“What do you think?” Azhure asked as Axis joined her.
“We’re reasonably close to the heart of Hsingard. I would think that we are in the underground chambers of one of the main civic buildings.”
“It’s cold,” Azhure observed, and pulled the collar of her tunic a little higher about her throat.
Indeed it was cold, much colder than the air above, and that had been icy enough. Their breath frosted about them, and Azhure could see that thin tendrils of ice ran around the stone pillars. She glanced at the far door, then bent down and murmured quietly to the hound. Her fingers ran through the thick, creamy hairs of Sicarius’ head, and the hound’s golden eyes gazed steadily into hers, his mouth open, panting a little.
Azhure rose. “He has not been through that door,” she said quietly. “He wanted to wait for us. He does not like it.”
Axis stared at her, and then at the Alaunt. He hesitated, then extended his hand and motioned with his fingers. The ball of light floated placidly back to nestle in the palm of his hand. “Azhure. Be careful.”
Azhure hefted the burning brand in her hand and motioned the others to follow her. She walked unhesitatingly over to the door, waving her men to either side, then, seizing the door, hauled it open.
Nothing issued forth from the door save a gust of air far colder than that of the vaulted chamber.
Azhure met Axis’ eyes, then she looked at the ball of light he held in his hand and motioned into the blackness beyond the door with her head. He stepped forward and threw the ball through the door, humming a phrase of music. As the ball of light lobbed into the chamber it flared into brilliance, and a dismayed whispering and muttering arose from within.
Axis paled and took an involuntary step backwards at what he saw. Azhure took one look, turned away in horror, then forced herself to look again.
There was a vast chamber beyond the door, perhaps once the grain store of the city. But now it had been converted by the Skraelings into a hatchery. Azhure felt Axis slide his arm about her waist and pull her back from the door.
Across the floor of the chamber before them undulated a seething mass of Skraeling young among the broken shells of thousands upon thousands of eggs. They were almost white, with slimy, transparent bodies that had not yet hardened into the flesh which their parents had attained. Their silver eyes were huge, and their mouths, already complete with sharp and hungry fangs, yawned wide as they mewed and cried. They did not like the light.
“Stars,” Axis whispered, “they’ve probably got these hatcheries in every cavern underneath this rubble.”
“They are next winter’s troubles,” Azhure said. “At least, they were.” She tossed her burning brand into the chamber and where it fell among the writhing Skraeling young it burst into flame, and the mews and whispers rose to a clamour.
“Quick,” she said urgently, “before their parents come back. Toss in your brands, and then let’s get out of here.”
The broken husks of the shells caught fire first, then the extremities of the nearest hatchlings. Those that caught fire scampered screaming about the chamber, climbing over their fellows, and setting fire to further shells and hatchlings. As the flames spread, Azhure slammed the door shut and Axis grabbed her hand.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling Azhure after him. “Fast!”
Where they had crept slowly down the stairs and the corridor, now they fled at a run. No-one wanted to be trapped underground when the cries of the hatchlings caught their parents’ ears.
They reached the surface safely, but by that time the screams of the now rapidly burning hatchlings had roused what seemed like every Skraeling in Hsingard. They seethed out of cracks and fissures from both sides of the roadway, and Azhure and her command had to fight their way free of the city in a bloody battle that left many of them wounded to some degree; Azhure herself gained a nasty cut over her left ribs. That they escaped at all—and with few fatalities—was due to the Crest of the Icarii Strike Force above them, for now that the Skraelings had emerged from their rubble they were vulnerable to arrows from above.
When they reached their horses, Axis pushed her onto Venator. “Can you ride?” he asked anxiously, his eyes drifting to her bloodstained tunic.
“Yes,” she gasped. “I’m fine. Get to Belaguez.”
About her men scrambled atop their horses, protected from the Skraelings by the arrows of the Strike Force, and Azhure kept Venator on a tight rein until all were mounted.
“Ride!” she screamed, turning Venator’s head and urging him forwards with her heels, “Ride!”
As they galloped for the Urqhart Hills, leaving the Skraelings well behind them, Azhure began to laugh.
They halted as soon as they were deep within the Urqhart Hills and protected by the arrival of the Icarii above.
