Reinald had persuaded Roland to make the effort to stumble down to the Lake of Life. “The Lake has helped my arthritis,” Reinald told him, and the Lake had also helped Roland, shrinking the growth in his belly and invigorating him with new life.
But Axis had told Azhure that death still lingered in the corners of Roland’s vision, and while it might not catch the man this month, or even this year, he doubted that Roland would live longer than two more years.
Roland stared curiously at Azhure as they chatted. She looked Nors, but there was an indefinable quality about her that Roland could not place. No wonder Axis has set thoughts of Faraday aside, Roland thought, smiling at Azhure’s witty remarks about the Icarii musicians, when he has this to tempt him here. And she has given him a son. The baby was unusually alert, even perceptive, for such a young babe, watching all about him with his wide blue eyes. Roland wondered if it was his fairy blood that made him so sharp-witted. His eyes flitted down to the hound at Azhure’s side. Nevelon had told him of this woman and her skill with the bow and her pack of killer ghost hounds. Perhaps the baby had inherited as much fairy blood from his mother as from his father.
“Poor Nevelon,” Azhure said, abruptly changing the topic of her conversation. “I heard he was seized by a Gryphon.”
Startled, Roland could only nod. She must have fairy blood, he thought, to read my mind thus.
“We lost some of our own close friends to the Gryphon pack,” Azhure continued. “They are truly frightful creatures. I am sorry that I wounded Nevelon, Duke Roland. Magariz told me that he was a good man.”
“He was confused by the changes about him, my Lady Azhure. As so many of us have been.”
Azhure accepted the title without comment and sipped her wine. The light and the music and the conversation hummed about her and her son clung close to her side.
“It takes courage to accept what strange turns life provides,” she said eventually, realising this piece of advice applied as much to her as it did to Roland. Have courage, and accept. Yes, that was good advice. She would simply accept the direction in which life had thrown her. Mistress? Courtesan? Perhaps. Loved? Yes, and yes twice over.
“Do you know,” Roland said casually, “that about three years ago I advised Axis never to marry, or let himself love too much? I told him a dedicated fighting man could never devote enough time to both a sword and a woman. Of the two, I advised, the sword would give him the more loyal service.”
Azhure’s eyes widened and Roland smiled. “I was wrong, Azhure, and I am glad Axis has ignored my foolish advice. He could never have achieved this,” he waved his hand about the Great Hall of Sigholt, “without you by his side. What I am trying to say is that no matter how hard we try to manipulate life, oftentimes life manipulates us—and oftentimes for the better, even though we might not realise or acknowledge it at the time. Axis has been fortunate that you walked into his life, my Lady Azhure. About Sigholt, your name is almost as legendary as his.”
Tears sprang into Azhure’s eyes. Caelum wriggled in her arms, and reached out his hands for Roland. Laughing, the dying man lifted Caelum into his own. “If Axis succeeds, then one day this one will be a King,” he said and Caelum gurgled contentedly.
“Azhure, Roland.” Belial stepped up and greeted them both, EvenSong by his side. EvenSong had reverted to her natural wing colours of gold and violet for this evening’s reception and wore a silken ivory gown.
A servant came by with a decanter of Romsdale gold, and refilled glasses with the dry, fruity wine.
“Axis’ supply routes are better than I could have believed,” Roland remarked, bouncing Caelum expertly in one arm, “if he drinks Romsdale gold while Borneheld and his closest commanders sip rough red.”
“This wine was laid down in the cellars of Sigholt years ago, Roland,” Belial said. “Even this crowd would find it hard to drink their way through the stocks in under three years. Supply routes? Not as good as they were.” Belial suddenly looked decidedly worried. “Earl Burdel has been wreaking havoc in Skarabost. Our supplies have been cut in half over the past few weeks, and look like dropping further. Luckily, Sigholt is already well supplied by its gardens and the game in the green hills about the Lake of Life.”
“But not enough to keep the Keep and the growing town fed indefinitely?” Roland said.
