Enchanter

by Sara Douglass

  “WolfStar,” she murmured. “I had always wondered what disguise you wore.”

  “MorningStar,” WolfStar said, moving towards her, a hard smile across the face he wore. Then his disguise faltered and faded, and MorningStar saw the real person beneath.

  WolfStar was incredibly beautiful underneath the hood of his black cloak. He had the violet eyes of so many of the Sun-Soars, but dark coppery hair. His entire face was alive with power, strange power that MorningStar assumed he had brought back from the universe beyond. How would Axis deal with this, she thought frantically as WolfStar stepped close to her and took her chin in his hand, how will Axis deal with this?

  “Axis will deal with me when he finds me, my sweet,” WolfStar said softly. “But I do not intend that he should find me yet. I still have much work to do in my current disguise.”

  “I will not tell,” MorningStar whispered.

  “Sweet MorningStar SunSoar. How could you not tell? Your knowledge will shine out of your eyes, and either Axis or StarDrifter will eventually force the knowledge from you. My sweet, you have seen me in my everyday disguise, and for that you must pay.”

  MorningStar whimpered.

  “Ah,” WolfStar said, “you are afraid.” He wrapped both his hands about her head and pulled her to him, kissing her gently, kissing her goodbye.

  MorningStar moaned, her hands and power hanging limp by her side.

  WolfStar lifted his head. “Goodbye, my lovely,” he whispered, then his hands abruptly tightened about her head, crushing it as easily as a child would an egg it held in its hands.

  As WolfStar carefully lowered MorningStar’s body to the ground, Caelum began to scream in terror.

  Only at that point did the five Alaunt who had been resting quietly in the tent, and who had shown no signs of distress as WolfStar murdered MorningStar, rise to their feet and encircle the cot protectively.

  “How strange,” StarDrifter said, raising his head from the text he was showing Axis. “I feel a loss, an emptiness, but of what I cannot tell.”

  Axis looked at him, but after a moment StarDrifter shook himself and continued to explain the text to Axis.

  WolfStar hurried through the ranks of tents, upset to have been discovered—and even a little upset that he had been forced to dispose of MorningStar. She was a SunSoar woman, and WolfStar had not liked to kill her.

  WolfStar was so upset that for a crucial minute he forgot to recloak himself in his usual disguise.

  Not even thinking to look where he was going, disturbed by Caelum’s screams so close behind him, WolfStar turned a corner and walked straight into Jack.

  Jack took a step back, stunned. “Master!” he whispered.

  WolfStar placed a calming hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, listen to me. There has been some unpleasantness. Do not mention that you have seen me.”

  Jack stared at WolfStar a moment, then lowered his head in submission. “As you wish, Master.”

  The next instant WolfStar had gone.

  “See here,” StarDrifter said a few minutes later, pointing to an illustration in the book he held, “this is a representation of the fourth order of the…”

  “Axis!”

  Both StarDrifter and Axis’ heads shot up. It was Azhure’s voice, and she was screaming in terror.

  “Axis! Axis!”

  Both Enchanters dropped the books they were holding and ran outside.

  Azhure ran through the tents towards them, Caelum screaming in her arms, five of the Alaunt hugging her heels.

  “Axis!” She was so terrified that her breath came in heaving sobs, unable to speak. All Axis could get from Caelum was a wail of terror.

  “Azhure?” he demanded, seizing her shoulders. “What is it? What is it?”

  “MorningStar,” StarDrifter whispered, his eyes on Axis’ tent some three or four away from where they were standing.

  Azhure did not answer, but simply burst into tears.

  Axis shared one frantic look with his father, then they were both racing as fast as they could for the tent.

  Both Axis and StarDrifter stopped, horrified beyond words or emotion, a pace inside the tent. MorningStar’s body lay just beyond the centre of the tent. Her arms were neatly arranged by her side, as if someone had taken care to lay her out neatly, but her head had disappeared in a disgusting mess of blood, bone fragments and brain tissue. It had been completely crushed. Even Axis, used to the wounds of the battlefield, felt physically sickened by the scene.

