58
TRANSFORMATIONS
For two thousand years she had been trapped in the hated ruby, trapped on the fingers of countless Duchesses of Ichtar. For two thousand years she had been trapped, listening to countless conversations, watching countless lives drift past through a ruby haze, weeping with the countless women forced to wear the ring and endure the cursed Dukes of Ichtar.
It had been the damming of the spring two thousand years ago which had bound Zeherah into this ruby, although what other dark enchantments had been used to trap her, she did not know. Which Duke had it been, so frustrated by the bridge’s refusal to let him pass that he had decided to dam the spring and drain the Lake of Life? Zeherah could not remember and, in the end, it did not matter very much. All that mattered was that as the waters had dried up so Zeherah felt herself start to fade. As the sun dried the last muddied puddle in the moat, and the bridge sighed and disappeared, the watching Duke on the far bank had pointed into the moat and cried out at the magnificent ruby lying there in the mud. So Zeherah, the fifth Sentinel, had been condemned to eons trapped in this hated gem.
These last thirty-odd years had been the most frustrating of all. She had been on the finger of the previous Duchess of Ichtar when the Icarii Enchanter had spiralled out of the sky and got the StarMan on her. She had been on the finger of the previous Duchess of Ichtar when she had carried the prophesied babe and when she had gone into labour with him. But Searlas, most damned of men, had wrenched her from Rivkah’s finger when she was in the throes of labour, and she had not known whether the babe had been born alive or dead.
For many years she had lain in a cold stone vault somewhere deep in the husk that had once been the extraordinary Sigholt. Wondering, weeping with frustration that the Prophecy walked and she knew nothing of it, she could not move from her ruby-red prison. Where were Ogden and Veremund and Yr? Were they walking now, too? Where was Jack? Jack! Zeherah could not feel any of her companions, but it was the feather-light touch of Jack’s mind that she missed the most. Would she ever see him again?
Then one day Borneheld’s hand had reached into the vault and grasped her. He had carried her to Carlon and placed her on the finger of the next Duchess. Zeherah had travelled with Faraday through all her adventures, painful and delightful, over the past two years, and with Faraday had watched the Prophecy unfold about her. She had seen the other four Sentinels through Faraday’s eyes, but had not been able to communicate with them. She had watched as Faraday fell deeper and deeper in love with the StarMan—Axis, what an unusual name! She had endured Faraday’s marriage to Borneheld and watched the fall of Gorkentown. She had aided Faraday in her determination not to fall pregnant to Borneheld—Mother knew she could not wait to see the end of the line of the Dukes who had cursed her. She had travelled with Faraday through the Sacred Grove and the Enchanted Wood.
And tonight Zeherah had watched the death of Borneheld both through Faraday’s eyes and through the imprisoning walls of the ruby. And when the StarMan had seized the ruby Zeherah had screamed with delight. When Borneheld’s warm blood had closed over the ruby, Zeherah could feel the knots of the curse finally unravel. The death of the last cursed Duke of Ichtar would give her back her life.
He tumbled, puzzled, out of the sun. Where had he been? What had gone wrong? Why was he so confused? There was a tremendous heat about him, and he fell further and further, trying to escape the fire of the sun, but never succeeding. It surrounded him, burned him, seared him, blinded him, and his mind unravelled with the pain and terror. Forgetting to even try to control his headlong fall through the sky he raised his hands to his face, trying to protect his eyes, and screamed.
The heat burst through the Chamber of the Moons in a massive blast that caused all present to throw hands and arms over their faces and turn away. All heard the eagle scream, a sound of pure terror, and those closest to Borneheld’s corpse saw a searing red light burn through his body. Axis pulled Faraday to him, protecting her from the worst of the heat and light. When Faraday’s vision cleared, she realised it was Axis who held her and Borneheld’s bloody corpse that lay at her feet, a golden and white form slowly rising behind it.
“Axis!” she cried and buried her head against his chest.
When the light and the heat faded, people turned back to the heart of the Chamber. Where the eagle had been now crouched a naked Icarii male, white and silver wings, golden hair and violet eyes that stared wonderingly about him.
