Star Of Ashdod

~~Chapter 1
When darkness fell, my nightmares called.  I had haunting dreams of Louis de Flandres, the man my father was determined for me to marry.  I dreamed of Ashdod, land of the walking dead, into which I and my cousin Philip DuBois were on the verge of entering.  I dreamed that my Uncle Francis and Aunt Marguerite DuBois were evil – letting me go into Ashdod to trap me there.  I didn’t want to sleep.  I didn’t want to dream.  But I did.
The dream started as so many do with a mixture of memories, slowly morphing into imaginings.  I was back in my father’s chateau, after Louis de Flandres had come on a visit to win me and I had ended up locking myself in my room.  Father was pacing the room, and I was deliberately not meeting his eyes.  He was angry at me for hiding, but I had not felt particularly guilty.
“Louis has his heart set on this marriage!  I have promised him he shall have it and as my daughter, it is your duty to follow my wishes.”
“Louis is an oaf and a fop.  His heart is made of stone, and he is also a coward.  Such a man I will not marry.  If you insist on this, I will be forced to take drastic measures.”
“You dare to bring disgrace on your name by refusing your father’s will?  You will find Ashdod a fouler prison than anything you could suffer at my hands!”  He hadn’t said that in real life.  My mind was mixing things.  At that moment, Father turned into Uncle Francis.  He looked at me and said, “A star has fallen once before into Ashdod.  You shall be the second.”
The scenery changed, and darkness surrounded me.  The air was sulfurous and hot.  It made my nose prickle and my eyes water. 
Uncle Francis was still in front of me.  He swept his arm about him.  “See the prison the old wizards made!  It will hold you too, just as it held the first ones who now are dead.  No way out of here – only in.  But in time, I shall change that.”  He held out a hand to me, and again he changed, this time into Louis de Flandres.  “Marry me, Clarisse.”
I screamed and ran.  He leapt after me, yelling something I couldn’t hear.  I stumbled and fell, but got up and kept running.  I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t care.  I wouldn’t let him catch me.  Strong hands grabbed me and held me still.  I struggled and kicked but couldn’t get free.  I saw a man, shadowy and indistinct, a branding iron in his hand glowing from the fire – a sideways S.  It was the brand of the Ashdons!  I shrieked and twisted, trying to bite the hands that held me.  The brand came closer and closer.  I bucked and arched in my captor’s grip, unable to loosen his grasp.
“No!”  My own cry faded from my ears.  Aunt Marguerite was brushing back the hair from my face.
“The children in Ashdod don’t get branded.  That’s why only you and Philip can go and remain secret.”
“Did he brand me?”  I asked, reaching up to feel my forehead.  The skin was puckered and my fingers felt blood.  I choked and scrambled to my feet.  I had to find a mirror to see for sure. 
Philip stood before me, barring my way.  His face was blank and he was clad in black.  On his forehead was a brand like the one I had felt on mine.  He pointed at me.  “You too have been Chosen.  Come with me to our leader.”  I backed away, horror and overwhelming sadness filling me at seeing my cousin like this.  Turning, I ran again, gasping for breath, pain throbbing out from my brand into every limb.  My lungs burned and my eyes streamed water as the wind blew into them.  Far away, perhaps dimmed by the wind, came the howling of wolves.
I screamed for help as I stumbled and fell, picking myself up again and running on.  I knew that to stop meant certain death, and yet I had no more strength left.  The howling grew rapidly closer.  Glancing over my shoulder I could make out gray shapes behind me, closing in.  I screamed again, realizing that if help did not arrive in seconds, I was finished.  Something hit me from behind and I fell.  I felt claws.  Teeth. 
“For pity’s sake, Clarisse, do you want to wake the whole wood?”  I jerked awake to find Philip shaking me.  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Sweat cooled on my skin, mingling with the dampness of the rain.  It had been a dream, but based largely on terrifying reality.  My mind had not made up the branding, or the part about a Star in Ashdod.  The Star of Ashdod was the heirloom stolen by my father.  It was for the Star that Philip and I were going into Ashdod, and also to learn any information we could.  It wasn’t surprising that I’d had a nightmare about the branding, for I still found that horrifying.  Uncle Francis told us that all the Ashdons, except the children who went to their schools, were branded to mark them as belonging there.  Anyone there without the brand would be done for.
I wiped my forehead and looked at Philip.  He looked fully rested and energetic.  “Shall we go now or do you want to sleep some more?” he asked.
He didn’t understand.  No one understood.  I was haunted by similar nightmares, and none of them induced good sleep.  I stood and glared grumpily at him.  “I’ll go now.”
Not ten paces from me into the wood was an earthen mound.  On the opposite side of the mound was a stone archway.  Through the archway, a yellow-orange light glowed.  Walking around to the other side of the mound, we stared through the archway.  So it was we caught our first glimpse of the most dreaded place on Earth.
“Do we really need to go down there?”  I asked.  “Is the Star so important that we need to go there?”
“Well, Father says that if the Star falls into the wrong hands, it could be dangerous.  It is magic, I believe, though the DuBois never knew how to wield it.”
“Father wouldn’t know how to wield it either,”   I said.
“But he might give it to someone who does.  We agreed to try to get it back, which means we need to go down there.”
I sighed.  “I know.  I was just hoping you would say this wasn’t really Ashdod after all.”
A flight of stone steps led into Ashdod, and these we cautiously descended.  A path wound away from us, weaving between pools of shimmering yellow liquid, swirled in places with orange and pink, letting loose the occasional bubble, like a gigantic pot on coals.  These were the source of the glowing light I had seen emanating from the doorway in the woods.  Gazing into the distance, I thought I could see stone buildings clustered together in what might be called a city. 
This was much worse than I had been expecting.  I had only half-believed the rumors of Ashdod, but even they had not prepared me for the other-worldliness of the place.  The whole place stank in the worst way because fumes coming out of the pools.  There was no fresh air except what was coming from the opening behind me.  I figured we would suffocate before we got very far, it that sticky and humid. 
“Should we start with that town?”  Philip asked.
I shrugged.  I felt now that trying to find the Star of Ashdod in this place would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack blindfolded.  Philip took my gesture as an affirmative and led the way along the twisting path.  I followed him, trying hard not to breathe through my nose or to step in the noxious pools.  “What do you suppose the yellow stuff is?”  I asked.  “I mean, it can’t be water.” 
Philip didn’t answer for a moment.  He seemed to be thinking.  “I’ve read in books about something called the Sulfur Lakes.  That might be what these pools are.”
The path opened out onto more regular ground – hard-packed sandy earth that was almost rock.  As I was assessing the dirt, I nearly ran straight into a stone building that looked like an ancient tomb.  It was built of rough black stone and rose in tiers over my head with few windows visible.  We huddled in the shadow it cast.
“Wait here.”  Philip said to me.  “I’m going to reconnoiter.  If any Ashdons find you, go back out of the door and wait for me there.”
