The Infinity Gate

by Sara Douglass

  All Axis could recall of the battle was the hatred he’d felt for Borneheld, his exhaustion, and the growing terror that he might be the first one to slip and offer his throat to Borneheld’s sword. By the end of that bleak night both had been drenched in sweat, their limbs trembling with fatigue.

  There was something about that night Axis had forgotten? What was it? What was it?

  There had been some ally . . . someone who had given him that single moment, that sliver of an edge against Borneheld that had, in the end, enabled Axis to defeat his brother.

  The heart, the heart torn and bloody in his hand, lifted up and tossed to .

  Axis’ head snapped up and he looked Isaiah directly in the eye.

  This was no longer about Inardle.

  It was about Borneheld and about a brotherly feud that, even after almost fifty years, still smouldered red hot.

  And it was about the eagle.

  “I’m going in,” Axis said, “and I’m taking along a friend.”

  Chapter 17

  The Twisted Tower

  The One climbed along the gossamer connection between himself and the Dark Spire, passing unhindered through the wastes of Infinity. Gossamer-like it may have been, but the umbilical cord that connected him with the Dark Spire was of Infinity itself, strong enough to support him.

  As he drew closer, the One became more aware, through his increasing contact with the Dark Spire, of what was happening at Elcho Falling.

  There had been a battle and much bad weather. Eleanon was concentrating, not on Elcho Falling, but on Axis, which for the moment suited the One well . . . may they both keep themselves occupied and unaware of what the One was doing. Maxel and Ishbel were still far, far away in Isembaard.

  Good, that was very, very good. Either or both of them might have a chance of realising what the One was up to if they had been at Elcho Falling, but they were not. They were far away and by the time they returned it would be too late.

  There were two things that concerned the One as he drew closer to the Dark Spire.

  One, the fleeting impression that, momentarily, someone had seen him: a passing contact within the echoes of Infinity.

  A child, perhaps, for the One sensed the presence was still somehow unformed, not yet solidified into the rigidity of adulthood.

  For the moment the One ignored this. The impression had been but fleeting, and it had been but a child. He would come back to it.

  The second problem was Ravenna. The marsh witch was inside Elcho Falling. The One could sense her strongly from the Dark Spire. She was somehow closely connected to the spire . . . had Eleanon employed Ravenna for his purposes? The One could think of no other reason Ravenna would be at Elcho Falling, let alone fiddling about with the spire.

  The One crawled closer to the Dark Spire, hand over hand, its presence growing stronger each time one of his fists closed a little closer along the umbilical cord.

  Ravenna. Maybe she could be useful..

  Chapter 18

  The Ice Hex

  Axis walked through snowdrifts heavy with ice, each step an effort as his legs pushed through the snow.

  He was freezing, despite the heavy cape he’d bought with him, and his arm ached from the weight of the eagle where it perched hunched and unhappy.

  About him the sky hung heavy and leaden, merging with the thick fog that made the landscape to either side of the path indiscernible. Sometimes the fog shifted slightly and Axis thought he could see frozen trees, stripped bare of any life and hung only with icicles; sometimes the fog shifted slightly and he saw shapes, massive creatures almost indistinguishable from the moisture-laden air in which they lurked.

  Axis moved through his own little world, pushing ever deeper into the hex. Occasionally he glanced upward, as if to see the sky.

  But that was useless. The fog encased him, the snow entrapped him. There was nothing but to battle ever onward.

  Isaiah had not wanted Axis to go. He had shouted and begged, arguing that this was nothing but a construct of Eleanon’s, designed to trap Axis completely within the hex, but none of it made any difference. If it was a trap, then Axis admitted himself trapped.

  Borneheld was too appalling a fate to leave anyone to suffer.

  Eventually Isaiah had stopped shouting and begging and had admitted Axis to the hex. Axis had taken one last long look at Isaiah’s face, seeing the sadness there, then he had turned and walked forward into the snow and ice.