“FreeFall!” EvenSong cried. She pushed past her stunned father and rushed towards him.
“EvenSong,” FreeFall said. “Where are we? What is going on? Who are all these people?”
EvenSong took his hand and raised her violet eyes to Axis, standing with Faraday clutched in his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered, “thank you,” then she turned back to FreeFall and wrapped arms and wings about him, cradling him gently, crooning with her voice, telling him how much she loved him.
Axis’ attention was commanded by the woman who now stood before him. As naked as FreeFall, but with infinitely more presence and power. This must be Zeherah, the lost Sentinel. She was tall and slim, not beautiful but handsome, with her mother’s black eyes and deep red hair, as red as the Ichtar ruby, that tumbled down her back.
“Thank you,” she said as simply as EvenSong. “Thank you.”
And then Jack was by her side.
Axis finally took a deep breath and kissed Faraday briefly.
“It seems I need a wife,” he smiled, “and it has just occurred to me that you are now widowed. Will you marry me, Faraday?”
“Yes!” she said fiercely, hugging him tightly, unmindful of the fact that they were both covered in blood. “Yes!”
Jorge stared at them, still appalled by the way Borneheld had died.
“You did not murder to protect your world,” Axis said softly, and Jorge started, realising that Axis had raised his eyes to stare at him over the top of Faraday’s head. “Remember FreeFall’s murder, Jorge. Remember Priam sickening and dying after he publicly announced that he would seek an alliance with me. Think of the thousands of people crucified and murdered in Skarabost because their hearts led them to follow the new way when Borneheld could not relinquish the old.”
Jorge lowered his eyes and bowed his head.
“Think of the new life that Borneheld’s death has wrought,” Axis continued, determined to see that Jorge understood why Borneheld’s death had been necessary. “FreeFall, brought back from the halls of the UnderWorld. Brought back into the life he should never have been thrust from so violently. And Zeherah, trapped in her ruby for thousands of years by the line of the Dukes of Ichtar. Freed finally to take her place with the other Sentinels.”
“I accept, Axis.” Jorge’s eyes flickered over what was left of Borneheld. “This new order demands to be accepted, does it not?”
“I will do whatever I have to,” Axis said, “in order to see that it is.”
Jorge stared at Axis a moment, then turned away. Axis squeezed Faraday’s shoulders then let her go. “Yr, take her away from this. Wash her, and see that she gets some sleep.”
Around the Chamber people were finally starting to move, murmur, talk. StarDrifter, bending down by FreeFall and EvenSong’s side, looked up at his son and grinned.
“Your enchantments have proved powerful tonight, my son.” He tossed Axis’ ring towards him, and Axis caught it and slid it back onto his finger.
“I had help, StarDrifter. But I will tell you about it later. FreeFall?”
FreeFall looked up from the floor where he still sat bewildered, EvenSong weeping gently by his side. “Axis? What has been going on? Where am I?”
“You have been away, FreeFall, but now you are home. Rest tonight with EvenSong, and I will tell you of your adventures when we have a quieter moment.”
“Tonight?” StarDrifter laughed. “Look, Axis, the dawn begins to lighten the Chamber!”
Axis looked up, startled, and stared at the tiny
windows set into the domed roof. StarDrifter was right; the sky was pink with dawn. “Stars,” he whispered, “how long did Borneheld and I battle?”
“Most of the night, my friend,” Belial said behind him. “Most of the night. I do not know how you have the energy to even stand.”
Axis embraced his friend, and took the sword that Belial handed him, sliding it into the empty scabbard at his side. “Belial. Is the captain of the palace guard here?”
Belial nodded and indicated a tall dark man. The captain of the guard looked distinctly nervous.
“What is your name, Captain?” Axis did not recognise him from when he had been in Carlon two years earlier.
“Hesketh, ah…” Hesketh’s voice trailed off. “Sire.”
“Hesketh, I am now taking control of Carlon as I have taken control of Achar. Does that trouble you?”
“No, Sire.” Hesketh glanced across at Yr, just about to step out of the Chamber with Faraday, and she nodded at her lover before disappearing through the doorway.