  Azhure stumbled into the tent behind them, shielding Caelum’s head from the sight of MorningStar’s body. Slowly words started to fall out of her between sobs. “I was on my way back to our tent…then I heard Caelum start to scream…I hurried…ran…and found…I didn’t know what to do…what could I do?…I grabbed Caelum and ran…”

  Axis leaned back and put his arm about her just as Belial, Magariz, Rivkah, Ysgryff and Embeth all rushed into the tent. All stopped abruptly, their faces appalled at the sight of MorningStar’s death.

  His face hard and emotionless, Axis lifted Caelum from Azhure’s arms. He cuddled the baby, soothing him both with Song and with power, reassuring him. Gradually the baby’s screams began to lessen.

  Caelum was the only witness.

  My son. Shush. You are safe. Safe, safe, safe. Who did this to MorningStar?

  For a moment he received nothing from his son.

  A dark man.

  Do you know his name?

  Axis could feel his son’s hesitation. MorningStar called him WolfStar.

  Caelum. Did you see his face?

  No. His cloak was drawn tight about his face.

  “WolfStar?” StarDrifter said. “WolfStar did this?”

  He touched me with his mind, Caelum thought reflectively. Such a gentle touch. He said that he loved me.

  When StarDrifter finally returned, grief-stricken, to the tent he had shared with his mother, he found that The History of the Lakes had vanished. No matter how hard he or any others looked over the next weeks, they never found it again.

  Much, much later, when the moon had risen and MorningStar’s body had been removed and the tent cleared, Axis and StarDrifter sat together on the sandy shores of Grail Lake. Axis had given Caelum and Azhure a calming enchantment, and now both slept deeply in Rivkah’s tent—the one she now openly shared with Magariz. Axis ordered his own tent burned; he could never use it again now.

  For a long time both father and son sat in silence, watching the drift of the moon over the dark waters of the Lake.

  Axis heard his father take a deep breath, and he reached over and took StarDrifter’s hand. “I know how close to MorningStar you were,” he said softly, hoping to get StarDrifter to talk. StarDrifter and MorningStar had often argued, their temperaments and personalities were so similar, but there was a deep bond between them that both encompassed and went beyond love.

  “I cannot believe she could have died like that,” StarDrifter whispered, his eyes on the small waves lapping at their feet. “She was always the one most concerned about WolfStar, always the one fretting about who he was, in what body he hid…perhaps she had a premonition that she would die by his hand.”

  “WolfStar.” Axis did not want to think about him—or about MorningStar’s thoughts on who WolfStar might be. Not Azhure.

  “Not Azhure,” StarDrifter said. “It could not be her.”

  “No,” Axis replied. “She had no opportunity to teach me as a child, did she? She was born and raised in Smyrton while I grew in Carlon.”

  Both Enchanters clung to that, both so deeply in love with the woman they would cling to any excuse not to consider her as WolfStar.

  “Rivkah, Magariz, Belial, Ysgryff, Embeth,” Axis said slowly, thinking aloud. “All were in the tent within moments of us. All must have been close.”

  “No,” StarDrifter said. “Not Rivkah. She never had the opportunity to teach you as a child.”

  “Perhaps she did, StarDrifter. All those months and years she s
pent away from Talon Spike. How do you know that they were spent with the Avar?”

  “Axis, you can’t be serious,” StarDrifter said. “Not Rivkah.”

  Axis sighed. “Not Azhure, not Rivkah.”

  “The others?” StarDrifter asked.

  “The others. All older than me. All had access to me as a child. I lived with Embeth and Ganelon as a child from the age of eleven, and she would have seen me at an earlier age at court. Magariz has admitted himself that he knew me as a baby in Carlon when he was a member of the palace guard, and later its captain. He also possibly has had access to Gorgrael via Gorkenfort. Belial? Eight years older than I, and who knows if he ever saw me at an age earlier than fifteen or sixteen when I joined the Axe-Wielders and he was commander of my unit?”

  “Ysgryff ?” StarDrifter said quietly.

  “Ysgryff,” Axis mused. “Perhaps the perfect disguise. Over the past few weeks we have learned, to our mutual surprise, that the baronial family of Nor has kept the Temple of the Stars protected for the past thousand years. Ysgryff himself constantly refers to small parts of Icarii culture that should be unknown to any save the Icarii, and he knew that Raum was transforming.”

