He dreamed he stood outside a great abandoned fortress of ice-covered black stone. Winds and snow buffeted the fortress, and he had to fight to maintain his feet. The great gates hung open on rusted hinges, and Drago struggled inside.

The courtyard was bare of anything but snow and ice drifts. Drago looked about, shielding his eyes as best he could from the gusts of ice-needled wind.

Twenty paces away was the door into the Keep, and Drago slipped and slithered his way across the courtyard, hoping the door was not bolted.

It opened with a painful squeal as he leaned against it, and Drago stumbled inside, grateful to be out of the wind. But it was no warmer inside. Ice crept down stone walls and cascaded in a frozen waterfall down the stairs. They were impa.s.sable.

Drago walked slowly into the great hall, then stopped. Here a fire roared in the fireplace. A table was set before it, and on that table lay a dead seal, its blank eyes staring in Drago's direction.

*253 *

There was a rustle of movement in a shadowed s.p.a.ce at the rear of the hall, and Drago swung his gaze in that direction.

A woman emerged from the shadows. She was tall and willowy, dressed in a pale grey robe that clung to her form. Iron-grey hair, streaked with silver, cascaded down he

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She had very deep blue eyes, and a red mouth, curved in a welcoming smile.

"North," she whispered, and yet the whisper reached Drago easily. "Come north to Gorkenfort, Drago.

Listen not to Faraday's pleadings. I have more need of you than the weeping girl."

Her smile widened momentarily, and then she moved gracefully to stand behind the table, her back to the fire.

She continued to stare at Drago, and then suddenly, horrifically, she snarled, revealing sharp fangs, and she bent to sink them into the spine of the seal.

Bones crackled, and blood spattered about the table.

She lifted her head. Her mouth and chin were red.

"Come north," she said. "I need to talk to you."

His mother. His ancestral mother . . .

Drago nodded, understanding even though he could put no words to his understanding, and turned and left the dream.

Terror buffeted the tiny tent, and when dawn broke, hunger tried to poke its skeletal fingers through the openings.

But the two inside did not notice, nor fear.

They slept.

Drago let Faraday sleep until it was full daylight.

"It's late!" she cried, springing into instant awareness. She pushed her hair back from her face and hastily twisted it into a long plait down her back.

"We have not lost long," Drago said, watching with amused eyes as Faraday leapt to her feet and stuffed their few possessions into their packs.

254.

"We can eat as we walk," she said, handing Drago a dried apple and a piece of cheese. "Get moving! I cannot dismantle this tent while you still sit there!"

Drago did as he was told. He unlaced the top of the tent from his staff, which doubled as a pole, and helped Faraday fold it.

Then he checked that his pack was properly loaded, swung it onto his back, made certain his sack was securely hung at his belt and picked up his staff. "Ready?"

"At this rate, it will be full summer by the time we reach Gorkenfort," Faraday grumbled, swinging into step beside Drago. And we will never reach Star Finger in time.

Drago heard both spoken and unspoken words, but he did not answer. He stared at the landscape about them. It was still windswept, but here, at the edge of river and the Rhaetian hills, there was more vegetation and dozens of deep burrows where, Drago thought, might huddle those creatures not yet driven insane by the Demons' touch.

Every so often, as if to confirm his hopes, he spotted the glint of dark eyes watching him from deep within the shadowed burrows. Sometimes the lizard would investigate the burrows, and he always seemed to emerge grinning.

Drago and Faraday had seen evidence of the maddened creatures that roamed the plains, but they had not been attacked, nor had they seen the creatures in groups of any more than four or five.

The lizard emerged from a burrow to Drago's left, and trotted over to him.

Drago leaned down and scratched his head, smiling.

"How will we cross the Nordra?" Faraday asked.

He turned back to her, watching the northerly wind whip fine strands of chestnut hair about her face and press the material of her dress close to her body.

"Until we find a boat, or a ford, we shall have to travel north along this bank. I ..."

His voice trailed off.

25S.

"Yes?" Faraday said.

"I dreamed last night of she who we go to meet at Gorkenfort."

Faraday arched an eyebrow, but did not speak, and Drago thought she had never looked so beautiful.

"Urbeth," he said. "Urbeth waits impatiently for us at Gorkenfort."

"She is your ancestral mother?"

Drago gave a little shrug. "I understand it as much as you."

Faraday dropped her eyes. Urbeth awaited them? She lifted her eyes again and stared directly north towards Star Finger. Then she sighed and bent down to lift her pack.

"We had better walk," she said, "for there is a long way to go, and many directions to be taken."

The lizard heaved a great sigh and got to his feet.

They walked through that day, stopping only to eat a brief meal at midday. Their food was getting low, but Drago hoped they'd meet with some Aldeni communities, or find their abandoned homes, who might have stocks of food.

Faraday privately wondered about Drago's optimism on that score. With the devastation that had struck at land and lives alike, people were likely to be wary of strangers, and even more wary of sharing what little food they had left.

