Enchanter

by Sara Douglass

  They reached corridors which were wide and spacious, decorated with bright lamps, silken banners and intermittent tapestries showing scenes from Achar’s glorious past. Not a few depicted triumphant battles from the Wars of the Axe, which caused StarDrifter to grimace.

  Axis finally came to the part of the palace he knew so well. How many times had he trod this very corridor, striding to an audience with Priam in the Chamber of the Moons? And how many times had he walked, not at the head of a party as he did now, but three paces behind the figure of the Brother-Leader Jayme? Walking as Jayme’s right arm, his sword arm, the support of the Seneschal? Well, now he walked towards the Prophecy, and when he crossed swords with Borneheld he would be fighting the power of the Seneschal as much as the power of his brother.

  “Wait,” he called suddenly, holding out his free hand as they turned a corner. The others stopped behind him, looking down the straight and wide corridor. At the end, perhaps some fifty paces away, double doors stood wide. Beyond was a darkened chamber, lit only by the leaping light of torches.

  “The Chamber of the Moons,” Jack said, moving forward to step next to Axis. “Yr is there. I can feel her.”

  “And Faraday,” Axis said, relieved. He could feel the slight tug of her power as well. “And Faraday.”

  He turned to look at those behind him, smiling as if realising for the first time what a strange group he had brought with him. Sentinels, Ravensbundmen, nobles, a Princess, a friend, a father and a sister.

  “Let us go and strike the final blow for Tencendor,” he said quietly. “Let us go and finish this.”

  When Axis strode into the Chamber of the Moons, the eagle hopping in agitation on his arm, the torchlight caught at his golden tunic and hair, making all who looked at him blink—some in wonder, some in fear, and at least one in love.

  He is so different, so changed, so much more powerful than when I first saw him enter this Chamber, Faraday thought, rising to her feet as Axis stared across the Chamber of the Moons at her. He strides through the doors like a golden god and yet still he has my heart as helpless as that first night I saw him so long ago. Her eyes travelled over the golden tunic with its blood-red blazing sun and matching red breeches. And blinked.

  A bloodied sun hanging over a golden field.

  For an instant her hand hovered about her throat as the vision threatened to overwhelm her again. She managed to regain control, and dropped her hand, her eyes calm.

  Axis stood a moment, glancing about the Chamber, his eyes finally coming to rest on Faraday standing tall and beautiful before the dais, Borneheld sitting motionless behind her. With a movement so abrupt it brought gasps from all who witnessed, Axis threw the eagle into the air. Eyes followed the silver and white bird as it soared into the dome of the Chamber, coming to rest on a ledge far above.

  Faraday’s eyes fluttered to the eagle. Feathers?

  Feathers! She felt as if she were choking on feathers!

  She took a deep breath, and dropped her eyes.

  All eyes were now on the golden man standing in the centre of the Chamber before them.

  “The traitors,” Borneheld said calmly, evenly, by way of introduction. He had not risen from the throne. “Here they are, Jayme, all together in one room. All walking with their treachery open for all to see. Open for all to note.”

  Jayme stood some eight or nine paces behind the throne, virtually lost in the shadows. He looked gaunt and grey, and a palsy rippling rhythmically across his cheek gave him a slight air of insanity.

  His eyes caught with Axis’, and if Jayme had thought that Axis might still retain some measure of compassion, perhaps even love, for him, then Jayme quickly realised that all Axis now felt for him was loathing and contempt.

  Jayme was so lost in Axis’ eyes that he did not see Rivkah move quietly into the Chamber behind her son. For the first time in thirty-four years the Princess Rivkah had returned to the home of her youth. She took a deep breath, looked between her sons, then gazed about the Chamber. Prophecy. Her life and those of her sons had been manipulated by the Prophecy. Every time she thought she was free of its grips, she realised it continued to manipulate and use her as it willed.

  Those entering with Axis moved quietly to join the watchers about the pillars of the Chamber, and even Faraday moved away from the dais so that the brothers could face each other. She gave Axis a smile, but his eyes only flickered quickly over her. His entire attention was reserved for his brother.