  “He did?” StarDrifter asked.

  “I came across Ysgryff one night just before we reached the Silent Woman Woods, offering the Bane comfort. He knew what he was going through.”

  “What better place to hide yourself for thousands of years,” StarDrifter said slowly, his eyes back on the water again, “but among the baronial family of Nor. Access to most of the holy sites, and especially the Island of Mist and Memory. You must admit, Axis, that Ysgryff is far more than he seems.”

  Axis gave a short laugh. “Listen to us, StarDrifter. All we know is that WolfStar is not me and he is not you. We both provide each other’s alibi. Otherwise we have a smorgasbord of suspects. Most have had the opportunity, and who knows what motive WolfStar has for returning? And what was he doing with Caelum? Why my son?”

  StarDrifter expelled a short breath in frustration. “Axis, you have never told me the third verse of the Prophecy.”

  “It was meant for my ears only. Anyone else who hears it simply forgets it within a moment or two.”

  “Tell me,” StarDrifter urged. “Perhaps I will remember it. Perhaps there is some understanding I can cast upon it.”

  Axis raised his eyebrows, but he recited the third verse for his father.

  StarMan, listen, for I know

  That you can wield the sceptre

  To bring Gorgrael to his knees

  And break the ice asunder.

  But even with the power in hand

  Your pathway is not sure:

  A Traitor from within your camp

  Will seek and plot to harm you;

  Let not your Lover’s pain distract

  For this will mean your death;

  Destroyer’s might lies in his hate

  Yet you must never follow;

  Forgiveness is the thing assured

  To save Tencendor’s soul.

  StarDrifter frowned. Already the words were warping themselves in his mind. “I cannot…” he muttered, perplexed.

  “The third verse tells me what I must do to defeat Gorgrael,” Axis explained patiently. “But that is no of import to anyone save myself. But the verse also warns me that there is someone who pretends love for my cause, but who will eventually betray me to Gorgrael.”

  “WolfStar.”

  “It must be. But who is it? Which disguise does WolfStar wear? StarDrifter.” Axis’ voice almost broke with his frustration. “It could have been anyone within the camp, or even anyone from Carlon who had crept out during the night. How many suspects do we have within the immediate vicinity? Seventy thousand? Eighty? More?”

  But what was he doing with Caelum? What? Did MorningStar die so that my son could live? Or was WolfStar simply visiting?

  StarDrifter put his arm about Axis’ shoulders. “We must trust only each other,” he whispered. “Who else can we trust?”

  “That is a terrible way to live, StarDrifter.”

  “MorningStar died a terrible death, Axis. Never forget it.”

  56

  ONE NORS WOMAN WINS, ANOTHER LOSES

  Faraday stood with her husband on the parapets of the palace in Carlon and stared across Grail Lake, Timozel lurking dark and brooding in the shadows behind them. Since Borneheld’s loss at Bedwyr Fort Timozel had hardly spoken. His respect for Borneheld had been severely tested by the battle loss, and sometimes Faraday heard him muttering of strange visions and promises under his breath. His skin had begun to take on an unhealthy sheen, almost as if he had a slow-burning fever inside him. Bags of skin hung heavy under his eyes. Poor Timozel, Faraday thought briefly, you are not looking forward to seeing Axis again, are you?

  Faraday did not know that Timozel hardly dared sleep now, lest Gorgrael appear to him, laughing and beckoning with his hand. Timozel no longer screamed, but he always woke wide-eyed with fear and horror, clutching at the sheets.

  Faraday closed her eyes and leaned her face to the autumn sun, feeling its warmth. It would be soon, now, and both she and Borneheld knew it. They stood only two paces apart, but the gulf between them was immeasurable. If Axis died during the brothers’ duel in the Chamber of the Moons, then Faraday would not wish to live. Darkness would close from the north as the Prophecy shattered, and Faraday had no intention of living in a world of ice and darkness that did not hold Axis.