“I don’t think so.”  I was incensed.  “I’ll come too.  I didn’t come just to be luggage.  I’m going to help.”
“But two are more easily seen than one.  Alone, I can sneak along unnoticed.  But if you come, my attention will be divided, and we are more likely to be discovered and caught.”
I stamped my foot.  “Too long have I been tucked away in a corner, neglected and ignored.  I might have been safe in those days, but I’m not safe any longer no matter where I am.  So I might as well come now.”  Philip gestured wildly for me to lower my voice, but I paid no attention.  “Don’t try to leave me under the bed like someone’s old shoes to be brought out later when they’re no longer needed.  Those shoes might just up and walk themselves out and follow anyway.”
“No!  It would be stupid for you to go, and I can’t let you.  Father said to make sure you stayed out of mischief and came back safe.  That’s what I’m doing.  Maybe you can come later, but for now you have to keep low and do what I say, or –”
I raised my voice over his, drowning him out.  “I won’t be left out again!  I’m coming!”
Chapter 2
“Children!”  The voice was slick as oil yet flat and lifeless, instantly silencing us both.  Simultaneously we spun around to see a tall woman, lithe and slender, like the most perfect wax statue come to life.  Her skin was smooth and flawless, her features small and delicate, and she was beautiful.  Only her forehead was marred by a curving brand, and her eyes were empty.  It was like looking through the windows of an old house, a house that had once been lived in but was now abandoned, full of dust and rot, and possibly worse things.  I shrank back, real fear gripping my heart for the first time.  The woman seemed to see right through me!  “Children!”  She said again.  “What are you doing so near the Sulfur Lakes?  It is dangerous to venture so close and forbidden for all except the Chosen.”
“The Chosen?”  I whispered.
The woman smiled a little, but peered closer at us than she had before.  “You will learn in time.  You yourselves may be Chosen.  But you are early!  Schooling doesn’t start for twelve days more.”
“We were dying of anticipation to start.”  I said, trying not to let either my sarcasm or fear show.
The woman smiled, or grimaced.  “Good!  Run and find a barracks then.  You can stay until it starts.”
“Yes ma’am.”  Philip grabbed my arm and pushed me ahead of him through the winding streets.  “That was a close one!”  He whispered as soon as we were out of earshot.  “She almost caught me with my bow!  I only just had time to shrug it and my quiver off into the shadows before she scrutinized me too.  I think she was suspicious that we were up to something.”
“I know.  I’m sure she was an Ashdon.  Do you believe the rumors?”
 Philip scratched his jaw in thought, a habit of his when he’s thinking.  “You mean about the Ashdons being bodies with no soul, but a demon fused to it instead?”
“Yes, those.”  I squirmed uncomfortably.
“Yes, I think they’re probably true.”
“So we couldn’t exactly just walk up to the first Ashdon we can find and ask them if they are dead and demon-possessed or alive and just evil, and what’s the shortest route to headquarters or wherever we need to go to get the rest of our answers.”
Philip laughed.  “No.  The last thing we want is to be chased around this God-forsaken place by a bunch of ‘The Chosen’, if that’s what they call themselves.”
“Well, how else are we supposed to get information?  Do they have signs to point us in the right direction?”  I stood up and looked around.  “Maybe we should wander around this place and look for any imposing buildings or anything else to give us a clue where to go next.”
He shrugged and got up, and we began winding our way through the streets.
“I’ll look on this side and you watch that side.  As Brother Rufus said, it’s not a matter how hard the job is, but how hard you try.”  I hadn’t meant to say that.  I didn’t like telling people that I had learned from a monk, but Philip would have found out anyway at some point.
 “Who is Brother Rufus?” 
“I was taught by a monk.  That’s how I learned to read and write.”  No going back now.  I decided to explain more, deliberately looking in the other direction as we walked so he couldn’t see my face.  “Most girls don’t learn, of course, but it was important to Mother that I did.  So she urged Father to let me until he finally gave way.”  Would I see my father here?  I felt sad and afraid at the same time.  The more I saw him the way he was now, changed, the farther away the memories of the old father felt.  I didn’t know how to handle this situation.  Fourteen was too young to have to deal with this and make these decisions!
We reached a dead end.  I leapt up on a wooden crate and tried to see over the tops of the tomblike buildings around me.  “I think we can climb over these to the other side,” I said.
Philip hopped up beside me and onto the low structure that blocked our way. 
“Do you… think we’ll see my father here?”  I asked as he hauled me up after him. 
“I thought you and your father were… well, not on the best of terms.” 
I must not have masked my feelings as much as I thought, and now he sensed my inner turmoil.  I followed in silence for a while as we scrambled over the roof. 
“Well, it was alright while Mother was alive.  But when she died I think it kind of broke him.  He became like a different man – one I didn’t know.  His friends were nefarious men who came and went in the shadows of night.  Then everything came to a head when he proposed my betrothal to Louis de Flandres.”  I stopped, once again having said more than I meant to.  Jumping down off the edge of the roof, I hurried on along the street on the other side.
Philip ran and caught up with me.  “Then what happened?  Is that when you ran away to us?”
I twisted a strand of hair, gazing up at where the sky would have been if I had been in France.  In this world it was only darkness.  I nodded.  “I couldn’t hold out any longer.  Whether rightly or wrongly, I fled.”  Why was I telling him this?  He wouldn’t understand.  I was telling him because it ate at me.  I needed to tell someone, and Philip had volunteered himself.
Our conversation was broken off, for just at that moment the narrow street we were on twisted to the left before leaving the city and heading toward a broad river of lazily flowing sulfur that now lay before us.  A long arching bridge spanned it, made of the same black stone as the town behind us.  How the stones were held together I couldn’t tell, and I guessed it was magic, or sorcery.  A film of ash coated the bank and the bridge itself.
“Should we cross the bridge and see where it takes us?”  I asked.
“Unless we become a part of all this ourselves.”
I laughed a little, but the thought was almost too chilling to be a joke.
I advanced towards the bridge.  “You had better let me go first,” I said to Philip.  “If there are any loose stones or faulty places, I will be more likely to feel it move before plummeting through since I’m smaller.”
“Just be careful.” 
I stepped onto the bridge and inched my way forward.  The bridge seemed to be in perfect condition.  The farther I went, the more confident I became.  No rail or wall flanked the bridge, but it was several feet wide and I felt no giddiness. 
“It’s sounder than I thought it would be,” I said over my shoulder to Philip.  “I think we could probably go faster –” It all happened too fast.  My foot slipped on the ash and I skidded blink-fast towards the edge.  I flung out my arms, clutching first at air, then at the stone, trying to get a firm grip.  I wasn’t strong enough to hold myself up.  Philip lunged for me, managing to catch hold of my belt pouch just as my fingers slipped from the stone.  The pouch ripped, pulling away from my belt, but Philip grabbed my arm as the pouch came free.  With his other hand he reached for my other arm, but only got a handful of hair.  I couldn’t think straight.  I didn’t try to help him but just flailed my arms trying to catch anything and everything.  He pulled me up unceremoniously to the safety of the bridge.  I lay still, gasping for air and trying to calm my pounding heart. 
