Enchanter

by Sara Douglass

  Axis glanced at Belial and Magariz—FarSight was still with the final Crests in the southern Urqhart Hills and would not be back at Sigholt for a week or more.

  Since the Ravensbundmen had disappeared from Jervois Landing Axis had cut back on the Icarii support for Borneheld. They had done enough. The Skraelings had been severely curtailed and most of the IceWorms destroyed. With his Corolean mercenaries, Borneheld still had almost eighteen thousand at Jervois Landing to man his defences. Axis believed Gorgrael had reached his limits for this winter campaign. It was the first week in Hungry-month, the last month of winter. Spring would shortly be here, and with it, promises would have to be fulfilled further south in Achar. But now Azhure had conceived of a final strike against the Skraelings.

  “I’m not sure, Axis,” Belial said, avoiding Azhure’s stare. “Is it worth the effort?”

  “Worth the effort?” Azhure cried. “What do you mean, worth the effort? You have heard the Icarii reports, Belial. This would be our best chance yet to attack Hsingard.”

  Over the past several weeks, as Crests of Icarii had flown between Jervois Landing and Sigholt, many of them had passed over the ruins of the former capital of Ichtar, Hsingard. Once-proud Hsingard now lay in ruins, torn to rubble by the wraiths and the IceWorms. The Skraelings were using its rubble as shelter, possibly even as their base.

  Azhure turned back to Axis. “We might even find a SkraeBold there, Axis. Or the nest of the Gryphon pack. It is worth the effort!”

  “Azhure.” Magariz, quiet until now, stepped forward. “Hsingard is a large place. There is no way that a small force like ours could cover the entire city—and the place is now nothing but rubble! It would be a trap! Axis, I beg of you, remember Gorkentown.”

  Axis’ face froze. “But this time we would be the attacking force, and the Skraelings would not be expecting us. We could do some damage.”

  “We could ride there in a day,” Azhure argued. Hsingard was only some two leagues beyond the furthest reaches of the Lake of Life, but they would need a day for the attack because of the need to approach carefully and circumspectly, through the Urqhart Hills, instead of directly across the plain. “A day to attack, then less home. We could do it.”

  “There are not the numbers of Skraelings in Hsingard that there used to be,” Axis said slowly, thinking it through. “Most of the Skraelings are further south, making a last push against Jervois Landing. The Icarii have seen very little activity among the ruins, even at night when the Skraelings are usually the most active. This could be our last chance to hit the main Skraeling base in Ichtar while both Borneheld and Skraelings are busy in Jervois Landing. I have to admit a fancy to see what it is the Skraelings have been doing in Hsingard.”

  “We have the Alaunt,” Azhure added. “They can both warn of impending attack and track within the rubble. Icarii scouts can keep watch overhead.”

  “Axis,” Belial pleaded, “you cannot think of doing this! Leave well enough alone.”

  Axis looked up from the map in front of him. “I have sat on the rooftop of this Keep for the past month, Belial, and watched through the eyes of the eagle as the Icarii Strike Force saved Jervois Landing. I have done nothing but sit. I want to see some action, and this could be a good preparation for the mounted soldiers and archers before the summer campaign against Borneheld.”

  “They are already hardened,” Belial snapped. “They do not have to be sent on some foolish mission to Hsingard to harden them further.”

  Azhure’s mouth dropped open. Foolish? An opportunity to attack what could be the Skraeling main base while it was almost empty?

  “Azhure,” Axis said. “What force would you take?”

  She didn’t even have to think about it. “All six of my squads of archers, and two hundred mounted men—just over four hundred on the ground altogether. One Crest of Icarii—I don’t need that many for scouting purposes, but they need the safety of the numbers in case we rouse the Gryphon. And I take the Alaunt. They can scout out the hiding places of the Skraelings among the rubble, and with four hundred men we can do some damage. We would strike during the day, when the Skraelings are the least active.”

  “Good,” Axis said, before Belial objected again. “Azhure, you have command.”

  “What!” Belial and Magariz exploded together.