  It reminded Axis a little of that journey he’d made so long ago to Gorgrael’s Ice Fortress. Gorgrael had been a half-brother, too.

  They had battled, too.

  Faraday had been present for that, too. Well, only in spirit for the last little bit of it. Gorgrael had killed her in an effort to distract Axis.

  Brothers, thought Axis. What a trial they always were.

  He kept pushing through the snow and ice, heading inexorably for whatever confrontation awaited him.

  This really did remind him of the journey he’d taken toward Gorgrael’s Ice Fortress.

  Which brother was he destined to meet, then? One — or both?

  As he kept pushing through the snowdrifts, stumbling now and again, Axis found himself remembering that journey. Faraday had been with him for much of it, sad and beautiful, concerned with her son who, at that time, Axis had not known about. She had been concerned also by what she perceived as her fate — her death at the hands of Gorgrael.

  Faraday had always been so damned fatalistic.

  Axis kept on striding, his eyes fixed ahead. Lost in memories of Faraday and that long ago journey.

  Faraday had not completed the journey — at least, not with Axis. She had been taken by Timozel before they’d reached the Ice Fortress.

  Timozel’s hand had emerged from out of the snow and ice and fog, snatching at Faraday’s ankle.

  “Gotcha!” he had crowed.

  “So fatalistic,” Axis murmured to himself, wiping away the frost that formed about his eyebrows and eyelashes. He pulled the hood of the cloak closer, pushing his feet and legs through the knee-high snowdrifts, remembering, remembering, remembering .

  After a long, long while, Axis became aware a figure drifted along the road ahead of him.

  Tall, willowy, beautiful, ethereal.

  Fatalistic.

  Axis looked at the eagle. You know what I require of you, my friend?

  The only response Axis received was a glare from the bird.

  Even if I am trapped, you will not be, Axis said to the bird.

  It is the only reason I agreed to aid you, StarMan, the bird said, and Axis nodded.

  Be safe, he said, and launched the bird into the air.

  He waited until the eagle had vanished into the fog, then Axis set off after Inardle, lengthening his pace and pushing more forcefully through the snowdrifts.

  “Inardle?” he called, as he neared.

  She stopped, but did not turn to look at him, not even raising her head when finally he stood before her. Her arms were wrapped about her shoulders, her head hung low, her wings dragged in the snow behind her.

  The feathers were thick with ice and Axis wondered at Inardle’s strength to be able to drag such a weight behind her.

  Faint trails of old blood marred her lower back.

  Axis looked at Inardle’s downcast face and his heart cracked open. He’d never seen her look like this. Never.

  Inardle had given up entirely. She was lost in despair so intense and so deep that Axis did not think there could be a way out for her.

  “Inardle?”

  Finally, Inardle raised her face to him, gave him a long look, then she brushed past him and walked on.

  “Inardle,” Axis said, catching up to her and taking one of her elbows in his hand to try and slow her down. Stars, why was she in such a hurry? “Inardle, stop, I pray you. Where are you going?”

  She pulled her elbow from his grasp and took a step forward.

  “Inardle!” Axis grabbed both her s
houlders and wrenched her about to face him. “Where are you going? It is I, Axis.”

  Finally, Inardle spoke. “It does not matter who you are,” she said. “Let me go, please. I have a marriage I am cursed to make.”

  “Inardle, this is not your battle, nor your history. Eleanon has —”

  “Cursed and hexed me, Axis. He has bound me with powers from which I cannot escape. Where I go now is the fate he determined for me. I am to be Borneheld’s wife.”

  “You do not have to . . . Inardle, turn from this fate and come back with me.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I am lost now. I go where the lost go.”

  Axis felt her move against his hands, trying to break free to continue her journey, and he tightened his grip.

  “There is no need to be lost or frightened or despairing, Inardle,” he said. “You can come back with me. I remember the way.”

  Even as he said it, Axis wondered if he did remember or not.

  Inardle shook her head. “No. I cannot go back, nor can you now. We’re both trapped. You should not have come after me, Axis.”