“Clarisse!”  Philip shook me.  “Clarisse, we have to go now!  The Ashdons are coming, and we mustn’t be caught on the bridge.”  Groaning, I dragged myself up, only to be pulled back down by Philip.  “For pity’s sake, don’t make a perfect target of yourself!  We have to crawl.”  As we crawled, the bridge shook beneath us.  I tried to keep my balance as it lurched, afraid that I would be sent spinning into the sulfur river.  I flattened myself to the stones, inching down the other side.  I felt the bridge sag a little and groan.
“They’re tearing it down!”  Philip shouted behind me.  “We need to move faster!” 
I tried to increase my speed, but I hadn’t gotten far when the bridge sighed and sank, cracking like an eggshell onto the surface of the river.  I screamed as I found myself bobbing around on a large stone on the river of sulfur.  The bank was still ten feet away, but it felt like a mile.  I glanced over my shoulder, wondering what had happened to Philip.  He was balancing on a stone, and leapt lightly to another just as his was swallowed by the river, and on to another.
“Jump, Clarisse!” he called to me.  “Jump or die!” 
I scrambled to my feet on my precarious perch, waving my arms as I struggled not to slip.  I focused on a rock a short jump away, trying to nerve up to it.  Liquid sulfur lapped its way onto the back of the rock and I knew I was done for.  I threw myself forward, landing awkwardly on the rock I had aimed for and regaining my stability with difficulty.  Without pausing to think, I leapt to the next.  One more rock lay between me and the shore.  It would make the jumps shorter and easier.  As I prepared to jump, it tipped and sank in the river.  I drew a deep breath.  Time was running out for me.
“Jump now!”  Philip shouted from the far shadows, and I leapt.  I landed hard on the bank, clutched at rock and rolled away from the edge.  I spat out a mouthful of dirt and struggled to my feet.  Looking back, I saw dark shapes moving on the far bank, too many of them to count.
“Hurry!  They may have another bridge,” Philip hissed, and we set off at a brisk lope along the path that opened before us.  I hated chases.  I was haunted by them in my dreams. 
Chapter 3
“How far have we gone?”  I asked as we stopped for a moment to catch our breath before pushing on.  “Do you even know what direction we’re going in?  There’re no stars for you to navigate by.” 
“I’m just guessing really.  For all I know, it just might be that we’re racing back toward the river, into the arms of the Ashdons.”  He must have seen my horrified expression and added, “But don’t worry; I’m fairly certain we’re not.”
I was not much relieved.  “So, my two-headed Janus, I’m relying on a mere guess of yours?”
“I wish I was,” he muttered.
I was confused.  “What?”
“Two-headed Janus.  If I could see the future like he could, I would know how this will end.”
“I can tell you how it’s going to end.  We’re going to die, not in fetching a magical Star, but of starvation in a desolate place surrounded by lava!  I’m starving!”
Philip dropped to the ground, opening his pouch.  “It’s not lava, it’s sulfur.  I think they’re different.”
“I don’t care.  What I want is my stomach to quit talking as much as we are.  Do you have any food left?”
“A little.  We can take a quick snack.  Where’s yours?”
“You ripped it off at the bridge, remember?  I imagine it’s incinerated by now.”
“We can share mine,” Philip said.
Crouching in the shelter of a large rock we took a meager meal.  We only allowed ourselves a couple of mouthfuls of water each, and little bread and some strips of dried meat was all we dared to spare in the way of food, not knowing how much more we might need before the end.
“What do they eat here?”  I asked as I ate.  “Maybe we can make a raid on their larders to replenish our supplies.”
“Maybe they eat the sulfur,” Philip suggested. 
“No way!  You can’t eat sulfur.  They must have food somewhere.  Maybe we can find a store of it.”
“We’ve got bigger things to raid.”  Philip said, standing up and brushing the crumbs from his knees.  “Come on, before they catch up.”
“Philip,” I began, “do you think we’re going to – to die?”
He scratched his jaw.  “Well, the chances are very high.  I suppose it’s probable.”
“But do you think?”
He shrugged.
“Are you afraid of dying?”  I asked.
“I don’t know.”  He smiled a little.  “I’ve never died before, so I can’t say what the experience is like.  Are you?”
I looked away.  “I don’t know.  Sometimes…” I wasn’t sure how to say this. “Sometimes I think it would be easier if – if I was dead.”
“What would be easier?”
I looked back at him.  “Life.  Do you think we have a chance of succeeding?”  I added, mostly to change the subject.  I already didn’t think so.
“Standing around talking as we are, no.  Otherwise, I think we can only wait and see.”  Turning, he led the way along the path we were following.  It wasn’t hard to pick out.  Most of the terrain about us was sulfur anyway.
I tapped his shoulder.  “If the Star is magic, maybe it’s at your chateau right now, only it’s turned itself invisible.  We’d be looking in all the wrong places.” 
“I don’t think it works that way,” he said over his shoulder.  “Father says it gives power to people, but I don’t think that means it can do things to itself.”
I shrugged, but he didn’t see.  “I was kind of joking.”
For all I knew, it might have been hours or even days that we walked and ran, rested and pushed on.  At long last, weary beyond anything I had ever felt, I spotted a massive object far ahead on the path in front of us.  As we came up close, I stopped and stared.  It was black, and appeared to be on fire, with the glowing orange light playing tag with the shadows on its surface.  It was smoothed on the outside so that it felt like glass to my touch, unlike the other stone buildings I had seen in Ashdod.  I gulped.  It was the most imposing building I had seen yet.
“Where’s the door?”  I whispered, not venturing to speak aloud.  Philip pointed wordlessly to a grate in the ground not twelve feet away, but shrouded by roils of fumes that wandered over the path like dust devils in the desert.  Working together, we managed with some jiggling and liberal application of Philip’s knife to wrench the grate free.  A tunnel, barely three feet across, opened before my eyes.
“Do we have to crawl in there?”  I asked.
“Honestly, it’s probably the nicest thing that we’ll go through before journey’s end.”
“You go first.  I’ll be right on your heels, so don’t stop too suddenly.”
Philip nodded, getting down on his hands and knees.  Taking a deep breath, he plunged in.  I followed, heart pounding in my ears.  The tunnel was dark and stuffy.  Warm damp air tasting like chewed fingernails filled my lungs and stung my throat.  I could not see Philip’s feet ahead of me, but I trusted that he was there.  I crawled on for a while, the air getting warmer as the floor of the tunnel descended slightly.  Then I felt a foot beneath my hand.  “What now?”  I asked.
“Shh!”  I could hear him fiddling with something I couldn’t see that creaked and scraped softly.  Then the foot pulled free and was gone.  A faint light glimmered ahead of me now that he was no longer blocking it.