They camped that evening still on the east bank of the river. Drago was clearly impatient at the delay in finding a way to cross the Nordra, for the river was now angling back to the east. They spent the evening in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and when it came time to sleep they slept wrapped tight in their individual blankets, and tight in their individual dreams.

"Why do you continue to deny your birthright?" Faraday said unexpectedly over the dried apple they shared for breakfast.

256.

Drago took his time in answering. "I am not ready to deny Caelum his birthright," he said.

"You are a fool." Faraday stood up. "Especially since you say that you will let nothing stop you from aiding the land. What if..."

She stopped folding her blanket and fixed him with her eye. "What if you can best serve Tencendor as StarSon and not Caelum's lackey?"

Drago drew in a sharp, angry breath. "I am not StarSon. That was but a childish dream. I will not stand in Caelum's way again!"

"It is your denial that is childish!" Faraday snapped, and turned her back to him.

They walked in silence that morning.

An hour before midday Drago halted, his hand shading his eyes. "There's something ahead," he said.

Faraday strained to see, but could see nothing. "What? Is it dangerous?"

Drago chewed his lip in frustration. "I can't see it properly. It's too far away. A pale smudge ... but it doesn't fit into the landscape. It's not natural."

Faraday glanced at the lizard ranging some fifteen paces ahead of them. It showed no fear, or sign of any consternation.

"Then we must walk," she said, and shifted her backpack into a more comfortable position. "We cannot let a smudge deter us."

Drago could not help a grin at her words, but Faraday, who had walked ahead, did not see it. Within a few minutes she could see the smudge as well, and both she and Drago quickened their stride, trying to get close enough to see.

When they did make it out, they both slowed slightly in amazement. It was a white horse, sway-backed with age, standing as still as death.

"Is it crazed?" Faraday asked.

'257'.

"It must be," Drago said. "We're too far from any shelter for the horse to be anything other."

Faraday checked their surrounding. "Perhaps we should give it a wide berth."

"Another few paces," Drago said. "We can see better from there, and we'll still be a safe distance away."

The halted within twenty paces of the horse. It gave no indication that it was aware of their presence, standing with its head drooping almost to the ground, apparently fast asleep.

"We'd best give him a wide berth," Faraday said again.

Drago did not answer immediately, standing staring at the horse.

"No," he finally said slowly. "No. I want to have a closer look at him."

There was something about that horse . . . something ...

Faraday looked at him oddly. "Are you certain it's safe?"

"No." Drago gave a sudden grin. "If he tries to bite, will you save me?"

She shot him a hard glare, and his grin widened slightly.

"If the horse refuses to wake, then perhaps we can throw him into the Nordra, and use him to float us across."

Faraday's mouth jerked, but she managed to keep her face straight, and waved Drago forward. "Off you go then, if you're so curious. But I would have thought one old horse was surely much the same as the next."

Drago walked forward, and after an instant's hesitation, Faraday followed him.

The lizard ranged ahead of Drago, dropping to its belly and slithering towards the horse, almost like a snake.

The horse stood with his head drooping so close to the ground his nose almost touched the soil. He did not seem aware of the two people or the lizard. The lizard slowed as it neared, then carefully planted its clawed feet on the ground and walked very carefully about the horse.

"Stop here," Drago said, his hand catching at Faraday's arm, his eyes still fixed on the horse.

258.

"Be careful," she said.

Drago eased the pack from his back and put it on the ground, then cautiously approached the horse. How, if the horse was not one of the Demons' minions, had it managed to survive without shelter? And why, if the horse was crazed, did it not attack? Was this a trap?

Were the Demons aware that he was still alive, and that he could resist their incursions?

Doubts raced through Drago's mind, and though he was wary, something about the horse bothered him, something about the horse tugged at his mind, at his memories. Something told him this horse was no foe.

"Quiet now, old boy," he said softly as he got to within a pace of the beast. "Quiet now."

The horse did not move, perhaps wondering in some deep recess of his mind how he could get any quieter.

"Quiet now," Drago repeated, rea.s.suring himself far more than the horse, and reached out a cautious hand to the beast's neck.

He patted it lightly. The horse did not stir.

Bolder now, Drago stepped close to him and ran his hand down his neck in bold, rea.s.suring strokes.

"What a fine old boy," he said, his tone warm but gentle. "What a handsome old fellow. What are you doing here? Lost? No-one to care for you?"

The stallion must have been a handsome beast in his prime, Drago thought. He was at least eighteen hands high, and with good bones, although his flesh hung limply enough from them now. His chest was deep and, even ancient as he was, the horse's legs were clean and straight.

The horse sighed, and Drago tensed and then relaxed as the horse made no further movement. Beneath him, the lizard was engaged in careful exploration, sniffing about the horse's fetlocks and hooves. It moved behind the horse, and sniffed at the yellowed tail that hung almost to the ground.

2S9.

"No," Drago said, and fixed the lizard in the eye.