“No. We will have to do something about Burdel soon. It is not only the supply routes that he decimates, but much of the population of Skarabost as well. Roland, did Borneheld order this?”
Roland nodded unhappily. “Yes. Yes, he did. He thought it would annoy Axis. Cause him some problems.”
“Well, it’s working,” Belial said. “Axis will have to move south soon anyway, but the sooner because of Burdel.”
South? Faraday lay south. Azhure abruptly reached forward and lifted Caelum back into her own arms. “I see Ogden and Veremund,” she said.
Then she was gone.
Belial raised his eyebrows at Roland and EvenSong. “What did I say?”
By the fireplace Axis was trying desperately to keep an interested expression on his face as a pair of traders from Tarantaise stood beaming enthusiastically in front of him. One of them had been talking nonstop for what seemed like an hour, trying to sell Axis a cartload of fine linen thread.
“Rivkah!” Axis murmured in a plea for help.
Rivkah stepped forward. “Gentlemen.” Her eyes moved over both men. “We are flattered by your offer. In other circumstances, I would have pleaded with my son to purchase your cartload of threads, but,” her face fell in a good imitation of woe, “we are at war, and my son refuses to buy such luxuries for his mother.”
Axis glared at her, but the traders took the hint. They bowed low at Rivkah, exceptionally handsome tonight in a gown as black and as revealing as Azhure’s, and murmured their farewells. But just as they started to move, one of them slipped a sealed letter into Axis’ hand. “For your eyes only,” he whispered, and then disappeared into the throng.
Axis’ heart thudded as he saw the seal. It was Priam’s personal seal, and could be from only one person. Judith.
Axis slipped a finger under the seal and flicked the parchment open.
Axis,
Our relationship has hardly been cordial thus far, and for that I blame myself and Priam. As you have no doubt heard, Priam is dead, and his death was hardly blameless. Before he died Priam was considering allying himself with you. He had heard of the Prophecy, and it made sense to him.
Axis’ eyebrows shot up. Priam had been considering allying Achar with himself? No wonder the man’s life had been cut short.
Axis, I consider you the rightful heir to the throne of Achar, and I will do everything in my power to support your claim. But I am a widowed woman, marginalised and ostracised, and far from the centre of power. Nevertheless, I will do what I can. I have one lady-in-waiting left for my comfort—Embeth, Lady of Tare. I rest quietly and comfortably at her house, and should you decide to visit, I do not doubt that we shall both welcome you warmly.
I hope that I can further your cause, and already I speak to two men whose names I dare not commit to paper. Your name and your fame spread. Many that you may have thought turned against you now think to join you.
Take heart.
J.
With a quick flick of his wrist Axis threw the letter into the fire and watched it blacken and burst into flames. Rivkah was looking at him anxiously, but Axis did not dare tell her what the letter contained, or who it was from. Judith had risked a lot sending the missive on a journey hundreds of leagues north into Ichtar. Axis’ eyes flickered through the crowd before him, but the trader had long gone, and was probably on a horse and well into the road down HoldHard Pass by now.
At the bridge, a dark man limped forward, holding a tattered cloak tight about him.
“Are you true?” the bridge asked, distracted by the revelry in the Great Hall.
“Yes, I am true,” the figure replied.
“The
n pass, and I will see if you speak the truth,” the bridge replied perfunctorily.
“As you wish,” the dark man replied, and stepped onto the bridge.
The Icarii Enchanters had moved from light background music into songs and revels that invited the feet to skip and dance and the body to sway in rhythm. Seven or eight couples danced the Hey-de-Gie, a merry dance between two opposing lines of males and females, and the rest of the crowd had stood back to make room for them, laughing and clapping as the dancers bent and swayed to the music floating down from above.
Rivkah turned at a touch on her shoulder.
“It has been a long time, Princess,” Magariz said, “but I wonder if you still remember?”
“My memory remains clear on the important issues, my Lord Magariz, and the Hey-de-Gie remains, after all, one of the more important issues of life.”