  A muscle in Axis’ jaw jumped, the only sign that he was angry, and he looked past Belial at Azhure. “Of course, Azhure, if you don’t feel that you are capable of it, I will assume command myself.”

  “I can do it,” she said, meeting Axis’ eyes steadily. She had not even allowed herself to think that Axis might give her command, but she knew she could lead this mission.

  Belial spun about. “You don’t know what you are doing, Azhure.”

  “I can do it, Belial,” she said softly. “Do not worry for me or for the men I lead.”

  Axis watched Belial and Azhure carefully. He thought he understood why Belial had lost his temper. Axis suspected that Belial felt more for Azhure than simple comradeship, and that made him wonder what had happened in Sigholt in those months before he had arrived.

  “Belial,” Axis forced a light tone into his voice. “Do not concern yourself too much. I intend to ride along as support. Azhure should enjoy giving me orders for a change. You have overall command here in Sigholt. Magariz can back you up.”

  “You are mad, Axis,” Belial said tonelessly, “to risk yourself and your command for what is nothing more than a foolhardy adventure.”

  “Belial, I want to see what the Skraelings have been doing among the rubble of Hsingard. And I want the opportunity to skewer a few more of the wraiths.”

  Axis had sent the eagle over Hsingard on several occasions over the past weeks, and something strange was going on in the rubble. Axis glanced at Azhure. This mission would be a good test of her abilities.

  “You leave Caelum behind, Azhure. This is no gentle patrol through the Urqhart Hills. He has Imibe to care for him.” Imibe was one of the younger Ravensbundwomen. She had a baby herself and plenty of milk, and already helped Rivkah with the task of caring for Caelum when Azhure and Axis were both busy.

  Although the sun had just risen, the clouds were so thick overhead that the light was grey and insubstantial. “Well?” Azhure demanded, her voice low. Her hair was pulled back from her face and braided tightly about the crown of her head. She wore the usual outfit of the SunSoar command, grey wool tunic with the blood-red sun, buttoned to her neck against the cold, and white breeches. The Wolven was slung over her shoulder and two quivers of arrows hung down her back. Axis suspected she also had several knives secreted about her body.

  Axis blinked and his eyes refocused. “There is no activity, Azhure,” he replied. “The eagle sees nothing.”

  Azhure had kept the Icarii back from Hsingard, not wanting to give the Skraelings any hint of impending action.

  “They must be buried in the rubble, gone to their nests,” Azhure said. About her the Alaunt lay silent and watchful.

  Axis watched her, waiting to see what she would do next. The force was hunched among the tumbled and deserted masonry of a once large and proud Retreat of the Seneschal near the outer ruins of Hsingard.

  “They would surely be well within the ruins of the city,” Azhure thought aloud. “Where they felt safe.” She squinted, checking the piles of masonry that marked the fallen walls of Hsingard. “Axis use your Enchanter eyes or those of your eagle. Is that the roadway the map showed us to the north? Is it blocked with rubble, or will we be able to move down it?”

  Few among the SunSoar command had ever been to Hsingard, and Azhure had been forced to rely on maps to learn the layout of the city and the position of its main buildings and squares. According to the map, this road should be one of the main avenues leading to the heart of the city.

  Axis looked where she pointed, then communed with the eagle. “The road is strewn with rubble, especially as it nears the centre of Hsingard, but it will still be passable on
foot.”

  Azhure nodded. “Good.” She bent down and patted Sicarius, speaking to him quietly. The great beast rose, four of his companions with him, and padded out of the ruins of the Retreat towards Hsingard.

  Axis raised his eyebrows at Azhure.

  “They go to sniff out the first few blocks and the roadway,” she said. “If they are clear, then I move the force across this open space.”

  After about ten minutes Axis spotted Sicarius trotting a short distance back out of the ruins. He sat down some five or six paces from the entrance to the roadway. Axis touched Azhure’s shoulder and indicated the hound.

  “Good,” she whispered. “It is clear. Come.”

  She moved the force across to the outer ruins of Hsingard in groups of one hundred, waiting until each had reached the ruins safely and disappeared before sending the next group out.