  The Chamber rang with shouted accusations of murder and treachery.

  “The traitor sits the throne,” Axis’ voice cried out. “Borneheld, I accuse you of FreeFall SunSoar’s murder. I accuse you of our uncle’s murder. I accuse you of ordering the murder of thousands of innocent men, women and children in Skarabost. You have murdered your last, Borneheld, and now it is time to let the gods pass judgement on your crimes.”

  Borneheld rose to his feet. “A fight, brother? Is that what you want?” he cried. “And yet you come to me surrounded with your tricks and your enchantments. I am an Artor-fearing man, Axis. A plain soldier. How can I compete with your enchantments? Your sorcery?”

  “I stand before you as your brother, Borneheld. Tonight I will not be an Icarii Enchanter. I will come to you only with my sword. We will stand evenly matched for gods and for prophecies to choose which has the right to live, and which the right to die.” With an abrupt motion Axis twisted the Enchanter’s ring from his right hand and tossed it across the Chamber to StarDrifter.

  When Faraday saw the ring glint through the air she cried out, her composure finally breaking. “No!” The thought that Axis would face Borneheld only with his sword appalled her—and again Faraday saw the blood dripping from Axis’ hair and felt the soft trickle of blood down her breasts. She moved as if to run to Axis, but a strong arm caught her about the waist. Jorge.

  “Let him be,” he said. “Borneheld and Axis must end this. Here. Finally.”

  “No,” Faraday wailed again, twisting against Jorge’s arm. The vision of the trees overwhelmed her, and now she was afraid, dreadfully afraid, that what they had shown her (were showing her) had been (was) the truth. Axis would die here tonight, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  “No,” she whispered, as Axis glanced her way. “Axis, no.”

  She saw Borneheld, stepping down from the throne.

  Borneheld took a step away from his throne, his sword raised before him.

  Slowly Axis unbuttoned the golden tunic and threw it to Belial. It was a beautiful tunic, and he did not want it rent, or stained with blood. He rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt above his elbow, then, in a quick movement so fluid most could hardly follow it, drew his sword from the scabbard at his side.

  “Borneheld,” he said, and his brother leaped from the dais towards him and into fate and vision.

  Time passed, and its passage was marked only by the ringing of steel through the Chamber of the Moons.

  Dreadfully, inexorably, caught by fate, Axis and Borneheld fought as the vision of the Silent Woman Woods had foretold and Faraday’s face crumpled in despair. Although she strained against Jorge’s arms to be free, reaching into the centre of the Chamber, he was too strong for her. She wept, terrified by what she saw unfolding before her. In the centre of the Chamber the two men circled, each bloodied with small stinging wounds, swords drawn, faces twisted into snarling masks of rage fed by long-held hatreds. How long had they been fighting? How many blows had they traded? How many times had one slipped, the other lunging for the kill, only for the other to roll aside just in time to escape the sword thrust?

  Faraday did not realise that she whispered Axis’ name over and over as she continued to struggle feebly against Jorge’s arm. Her slim fingers twisted the Ichtar ruby around the knuckle of her heart finger until the skin broke and bled.

  Apart from Faraday’s movements and whispers, there was no other movement or sound in the Chamber of the Moons save those of the men fighting.
Magariz stood behind Rivkah, his hands on her shoulders, lending her support as she witnessed the death struggle between her two sons. No matter how much Rivkah had disowned Borneheld, no matter how much she claimed to despise him, Magariz knew that she would not be able to watch his death without pain.

  Rivkah’s attention was caught by the scene in front of her. Both her sons had grown to be skilful warriors. Borneheld fought with muscles and tactics honed by battle, Axis with the grace and fluidity bequeathed him by his Icarii father. Borneheld’s size and the gold circlet about his brow lent him authority, Axis’ white and scarlet-clad form imbued him with an almost ethereal beauty.

