.

"Yes. It unfolds."

Isfrael fiddled with it, then found one of the lines of light and unfolded the door to the size of a small box.

He grinned, feral, malevolent. Then, in an abrupt movement, unfolded the doorway to its full size and stepped through.

Using every bit of strength left in her, Leagh struggled to her feet, threw herself across the bed, and grabbed hold of the door. Her breath wheezing in panic, desperate to do this before Isfrael did. Gods!

Leagh could see him on the other side of the door, turning back and roaring as he saw her, moving back towards her, reaching, reaching! — she pulled the doorway down, and refolded it back into its cube with hands trembling so badly they were barely useable.

Then, rather than placing the folded door back in a pocket, or even in a drawer of the nearby chest, Leagh thrust it under the mattress, and then sat down hard, both hands clutching the edge of the bed with white-knuckled fear.

She opened her mouth, heaved in as much air as her lungs could take, and screamed: "Zared!

Zared! Zared!"

The bitch had closed the door!

Isfrael fought to contain his fury. The doorway could have been an inestimable object of barter.

Then, finally containing his rage, he turned around to survey the interior of Spiredore.

And a wondrous thought occurred to him. Spiredore would take him to the Sacred Groves! He wouldn't have to deal with the Demons at all!

Isfrael stood thinking. If Spiredore took him there, then that would mean that he couldn't return to get the Avar. They'd die in Sanctuary when the Demons finally managed to break through its defences (as they surely would once they realised the treasure they had in Niah).

But maybe, once he was in the Sacred Groves, either the Horned Ones, or the Mother, could help him evacuate the Avar.

And maybe the Avar deserved to burn amid the Demons' fury for the fact that they'd deserted him for Faraday.

"I will do what I can," Isfrael announced to Spiredore, "but I will not do enough to endanger either myself or the Sacred Groves."

Having settled the matter in his own mind, Isfrael prepared to enter the Sacred Groves. He had been brought up with the rest of the SunSoar brood, and well knew Spiredore's secret.

"Take me to the Sacred Groves," he said, and set off up the nearest stairwell.

What Spiredore led Isfrael to was not quite what he'd expected. A blue-misted tunnel, surely, but it ended only in a drift of cold stars, not in the Sacred Groves.

"The Bitch!" he spat, and sent a string of cold, vile curses into an uncaring universe.

The Mother had closed off the approaches to the Sacred Groves — nothing else could have stopped Spiredore!

"The stupid, thoughtless Bitch!"

And Isfrael stormed back down the blue mist tunnel until he was back in Spiredore. He would have to trade with the Demons, after all.

No matter. He could best them any day.

"Take me to Qeteb," he said, and stepped upwards.