“Come on down.”  Philip said in a low voice, but it sounded deafening after the silence of the crawl.  “No one’s about.”  I crawled forward, then my hands hit air.  I tumbled to the floor in a wide hall lit only by torches placed at long intervals in brackets on the walls.  To my right, the hall faded into shadows with only a few branches off of it before it vanished from sight.  To my left was a thick door, studded with iron and branded with two symbols that were very disturbing.  The first was a sideways S like that on the foreheads of the Ashdons, and below it two crossed bones, the universal symbol of death.
“Where now?”  I asked.  Philip pointed to the door.  “Are you sure?  That doesn’t exactly look like a place we want to go.”
He raised his eyebrows.  “Is any of this where we want to go?”
“I suppose not.”  I glanced back at where I had come.  It was a hole, high on the wall above an empty torch bracket.  Looking down the hall, I could see similar vents above all the torches, and I realized what they were for.  “Wait a second.  Philip, I don’t think we came in the right way.  These are vents for the torch smoke, not entrances.”
“Yes, I saw that, but it doesn’t matter.  We’re in now, and we’ve got to decide what to do.  Obviously the owner of this door does not want trespassers to dare go through it, which is exactly why I think we should.”
“Fine,” I said, feeling too tired to argue or propose a better plan.  “We’ll go through the door.”
“If we can even get in.  It’s probably locked on the other side anyway.”
I pressed gently on the door, testing it to see if it was locked.  To my surprise it swung open easily without so much as a squeak.  I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.  I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped.  Philip shook his head at me and slipped past through the door.  I held my breath, waiting.  The door opened wide and Philip shrugged at me.
“No one here, but look.”
The room was rectangular, not very deep but at least twenty feet wide.  On the wall opposite me were banks upon banks of slots like those used to store scrolls in a monastery, only in a grid covering the whole wall.  Carefully filed in each slot was a sack, no bigger than my hand, made of a clear film and filled with nothing but air, sealed off, and tagged each with its own label. 
“How many are there?”  I asked in awe.
“I don’t know.  More than several thousand, I should guess.”
“What are they?”
Philip didn’t answer. 
I walked over to the wall and began examining the labels.  Most were just plain white with writing on them.  A hundred or so also had red tags which clearly read Used, followed by a number, a different one on every red label.  I looked closer at the white labels.  Though they were not much bigger than the red ones, these had much more writing crammed onto a small space.  My throat closed tight when I saw what the first one said.  Name: Marie de Liège; Nationality: French; Date of Birth: 15th of November 1264; Date of Death: 29th of May 1306; Manner of Death: Giving birth to her tenth child (see below).  Sure enough, in the slot below was a sack with a tag labeled as “Gaston de Liège”, and his birth date matched the day of his own and his mother’s death.  Scanning on, I read of a dozen deaths, of a dozen different kinds.  A few names were vaguely familiar, but most I had never heard.  At last I stepped back, heart aching from all I had read, blinking away the tears forming in my eyes.
“I don’t understand.”  Truthfully, though I wished I didn’t, I thought I understood.
“If my guess is right, these are the dying breaths of people who have passed on already.  Wizardry if ever there was.”  His voice was hard and I knew he felt as I did.  How could anyone do such a thing?
“What are they doing here?”  I asked.
“I think it has to do with the Ashdons.  You know how in the old stories a wizard made flesh and sinew bind themselves to the bones of people who died long ago?  But it didn’t work until he infested them with a demon, giving them, if not a mind exactly, a soul in a way.”
“I know.”  I never liked talking about these tales of Ashdod.  “What does that have to do with it?”
“Those red tags read Used.  I think whatever wizard made the Ashdons used those people’s bones and breath to make them.  It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Needles of ice shot up my spine and I shivered.  “I don’t like it.  I don’t feel safe here at all.  Do you have any weapons?”
“Only my dagger.  I forgot to grab my bow when we dashed for the bridge.”
“Is there an armory here?  I would really be less afraid if we were more prepared for a fight.”
“Yes, this isn’t exactly the sort of place one wants to be caught poking around in uninvited.”  Philip reached for the door.  “You wait here.  I’ll go have a look to see if they have anything better than aspen branches and twine for bows.  If you hear anything, climb back up the tunnel and wait for me there.”  Before I could argue, he was gone.
I turned in place, surveying the rest of the room.  To my left was another door similar to the one by which Philip and I had entered, but the death symbol was not there.  Instead, below the Ashdon brand, were words reading Sulfur Walk.  The rest of the room was completely bare, just the two doors and the macabre storage slots, and certainly no Star.  I was beginning to be bored, waiting for my cousin to return, when the door from the hall crashed open.
Chapter 4
I spun on my heel to face it, wondering why Philip found it necessary to make such a racket.  My retort froze in my throat.  In the doorway were two men, neither of whom was my cousin.  The first was tall, broad shouldered, as hale and hardy as an ancient oak tree and did not look a day over fifty.  He seemed familiar, but not as familiar as the man behind him.  Slight in frame but strong for his size, with a shock of dark hair misted faintly with gray, I recognized in him my father, Bertrand Taurante.
“Clarisse!”  He exclaimed, anger singeing his voice.  “What are you doing here?”  He strode over to me and seizing my arm, turned to the door.
“Not so fast, young Bertrand,” the first man said.  “She has come on forbidden ground, and no price that you could offer would outweigh the need for her blood.”
“You don’t understand, Chief.”  Father’s voice was respectful but firm.  “This is my daughter – you can’t take her life any more than you can take mine.”
“Can’t I though?”
“No.”
“Shall she too walk with no soul but the one I choose to give her, like so many of those who wait on us below?” the Chief said.
“Death would be better than that.”
“So death it will be.”  The Chief moved toward me, but my father held up his hand.
“Wait a moment, please.”  He released my arm and I retreated to the corner.  “See how much she knows.  Little enough, and she can take an oath of secrecy and go free.”  For an instant the same empty look I had seen in all the Ashdons flashed in his eyes, but then he drew a deep breath and it faded.  “Agreed?”
“Agreed!  Let her blood be on her own head.”
Before a further word could be spoken, a scrabbling of claws echoed down the hall.  A moment later a fluffy white streak raced into the room and in one bound reached the Chief’s shoulder.  It was a small, lightly-built dog, white with black markings, and ears that puffed out like butterfly wings.  To my utter astonishment it opened its mouth and began to talk, its words tumbling over one another in their hurry to get out.
“You’re going to be in big trouble missy.  My man is up in a right old tizzy and you’d better run!  Why don’t you have a brand on your forehead?  Nice shirt!  Where’d you get it?  What’s your favorite subject in school?  When my man’s finished with you, would you like to come see me do tricks?  I can do a lot more than talk you know.  What kind of food do you like best?  Can I have a treat?  I’m so glad you don’t mind me talking so much!  Most everyone else just tells me to shut up.  I love you!  Can I lick your face?  Would you mind if –”
“Be quiet, Sheila!” the Chief barked.  The little dog’s mouth clapped shut, but she seemed to be wriggling with repressed things she wanted to say.
