He was silent, bitter. Why was she here? What could she do?
“The Star Dance did this to you.”
She felt him relax slightly under her hands.
“Yes. Azhure, there was no other way! The Gryphon…the Gryphon…they were blackening the sky, and stealing my army in their talons…”
“Shush. I know. Belial told me what you did.”
“Azhure, I have lost touch with all my power! I never thought that life could be so barren.” He paused. “I am useless!”
“Axis—”
“Azhure, pray you do not have to feel what I felt that day. The power of the entire Star Dance is a terrible thing. Terrible…” His voice drifted off, and Azhure kissed his mouth again.
“Yes, the power is a dreadful thing, especially if you misuse it.”
Suddenly, he was angry. “And what would you have done, had you been there in my place?”
“I would have watched my army die about me, because I would not have had the courage to do what you did. Now, Axis,” her voice became practical, almost brusque, “we must fix this.”
“Oh, yes? And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that?”
“By letting the entire power of the Star Dance consume us, my darling.”
“No!” and she had to wrap her arms tight about him to stop him rolling out of the bed in his terror. “NO!”
“Ah, here you are!”
Belial blinked as the woman stood, and welcomed five more strangers to the fire. Two more women and three men joined them, all hopelessly lovely, all clad only in the flimsiest attire.
All of them kissed Belial on the mouth, even the men—an extraordinary liberty he thought, stunned, as the final man drew back—then they greeted the husband and wife and sat down about the fire. The Alaunt slowly crept forth from the shadows and lay at their sides and backs, and the seven smiled and patted the hounds, murmuring their names.
Belial sank back down again, and one of the men, younger than the first and with flaming hair, touched Belial briefly on the arm. “You must excuse us, Belial, disturbing you like this. But—”
“But we have come to witness,” one of the women said, her face full of life, “and we would that you witness with us.”
“Thank you,” Belial said, although he did not know why he said it. “It is an honour to witness with you.”
“No,” the first man said very quietly. “We are honoured that we may witness with you, Belial.”
And then, as Axis screamed, they all turned their eyes back to the tent.
“NO!”
“Axis—”
“No! Azhure, do you know what you suggest?”
“Yes,” she replied calmly, “yes, I do.”
He wished he could twist away from her, from her touch, her mad suggestion. “It would kill me.”
“I thought that was what you wanted!” she snapped.
“I do not want to die,” he whispered, and suddenly realised it was true. Azhure was here, and he desperately wanted to believe that she could heal him.
“Are you sure?” Her voice was as soft as his.
“Yes.”
She took a deep breath. “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” and his voice broke on the word.
“Then trust me.”
“I love you…I trust you.”
“Beloved,” she whispered and, cradling his head in her hands, drew his face down to nestle between her breasts. For a long time they lay like that, until she could feel his entire body relax against hers.
“Can you feel my heart beat?” she asked.
It throbbed against his cheek, its life dulling even his pain, and he did not think he had ever heard such beautiful music. He relaxed further and let its comforting thud lull him towards sleep.
“Axis.”
“Hmmm?”
“Listen to my heart. Listen to its beat.”
“Yes.”
“Listen…listen.”
And Axis, so close to sleep, thought he could feel something different in her heartbeat. It was…slowing…yes, that was it. Her heartbeat was…
Beat
…slowing. He took a deep breath, drinking in her life and her scent.
“Match yours to mine, beloved,” he heard her whisper somewhere leagues above him, and he smiled against her skin. “Match your heartbeat to mine.”
Beat
He thought about it. It seemed such a simple request, but he had never tried to control his heartbeat before. Slow it?
Beat
Her heart was so languorous now that he could breathe between each of its contractions.
“Slower,” she murmured and, so relaxed against her warmth he could deny her nothing, Axis’ own heart slowed. Only barely aware of what he did, he felt no fear.
He tried to bury his head deeper between her breasts, tried to burrow closer to her heart, and he felt her fingers press against the back of his skull, encouraging him, loving him.
Beat
And his heartbeat slowed to match.
A deep breath, and…
Beat
He could feel it, that incredible moment when their hearts met in a single…
Beat
“Listen,” said a voice from far away, and Axis listened.
Beat
“Listen…can you feel it?”
“Yes,” he whispered, unwilling even to utter that one word, but unable to deny her urgency.
Beat
And the reverberation of their hearts beating as one threatened to shake him apart. He moaned, but he was not in pain, and he was not afraid.
“Trust me.”
“Yes.”
Beat
“You hear our hearts, Axis, beating as one, beating in time to the Star Dance.”
He had not thought he’d ever get this close to another person. To share a single heartbeat…this was true consummation.
Beat
“Share with the Star Dance, Axis.”
He almost did not hear her, and when the meaning of her words sank into his languor he did not have time to feel afraid, for her heart was so closely bound to his now that it led his deeper and further until…
Beat
…they shared with the Star Dance, and their hearts throbbed in perfect rhythm with the beat of the music of the stars.
“Do you hear it, Axis?”
He was almost weeping. “Yes.”
Beat
“Trust me, Axis. Let it consume you. Become one with the Star Dance, Axis. Float in my arms.”
“I am afraid.”
“If you become one with the Star Dance, Axis, it will not harm you. Only if you seek to misuse it, will the power harm you.”
Beat
“Revel in the Star Dance, Axis! Let go! Now!”
And Axis trusted her, and let go, and allowed the Star Dance to consume him.
Beat
Adamon lifted his head sharply and he exchanged quick glances with the others. “Yes!” he whispered.
Beat
“What is it?” Belial asked. He felt a throbbing, but he could not understand it. He put his hand on the ground, and…
Beat
…it leapt beneath him. “What is it?”
