Enchanter

by Sara Douglass

  She spun around in an excited circle until she faced SpikeFeather again. “Well?”

  SpikeFeather lowered his eyes to the woman before him. If he hadn’t witnessed it himself he would never have believed it. It wasn’t simply Azhure’s strength in drawing the bow and loosing the arrow, it was also the fact that she had actually hit the target she’d aimed at. It usually took a novice Icarii archer several weeks of practice before they even got an arrow within spitting distance of a ceiling target—and the Icarii were flight intuitive. Was it simply luck?

  SpikeFeather looked at the magnificent bow that Azhure clutched possessively to her side. It was one of the most valuable and treasured items in the Strike Force’s arsenal. What had he done?

  Azhure’s smile died and her eyes narrowed as she watched the welter of emotions play across SpikeFeather’s face; emotions mirrored on the faces of the eleven Icarii who stood at his back. EvenSong looked as though she had swallowed the arrow instead of simply watching it hit the target.

  Azhure stepped over and lifted another arrow from the quiver on SpikeFeather’s back. He flinched a little as her hand brushed the downy red feathers on the back of his neck.

  “No fluke,” she said, her eyes unexpectedly dark as she stared into SpikeFeather’s face. “If I miss this time then I will return the bow. But if I hit the target, then you will not only fashion me the quiver to sling across my back, but fletch the arrows to go in it with your own flight feathers, SpikeFeather TrueSong. Dyed the same blue as my eyes, I think.”

  Then, in a movement almost as elegant as SpikeFeather’s, Azhure notched the arrow, raised the bow, sighted, and loosed the arrow. This time it struck the target true, the solid thunk as it penetrated deep into the golden orb audible around the chamber.

  “The Wolven is mine,” Azhure said into the utter silence. “I think it likes me. It felt easier the second time.”

  SpikeFeather dropped his eyes to Azhure, then bowed deep before her, his wings sweeping a wide arc on the floor behind him. When he straightened, his eyes were solemn. “The Wolven is yours, Azhure. I will fashion you a quiver to hold arrows fletched with feathers from my own wings. You are an archer-born, Azhure, and I will welcome you whenever you wish to train with my Wing.”

  “Yes,” Azhure said to the handsome birdman. “I would like to return and train with your command, SpikeFeather TrueSong.”

  “Then make sure that when the time arrives, you deal death with the Wolven, Azhure. That is why it was crafted.”

  Later, the muscles in her back, arms and chest burning with the effort required to use the bow, Azhure mounted the ladder, the bow slung across her back. SpikeFeather caught her arm. “Azhure, you speak to Axis SunSoar more than most. When will he visit the Strike Force? When?”

  Azhure stepped down from the ladder and turned to face him. “I do not know, SpikeFeather. He is consumed by his need for his father now, and by his need to discover what lies beneath his surface. Wait. He will come.”

  4

  LEARNING THE STAR DANCE

  MorningStar took a deep breath to calm herself and turned back to StarDrifter. He had been a late child, born when MorningStar was already close to four hundred years old. Because he was so unexpected—and had inherited his mother’s Enchanter powers at that—both MorningStar and her husband, RushCloud, had spoiled him abominably. And whereas her eldest son, RavenCrest, had been groomed from birth to inherit the mantle of Talon, leader of all the Icarii, the much younger StarDrifter had been indulged. At least, MorningStar sighed, StarDrifter’s lack of discipline had got him a son who might well prove the last hope of the SunSoars, if not the Icarii race as a whole.

  She glanced over at Axis, sitting calmly on a stool in the small, unadorned chamber, StarDrifter pacing irritably about him. He had learned well since arriving in Talon Spike—far better than either MorningStar or StarDrifter had thought possible. Who could have imagined that an Enchanter, left without training for thirty years, could grasp the intricacies of the Star Dance so quickly and easily?

  As Axis’ father, StarDrifter had borne the major burden of his son’s training, but MorningStar helped, and that was at the heart of their current troubles. Although an Enchanter was usually trained by his or her parent—the one who had bequeathed the Enchanter blood—another Enchanter of the same House, or family, could also act as an instructor. The closer the blood link, the easier the teaching. MorningStar was only one generation removed from Axis, so the blood link was strong, and she wanted to help.