  “I couldn’t leave you to —”

  “Why did you come, Axis?” Her voice broke on that. “For what purpose? You are dead and lost now, too. It was such a stupid thing to do.”

  Then she pulled herself out of Axis’ hands and continued her sad march forward.

  Axis stood in the snow, tugging his cloak tighter in the bone-numbing cold, watching Inardle draw slowly away from him, thinking about what she had said and why he was here. For what purpose was he here? To chase some long gone dream? Recreate some glorious moment so that he could . . . do what? Live again? Be purposeful again?

  What did he want?

  A purpose? A love? Glory?

  Or was it just to save Inardle?

  No, there was more to it than that. Eleanon had set the trap well. The moment Axis had known Borneheld waited inside the ice hex, he could no more have resisted the urge to enter than he could have willed himself to stop breathing.

  Axis sighed, then walked after Inardle, struggling through the snow until he finally caught up with her.

  She didn’t look at him.

  “I’ll walk with you,” he said, and together they trudged through the snow and ice, half frozen within this strange hexed world, toward whatever awaited them.

  Chapter 19

  The Sky Peaks

  The Lealfast Nation had congregated on the lower slopes of the Sky Peaks to the north-west of Elcho Falling. Here they waited for Eleanon and, as he approached, the elder, Falayal, moved forward to greet him.

  “You have been keeping your plans too close to your chest, Eleanon,” Falayal said, in no mood for the courteous. “The Nation wonders, I wonder, if perhaps we should return to the frozen northern wastes. We have had enough of traipsing about after power. It appears that we will never —”

  “You know that the One has been trapped within Infinity,” Eleanon said. “There is now no barrier to our taking Elcho Falling and —”

  “No barrier save Isaiah, and Axis, and Maximilian.”

  “And they are no barrier at all,” Eleanon said, his voice now several levels lower, his eyes sharp as he looked at the elder.

  Falayal regarded Eleanon with ill-disguised cynicism.

  “I am thinking of the Nation,” Falayal said, “not your personal ambitions.”

  “And I am thinking of the Nation!” Eleanon said. “By the stars and Infinity, did we not agree to merge with the One? To march together into a future unbounded by either our Skraeling or Icarii blood? We are all changed by the power of Infinity! And now the One is useless, we can take Elcho Falling and —”

  “How can we take Elcho Falling?” Falayal said.

  “It is what I have come to discuss with you, my friend,” Eleanon said. “The time is almost here when we can step forth and claim our new heritage. It is time for the Lealfast to march toward their future.”

  “How?” Falayal said again.

  “With some song and dance and music!” Eleanon said. “As well as a little help from the Dark Spire.” He put his arms about the shoulders of the other Lealfast man and led him away slowly, talking softly.

  When, finally, he halted and ceased speaking, Falayal’s face was white with astonishment, his eyes glittering with ambition.

  There was a frisson of excitement running between the two men that was almost palpable.

  “It is too easy,” Falayal said, in a tone which suggested he felt he ought to voice some token concern but didn’t believe that concern in the slightest.

  Brilliance is oft easy, Eleanon thought. “You agree?” he said.

  Falayal hesitated, then nodded.

  “It will need to be taken to the Nation,” he said.

  “Of course,” Eleanon said. “It would be impossible without their agreement and compliance. I can address them this evening, as the first stars rise in the dusk sky.”

  “When?” Falayal said, and Eleanon knew he didn’t refer to the assembly this evening.

  “As soon as Maximilian and Ishbel return,” Eleanon said. “Then we can move. But we need them inside Elcho Falling.”

  “Naturally,” Falayal said. “You will address the Lealfast Nation this dusk, and they will agree. They will shout for you, Eleanon. Then . . . we begin training?”

  “Then we begin training,” Eleanon said. “This will be a great dance. One that will be remembered throughout eternity.”

