Artor had graced Timozel with visions, and that meant Artor would eventually grace Borneheld’s cause with victory as well.
Borneheld’s eyes slipped to the horse that followed a few paces behind Timozel’s. His wife, Faraday, clung to the saddle and to Yr, as she had since her horse succumbed to the cold three days ago. Could he trust Faraday? Borneheld frowned under the hood of his cloak. He had thought that she loved him, for had she not whispered words of love and devotion to him night after night, and fled to his arms when Axis had proved incapable of protecting her? But what was it she had murmured to Axis as they said goodbye in the courtyard of Gorkenfort?
Curse her, he swore silently. Her future would be with him, not with Axis. She would provide Ichtar with an heir, not whatever shadowland Axis currently ruled. He would rather see her dead than betray him as Magariz had.
The loss of Gorkenfort and, subsequently, Ichtar had hurt Borneheld to the core of his soul. As a young boy growing up in a loveless household, deserted by his mother, ignored by his father, Borneheld had always had Ichtar. And when his father died and Borneheld became Duke of Ichtar at only fourteen, he finally felt that his life had meaning. Ignored by so many when he was simply the son of Searlas, Borneheld revelled in the power he wielded as the new Duke. Power brought him the attention he craved, the respect he demanded, the command that was his due, and, eventually, the woman that he desired above all others.
Now most of Ichtar was lost to him, and Borneheld felt the loss as keenly as a physical wound. What power would he command as the man who had lost Ichtar? What respect? Even if he could win back Ichtar—and he would—he would still feel vulnerable. He would only feel safe if he commanded ultimate power over all of Achar, if he sat the throne itself. As King, Borneheld would have all the power, the respect and the love he craved. As King, he would surely be able to flush out the traitors about him once and for all. Desperate as he was to get it back, Ichtar was no longer enough for Borneheld.
And didn’t Timozel’s visions indicate that Borneheld would become King? Yes, it was Artor’s wish that he take the throne.
Now, as he approached Jervois Landing, Borneheld reviewed the forces he still commanded. Despite the losses at Gorkentown—all of which had been the fault of either the demon-spawned Axis or that traitor Magariz—he still controlled a powerful force. The original column of five thousand he had led from Gorkenfort had been swelled by the refugees from Ichtar. As sorry as these refugees were now, they could work and some could be trained to fight. There were also troops still stationed in Achar that Borneheld could command. There was still a cohort of five hundred Axe-Wielders guarding the Brother-Leader at the Tower of the Seneschal. All these could be his. And, if those soft chimes meant what he hoped they did, he would also have the Ravensbundmen. Uncouth savages to be sure, but they had both spears and horses. If they could stick an enemy in the gut then they would be useful. Finally, there were the resources of the Corolean Empire to the south of Achar. If that simpering fool of a King, Priam, hadn’t yet thought about arranging a military alliance with the Coroleans then Borneheld would make sure that he soon would.
Suddenly a stationary horseman loomed out of the mist and Borneheld barked an order to halt. He sat for a moment and looked at the inscrutable Ravensbundman’s face. It was even more intricately tattooed in blue and black than most of his race. Dizzying whorls and spirals covered not only his cheeks, but his forehead and chin as well—although, strangely, there was a circular area right in the centre of his forehead that remained naked and untattooed. As with all his race, the savage had tiny chips of blue glass and miniature bells threaded through his myriad greasy black braids. Even his mount—ugly, stunted, yellow-furred nag that it was—had glass and bells woven into its mane and tail. Uncivilised savages. Still, if they could kill they might yet serve a purpose.
Ho’Demi let the Duke stare at him a moment, then spoke, demonstrating a fluent command of the Acharite language. “Duke Borneheld. Gorgrael has taken my land and murdered my people. He drives his Ghostmen south. The Ravensbundmen live only to defeat Gorgrael. If you fight against Gorgrael then we will stand by your side.”
Borneheld narrowed his eyes at the barbarian. “I do fight Gorgrael. But if you want to fight with me then you will place yourself and your people under my command.”