Axis leapt from Belaguez and hauled Azhure from her horse.
“I’m all right,” she gasped, still smiling with the excitement of the battle and the mad ride from Hsingard to the hills, but Axis tore her tunic open and pulled her shirt out of the waistband of her breeches. It was soaked with blood, and Axis’ heart clenched as he felt how warm and wet the shirt was.
A Skraeling claw had scraped a deep gash along one of Azhure’s lower ribs. It had bled profusely, but the bone of the rib had stopped any major damage.
“It needs to be stitched,” Axis muttered, accepting the bandage that one of the archers thrust forward. He bound her ribs tightly, then pulled her shirt down.
“It’s nothing,” Azhure said softly. “Others are hurt far worse. Let me go. I should see to them. They are my responsibility.”
She stood up, pulling her tunic on, and went to see to her command, bending to talk briefly with those wounded, proud that she too had blood staining her tunic. At her heels trotted Sicarius, scratched and bleeding from a dozen small wounds like most of his pack.
Behind Azhure Axis stood straight and tall, watching her, his eyes veiled.
The next morning at dawn they rode into Sigholt. Warned by the Icarii, who had arrived the previous evening, comrades and servants stood ready to tend the wounded and feed the rest.
“The Icarii told us what happened,” Belial said, stepping forward, his eyes riveted to Azhure’s bloodstained tunic. “Are you all right?”
Azhure smiled. “A mere scratch, Belial. Isn’t that what all good warriors say when they ride home to fretting families?”
Axis stepped up and slipped his arm around her waist. Now they were home he could act more like the concerned lover than her second-in-command. “She is not wounded badly, Belial.” He glanced about the courtyard of the Keep. “Ravensbundmen?”
“Yes. They arrived yesterday morning. Most are quartered in camps about the Lake, but I have put the senior command in Sigholt itself.”
“Stars knows where,” Azhure muttered, looking anxiously about her and then relaxing into a smile as she saw Rivkah hurrying across the courtyard with Caelum in her arms. As she took Caelum from Rivkah’s arms, a tall, black-haired man stepped forth from the shadows.
“Ho’Demi,” Axis said, staring at the man’s tattooed face. When he had seen Ho’Demi at Gundealga Ford and, through the eagle’s eyes, at Jervois Landing, the man had a naked circle in the centre of his head.
Now from the centre of his forehead, as from the centre of the foreheads of each and every Ravensbund man, woman and child in Sigholt, blazed forth the bloodied sun.
44
“IT IS TIME TO REFORGE TENCENDOR”
The young Ravensbundwoman slipped the final pin into Azhure’s hair and then stood back, holding a mirror so Azhure could see her hairstyle from all angles.
“Thank you, Imibe, you have dressed my hair beautifully.” Over the past several weeks Imibe’s duties had grown from minding and nursing Caelum to acting almost as a full-time maid to Azhure. And though Azhure found it strange to have the attentions of a maid, she was so busy she had little choice. From three thousand men, three Sentinels, two women and one re
tired cook, now Sigholt and Lakesview reverberated with the noisy activities and enthusiasms of almost thirty thousand people. Not only were there Acharite, Ravensbund and Icarii soldiers, but also townspeople, traders, servants, cooks, stablehands, secretaries, messengers, hangers-on and myriad other people. A week ago a historian had even arrived, declaring he’d come to take notes and keep records of Axis SunSoar’s journey through Prophecy.
Even more than the attentions of a maid, Azhure found the deference shown to her by the people of Sigholt and Lakesview unnerving. Now, if she walked down the streets of Lakesview, with or without Caelum in her arms, the people made way for her with smiles, bows and bobbing curtsies. Azhure had to consciously force herself not to curtsey back.
“Come,” Axis said, walking into the room. “Stand up and show me your finery.”
Azhure took his outstretched hand, and let him guide her across the room to where a full-length mirror stood against the wall. Azhure stopped before the mirror, and Axis stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Axis wore his golden tunic over blood-red breeches that matched the blazing sun on his chest. In total contrast, Azhure was dressed in a simple black gown, cut in stark lines that both emphasised her tall, lithe figure and directed attention to the fine bone structure of her face and her unusual smoky eyes. Her hair, as black as the gown, was piled on top of her head in a complex knot.