“Good,” Axis said briskly. “You and your guard will now go with Belial and secure the palace. Once you have done that, you may march yourself down to the city gates and open them. Everyone within and without Carlon is free to come and go as they want. There will be no reprisals on my part to the palace guard, or to any remaining soldiers of Borneheld’s army within Carlon. All I ask is your loyalty.”
“Yes, Sire.” Hesketh’s voice was a little brisker. “You have it.” Axis had fought for the crown of Achar with his brother in this Chamber and won it in fair fight. If all that Axis accused Borneheld of were true, then the gods themselves had judged Borneheld in trial by battle.
“Good,” Axis repeated. “Belial? Go with Hesketh. Make sure the palace is secure. Take two of the Ravensbundmen with you—I’ll need the other four.”
Belial saluted and strode away.
Axis turned and looked for Gautier, Timozel and Jayme. All three were standing to one side, guarded closely by Ho’Demi and his remaining four men.
“Timozel,” Axis said, walking over to the group. He honestly did not know what to say to this man. His once light-hearted and good-natured features were now overlain with a dark, brooding manner. His eyes gleamed, almost burned, with fanaticism. “Timozel. Do your vows to Faraday still stand?”
Timozel stared at Axis. He had watched the battle and its outcome with horror. Now Borneheld lay dead on the floor before him and his visions appeared about to crumble into lies. Where were the armies that undulated in leagues in every direction? Where were the tens of thousands who screamed his name? The victories? Where? Where? Where?
And what about Faraday? Her husband lies dead and butchered on the cold and unforgiving floor. Will she let Axis seize her?
“Yes. I am still Faraday’s Champion. And I can see that she will need my advice and guidance more than ever, Axis, in case she should be tempted to make decisions she will ever regret.”
Axis fought to keep his face expressionless. “Don’t forget that you are bound to protect her and support her, Timozel, in whatever decisions she makes. You are not her lord.”
“And I swear by whatever gods are listening, Axis, that I will do my utmost to make sure that you will not be her lord either!” Timozel hissed, then abruptly brushed past Axis and strode from the room.
“Let him go,” Axis said as Ho’Demi made to follow. “None of us can do much to stop him. And he is Faraday’s Champion; I will not harm him.”
“He is dangerous,” Ho’Demi observed. Something dark had taken possession of that young man’s soul.
Axis ignored Ho’Demi and turned to Gautier. The man’s face was gaunt and tired.
“You followed Borneheld too easily, Gautier,” Axis said. “I cannot forget that. But,” Axis paused and his eyes caught briefly with Ho’Demi’s, “it is not I who has best reason to stand and accuse you, Gautier. You are a man hated by your own troops for your cruelties. How many men have you ordered slaughtered, because they could not crawl another step? Because they could not give any more of their strength than they had already given? But your worst crime, Gautier? Your worst crime? You crucified three brave Ravensbundmen, men whose only transgression was to speak well of me. Ho’Demi,” Axis turned to address the Ravensbund chief. “He is yours to do with as you wish. All that I ask,” Axis glanced at the high windows, “is that he be dead by nightfall.”
“No!” Gautier shrieked, horrified, struggling as two grinning Ravensbundmen seized him by the arms. “Kill me now! A quick sword thrust, Axis, I beg you! Don’t hand me over to those savages!”
Axis looked back at Ho’Demi. “Dead by nightfall, Ho’Demi. Throw his body on the refuse heaps outside the city for all to see.”
“What is left of it,” Ho’Demi said smoothly.
“Leave me two of your four soldiers, Ho’Demi,” Axis said, watching Gautier crumple with fear. “I doubt you will need an entire unit to keep Gautier under control.”
Ho’Demi saluted. “I thank you for this gift, Great Lord,” he said, then signalled to the two Ravensbundmen who held Gautier to follow him, and strode out of the Chamber.
“Well, Jayme,” Axis said, turning to the Brother-Leader of the Seneschal. “You seem to have presided over the virtual downfall of the Seneschal, have you not? The ‘Forbidden’,” and Axis almost snarled the word, “are coming home. Moving back to the hills and plains that the Seneschal has so long denied them.”