Ho’Demi wondered at the implicit threat in Borneheld’s tone, but it did not perturb him. He nodded. “Agreed.”
“Good.” Borneheld peered into the mists behind the Ravensbundman, trying to see how many men he had with him. “How many will you bring to my command?”
“Of the twenty thousand in my camp, eleven thousand can fight.”
“You have done well to choose my cause,” Borneheld said quietly. “Together we will make our stand here at Jervois Landing against whichever of our enemies attack first. This time, I will prevail.”
2
TALON SPIKE
Four weeks after StarDrifter tore the crossed axes from his breast, Axis—BattleAxe no longer—sat in his favourite spot on Talon Spike letting the wind ruffle through his blond hair and beard. Every few days Axis found he had to spend time alone, to lose himself in contemplation of these beautiful northern alps rather than in the intricacies of the magical Star Dance, Icarii society and his new life.
From his eyrie perch on the rock ledge Axis gazed at the blue-white glacier a thousand paces below, crashing a path through the lesser Icescarp Alps beyond Talon Spike to calve its massive icebergs into the Iskruel Ocean. One month ago the bergs in the Iskruel Ocean would simply have been flecks at the edge of his vision. Now he could see that the huge icebear on the smallest of the bergs had lost an ear in some past ursine dispute.
He sighed. Even the wonders of his new-found powers could not make him forget that Faraday was still trapped with one half-brother while the other, Gorgrael, was undoubtedly remarshalling his forces to invade Achar. And if Faraday or either one of his despised half-brothers did not occupy his thoughts, then Axis found himself worrying over the problems of his new life.
Father, mother, sister, uncle, grandmother. All exciting, all troubling in their own right. But it was StarDrifter who dominated Axis’ days. His father, the man who had only existed in court gossip and innuendo for almost thirty years and whose conspicuous absence had given Gorgrael the grist to torment Axis in his nightmares for so long, was as compulsively drawn to Axis as Axis was to him.
Their relationship was not easy. StarDrifter was a forceful man with powerful expectations. He drove his son from first waking until Axis, exhausted, lay down his head late at night. And Axis, having been alone for so long, having been his own man for so long, both resented his father’s intrusions and yearned for his father’s attention. It was not easy reconciling resentment and need every minute of the day.
Axis’ mouth twisted as he thought of their morning’s training session. After hours confined in the one chamber, they had fought, bitterly, savagely. MorningStar, StarDrifter’s mother and Axis’ grandmother, who was often present, had finally dismissed Axis as she tried to reason with her son. Yet all Axis wanted to do was stay in that chamber and ask StarDrifter another question about his heritage and powers.
“You fought again.”
Startled, Axis turned his head towards the voice. It was Azhure, dressed in a pale-grey woollen tunic and leggings, walking confidently along the narrow rock ledge. She halted a few paces away. “May I join you? Am I intruding?”
Axis smiled. “No, you’re not intruding. Please, join me.”
She sat down gracefully, curling her legs underneath her. “It is a superb view”
“Can you see the icebear?” He pointed to the distant iceberg.
Azhure laughed. “I have not your Enchanter’s vision, Axis SunSoar.”
Axis relaxed. Since he had come to Talon Spike, Azhure had become a good friend. She was the one person he felt he could talk to, who understood the problems he encountered as he embraced his heritage.
“You have developed a good head for heights since living among the Icarii, Azhure. Few Groundwalkers could even stand on this ledge, let alone wander along it as if strolling the flat plains of Skarabost.”
“Why fear when I have an Enchanter to hand to save me should I tumble?”
Axis laughed and changed the subject. “How did you know StarDrifter and I had fought?”
“He came back to the apartments and snapped at Rivkah. She snapped back. I left them bickering and thought to find the source of such marital disharmony so that he could explain himself.”
“Do you think I should have re-entered their lives, Azhure?” Axis asked.
“If there are problems between them, you are not the cause, Axis,” Azhure replied. “I am sorry if I implied, even laughingly, that you were.”