Axis smiled at Azhure’s reflection and reached into a pocket. “Dru-Beorh always gives me gifts, Azhure, that I find myself passing on to you.”
He clipped a pair of heavy, twisted dark-gold drop earrings onto Azhure’s ears. They were beautiful, and they created a perfect frame for her lovely face.
“We make an elegant pair, don’t we,” Axis said, and kissed the top of her head. Suddenly he realised that Azhure’s eyes were swimming with tears. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Why so melancholy?”
“Because I do not belong here with you,” she whispered. “Soon you will lead your command south, and then to Carlon. There your Queen awaits.”
Axis’ entire body stiffened. He and Azhure avoided mentioning Faraday—nevertheless she lay between them constantly.
“I know you have been talking about her to Duke Roland and Ho’Demi,” Azhure continued, determined to speak her mind. “This,” she waved at their reflections, “is simply make believe. What we have together is as insubstantial as a reflection across water and will shatter as easily as this mirror.”
Axis’ hands tightened on Azhure’s shoulders, and she knew she had angered him. “I meant what I said in Hsingard, Azhure,” he said. “I love you. You are not simply some makeshift bedwarmer to keep me amused until I reach Faraday. Do you love me? Or is this some roundabout way of saying you want to leave?”
“You know I love you.” Azhure fought to keep her voice steady. “But I will have to walk away when we reach Carlon. The guilt I feel about Faraday gnaws at me each day. Surely your conscience troubles you?”
“Does my conscience trouble me?” he repeated. “Yes, I suppose that it does. Do I think about Faraday? Yes, I do. And, in a way, I still love her, but every day my love for you undermines what I feel for Faraday. All three of us are in the unforgiving grip of this damned Prophecy, Azhure. Manipulated beyond our own free will. But you and I cannot deny the magic of Beltide night…or the continuing magic that each night brings. Neither can we deny the child we have made between us.” His voice hardened. “But I will not let you go, nor lose you nor forget you.” Axis slipped his hands down to wrap her waist and cradle her back against his body.
Azhure took a deep breath. “But you will marry Faraday.”
“I have to, Azhure. As the Prophecy bound Faraday to marry Borneheld, so it binds me to marry Faraday. Does not the Prophecy state that she will lie with the man who kills her husband? Besides, I need her goodwill to bring the trees behind me.”
“Then I must go—”
“No,” Axis said sharply, and his arms tightened. “I will not let you go, Azhure. Faraday is a sophisticated woman of the court. No doubt Borneheld has kept lovers—”
“No!” Azhure cried, and tried to twist out of Axis’ arms, but his grip tightened still further.
“Stay with me. Dance with me. Be my Lover. Faraday will accept you.”
Azhure closed her eyes. Mistress, courtesan, concubine. There was no delicate way of dressing up the word. But poor Faraday. Azhure knew she would not accept what Axis proposed without deep hurt.
“Can you walk away from me, Azhure?” Axis asked. “Can you?”
“No,” Azhure said, her eyes still closed, feeling nothing but Axis’ warmth against her body. “No, I cannot.”
“And as you cannot walk from me, so I cannot walk away from you,” Axis said. “I thought that I might be able to. I thought perhaps I could insist that you and Caelum stay here when I rode south. But I cannot bear to be parted from either of you. You have woven my soul so tightly with enchantments, Azhure, that I will never be free from you. Stay by my side. Please…I beg you.”
A terrifying image filled Azhure’s mind. Axis and Caelum, three hundred years from now, both still young and vital. They were sitting on the rock ledge in Talon Spike, and they were both, unsuccessfully, trying to remember her name. They laughed and joked, and eventually gave up. Mistress and mother, long dead and long gone from their thoughts.
“Please,” he whispered into her hair.
“Yes,” and she hated herself for the word.
“Then come,” Axis said, his hands loosening about her body. “Open your eyes, collect our son, and come below. Sigholt awaits.”
Azhure picked Caelum up from his crib, and cradled his head close to her mouth. She whispered something, so low that Axis, curious, could not catch it.