  Azhure led them quietly and as carefully as she could along the street. Most of the buildings were completely destroyed, occasional walls standing desolate and lonely against the grey sky, like the sad ruin of an old man’s mouth. Great blocks of masonry lay tumbled and piled higgledy-piggledy, some strewn across the roadway, where Azhure’s command had to climb over or around them.

  Hsingard appeared completely deserted and for the first half an hour of their silent penetration of the city they saw no-one. But Azhure took no chances. She kept all the members of the force to the side of the roadway, as much as she could among the shadows of the ruins. At regular intervals she signalled small groups of archers and swordsmen to wait crouched among the ruins, ready to guard their retreat.

  The hounds ranged before and beside them, silent, heads to the ground or deep among the tumbled piles of masonry, serving—together with the eagle that still soared overhead—as an advance warning of attack.

  Axis knew Azhure was on edge, worried that they had not yet found any Skraelings, concerned about where they could be. But her anxiety was not making her impatient, or, conversely, too confident. Axis was impressed. She was doing well. He followed some ten or fifteen paces behind her, his sword drawn, his entire body ready to fight.

  Suddenly the nearest Alaunt gave a gruff bark and Skraelings swarmed out of ground-level cracks. Almost before they could draw breath, Azhure and her command were engaged with the wraiths.

  Because the Skraelings had wriggled out of cracks virtually underneath the feet of Azhure’s force, the archers among them had no chance to loose a volley of arrows before both swordsmen and Skraelings were so intermixed that the archers risked killing their comrades as much as the Skraelings. But Azhure shouted to the archers to watch the ground, watch the cracks, and after the initial surprise, the archers were able to prevent larger numbers of the Skraelings from emerging from their underground holes.

  The archers’ rapid response gave the swordsmen the chance to deal with the initial rush of Skraelings without having to worry about being overwhelmed. Perhaps some fifty or sixty managed to escape to attack the men, and that was not enough to cause them serious concern. With the help of the hounds, it took only a few short, sharp minutes of fighting before the Skraelings lay dead about the roadway. None of the swordsmen had been killed, although two were injured, and Azhure sent them back to wait at the edge of the ruins with the men she had stationed there.

  “Different,” Azhure remarked, bending to inspect one of the bodies of the Skraelings. The Skraelings had almost completely abandoned their wraith-like forms once they came through the cracks. They were fully fleshed, well muscled, and standing as a man. Their naked grey bodies were covered with tough leathery skin which had hardened over shoulders, joints and back into a bony armour, virtually impervious to a sword thrust. Their heads were encased in the same substance—their silvery eyes, once so huge and vulnerable, were now simply narrow slits behind bony protuberances.

  As they watched, the Skraeling’s body disintegrated into grey sludge.

  “They’re changing,” Axis said. “Gorgrael is building himself a more solid force.”

  Azhure stood up. “We outnumbered these seven to one. But what if, next winter, we have to meet an army of hundreds of thousand of bone-armoured Skraelings, almost completely impervious to sword or even arrow?”

  Axis shook his head. The thought horrified him.

  “Then perhaps we ought to find out where these came from,” Azhure said. “Let’s call the Icarii in. There is no point holding them back now. The Skraelings know we are here. Theod,” she called to one of the unit leaders among the swordsmen, “tell the men to keep their eyes sharp as we move along the road. If there is an entrance to below ground, then I want to know about it.”

  Theod nodded and turned to the men.

  They were attacked three more times as they moved along the road to the city centre, but now the men knew what to look for most kept their eyes to the ground-level cracks in the tumbled masonry and the Skraelings were unable to surprise them as they had at first. But each time they emerged, Azhure and her force had a sharp battle on their hands. Before leaving the Urqhart Hills Azhure had ordered that each man construct himself a brand from the low gorse bushes, and now she directed that two of the squads of archers sling their bows over their shoulders and light their brands.

  When the Skraelings attacked again, Azhure led the two squads of archers, wielding their flaming brands now rather than bows, into battle alongside the swordsmen. Behind her the four remaining squads of archers kept their arrows trained on the ground-level cracks where the Skraelings emerged, making sure that as few of them escaped from their underground holes as possible.