Axis leaned his arms on his raised knees and considered his parents. Tension marked the relationship between himself and his father, while with his mother there was nothing but warmth. When the five Icarii had escorted him into Talon Spike she had been the first to step forward. She had said nothing, just folded him in her strong arms. For long minutes they had stood, each weeping silently, holding each other as close as they could. Axis recalled how he had summoned the memory of her struggle to give him birth and fight for his life. For so long he’d believed that she had cursed him as she died in his birth. Those long minutes holding each other had been a time of healing for them both.
But things between Rivkah and StarDrifter were not idyllic. That they loved each other, Axis had no doubt. But their passionate affair atop Sigholt had not transferred easily to Talon Spike. Perhaps Axis had arrived in their lives only in time to watch the sad disintegration of their marriage.
“It must be hard to look into the face of your husband and see a man who looks no older than your son.”
Axis’ expression hardened a little. His Icarii blood ran much stronger than his human and, like his sister, he would live the full span of an Icarii lifetime—perhaps some five hundred years, should he be left in peace to do so. What would it be like to watch his friends age and die while he still enjoyed youthful vitality? What would it be like to see the sods thrown on their grandchildren’s coffins before he had reached his middle years?
“Do I like it that in four hundred years I might still be sitting here watching the icebears hunt seals on the icebergs, trying desperately to recall the name and face of a lovely woman who had once sat here with me? Whose bones have turned to dust in some forgotten tomb? No, Azhure. I do not like it. I find it…hard.”
Azhure reached out and took his hand. Axis stiffened briefly, then he forced a smile. “But these powers I daily learn as an Icarii Enchanter give me a few compensations. Such as making the woman who sits here with me a small gift for the friendship she offers me.”
For an instant Azhure thought she caught the hint of a faraway melody in the wind. Then she was laughing in delight as the soft, velvety blooms of the violet Moonwildflower rained down about her. She let Axis’ hand go and tried to catch as many as she could.
“How did you know?” she gasped. She had not seen a Moonwildflower for over twenty years—when she was a tiny girl her mother had occasionally taken her on walks during full moon to find the flower.
Axis plucked a flower out of the air and threaded it into her wavy black hair. He was mildly disturbed, for he had meant to shower her with soft spring roses. “A lucky guess, Azhure. You sometimes remind me of the Moonwildflower. Hidden in darkness, desperate not to be found or touched.”
Suddenly awkward, Azhure gently cradled a flower in her hands. The cascade drifted to a halt and she spoke, changing the subject. “EvenSong wants me to join her at training this afternoon. She says I show aptitude.”
EvenSong had been impressed by Azhure’s extraordinary fighting ability so clearly demonstrated during the battle in the Earth Tree Grove at Yuletide. While the Icarii Strike Force had faltered helplessly, unsure of how to combat the Skraeling wraiths, Azhure had discovered the Skraelings’ vulnerability—their eyes—and almost single-handedly rallied the Icarii and Avar to fight back. During the battle she had also saved StarDrifter from certain death.
EvenSong admired Azhure for her cool head and bravery, and for some weeks she and her Wing-Leader, SpikeFeather TrueSong, had been pressing Azhure to join weapons training with the Strike Force.
Axis could see Azhure’s doubts and knew the reasons for them. Had he not reviled her for the death of her father and the assault on Belial as she escaped into the Avarinheim with Raum and Shra? Had not the Avar rejected her, suspicious of her violence, even though she had saved so many of their lives?
“Azhure,” he said gently. “You did what you had to. Now do what you want with your life. Would you like to go with EvenSong this afternoon?”
Azhure hesitated, then nodded. “I have seen the Strike Force practise at archery. They look so smooth, so graceful. I would like to try that. SpikeFeather has offered to demonstrate for me and,” her mouth quirked, “teach me the proper use of the arrow.” Again she hesitated, then forged on. “I am sick of feeling helpless, directionless. I feel as though I have spent my life in a deep, dark well. Now, after so long buried in Smyrton, I am starting to make my way towards the surface—but the surface is still so very far away. Each day away from Smyrton, each new experience, brings me a little closer, wakes me up a little more from the torpor of my previous life. You are right. I must seek my own path.”