  But StarDrifter, having been separated from his son for so long, found it hard to share him with anyone, even his mother. MorningStar could understand that, but there were some things that MorningStar knew she could teach Axis better than StarDrifter.

  And that is what they were fighting about now.

  “StarDrifter,” MorningStar said reasonably, “you are so good using the power of the Star Dance in conjunction with the elements of fire, earth and air. In those areas you are by far the most powerful we have seen in generations, and you pass your skills to your son well. But if you have a weakness, it is with the element of water. Since I have skill in that area, it only makes sense that I take charge of Axis’ training when it comes to the water music.”

  StarDrifter stopped his pacing. “I have more power,” he snapped.

  “Yes, you have more power,” she agreed. “But the element of water does not need power so much as subtlety, and you are often too impatient for such subtlety.”

  StarDrifter glared at her, then suddenly backed down. “Then teach!” he snarled.

  Axis felt MorningStar’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder. “Good,” she said quietly and moved around to face him. Their relationship was still awkward, and neither knew quite what to think of the other. Axis was aware that his grandmother vaguely disapproved of him. He knew she’d have preferred the StarMan to be of full Icarii blood, and he suspected that she, like StarDrifter, was just a little resentful of the extent of his power.

  MorningStar was a determined and forceful woman who wielded enormous power within Talon Spike—not only as a senior Enchanter, but also as the widow of the previous Talon. Axis still found it difficult to come to terms with MorningStar’s age. She approached the limit of her life, five hundred years, but she looked no older than himself. She had the same colouring as StarDrifter, short curly golden hair, pale blue eyes, and luminous white feathered wings. Only the vast experience evident in her eyes and the assurance of her manner gave some indication of her age.

  MorningStar closed her eyes as she ran a prayer to Flulia, the Goddess of Water, through her mind. Then she took Axis’ head between her hands and closed his eyes with her thumbs. “Hear the Star Dance,” she said softly.

  The first thing StarDrifter had taught Axis was to hear the Star Dance—the music that the Stars made as they whirled through the universe, and the source of power for all Icarii Enchanters. The music of the Star Dance was of astounding beauty, and when Axis first heard it, he had burst into tears at its unexpected splendour. Although the music was not particularly loud it pervaded every aspect of life. Now its faint melodies surrounded Axis through every moment, in the beat of his heart, in the conversations about him, in the sound of feathers rustling in the wind, in the shadows of his dreams.

  Icarii Enchanters harnessed the power of the Stars by manipulating the music of the Star Dance. From the Dance they wove a melody that served as a conduit for the power of the Stars. For each purpose, a melody. Enchanters spent their developing years learning all the different melodies, or Songs, and the purpose of each. Once they had learned a Song—no mean feat—to use it they ran its melody through their minds, sometimes physically giving voice to the music they manipulated. The more powerful the Enchanter, the more complex the Song they could manipulate. For thousands of years Icarii Enchanters had debated the possibility that one day an Enchanter might learn to use the entire Star Dance, rather than lifting more manageable fragments of melody. The debate had finally
been solved seventeen hundred years previously when one Enchanter had tried to grapple with the power of the entire Star Dance—he had died so horribly, warped out of existence, that no-one had been tempted to try it again.

  Axis had learned so quickly because he had the remarkable gift of remembering a melody after only one hearing. Usually Icarii Enchanters had to have a Song repeated to them scores of times before they could use it effectively. It was one of the many ways in which the depth and extent of Axis’ ability constantly astounded MorningStar and StarDrifter.

  “Listen,” MorningStar said, and began to sing for her grandson the Songs which were particularly effective for manipulating the element of water and of all matter associated with water. Before she sang each Song, MorningStar whispered its purpose.

  StarDrifter watched Axis carefully. Axis had already learned virtually all there was to know about the other groups of Songs and had displayed equal (and remarkable) talent in each. Would he now display a similar talent for water music?