“How do you balance like that?”  I asked, in my amazement momentarily forgetting my position.  She opened her mouth again to answer, but her owner cut her off.
“I taught her.  I also taught her to talk.  Sheila, I told you to be quiet, but as that appears to be impossible for you to do, go find someone else to annoy.”
The dog hopped off his shoulder obediently, cast a regretful glance in my direction, and scampered off.  Father shut the door behind her and stood in front of it.  The Chief moved in front of me, blocking all route for escape.
“So, my wall interested you, did it?” he asked carelessly.  “I must admit it took me many long, long years and a great feat of wizardry to collect the sacks that you see.  But in the end it is a masterpiece of its own, in a way.”
“Masterpiece!”  My fear vanished like moisture before a flame at those words.  All the pent-up emotions of the last four years, of the last few weeks, came bursting out of me in an unchecked rush now.  “Masterpiece?  How can you stand there and in cold blood call a collection of other people’s lives a work of art?  What kind of heart can you ever have had if you are unmoved when you use for your own ends bones hallowed by death which ought to be too sacred a thing for any man to touch?”
He looked at me coldly, and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously low.  “You will be silent if you wish to live.”
I was long past caring.  Ignoring his threat I blazed on.  “Too long I myself have been a tool, used for goodness only knows what, and I was alive and in my own flesh!  I could do something about it, claiming the right given to every man since the beginning of the world to make his own decisions, be it in wisdom or folly.  But you give those you use none of it, weaving flesh of your own making to the bones they once called their own and even using the dying breath they dared to draw against everything they would have wished could they have chosen!  How can you call that a masterpiece?”  I lunged for him, even though I was weaponless and there was nothing I could do.  He tried to shove me away but I wrapped my hand in the collar of his cloak.  Pain seared up my foot as he stomped down on it.  His angry eyes filled all my vision.  I sensed him struggling to reach beneath me to get at his hip, but I thrust my elbow under his arm, smacking his jaw.  I felt about and my hand found the dagger he had been in search of.  Drawing it, I brought it around with all my strength.  A hand with a grip of iron caught my wrist, twisting it back, forcing the deadly blade toward my own heart.  A foot I couldn’t see hooked around my ankle and I was falling backwards.  I saw a flash of the blade and closed my eyes, expecting hot pain and swift death.
 “No!”  A figure leapt between us, knocking the knife away from me as I hit the floor.  It was my father, and together he and the Chief crashed to the ground.  I had no time to take any of it in, for at that moment, a hand seized me from behind.  Philip dragged me out the door, boosted me into the tunnel entrance and scrambled in after me almost before my father’s shout had faded.
I was crying.  Not because of the bruises on my shoulder and ribs.  Because of everything that had happened.  Because of everything that I feared had happened. 
I heard the iron studded door open and racing footsteps that died away up the passage.
 “Clear.”  Philip said quietly, and climbed down out of the tunnel.  I dropped out and dodged around him.  Darting back into the room I threw myself on my knees beside my father’s head.  A patch of blood darkened his shoulder where the knife was buried – the knife that had been meant for me.  Tears poured down my cheeks as I laid his head in my lap.
Struggling to open his eyes, he looked up at me.  His eyes were clear, as I had once known them.  Gasping for breath, he spoke, and the words were barely more than a whisper.  “I’m… sorry.”
I brushed the hair back from his face, realizing that I was saying farewell to the man I used to know – the man I still loved.  “I understand,” I said.
He shook his head and tried to speak again, but his lips never moved.  He lay motionless in my arms, no longer racked by painful breaths and a look of peace on his face.  He looked happier than he had for more than five years.  I still knelt, unable to move, shock and confusion tangling with sorrow. 
It was Philip who broke the silence.  “Clarisse!  I think I hear someone coming!  We have to go.”
I heard it now – stealthy footsteps coming down the hall.  I rose quickly and draped my cloak over the body of my father.  As I turned away, a small movement of something white caught my eye.  I looked up at the wall in time to see a label unfurl like a budding flower in a slot high on the left.  One glance told me what I had guessed.  I pulled the sack from its slot and shoved it at Philip.
“Here, take that.  We can’t risk that murderer using Father as a tool again.”
Philip took the sack and stuffed it in his pouch.  As he jerked the Sulfur Walk door open I saw he had a bow, larger than his had been, but I soon forgot it when I looked through the door.
The sight that met my eyes was beyond anything I had ever imagined, even in a nightmare.  The whole place was illuminated with the same yellow-orange glow that lit all of Ashdod.  Beyond where Philip and I were standing there was no floor, only a narrow walkway, running around the very edge of the circular room and out to the center.  Here was a platform, perhaps five feet across.  Running out to it from several different openings at intervals along the wall were pathways like the one directly in front me.  The overall effect was one of a giant wooden spider web, suspended from doorway to doorway over the golden lake of sulfur.  No doubt I would have been overwhelmed by fear and awe at any other time, but the sudden loss of my father stunned all other feelings out of me.
“Do you think it’s safe?”  I scrubbed at my eyes with my sleeve.
“I think we’ll have to try.”
Something on the floor of the center platform was giving off a faint white radiance, combating the oppressive yellow glow and lighting the platform with pale fire.  “What is that?”  I asked, pointing to it. 
“The Star of Ashdod!”  Philip gasped.
“Cover my back.”  I stepped onto the planked walkway.
“Hold!  I’ll go.  If I’m caught, run.”
“I’m smaller and lighter.  I think this one’s for me.”
“I promised to keep you safe!”
“So watch my back.”  I smiled as best I could and tiptoed lightly along the walkway.  It was stronger than it looked.  In a few minutes, I knelt by the chained Star and stared, riveted.  It was beautiful beyond any words I knew to describe it.  It was lightning and diamonds, fire and ice, power and beauty.  It was lilies by a sunny river.  It was a song and a poem and a dream all tangled in a single orb.  Clear as glass – white as moonlight.  It seemed to have hidden depths that laughed at those who dared to try to ponder them, yet its surface sparkled with the now in a clarity I had never before seen.  I was entranced.  I lifted the chain, expecting it to be fastened at the other end to the platform.  To my surprise, it was not.  Only the one end was linked to the wire cage-like container that held the Star, keeping it from destroying with fire everything with which it came in contact.  The moment was frozen as I stood, holding the Star in my hands by its chain and feeling exultation flooding my limbs.  Success had come at last!
“Wow!  You got it.  I was right!  I told my old man that you would go here, but he didn’t listen.  I can’t believe how smart I was!  Just wait till I tell him!”  I looked over my shoulder to see the little black and white dog Sheila standing not three feet away at the end of a long straight walkway opposite the door from which I had issued.
“Yes, you go ahead and do that.”  I said to her.  “Let’s see him try to stop us now.” 
In a blur, the dog turned and bounded back the way she had come, but even as she disappeared another voice interposed.  “I will do more than try.  I will.”