“If you do one thing for me in your long, long life, Caelum, do not forget your mother’s name as I have forgotten the name of my mother. My name is Azhure, Caelum. Azhure. Azhure.”
This, the twenty-third day of Hungry-month, was Rivkah’s nameday, and Axis had planned a reception for her in the Great Hall of Sigholt. But the reception was far more than a simple celebration of Rivkah’s birth. Over the past weeks, fighting with Gorgrael’s forces had come to a halt, and almost all of Axis’ command was now back in Sigholt. The reception was also Axis’ way of thanking his forces. Tonight all of the unit commanders, as the more senior commanders, were gathered in the Great Hall, together with the most important townspeople, the Ravensbund commanders, the Sentinels, most of the Icarii Enchanters currently in Sigholt and sundry guests.
The reception was the first gathering of what would eventually become Axis’ royal court. It was time for Axis to assume the mantle of claimant to the throne of Achar, and heir to the Icarii Talon throne. Powerful and glorious, Axis now needed a court to reflect his power and glory. Present tonight were several traders from Tarantaise and Nor, and Axis wanted them to spread the word south that Axis, StarMan, was a fit claimant to the throne of Achar. If Borneheld did not provide Achar with the Sun-King who so many craved, then Axis would.
Several of the Icarii Enchanters willingly provided the music for the occasion, lolling about the rafters of the Great Hall and letting the music of their harps and voices fall upon the gathering below. Among the guests, all dressed in their finest, hurried servants, refilling goblets and wine glasses or carrying platters of food. Reinald had exceeded himself in the kitchens, overseeing the scrambling activities below stairs. Now he was content to watch the reception from the gallery, seated in a comfortably cushioned chair, a large decanter of his favourite spiced wine on a small table to one side. Never, he mused, in either Searlas’ or Borneheld’s tenures as Duke of Ichtar, had Sigholt come alive with so much merriment and beauty.
The Hall fell silent the instant Axis and Azhure stepped into view on the main staircase. They were a magnificent pair, both handsome, young and confident, the man golden and scarlet, drawing every glimmer of light in the Hall towards him, the woman tall and dark, movin
g so gracefully down the flight of stairs she seemed to glide rather than walk. Azhure held Caelum in her arms, and he gazed at the gathering below with the serene blue eyes his mother had bequeathed him. Though his hair was starting to grow out into an unruly tangle of black curls, Reinald’s rheumy eyes could see that the boy had inherited the Icarii bone structure from his father.
Axis moved to the great fireplace, letting the leaping firelight further enhance his already golden aura, letting all who wished to talk with him come to him. Rivkah stood by him, smiling and laughing. Azhure, however, baby tucked in one arm and a glass of wine in the other, moved among the guests. She was calm and relaxed now, none of the emotion and doubt she had felt earlier showing on her face. As they had walked down into the Great Hall, she’d realised that all the eyes raised to her and Axis contained respect, a great deal of admiration, a trace of envy, and even a little love. She had searched anxiously for traces of derision, but found none. These people accepted her. Axis had smiled at her from the corner of his eyes as his voice spoke in her head. You could command them as easily as I, Azhure, and as easily as you do me. Never underestimate either your power or your abilities.
She had felt both his love and that of her son wash through her at that moment, and then, stunningly, Caelum spoke in her mind as well, something he had never done before. Azhure. That is your name. I know that. Both father and son lent her strength, and Azhure suddenly realised that whatever troubles the future held she would somehow survive. So she smiled, laughed, and stepped down into the throng.
“Roland.” Azhure paused to talk with the sick Duke of Aldeni.
When he had arrived with the Ravensbundmen, Roland had been close to death. Already weakened by his wasting sickness, the hard ride north to Sigholt from Jervois Landing had debilitated him to the point where he’d spent some four days in bed, unable to move. When Roland had recovered a little, Axis had asked him why he had decided to desert Borneheld now, after fighting with him so long. Roland had replied simply that he was dying, and wanted to die with his heart and his conscience at peace. “I stayed with what I thought was right for a very long time,” Roland had said, “but when Borneheld ordered Gautier to crucify the three Ravensbundmen, I knew that I had been wrong. I want to die honourably, Axis. Let me stay. Please.” And Axis had let him stay.
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