Magariz laughed and held out his hand. “Then, Princess, I wonder if you would do me the honour of accompanying my halting footsteps one more time through the dance.”
Rivkah took his hand. “It would be my pleasure, Lord Magariz.”
Axis took a healthy mouthful of wine, and watched his mother dance with Magariz. For a man with a pronounced limp, he managed to manoeuvre his way through the intricate dance with particular grace. Where was Azhure? He looked about the crowd, and finally spied her moving towards him, Caelum in her arms.
Axis kissed her cheek as she joined him, then lifted his eyes. “Ah, here are Belial and EvenSong.” Axis smiled companionably at Belial, then narrowed his eyes at his sister. EvenSong blushed, and both Axis and Azhure smiled knowingly.
“Axis,” Belial said. “I was talking to Roland about Burdel. It reminded me that we must move soon.”
Axis instantly sobered. Yes, it was time they moved. Gorgrael still waited, and the GateKeeper would be counting the days off on her thin-fingered hands, waiting for Axis to fulfil his side of their contract before the year and a day expired. How long had he spent here at Sigholt? Axis quickly calculated. Five months?
“Soon,” he agreed, and pushed the GateKeeper’s contract into the back of his mind. Gorgrael was the more pressing problem. “My friends, I fear greatly the prospect of Gorgrael pushing further south while I am mired down in Arcness or Tarantaise. He could reach Carlon before me.”
Axis stopped abruptly. Gorgrael reach Carlon before I? Reach Faraday before I? For the very first time Axis wondered about the identity of the Lover mentioned in the third verse of the Prophecy—Faraday or Azhure? Which one?
“Neither is the news from Jervois Landing good, Great Lord.” Ho’Demi had joined their circle, and the four stared at him.
“No. No, it is not,” Axis conceded.
Spies, both Icarii farflight scouts and ground spies, had reported in the past few days that Borneheld was building his forces at Jervois Landing. With the Skraeling attack deflected, Borneheld appeared to be concentrating his forces for an attack on Sigholt. Not only had further reinforcements from Coroleas arrived, but Borneheld had apparently conscripted every able-bodied man within fifty leagues of Jervois Landing.
“It would be best to move before Borneheld does, Axis,” Belial remarked quietly.
“And before Gorgrael has bred up an army of these newly armoured and fleshed Skraelings,” Axis said.
The dark man reached the Keep. He was cold, despite the balmy air surrounding the Lake of Life, and he missed his shadowed habitat. Would he ever see it again?
The guard at the entrance to the Keep eyed the approaching cloaked figure warily, not liking the closely drawn hood, nor the strange gait of the man. “Your business?” he demanded, as the figure stepped closer.
The man threw back the hood of his cloak, and the guard stiffened in surprise and more than a little shock.
“I have come to join Axis SunSoar and Azhure, the woman who carries the Wolven,” the man said. “I need to travel south with them.”
Though the man had managed to cross the bridge, the guard was still wary. But, just as he was about to bar the entrance and turn the man away, he heard a step behind him.
“I will vouch for this man,” Ogden said softly. “He is true, and he is a friend to both Axis and Azhure.”
“And I will vouch for this man,” Veremund echoed. “He is a good man, and vital to the cause of Axis SunSoar and the Prophecy.” So, it had begun.
Axis waited until the dance was over, then motioned Rivkah to his side. She was breathless, her cheeks red and her eyes sparkling.
“I have not danced the Hey-de-Gie for over thirty years, Axis. I could hardly remember the steps.” She laughed at Magariz as he joined her. “And neither has my Lord Magariz, if his fumbles were any indication.”
“A fighting man soon loses courtly skills, madam,” Magariz said. “I claim my stiff leg as adequate explanation for my lack of skill here tonight.”
Axis regarded them dryly. Their words regarding Magariz’s fumbles were artificial—he had clearly been the best dancer on the floor, and Rivkah seemed to have no trouble remembering any of the steps.