Chapter 5
I whirled.  Standing on yet another plank bridge was the Chief himself.  “I should have known you’d make the same mistake your father made when he first followed my sister here.  He too tried to retake the Star but failed, and his fate shall now be yours.”
The blood drained from my face and fear rioted in my stomach.  “What was that?”
“The demon lord I coaxed from the underworld to hold your father will live in you.  Your body will no longer be wholly your own.  Your father had a strong will and resisted even to the end, but I doubt you will be so slippery to hold.”
“I’ll die first,” I said.  “I’ll cut my own throat rather than bow in allegiance to you.”
“Oh, but you will bow.  You may stand for an hour, or even a day, perhaps a year if you’re lucky and the demon goes easy on you, but you cannot last forever.  You will be beaten down, and these eyes will see you bow.”
“I can die now.”  I stepped toward the edge of the platform, preparing to throw myself over if need be.
“But you won’t,” the Chief said.  At that moment an arrow whistled through the air and struck his cloak.  It bounced back without touching him and fell into the Sulfur Lake.  Another followed it, then two more, all with the same result.  Risking a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw Philip firing the bow with deadly accuracy at the man who faced me.  Any ordinary man would have fallen with the first arrow, but this man was unharmed. 
The Chief laughed.  “Do you think you can so easily fell me?  I am not a wizard for nothing.  I have not practiced my craft for a hundred years to still be so blind as to not protect myself with charms!  Go on, shoot again!  Spend all your arrows; it will make no difference.”  He pulled his hand out of his pocket and in a flash drew back his arm and threw something at me.  I screamed and ducked, waving my arms as I swayed on the edge.  Time slowed.  I felt the impact as the object struck my ribs and saw a small round ball roll across the platform and plop over the edge.  I staggered forward, gasping with relief as I found myself unhurt, clutching the Star tight.  The Chief’s hooting laughter bounced off the walls and I glared at him.
“See how brave the little girl has proved herself to be!  She is terrified of a puppy’s toy!” 
What did you do that for?”  I asked angrily.
“Ha!  Easily frightened, easily finished.  Next time I strike it will be more than a toy.”  Even as he spoke, I seemed to see him in three different ways.  The tall, middle-aged chieftain I had first seen, a wizened raisin of a man with snow hair and sharp eyes, and a dapper and young nobleman, barely twenty. 
“I would have thought that you would have seen through my disguise before, young sister-daughter.”
“What?  I am not!  My mother had too much of a heart to be related even distantly to someone as heartless as you.”  How could he have the audacity to claim relation to me?  Though there was something familiar I had seen in him.
“How do you know I haven’t got a heart?”  He took a step closer.
I inched nearer to the edge.  “I’ve seen you in action.  You murdered my father!”
“Accidents happen.  Your father was never quite the asset your mother was.  You will never equal her, but you will be like your father.”  He raised his hand and was about to say something I felt sure was horrible.  The air was taut, stretched tight and about to snap.  My ears pounded and fire crackled inside of me.  He opened his mouth and the pressure became unbearable.  I stumbled to my knees, feeling ripped apart.  Blinding white light filled all my vision.  I blinked.  I was looking at the Star, once again captured by its beautiful rays.  I forgot the wizard and his crushing pressure.  I bent over it, gazing at the unsearchable depths as its magic enfolded me, and then I stood up to return to Philip.  As I did so, I remembered the wizard Chief who was still there and hesitated.  I held the Star above my head like a torch, looking about for him.  He was crouching on the farthest edge of the platform.  He seemed nervous and angry.
“Give me that now,” he ordered.
I shook my head.  “No, not to a wizard like you.  Who knows what use you might make of it?”  I took a step forward and he inched back.  He was almost to the path.  I swung the Star back and forth, testing its weight, wondering what would happen if I knocked him on the head with it.  He squinted against the moving light, swaying slightly in rhythm with it.  I stepped closer, expecting him to spring at me, but he gave a sharp whistle and stepped backwards toward the pathway he had come from.  It all happened too fast for me to grasp.  He missed his footing on the edge of the platform, tried to balance, waving his arms, then with an agonizing cry of “Death take you!” plunged to the depths of the Sulfur Lake. 
“Clarisse!  Are you alright?  What happened?”  It was Philip’s voice, and I looked over my shoulder to see him moving carefully along the walkway to me.  I was still bewildered and confused by what had just taken place, feeling disoriented.  As I turned to go back to him, I froze.  Behind him, I saw black clad figures with wax perfect skin, emerging from the door, and more at three other doors, advancing on the walkways.
“Philip!”  I screamed.
He whirled, and froze when he saw the Ashdons.  More than a hundred were there, and I realized with dismay that the wizard, though he was dead, would be avenged.  He had called up every demon-filled vassal at his command and set them to the task of destroying the intruders.  Philip and I would die here, after escaping death twice, bringing down a wizard, and almost retrieving the Star.
Philip drew his bow, an arrow on the string.  He fired at one of the Ashdons.  The arrow struck his chest, but only the tip penetrated.  The arrow dangled loose and useless.  The Ashdon pulled it free and flung it away, his hollow laughter echoing off the walls.  I could do nothing, and just stood there like an idiot, watching helplessly.  Philip took a step back towards me, drawing another arrow.  The Ashdon on the path in front of him, not the man he had shot, but the woman we had first seen, stopped and raised a slender arm to point at him.
“We are the Chosen.  We cannot be destroyed with mere arrows – wasps that sting but do no harm.  Leap to your death now, or stay and die at our torments.”
“You might not die, but you cannot live!”  I shouted.  “Be gone!”  I held the Star of Ashdod tight and scrambled backward to the center of the platform. 
“We are the Chosen.  You have been chosen.  You will both be like us.  Join us.”  She stepped toward Philip, one hand raised.
“No!”  Philip seemed about to say more, but pressure filled the room as it had when the wizard had done the same.  I felt my heartbeat slow, my mind thickened, congealing, and my throat closed.  I couldn’t move.  Panic filled me, but I was frozen.  A crack resounded in the heaviness, and Philip’s bow shattered in a thousand pieces.  He crumpled to the walkway.
“The demon is called to your cousin,” the woman said, taking another step.  “Another will come for you.”
I tried to speak, but only managed a gargle.  It couldn’t end like this!  My fingers tightened on the chain, and I found a new strength I did not know I had.  With a cry, I let it fall to the ground and leapt to Philip.  The woman started, but she was still a ways off.  I grabbed his arms and pulled.  Strength born of desperation raced through my limbs, and I moved.  Three feet, seven feet, twelve feet, and I sank to the ground, crouching in the middle of the platform by Philip’s head.  He appeared to be unconscious but not dead.  His eyes were shut and his breathing was short and rapid.
The Ashdons kept on steadily and did not falter.  I didn’t care.  I was going to die, but what did it matter?  My father already had, Philip would die too, and I would not be left behind; not this time.  But I would not let the Ashdons get us like this.  If Philip and I had to die, we would die together, not possessed by other-worldly spirits.  I shook him.