  Azhure found herself fighting alongside Axis. She laughed exultantly as she rammed the brand she carried into the face of a Skraeling as Axis seized another and thrust his sword deep into one of its eye cavities. He pulled his sword free and stuck Azhure’s Skraeling as it lay writhing on the ground.

  “A service,” he cried, grinning at her exultation, then abruptly leaned forward, unmindful of the battle going on, and kissed her fiercely. The next instant they were fighting back to back as more Skraelings lunged at them with their teeth and claws, leaning against each other, still laughing, more aware of each other than of the creatures they fought. Both felt invulnerable and immortal. Nothing could harm them while they stood back to back, leaning each against the other.

  Once the Skraeling attack had finally diminished, Axis turned and seized Azhure. “I love you,” he whispered. “Never doubt that.” Then he was gone to help the swordsmen kill the final few Skraelings left standing.

  Azhure gazed after him, unable to believe what she had just heard, then she lowered her eyes to stare at the flaming brand she carried. What did it mean, that he loved her? What did he mean? Love her or not, Axis would still go to Faraday. She was his future, not Azhure.

  The insistent barking of one of the Alaunt broke Azhure’s reverie and she looked over to where a hound was scrabbling at a shadowed pile of masonry a little further down the road.

  “Cover me,” she said to her archers, and walked down the road to the Alaunt. She squatted beside him, her hand on the hound’s back, and peered into the jumble of stone blocks. There was a solid blackness behind the fissure that the hound had his nose jammed into, and Azhure pulled his head back and thrust her brand into the crack. A flight of steps, still looking remarkably intact, led below.

  Excited, Azhure waved over several men and set them to clearing the entrance to the steps.

  She felt Axis at her back, and she glanced at him. “What do you think?”

  “Dangerous, but your decision.”

  “Then we go down. Carefully.” She looked at the men behind her. “I will take one squad of archers and thirty swordsmen only. And the pack of Alaunt—they will be more useful than a hundred men if it comes to a fight within this dark corridor. The rest of you stay here. If we are not back by,” she glanced at the sky, “mid-afternoon, then leave without us. But until then, watch this entrance. Do not let any Skraelings creep down after us. I want only to
worry about what lies before us, not what creeps at our backs.”

  “And me?” Axis asked.

  “I am in command here, and I cannot risk you down this hole. You have a greater chance of survival out here in the open than you would cramped below. You stay.”

  “No,” Axis said. “On this I override your orders. I come down with you. I need to see what is down there—and my powers will be more useful to you below ground than above.”

  “As you decide,” she said shortly. “But make yourself useful. Light the way.”

  Axis stepped down onto the first of the stairs. He held out his hand, and a soft ball of light began to glow in its palm. As it grew stronger, he let it slide from his hand and roll down the stairs. It stopped about a third of the way down a straight and wide corridor, well built from solid stone. There was nothing to be seen.

  “Good,” Azhure said, and pushed past Axis. She motioned to Sicarius. “Sicarius. Scout.”

  The hound leapt down the stairs and trotted cautiously, nose to floor, down the corridor. He disappeared from sight into the blackness. Azhure waved her men forward.

  They walked slowly down the corridor, Azhure in the lead, Axis directly behind her shoulder. All had weapons drawn or carried burning brands ready in their hands. As they walked forward, so the ball of light rolled forward slowly, always keeping the same distance in front of them.

  After perhaps fifty paces the corridor bent to their left and as Azhure peered cautiously about she saw another flight of steps leading down. She could dimly see Sicarius sitting at the bottom of them, tense and alert.

  “Come,” she said again, and trotted down the stairs to the hound. She bent to touch Sicarius’ head for an instant, then straightened and looked before her.

  The steps had led them into a large, low-vaulted chamber, the stone pillars that supported the ceiling casting long shadows across the floor of the chamber. There were some broken and empty wooden boxes and kegs to one side, but otherwise the chamber was empty. In the far wall a heavy, arched wooden door stood ajar a fingerspace.