  Within an hour StarDrifter had his answer. There was not one Song MorningStar sang for him that Axis could not instantly repeat, even strengthen. He must be beloved of all the Star Gods, StarDrifter mused, to be so favoured.

  In training, Enchanters usually only learned the melodies of the Songs, they did not yet attempt to manipulate the power of the Stars. It would be disastrous for an Enchanter only beginning to develop his skills to manipulate power at the same time as he sang a Song for the first time. Yet Axis never made a mistake, and on those rare occasions when StarDrifter and MorningStar had let him actually reach for the power of the Stars, Axis had demonstrated his ability to control the power that flowed through the melody.

  Finally MorningStar stepped back, exhausted.

  “Enough,” she said, letting Axis’ head go. “You have learned enough for today. We will resume tomorrow.”

  “How many more?” Axis asked, opening his eyes.

  “Thirty-eight Songs.”

  “And you have shown me fourteen this afternoon.” Axis stood up and stretched. “Fifty-two. It is not many.”

  For each Song there was only one purpose, and there were only a finite number of Songs that the Icarii Enchanters had discovered in ten thousand years of searching. The restrictions of his powers frustrated Axis as much as they excited him. What was the use of such ability if there was no Song for the purpose you had in mind? And as yet nothing that StarDrifter or MorningStar had taught him seemed powerful enough to combat Gorgrael or his mass of Skraelings.

  He turned to his father in frustration. “Do the Icarii Enchanters have no Songs that will aid in war, StarDrifter?”

  “Perhaps once the Icarii had Songs of War, Axis.” StarDrifter’s earlier ire had faded and now he clasped his son’s shoulder affectionately. “But if they ever existed they have been lost for thousands of years. Perhaps they were too dangerous. Too potent. Once the Icarii were more warlike, and could fashion weapons that themselves wielded Star Power.”

  “Such a weapon is the Wolven,” RavenCrest said from the doorway. Anger laced his words. He was furious with SpikeFeather for promising the bow to Azhure if she could hit a target with it. Stupid! No matter that he, too, would have thought Azhure could not possibly loose an arrow from it, let alone hit a ceiling target. In the week since Azhure had gained possession of the Wolven, it had not once left her side, and she had practised with it every day, spending long hours afterwards in the Chamber of Steaming Water, easing her aching chest and back muscles.

  “The Wolven is an enchanted weapon?” Axis frowned at his uncle, although he smiled inwardly at RavenCrest’s anger. Azhure had won her gift fairly, displaying remarkable skill in doing so.

  “Yes, enchanted,” StarDrifter cut in, “but we have lost the key to use it. Whatever Song it requires has been lost. It died with,” he hesitated, “WolfStar SunSoar, the Enchanter-Talon who originally crafted the weapon.”

  MorningStar’s mouth thinned at the mention of WolfStar, but Axis did not notice. “Is there no way of remembering the Song of the Wolven?” he asked. “Or of any other of the Songs of War?”

  “We rely on you to save us!” RavenCrest hissed, his anger fully apparent as he strode across the room. He was vividly coloured, far more so than his mother or brother, with violet eyes, raven-black hair and wingbacks, and gorgeous speckled blue underwings. Yet his vivid anger made him menacing, and Axis had to fight from taking a pace back as RavenCrest stepped up to him. “Seek not legends from our past to lead us to victory, Axis! Rely on what skills you have inside you!” He paused, then dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “And remember, Axis SunSoar, that you will have to win the loyalty and trust of the Icarii nation if you are to succeed against Gorgrael, and enchanted weapons will not win for you our trust.”

  Axis fully understood RavenCrest’s anger. With the death of FreeFall SunSoar, RavenCrest had lost his only son and heir. Not only did RavenCrest daily have to live with the grief of losing his beloved son, he also had to battle with the fact that the heir to the Talon throne would be Axis—StarDrifter might be a powerful Enchanter, but he would be a hopeless leader of the Icarii nation. Axis knew that RavenCrest was also deeply resentful that his heir was not only of Icarii-human parentage, but also a former BattleAxe of the loathed Seneschal.