“Philip, wake up!”  His breathing stuttered and he drew a deep breath, but his eyes did not open.  I shook him again, as hard as I could, giving a sharp pinch to his nose.  “Please wake up!”
I looked up.  The Ashdons were close now.  In a panic, I slapped his face, yelling at him.  “Wake up!”  Slowly, his eyes opened and he sat up.  At that moment I felt the platform shake beneath me.  The Ashdons had reached us!
I stood, and Philip got to his feet behind me.  “Stand back!”  I ordered the Ashdons, with more confidence than I felt.  “Not one step nearer or we will strike you down.”  Not that there was anything I could do.
The Ashdons stopped, and the woman pointed at us again.  “You lie!  You do not know how to bring us down or escape.”
“But you admit there is a way,”  Philip pointed out. 
Hope bloomed in me at that thought.  It might be – there just might be a way out.  Behind us was a walkway.  Sheila had come and gone on it.  I knew there would probably be Ashdons guarding it, but we would have to try to fight our way through.  Running into their arms would be better than being caught, and even if I could only kill one before I died, it would be worth it.  I would not be taken down peacefully.  I would make them pay dearly for everything they did, everything they had done, everything they had dreamed of.
“Back!”  I hissed, and Philip understood.  He moved cautiously to the head of the path and paused.  I began to follow him, and the woman sprang forward.  With horror, I saw I had forgotten the Star.  Without thinking, I leapt for it, bringing my elbow up into her face and snatching the chain as she bent for it.  She grabbed it too and I felt her strength far outmatching my own.  I pulled on it, gasping as I struggled to wrest it from her, cursing my thoughtlessness after all we had come through to get this.  I threw myself backward, trying to drag her with me to the path before the other Ashdons came to her aid.  She turned her head away from the Star, squinting and blinking.  I forced her arm up and she tried to step away, loosening her grasp.  I jerked the chain from her, and raising the Star above my head, dashed for the far door.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the Ashdons advancing slowly, arms raised in front of their faces, shielding their eyes from the white light.  I didn’t understand why the light bothered them so much, but it didn’t matter.  It might hold them off for a while if they were too scared to approach it.  Still holding up the Star of Ashdod, I backed up behind my cousin.
“Find the little black and white dog!  I’ll keep them back with the light!”
He hesitated only briefly before taking off in the direction Sheila had gone.  I backpedalled onto the walkway after him, eying the Ashdons nervously, wondering which would move first. 
The woman who had spoken to us dropped her upraised arm to her side, standing as straight and stiff as a flag pole.  Then she moved forward, striding across the platform toward me.  If only I knew how to wield the Star’s magic!
I increased my speed, seeing the other Ashdons following her.  Turning, I sprinted for the safety of the far door.  At the place where the path ended, I slowed and faced the woman in the lead.  Only six feet separated us.
“Pup of mongrels,” the woman said, her flat voice not betraying even a hint of triumph, “Do you see death staring you in the eyes?”
I did, but I refused to admit it.  “Don’t even try.  A step nearer and you’re dead.”  It was an idle threat that had no meaning.  I didn’t know what in Ashdod I could do to stop them, or else I would do it.  But I would go down fighting.  I had been eaten by wolves in my dream several times.  This couldn’t be that different, except that it was real.
“We are the Chosen.  The spirit that is in us cannot be crushed or killed.  You will die or be yourself filled.”
“I’ll die then,” I said, “But only when I see you fall.  The spirit may live, but flesh and bone can be destroyed.”  I stepped back into the doorway, felt a hand grab my arm, and the sound of barking floating down the passage to me.  Philip had done well.  I spun around to go, and the woman’s laugh reverberated in the corridor.
“Run.  Run and hide!  The hound will win the chase in the end.  Fly away if you have wings!”
An idea flashed through my mind.  Without stopping to think I spun back around and stepped to the doorway.  In one swift motion I brought the caged Star down with all my strength on the wooden pathway before leaping back up the passage.  The wire splintered and the Star became an explosion of white fire.  In one fraction of a second, flames had engulfed all the walkways.  They burned only for a moment before crashing into the Sulfur Lake.
Chapter 6
Golden smog filled the room, along with the stench of burning sulfur, so overpowering that I couldn’t breathe.  I staggered and fell to my knees, tried to cough, gagged, choked, and gagged again.  I was suffocating!  Someone grabbed my hand and dragged me away up the passage.  I reeled and stumbled after.  The smell and smog faded a little.  I heard barking and claws clicking on stone.  The air grew fresher, tasting of something strange.  Was it salt?
I heard thunder behind me.  With a rumbling crash, the ground trembled violently.  I burst out into sunlight, bright shining real sunlight, and a salty breeze.  Collapsing to the ground, I felt the wind cooling my sweat, letting it whip my hair into my face, not even trying to stop it.  I watched as the wind blew the sulfur vapor away, and I drank in the fresh air.  I looked at Philip.  He was pale, but seemed unharmed.  Something small and white leapt into my lap and started licking my face.
“I knew you would get out alright.  Your cousin told me my man died.  Too bad, isn’t it?  He lost my ball, too.  I need a new home now.  Would you be willing to keep me?  I can be very good and I won’t beg for food, I promise.  If you keep me, I’ll try not to talk too much, but sometimes it helps.  I told Philip about the back passage, and how could I have told him if I couldn’t talk?  There you see, it’s a good thing I do talk!  But I’ll slow down if it’s more convenient.  Can I stay?”
“Sure, little friend,” I said, running my fingers through Sheila’s soft coat.  “But I’m afraid I don’t have anywhere to go, really.”
“I don’t care,” Sheila said, and with a contented sigh curled up in my lap.
“Did you really just do what I think you did?”  Philip asked.
“What?”
“Destroy the Star when you smashed it on the bridges?”
“Oh, well, yes, I suppose I did.  It worked though.  The Ashdons were destroyed too.” 
“Well, at least no more wizards will be getting it.  We never could use it anyway.  But after coming all this way for it, it would’ve been nice to bring back the Star.”
I felt a little guilty.  “What do you think Uncle Francis and Aunt Marguerite will say?”
“Oh, heirlooms are only heirlooms.  They’ll understand, especially knowing what a greater evil has been extinguished along with it.”
I was relieved, and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax from the stress.
“Your mother,” Philip said.
“What?”
“She was the one who took the Star.”
“How do you know for sure?”  I asked.
“I’ll explain how later.  But I can tell you this.  Your mother was the wizard’s sister, as he told you.  She stole the Star and gave it to her brother who hid it.  On occasion she visited her brother in Ashdod.  Four years ago your father found out, following her on one of her visits.  Uncle Bertrand found the Star and tried to retake it, but was stopped.  The wizard implanted an archdemon from the underworld in him and used him as a tool.  Your father was able at times to override the demon and had moments under his own control.  He was hard for the wizard to hold, but for the most part your father was an asset to him.”