She laughed now, her good humour returning. “I am glad I’m not an Icarii Enchanter like you, destined for heroic deeds. That would be a heavy burden.”
Axis turned away, his face expressionless. “I am no hero.”
Azhure lowered her eyes to the flower she still held. If Axis had his moments of denial, then she did not blame him. Not a day passed that Axis did not grieve for those who had already died for him. He despised the thought that yet more would die. And it haunted him that his sister blamed him for FreeFall’s death.
“You must bear with EvenSong. She has not yet reconciled herself to FreeFall’s death. Her grief needs an outlet.”
Axis knew his sister resented him for many other reasons besides his inability to prevent FreeFall’s death. She had not begun to come to terms with having an older brother, and one who had inherited their father’s powers in full. Where once StarDrifter had lavished attention on EvenSong, now she found herself virtually ignored by her father as he spent almost every waking moment with his son. EvenSong found her father’s obsession with Axis difficult to accept.
It was fortunate, Axis mused, that Azhure was here to offer EvenSong companionship. He too appreciated the friendship and understanding she gave him as he fought to adjust to his new life and his new powers. Rivkah spent a good deal of time talking to her as well. If not for Azhure, StarDrifter’s entire household might well have self-destructed by now.
“The SunSoars are difficult people to live with,” he said, resting his chin in his hand.
“The Icarii people as a whole are,” replied Azhure, her eyes distant. “They are very good at passions and very bad at friendships.”
Axis studied her closely. This woman from Smyrton displayed more insight than many who had spent years in scholarly or diplomatic training. Where had she got it from? Not from her father, surely; Hagen had demonstrated as much insight as a sack of barley. Her mother? From what Axis knew of Nors women, they thought mainly of the pleasures of the flesh and very little else. And surely the woeful society of her village had contributed little to the inner depths she increasingly revealed.
Azhure shifted under his gaze—those pale-blue eyes seemed to reach to the core of her soul. Unthinking, she said the first thing that sprang to mind.
“Do you worry about her, Axis? Do you wonder if she is all right?” she asked, and then wished desperately she could snatch her words back.
Axis tensed at her side and Azhure could sense his withdrawal. He rarely spoke of Faraday and yet Azhure knew she was always in his thoug
hts.
Azhure stumbled on, trying to relieve the sudden tension. “I saw her, you know, at Yuletide. She is a woman who combines great beauty with great compassion and selflessness. It is no wonder you love her as you do.”
“You saw her?” Axis frowned. “How?”
“Did StarDrifter not tell you how he and Faraday woke the Earth Tree at Yuletide as the Skraelings attacked the Earth Tree Grove?”
Axis nodded, still frowning, and Azhure hurried on. “I don’t know what enchantment StarDrifter used, but Faraday appeared as if in a vision above the Earth Tree. No-one else saw her. StarDrifter and Raum were concentrating so hard on the Tree that they did not look up. I don’t know if she saw me, but she looked down and smiled.” Azhure gave a little shrug. “At least, I like to think she smiled at me.”
Axis relaxed a little. “She would like you, and you her. It is a pity you are both caught in the web of this Prophecy.”
“If I were married to Borneheld he would not have survived his wedding night,” Azhure said tightly. Over the past few weeks she had learned much of Faraday’s circumstances. “Why did she not escape with you to Talon Spike?”
“Because she honours the vows that she took when she became Borneheld’s wife, Azhure. Even her love for me will not make her desert her honour.” He sounded bitter. “Do I wonder about her? Do I worry if she is all right? With every breath that I draw, Azhure. I live for her.”
“Axis.”
They both swivelled towards the voice. StarDrifter stood on the ledge by the archway that led back into the mountain, his white wings a little outstretched to aid his balance.
Enchanter Page 2