  Nothing had been said, but everyone knew the situation—and Axis intended to fight for his right to be named RavenCrest’s heir. He knew he had to weld the Icarii, Acharite and Avar races together in order to fight Gorgrael, and if he could control the thrones of both Icarii and Acharite nations then he’d have a much better chance of success. Through his mother, Rivkah, once Princess of Achar, Axis was second in line to the Acharite throne behind Borneheld. And Axis did not intend to let Borneheld live.

  He turned his mind away from his half-brother and considered the implications of what RavenCrest had said. Axis would have to win the trust of the Icarii nation if he wanted to not only be accepted as heir, but also use the Icarii Strike Force in his battle against Gorgrael. Axis knew the Icarii trust would be hard to win, and as yet he had not even made a start. In the five weeks he’d been in Talon Spike he hadn’t met any Icarii beyond his immediate family.

  “RavenCrest,” he said. “It is time I met with your Crest-Leaders. It is time I took control of the Strike Force.” Axis assumed a great deal with that statement. As the Icarii Talon, RavenCrest was in overall command of the Strike Force. Now Axis demanded that he assume overall control.

  RavenCrest may have been angry, and resentful of this man who stood so calmly before him asking for control of the Strike Force, but he was no fool. He knew that Axis alone had the skills and the experience to transform the Strike Force into an effective command—and he would need total leadership to do so.

  He nodded. “I’ll arrange a meeting for three days’ time,” he said, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

  StarDrifter and Axis made their excuses and left MorningStar alone in the small training chamber. She waited until the door closed behind them, then sat down heavily and rested her head in her hands.

  Training Axis was physically demanding work and MorningStar was tired. But she was also sorely troubled. Axis learned well. Too well. That point had been driven home forcibly this afternoon. Many of his other skills could be waved off with the explanation that he had absorbed them from StarDrifter when he had sung to his son in Rivkah’s womb as they sat on the sunny rooftop of Sigholt.

  But StarDrifter just could not have taught Axis the skills associated with the water music—his own abilities in that area were too poor.

  Natural ability, then, on Axis’ part? Perhaps. But MorningStar did not think that natural ability explained everything. She shook herself and stood up. She did not want to think just yet about why Axis was so good at learning the Songs when other Icarii Enchanters had so much difficulty.

  Perhaps he was not learning them for the first time.

  “Stars, woman!” MorningStar muttered to herself
. “Don’t even think it!”

  5

  THE REBEL ARMY

  Belial’s hazel eyes restlessly scanned the leaden-grey sky. Either side of him reared the barren walls of HoldHard Pass, their starkness relieved only by the occasional stunted bush or tree. It was eleven days since they had entered the eastern end of the Pass, and five since Belial had ordered they set up camp and sent Arne, the most experienced unit commander Belial still had with him, and a small number of men to scout Sigholt and its environs.

  Belial hardly dared hope Sigholt would provide them with a base. He desperately wished that he’d some of those Icarii farflight scouts with him. Instead he had been forced to send men on what might well be a dangerous and fruitless mission.

  That any of them were alive at all was due principally to Magariz—and the foresight of Borneheld, of all people. Beside him Lord Magariz sat a fidgeting Belaguez. The two men took turns to exercise Axis’ war horse. Belaguez had already thrown Magariz twice today, and Belial had his own fair share of bruises from the cursed grey stallion. We should just let the horse run wild, Belial thought, before he kills one of us. I can ill afford to lose Magariz.

  Lord Magariz had been Duke Borneheld’s most senior and trusted commander, responsible during the past twelve years for commanding the garrison at Gorkenfort. Yet Magariz had deserted Borneheld to follow Axis, even though his disloyalty would almost certainly result in his death should the Duke ever catch him. Magariz’s choice had undoubtedly saved the lives of Belial and those of the three thousand men he led. After they’d watched the Icarii claim Axis at the foot of the Icescarp Alps, they had ridden into the dreadful territories of the Icescarp Barren and the northern WildDog Plains. Only Magariz’s familiarity with the area, and his knowledge of the reserves of food, fuel and hay that lay secreted across northern Ichtar, had saved them from starvation during the five weeks it took them to reach the southern Plains.