My mind was reeling.  Exhaustion clouded my thinking, and after the strain of what we had been through, my whole body felt like mush.  The stones under me shook violently, and as I looked frantically around for a way out, I saw where I was.  I was on the tower of a chateau near the sea, built of smooth gray stone, small but elegant in form, and I knew it.  It didn’t make sense.  It just couldn’t fit.  Forcing the thoughts from my mind, I got to my feet and Sheila leapt to my shoulder.  “We need to get out of here.”  I said.
“Wait!  We need to seal off the entrances to Ashdod if we can.”  Of course Philip would think of that.  It hadn’t even occurred to me.
“Don’t worry,” Sheila said.  “I switched the entrance.  There’s only one switch and it was in the Dome.  It’s probably broken now that the Dome collapsed, but I don’t know how to close this one.”
“Come on, Philip,” I said, “If this chateau falls it’ll probably destroy the entrance.  If it doesn’t, we can deal with it then.”
“Right,” he said.  “Either of you know the way out?”
“This way,” I said, finding the stairs I had only ever seen once, but would never forget.
* * *
It felt like years since we had left the DuBois’ Chateau.  We had headed straight for it after leaving Ashdod.  Now it was in sight ahead of us and we were almost home.  I was tired from all we had been through, and only Sheila chattered on a string of small talk, not caring that her questions went mostly unanswered.  When we reached the gate, even Sheila was quiet for the first time that morning.  Philip banged on the gate with his fist. 
“Who goes there?” a voice boomed from the other side.
“Philip DuBois, son of Sir Francis and Lady Marguerite, and Clarisse Taurante, daughter to my father’s brother!”
“Alive?”  The guard sounded surprised.
“No, I’m dead actually, but holding a conversation with you at this moment!  Open up, and tell my parents we’re back in one piece each.”  A moment of silence followed, broken only by the giggles I tried to stifle.  Then someone fumbled with the lock and the gate swung open.
“Philip!  Clarisse!  You’re alive!”  Aunt Marguerite squeezed us both in her arms.  I was aware of Uncle Francis standing beside her, and the next few minutes was a blur of hugs, kisses and backslaps.  Tears and laughter were intertwined with joy as the crown of it all.  I was whirled off inside and the next few hours were spent in washing, changing clothes and eating a hearty meal before we all gathered in the family apartments to hear the story.
Philip and I told the story in turns, sometimes speaking at once.  When we had brought the tale to its conclusion, Uncle Francis leaned forward.
“Then is the gateway still open into Ashdod?  What evil things might crawl in there and begin again?”
I slapped my knee.  “I forgot that part.  After we all got out, the whole chateau convulsed and shook.  We stayed and watched to see what would happen.  The chateau collapsed after a few minutes and the door was destroyed with it.  Sheila says there were only the two ways into Ashdod.  Since only one can be open at once and it was the one on the chateau it’s now sealed off forever.”
Aunt Marguerite looked down at the white puffball on my lap.  “Does she have a demon inside of her too?  Is that why she can talk?”
Sheila’s head shot up.  “Good grief, I’m not one of the creepers!  I’m just a smart dog, is all.  My old master just did a wizardly something in my mind to make me able to speak.  No creeper in here.  Have a look.”  She yawned, snorted, and laid her head back down.
My smile faded as I stroked her fur, a thought troubling me.  “I don’t know what I should do now.  Father’s dead, and I couldn’t manage the estate myself.  Everything I thought I knew about my family has been turned completely inside out.  Where should I go?” 
“Stay with us,” Aunt Marguerite said.  “You will be welcome here for as long as you wish to stay.”
I looked up.  “Really?”
Uncle Francis nodded.  “Forever.”
I glanced at Philip.  “I guess we’re going to have to get along now.”
“No, we won’t,” he said, putting his hands behind his head and stretching out his legs.  “I know plenty of the families on Father’s land and the siblings don’t always get along.  Some of the ones who are the best friends with each other fight the most.”
I laughed.  “Fine then.”  I felt happier than I had felt in a long time.  There was still one question I hoped Philip could answer.  “So, how did you find out all that about my mother?”  I asked.
“Well …” Philip shifted in his chair.  “While I was unconscious, I saw many things.  Much that I could not have known otherwise passed as in a vision before my eyes as though I floated through time.”
That was strange.  I turned the thought over and over in my mind.  As my thoughts wandered onto other subjects, I remembered a question I needed to ask my aunt and uncle.  I turned to them.  “I assume then that the marriage is called off since Louis de Flandres is dead?”
“Dead?”  Aunt Marguerite asked.  Uncle Francis straightened, and Philip stared at me.  I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. 
“Yes.  I didn’t tell you before because – I couldn’t.  I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t manage it every time I tried.  The wizard, who in another guise was the Chief of the Ashdons, was Louis de Flandres himself.  It was in his chateau that the second door was located and it was why he thought I should have been the first to know him.  I don’t doubt now that he used the demon inside Father to arrange the marriage in the first place.”
“When did you figure that out?”  Philip asked.
“I recognized him when he revealed his disguises on the Sulfur Walk, but I didn’t put the pieces together until I saw his chateau.”  I shook my head.  “I almost had to marry my father’s murderer.”
Aunt Marguerite patted my hand.  “Don’t think of it.  Remember your father as he was, and try to forget the years in which a demon played his part.”
I nodded and stood up.  I dropped Sheila on Philip’s lap.  “Stay there, girl.  I want to be alone for a bit.”
Outside the chateau, I climbed the slight rise into the forest under the shade of the trees.  The ground leveled in an open space, filled with golden sunlight that turned green where it pierced the leaves overhead and kissed the moss with a gilded crown.  Delicate flowers raised their faces to it around the bases of the trees, ringing them in fragile splendor.  Kneeling, I shifted the loose earth and loam with my hands until I had made a deep hole.  I placed a small filmy sack in the hole I had made, reading the label one last time.  Name: Bertrand Taurante; Nationality: French; Date of Birth: 5th of August 1298; Date of Death: 22nd of March 1346; Manner of Death: Trying – The words had been cut off when I removed it, but it seemed beautiful in its incompletion.  Philip had given it back to me, and though I could not lay my father’s body to rest, I could do this much.  I covered it with the earth I had removed and stuck a small wooden cross in the ground above it.  I would have a stone one made later.  For now, it was all I could do. 
That night, I stood at the window of my new room, looking out over the lands that had belonged to the ancestors of my father for generations uncounted.  It was beautiful.  I drank in the fresh cool air of evening, gazing at the peaceful land that seemed blissfully unaware of the bitter struggle that had just been fought in its defense.  It never would know.  Somehow, it seemed right to me that it should be that way.  Sitting on my bed, I ran my fingers through the fur of the sleeping Sheila.  I watched the sunset peek through my window as sleep stole over me.  The last rays of the sun said goodnight to me as I lay at peace with my world, one hand on a strange dog from Ashdod, before it cast its glow on a small wooden cross deep in the woods, and slid beyond the horizon to light another distant land.