He stopped speaking and stared at Jayme, almost unable to believe the change that had come over the man. As long as Axis could remember, Jayme had been strong and full of vitality. He had always been a man to take pride in his accomplishments and in his appearance.
Yet this man who now cowered before Axis looked like a broken-down ploughman, crippled by years of back-breaking labour and deadening poverty. He cringed under Axis’ level stare, his clothes torn and stained, his hair dishevelled, pieces of food and spittle clinging to his white beard.
“Moryson? Gilbert?” Axis asked.
“Gone,” Jayme muttered.
“Take him to a secure room,” Axis instructed the two remaining Ravensbundmen. He could not send this cowering old man to the dungeons. “And lock him inside. Make sure the window is bolted so that he cannot throw himself from its ledge. I will talk to him later.”
Axis turned and saw Rivkah, still supported by Magariz, staring at Borneheld’s body.
Rivkah. Axis started to walk towards her. What could he say? He paused by Borneheld’s body and glanced down. Borneheld’s grey eyes, dull and blood-spattered now, stared sightlessly at the gold and silver moons that chased each other among the bright stars of the enamelled blue dome high above. Axis leaned down and closed them, catching the glint of gold among Borneheld’s blood-encrusted hair. His gold circlet. The circlet of the Kings of Achar. Axis hesitated, then lifted the heavy circlet of gold from Borneheld’s dead head and pulled the amethyst ring of office from his finger. Standing upright, he wiped them clean of blood and stared at them as they rested in his hands. His, Axis supposed. Both represented the entire authority of the throne of Achar.
Axis did not intend to take the throne of Achar. He did not want it, and he intended to make it redundant in the new Tencendor. Then what to do with these now-useless badges of office? Still considering, Axis walked slowly towards Rivkah.
Her eyes were riveted to his bloodstained face. So much blood smeared across her son, so much splattered about this Chamber. It made her think of the bloody births which had brought her sons into the world. How else could it have ended? How else?
“Rivkah,” Axis said gently. He held the golden circlet and the ring uncomfortably in his hands, not knowing what to do with them.
Rivkah reached out a trembling hand to Axis. His torso had several deep wounds in it. Not serious, but they were still bleeding, and Rivkah could see the glint of a rib bone through one.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered and her fingers traced feather-light across his chest.
Rivkah nodded and dropped her eyes. “I think it was hardest on me, Axis, watching you and Borneheld fight last night. I have never loved Borneheld, and I think I almost hated him for what he did to Priam…but…but…” Her eyes filled with tears and she could not finish.
Axis leaned forward and embraced her a little awkwardly.
“It is hard,” she whispered against his chest, “to watch your two sons battle each other to the death.”
On impulse Axis handed her the circlet of gold and the amethyst ring. “Here. Take the circlet and the ring. I will not use them. And you are the last of your line, Rivkah. Wear them, melt them down, break them up and sell them, I care not.”
Rivkah sniffed and took the circlet and the ring. Her father had worn these, and her brother, as had so many Kings of Achar before them.
Axis looked at Magariz, dark and solemn behind Rivkah. “As soon as you can find some spare soldiers, Magariz, or perhaps use some of the servants still standing gaggling about here, take Borneheld’s corpse and throw it on the refuse heaps outside the city walls. He belongs to the crows now.”
Rivkah flinched, and her fingers tightened about the ring and the circlet.
It was not until late that night that Axis, his wounds itching and sore from the attentions of the surgeons, managed to find a quiet moment to himself. The palace had been subdued easily—there was no resistance. Belial and his men combed the palace from its gold-plated minarets to its shit-stained dungeons. They found mostly servants eager to please and courtiers eager to flatter. The servants Belial sent about their duties, the courtiers he sent back to their townhouses—time enough for flatteries later. Towards the end of their search they found a dozen Brothers of the Seneschal, as well as Earl Isend and an over-rouged woman cowering together in a room. Axis, who had experienced enough death this past day to last him many, many months, had ordered that they be shipped south to Coroleas.
Enchanter Page 59