  StarDrifter realised that the sound of the swords clashing and scraping along each other, the sounds of the men’s heavy breathing and of their boots scuffing across the green marble floor, made a music unlike any he had ever heard before. It was a strange music, dark and foreboding, and StarDrifter’s eyes widened as he realised he was listening to an echo of the Dance of Death, of the Dark Music of the Stars. Had this duel been choreographed by WolfStar? Was he here, watching? StarDrifter’s eyes ran anxiously about the Chamber, but could see nothing beyond the dim figures of those who encircled the Chamber. Did WolfStar watch with the eyes of that courtier? Or perhaps the stableboy beyond? StarDrifter returned his eyes to Borneheld and Axis. That they fought to the sounds of the Dark Music worried him more than anything else—why was the Prophecy using Dark Music to work its will? Was there no place for the Star Dance tonight?

  Time passed, and its passage was marked only by the ringing of steel and the scuff of the combatants’ boots on the marble floor. Unknowingly, StarDrifter had begun to sway from side to side rhythmically, to sway from side to side with the beat of the Dance of Death.

  Both Axis and Borneheld weaved with weariness now, and both began to slip every third or fourth step. Their breath was laboured, their faces and torsos wet with perspiration, while their arms looked as though they had invisible lead weights attached to them. Both men had sustained wounds, but Axis was bleeding a little more heavily than Borneheld. Borneheld was dressed in a thick leather jerkin and trousers, and the leather protected his skin more than Axis’ thin linen shirt protected his.

  At no point did either man drop his eyes from those of his opponent. They had waited all their lives for this, and every stroke, every thrust, was powered by long years of resentment and hate.

  Everything that Faraday saw was shadowed by the vision the trees had shown her. It was as if there were four men out there; every time Axis raised his sword a ghost-like figure beside him raised his, every time Borneheld lunged so a ghost-like figure lunged with him.

  Time passed, and the music danced on.

  Axis staggered with weariness. How long had he been fighting? Borneheld allowed him no quarter, no time in which to catch his breath, no time in which to position himself to drive home a series of blows and thrusts that might serve to push Borneheld to his knees. His brother seemed to have the strength of a bull, fighting without pause, his eyes gleaming with madness.

  In the end it was the eagle who proved Borneheld’s undoing. Throughout the fight the bird had clung to its high ledge, bored yet distracted by the fighting going on so far below it. Finally it began to preen itself, twisting its head to and fro among its feathers as it sought to clean itself of some imagined stain.

  It tore a small downy feather from among its chest feathers and spat it out, irritated, then turned back to comb the flight feathers of its left wing.

  The white feather slowly floated, this way and that, now rising, now falling, now wafting this way, now that. But always it drifted lower and lower until it began to jerk and sway as it was caught by the laboured breathing of the combatants just beneath it.

  It almost lodged in Axis’ hair, and Axis flicked his head, irritated by the feathery touch along his forehead, distracted enough that he only just managed to parry a blow close to his chest.

  The feather, dislodged from Axis’ hair, spiralled upwards a handspan or two, then, caught in a down draught, sank towards the floor. Borneheld had not noticed it, and Axis had forgotten it, as the brothers began a particularly bitter exchange, fighting so close now that they traded blows virtually on the hilts of their swords, taking the strain on their wrists, both their faces reddened and damp from effort and weariness and determination and hate.

  The feather settled on the marble floor.

  Axis suddenly lunged forward. Momentarily surprised, and caught slightly offguard, Borneheld took a single step backwards and…lost his balance as his boot heel slipped on the feather.

  It was all Axis needed. As Borneheld swayed, a look of almost comical surprise on his face, Axis hooked his own foot about the inside of Borneheld’s knee and pulled his leg out from under him.

  Borneheld crashed to the floor, the sword slipping from his grasp, and Axis kicked it across the Chamber. Fear twisting his face, Borneheld scrabbled backwards, seeking space in which to rise. He risked a glance behind him—not two paces away Faraday stood held in Jorge’s tight grasp, a look of utter horror on her face. Borneheld stared briefly at his wife, knowing it was all over, knowing he had lost, then he turned his face back towards Axis, wanting to see the blow that would kill him.

  All Faraday could see was what the vision let her. Real figures were obscured by the ghostly, and Faraday was certain, certain, that it was Axis who had tripped, exhausted, and now lay waiting for death at her feet.