  Chapter 20

  The Ice Hex

  Axis glanced upward once or twice, wondering if he would see the eagle, but the surrounding fog was so thick and so closeting that the effort was useless. Axis gave up wondering about the eagle and instead tried to think through the hex that Eleanon had created.

  Or recreated. Once more he was to meet Borneheld in battle. Axis and Borneheld had been rivals in many areas: parental affection, power at the Acharite court, success on the battlefield, but all of these rivalries had coalesced into the war over Faraday. Faraday and Axis had loved each other, but Borneheld had won Faraday as his wife — and that was always Borneheld’s greatest triumph over Axis.

  Faraday may have loved Axis, but she had left him to marry Borneheld.

  How Borneheld had laughed in Axis’face and taunted him with his sexual conquest of the woman Axis loved.

  Now Eleanon wanted Axis to relive this all over again, save with Inardle now playing the role of Faraday. What did Eleanon expect Axis to do . . . battle and kill Borneheld once again, and then free Inardle — and himself — from this hex?

  No, no, there must be something else .

  There was a trap here somewhere.

  This wasn’t a hex to trap Inardle. It was a hex to trap Axis.

  They struggled on through the snow and ice. Inardle kept her head down, not looking at Axis, trapped in her own misery. She kept her hands wrapped about her shoulders, and her wings, still dragging behind her, were now so heavy with ice that Axis was amazed she could still move. Axis wished he could do something for her, but she rejected any overture.

  They struggled through the snow.

  After what felt like many hours something rose out of the snow before them. Axis was so astounded, almost frightened, that he stopped, staring ahead.

  Inardle kept on walking, her head bowed, and Axis did not even know if she realised what lay in front of her.

  It was a perfect representation of Carlon — the beautiful lakeside city that had once been Achar’s capital — save it was now constructed entirely from ice. Walls, streets, gates, turrets, the great palace at its highest point, even all the pennants and flags . . . all ice.

  Inardle trudged forward.

  Axis stared at the city, stared at Inardle — incredulous that she should just ignore this — then forced himself after her.

  They walked on.

  The gates of Carlon lay open before them. Axis felt as if he walked through a dream — or was it a nightmare? Everything was as he remembered and everything
brought back so many memories. They walked through the gates — Inardle still not showing any indication she realised they’d stopped walking through snowdrifts and now trod ice cobbles — and climbed the road that wound upward through the city toward the palace. Axis kept glancing to the side and behind him, wondering what ghosts lurked down side alleys and behind buildings.

  But there were none. Just Axis and Inardle, climbing ever upward to the palace.

  The gates to the palace lay open.

  Inardle kept walking, a little faster now that some of the ice on her wings had grated off on the cobbles.

  Axis hung back for a moment, remembering everything that had happened in this palace.

  Now Borneheld waited.

  Axis glanced upward again. The fog had lifted and he saw a black speck high in the sky.

  Thank the stars. Axis hurried after Inardle. He turned the cloak back over his shoulders, giving his hand free access to the heavy sword at his hip.

  And the dagger in his boot.

  They worked their way through the palace, moving ever upward. They walked through wide corridors, hung with vast tapestries depicting scenes from Achar’s glorious past and lit with ice lamps that emitted a cold, hard light.

  There was no one in the palace, save he who waited in the Chamber of the Moons.

  “Inardle,” Axis said, “wait.”

  Unexpectedly, Inardle stopped, raising her face to look at Axis.

  Axis reached out a hand, wanting to touch her, but not daring. He let his hand drop. “Inardle, whatever happens in that chamber, I am going to free us from this hex.”

  Her mouth curved very slightly in a sad smile. “You do not know Eleanon. He wants neither of us to leave. You should not have come after me.”

  “I could not let you go to Borneheld, Inardle.”

  “Would he be any worse than you?” Inardle said, and she turned and walked forward.

  This was a nightmare, Axis decided.

  They walked on.

  Eventually they turned a corner in the main corridor and, there before them, lay open the doors to the Chamber of the Moons.