In that instant before the blades sank home, SpikeFeather dropped flat to the ground, and there was a soft "Ugh!" of surprise as the middle two Demons buried their axes in each other rather than in the birdman.
The other two Demons stumbled and fell, as Qeteb and Barzula had, pulled to the ground by the targetless momentum of their axe swings.
The two wounded Demons wrenched their axes out of each other, cursing softly even as their flesh smoothly mended itself, and raised their axes to do SpikeFeather to death when suddenly they found their forms bristling with spears and pikes.
Behind Urbeth's daughters stood a line of some three score Ravensbund warriors, already aiming their next phalanx of spears at the Demons.
SpikeFeather reached up, hardly able to breathe through the force of his terror, yet still committed to action, and grabbed one of the spears, twisting and wrenching it until the Demon toppled onto him.
SpikeFeather found himself in an inferno of hatred and vengeance. Fires and teeth lapped and gnashed at his arms wrapped protectively about his head, and he could feel talons slicing down deep into his belly and upper thighs. He screamed, knowing death was only a breath away, when —
— when suddenly the Demon rolled off him and he saw instead
the hand of one of Urbeth's daughters reaching down, her face
hovering behind it: beautiful, distant, and utterly, utterly lovely.
SpikeFeather could hear the Demons screaming somewhere in the distance, but for him his entire world consisted of that hand, now touching his, and the almost disembodied face floating behind it.
He blinked, took her hand —
— and found himself standing to one side of what he could
only describe as a desperate scrum in the snow. Arms and legs
and heads appeared and then disappeared, axes flew, blood
spattered about, and howls of rage and frustration wrapped the
entire fracas.
SpikeFeather looked about, desperate to find someone to help him in aiding Urbeth's daughters.
And saw them, standing slightly to one side, their arms folded, their faces smug.
SpikeFeather, one said in his mind, we have thrown our shadows in for the Demons to chase.
What will happen, he said, astounded to find himself able to reply in the same manner, when they realise the trick?
Both ice women shrugged, and their smiles deepened, but they did not reply.
SpikeFeather turned back to the fray, and then stumbled several steps towards the safety of the avenue.
The Ravensbund were still there, lined up with spears at the ready.
"Hello, Qeteb, Barzula," DragonStar said, and he nodded behind them. "I believe you have met my father?"
Qeteb hefted his axe.
"No," DragonStar said, and his voice darkened and became heavier. "No. You cannot hurt what is protected by these trees."
"Not until you are dead," Qeteb said.
"Quite," DragonStar agreed, " If you can kill me."
Qeteb's eyes slid towards Urbeth. She had somehow grown stronger in the last few minutes, and now she stood straight and tall, her eyes hard, her figure implacable.
Her hands, so recently ice, now turned into the furred claws of the ice bear.
Suddenly Urbeth's mouth opened in a vicious snarl, and she completed the transformation and crouched to spring.
"The war is between you and me," DragonStar said, "and between yours and mine."
"Ah, DragonStar," Qeteb said, his voice even now. He, as Urbeth had, raised himself to his full height and assumed his true form of black, invulnerable armour. "You cannot begrudge me a pre-dinner nibble or two, can you?"
DragonStar shrugged. "Your nibble has done you no good. What matters is the Hunt through the Maze. That is what you and I both know."
The Dream grabbed both of them. They were hunting through a Maze of stars,dipping and swaying with the interstellar Star Dance.
All existence held its breath, awaiting the outcome.
DragonStar urged his Star Stallion forward, the Alaunt streaming out to his flanks like thetwin tails of a comet, but, despite their speed and power, the great dark beast behind him wasgaining, and DragonStar could sense the weapon Qeteb lifted above his shoulder.
Qeteb took a step forward, and half raised the axe he still held.
The Dream shifted slightly, and DragonStar knew that Qeteb was as much in control of theDream as he was in control of the Hunt.
"The weapon I wield," Qeteb screamed through the universe, "is not of metal or even ofpower. It is the weapon I will fashion from your weakness! See! See!"