  She took a deep breath, savouring the faint scent of the final autumn flowers, and opened her eyes. The distant shore of Grail Lake was only just visible, but Faraday could see the rising height of the white tower that Yr had told her was rightfully called Spiredore. (What had the Icarii done inside Spiredore to make it glow as it had last night?) Axis’ victorious army had been encamped about the Lake for almost a week now, recovering its strength after the dreadful battle about Bedwyr Fort, and it had not escaped Faraday’s attention, as it had not escaped the attention of most of the people in Carlon, that those of Borneheld’s army he had left to die as he fled the field had happily joined the ranks of the force they had fought against. Axis had taken no prisoners, only welcomed comrades.

  Faraday leaned a little closer to the stone parapets, wishing she had a glass so that she might see the more clearly. Last night she had stood here and watched the great fire that had been lit on the eastern shore of the Lake. It had been a funeral pyre, Yr told her later, a funeral pyre for a great and loved Icarii, for only the best were farewelled in so lavish a manner.

  But while the pyre blazed, Faraday had only seen the flames leaping high into the sky and the shadowy figures of thousands gathered about it—not only Icarii, but Acharite and Ravensbund men and women too. Had Axis been there? What about his father StarDrifter and mother Rivkah? Borneheld had told Faraday that a woman claiming to be Rivkah had talked to him before the Battle of Bedwyr Fort, and, despite Borneheld’s disclaimers, Faraday had no doubts that it was indeed Rivkah, and she smiled for Axis’ happiness.

  As the flames had leapt for the stars torch-bearing Icarii had taken flight, spiralling higher and higher above the flames to slowly disappear into the night-sky, the flaming torches they carried fading to star-like pin-pricks of light in the blackness above. They had been escorting the released soul on its journey to the stars. It had been a sight so beautiful, so moving, that Faraday had wept and wondered who was being farewelled with such honour and ceremony.

  Later, as the funeral pyre died down, the attention of the thousands across the Lake (as indeed, all the thousands within Carlon who watched) turned to Spiredore. Curious music, Song, had drifted across the Lake towards Carlon, and Faraday had glimpsed a silver and white figure atop the roof of the tower. StarDrifter she thought, sometimes on his feet, sometimes slowly spiralling into the air. After some time Spiredore itself had begun to glow as if a beacon, a gentle white light pulsing out from its walls, growing in strength until the entire structure seemed to t
hrob. Faraday had been entranced by the sight of the pulsating white tower, and she had stood watching for hours. She and Yr had lain awake until dawn stained the sky, talking of the evening’s events.

  Now, only just risen from her bed, Faraday felt refreshed, alive. Even Borneheld’s presence couldn’t dampen her spirits. She could almost feel Axis’ presence. Soon, she thought. Soon.

  Footsteps sounded from behind her, and Faraday turned slightly.

  Gautier approached, dressed in light armour, his sword rattling, and stepped to Borneheld’s side, and both men stared silently at the far side of the Lake. Both had recovered some of their spirit, some of their bravado, in the past few days.

  “When?” Gautier asked softly.

  Borneheld paused, then answered just as softly. “Soon.”

  “What will you do, Sire?”

  “Nothing,” Borneheld answered, his eyes fixed on a tiny scarlet and gold figure across the Lake. “Axis will come to me. He must. We both want to end it. Just he and I. That is all it was ever meant to be.”

  Borneheld turned from the parapets. His face was shadowed with red beard; he had not shaved or washed in days.

  “Our rivalry started the instant he was conceived,” Borneheld said to Faraday. “And we have fought ever since he arrived as a baby in Carlon, one way or another. Do not deceive yourself, Faraday, that he will come across the waters of Grail Lake for love of you alone. Will he love you once I am gone?” He paused and eyed her coldly. “No. I doubt it. There will be no reason to, you see, once I am gone.”

  And with that he turned and walked away, Gautier at his side. The slap of their boots on the stone flagging sounded like dark bells tolling a death knell.

  Faraday watched her husband go, a cold fear in her heart. Borneheld had simply assumed that he would lose, as if he had always known that he was fated to die at Axis’ hands. Knowing that, it gave what he said about Axis’ love for her, or lack of it, the fatal ring of prophecy.