Axis refilled his glass, then signalled to the Icarii musicians. They stopped instantly, and conversation in the Hall ceased with the music. All knew that Axis had called them together tonight to speak to them. Most thought they knew what he wanted to announce.
Axis stepped forward. He made an imposing figure, golden and blood-red, and as he halted at the front of the dais he turned and held out his hand for Azhure. He wanted all to know that she stood at his side as his equal. Azhure hesitated a moment, then stepped forward to take his hand. He smiled at her before addressing the Hall.
“Tonight is a special occasion,” he said clearly. “We have come together to celebrate several events. It is my mother Rivkah’s nameday, and I would like to use this occasion to welcome the Princess Rivkah back home to Achar after so long in exile. Welcome home, Rivkah.”
Rivkah inclined her head gracefully at his words.
“Princess Rivkah,” the crowd murmured politely, raising their glasses.
“I would also like to thank you, my friends,” Axis said, “for your work on my and on Achar’s behalf, this past winter. If Achar owes its current liberty from Gorgrael’s creatures of frost and ice, then a large part of the reason why rests with the commanders in this room, particularly with the Icarii Strike Force. I thank you.”
He paused, and ran his eyes over the crowd. They were tense, waiting.
By the door, the dark man hesitated, suddenly shy within this company. He squinted to the front of the Hall and saw Axis and Azhure standing side by side on the platform. They looked like the sun and the moon standing there, Axis golden and vibrant, Azhure dark and pale and serene by the StarMan’s side. The dark man’s eyes filled with tears as he watched them. Then his black eyes widened in shock as he saw the baby which Azhure held.
“As you can see,” Axis continued, “this gathering is unusual for we have among us Acharites, but we also have Ravensbund men and women, the Sentinels of the Prophecy, and the Icarii. We stand in Sigholt, a Keep revitalised and reborn into the magic of the past. Perhaps it is no longer so correct to speak of this land as Achar, my people.”
The Hall was completely silent. Axis’ eyes caught those of StarDrifter, standing twelve or thirteen paces back from the dais. For once his eyes were on his son, rather than Azhure.
“We have done what we can here. It is time to move on.” Axis paused and ran his eyes around the Hall. “It is time to move south, my friends. It is time to reforge Tencendor.”
The Hall erupted. The Icarii, always excitable, whooped and screamed with joy. They were taking the next step on the long road home! South! South towards those high places so long denied them and towards the lost Icarii sacred sites! StarDrifter’s face was tight with excitement. Lead us home, Axis, he prayed silently, lead us home.
The dark man started to shoulder his way through the crowd towards the dais. In the general hubbub, few noticed the strange man who passed through their midst.
The Acharites among them, particularly the newer arrivals, looked a little discomfited. They were unsure of the Icarii, unsure of the new order. Most had worked well with the Icarii at Sigholt, fought side by side with them. But what would happen when the war was won? Would they lose their homes to the Icarii? Would the greater number of the Icarii, still in Talon Spike, seek to revenge themselves on the Acharites for the Wars of the Axe and their thousand-year exile?
“It will not be the old Tencendor but a new one,” Axis shouted above the Icarii jubilation. “A new Tencendor! One where all races will live side by side.”
Azhure caught a slight movement at the front of the crowd, and she gasped in shock. Axis followed her startled eyes.
The dark man stepped to the edge of the dais and stared intently, almost feverishly, at Axis and Azhure.
“Will you take me south? South to Faraday?”
“Raum!” Azhure gasped. “What has happened to you?”
A week later, the beginning of Thaw-month, Axis’ army moved out of Sigholt and down through the HoldHard Pass. They stayed in the Pass only a league before swinging south through the Urqhart Hills towards Gundealga Ford. It was a calculated risk, but Axis didn’t want to be delayed at the Smyrton ferry crossing as the army units were slowly ferried across. At least they could cross Gundealga Ford in a day, then swing east again to relative safety. And, unlike Borneheld, Axis had the advantage of the Icarii Strike Force who could both warn and protect should Axis’ force be threatened by another.
Enchanter Page 43