  Axis placed his booted foot squarely in the centre of Borneheld’s chest, raising his sword, but instead of bringing the blade down to sever the arteries of Borneheld’s neck he twisted the sword in his hand and struck Borneheld a stunning blow to his skull with its haft, leaving the man writhing weakly, semiconscious. Then Axis threw the sword away.

  Every eye in the Chamber watched, bewildered, as Axis’ sword spun across the floor of the Chamber. What was he doing? Why did he not finish Borneheld with a quick, clean blow?

  Axis sank to his knees, straddling Borneheld, and drew a knife from his boot. Then he tore open Borneheld’s leather jerkin, pushing the flaps to one side, and slid the knife deep and long into the man’s chest.

  He used both hands wrapped about the haft of the knife to get enough leverage to split Borneheld’s sternum in two and crack open his rib cage, grunting with the effort.

  The sound of bone splitting open was horrifying. Rivkah, directly across the Chamber, doubled over and gagged at the sound, and Magariz seized her in his arms and held her tight against his chest.

  Borneheld’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands clenched by his sides. His entire body spasmed as Axis threw the knife to one side and took hold of Borneheld’s exposed rib cage with both hands and tore it apart.

  Under the pressure of Axis’ fingers, Borneheld’s aorta split asunder. A massive gout of his blood arced out of his chest and splattered across Faraday’s neck and chest, running down between her breasts in warm rivulets. Driven to madness by the feel of the warm blood trickling down her body, Faraday screamed and screamed, twisting in Jorge’s arms.

  But no matter how much she writhed, Faraday could not escape Borneheld’s dying stare. Or was it Axis’ eyes she saw? Faraday still could not distinguish the real figures from the ghostly. Who was dying at her feet? Whose eyes stared into hers in mute appeal? Was it Axis? Oh Mother, pray that it was not Axis who lay on the floor dying!

  His arms bloodied to the elbow, his entire shirt-front warm with his brother’s heart blood, Axis reached into Borneheld’s open chest cavity and seized his brother’s frantically beating heart with his bare hands. Then he tore it out, spraying blood over all those within the immediate vicinity.

  “FreeFall!” he screamed, leaning back from Borneheld’s body and staring into the dome of the Chamber. “FreeFall!”

  The eagle launched itself from its ledge, its shriek mingling with Axis’ scream, and plummeted for the floor of the Chamber.

  As the eagle dived, Axis threw Borneheld’s stil
l uselessly beating heart as high as he could, black blood spattering in great drops in his golden hair and across the floor of the Chamber. As the heart reached the peak of its arc, the eagle seized it in its talons and crashed to the floor in a tangle of wings, talons and beak, feeding frenziedly on the sweet meat offered it.

  Everyone was so horrified by the sight of the eagle tearing Borneheld’s heart apart in the centre of the Chamber floor that they were literally incapable of movement. Even Rivkah, held close against Magariz’s chest, was mesmerised by the sight of the snow eagle feeding on her eldest son’s heart.

  Axis leapt to his feet, slipping slightly in the pool of blood about Borneheld’s body.

  Faraday stared at him, appalled. He was covered in blood—it dripped from his body, it hung in congealing strings through his hair and beard. He reached out a hand…

  …and seized Faraday. Jorge let her go, sickened by the sight of the gore that dripped from both Faraday and Axis. Faraday twisted feebly as Axis seized her left wrist, frightened by the look in his eyes, gasping in pain as his warm and slippery fingers closed so tightly about the delicate bones of her wrist that they began to grind against each other.

  Borneheld’s blood trickled yet further between her breasts, and she gagged. Everywhere, the blood. She could feel it, smell it, taste it.

  Axis wrenched the Ichtar ruby from her heart finger and half turned back to Borneheld’s body. He still kept Faraday caught in his vice-like grip.

  “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain, GateKeeper!” he screamed, “Now fulfil yours!”

  He tossed the Ichtar ruby into Borneheld’s chest cavity where it glinted momentarily before sinking beneath the pool of coagulating blood where Borneheld’s heart had once been.