“Shush, Belial,” Xanon said. “It is all right now. It is the rhythm of life itself that beats beneath your hand and through your body. Feel it!”
Silton took a deep breath and relaxed. “She has done it.”
“Yes,” Pors said. “She has. He has been reunited.”
Belial’s eyes quickly scanned the group. All were relaxed and laughing, and he now realised how tense they had been before.
The man who had first walked out of the night leaned across the low fire and took Belial’s hand. “My name is Adamon,” he said, “and this is my wife, Xanon.”
She inclined her head, and the others introduced themselves.
Belial wondered why the names tickled his memory, then the woman Xanon was kissing his cheek and rising to her feet.
“We will go now, Belial. Perhaps we will meet again, perhaps not.”
Adamon rose to stand with her, his arm about her waist. “Do not disturb them, Belial, no matter what you see, what you hear, or what you feel. Wait for them.”
Belial stood himself, and Adamon gently touched his cheek. “We are thankful for you, Belial. Very thankful. You must remember this night, and when you are old and your grandchildren sit on your knee, you must tell them of the hours you shared about a campfire with the Star Gods.”
And then they were gone, and Belial was left with only the Alaunt for company, his eyes staring wildly into the night.
Axis revelled, and by his side his wife exulted with him. They drifted among the stars, borne by the power of the Star Dance, and as its power surged through him Axis understood many things.
He understood why the Star Dance had harmed him. It was never meant to hurt or maim, and it had resented his manipulation of it to kill, even to kill such dark creatures as the Gryphon.
And so it had bitten him.
There had never been any Songs of War, and if there had been, then they must have used some other power than that of the Star Dance. Songs of War? Rumour. Legend. Nothing more.
At his side, Azhure smiled.
He would have to use something different to defeat the Skraelings…
“Axis, my beloved,” Azhure said, and Axis smiled at her. “The Skraeling host will be defeated by power, but it will not be yours, nor even mine.”
“The trees.”
“Yes. Faraday and the power of the Mother.”
“The power of Tencendor is composed of many things, not just the Star Dance.”
“Yes, but these things can wait to be discussed later. For the moment…listen…enjoy…let the Star Dance flood through you.”
And so they drifted, hearts linked not only with each other, but also with the Star Dance, and they lost themselves in the throb of the beat.
And eventually she whispered in his ear. “StarMan. I have a secret to tell you.”
He smiled. “And what is that?”
“A holy secret, StarMan.”
He laughed. “Then tell the StarMan.”
“StarMan,” she smiled, “you are the Star Dance.”
I am? He felt her love and that of the Star Dance throb through him. “Oh.”
He could feel her move closer. “And I am the Moon, and all of our days and nights are spent entwined in each other. You sing only for me, and my dance is woven solely for your delight and accomplished solely to the rhythm of your music.”
“Ah.” None of this seemed very strange, floating here among the stars.
“StarMan,” and he laughed, for even here among the stars he could feel the tease of her hands on his body. “Do you know that I prefer you the way you once were?”
“I was prettier then.” But here, among all this love and beauty, he did not care very much what his tattered and burned body looked like back in that bed. Then he recalled the shame he had felt when Azhure had pulled the blankets from his body. “But what can I do? How can I change that which has been destroyed?”
“Oh, StarMan!” And her merriment pealed among the stars. “I can remember StarDrifter, filled with pride and love, informing the entire Icarii Assembly that as a baby within Rivkah’s womb you sang to yourself the Song of Creation. He said that his seed may have planted you, and Rivkah’s womb may have nourished you, but that you made of yourself what you wanted.”
“Would you have me create a baby that you could rock in your arms and croon cradle songs to?”
“Oh no,” she murmured, “I would have my husband back, and if I would still rock him in my arms, then it is not cradle songs I would like to whisper in his ear.”
He laughed and, remembering, began to Sing.
And once he had done so, as they drifted among the stars, they finally consummated their marriage.
Their hearts still throbbed, but now only with barely satiated desire. Azhure sighed and stretched out in his arms, enjoying the feel of his body against hers, enjoying his quick intake of breath as she moved. “Did we couple among the stars or here in this narrow, lumpy bed? I swear I cannot remember.”
“Does it matter? But I thank you, Azhure.”
She smiled. “Oh, surely it is I who must thank you. I have never felt so—”
“No.” He put his fingers to her mouth, stopping her words. “No. Thank you for my life.”
She regarded him silently. His skin was pale from lack of sun, but otherwise he seemed unchanged from the time she had first seen him ride into Smyrton. “I could not have lived without you.”
He stroked her hair, then tangled his fingers within its depths. “Who are you, Azhure?”
“What?” She laughed, startled. “Who am I?”
He kissed her lightly. “What did you learn on the Island of Mist and Memory that you could have taken me where you did?”
She was silent. Did he recall what she had told him while they lay wrapped in the Star Dance?
“I remember, Azhure. Now tell me.”
She took a deep breath, then told him of her encounter with the Star Gods in the Sepulchre of the Moon.
He accepted it faster than she had, and more completely. But then he had been through far more, and the experiences of the last hours had prepared him.
“Song and Moon,” he said, then smiled gently into her eyes. “No wonder we were unable to deny each other that night under the Beltide stars, Azhure-heart.”
His hand moved down her body and she shuddered, but for the moment he only stroked her flat belly. “And those twins?”
“Those twins?” She smiled at his tone. “Waiting at Sigholt, beloved, with Caelum.” She paused. “StarDrifter named them DragonStar and RiverStar.”
His hand stilled. “Powerful names. Especially the boy. Did they hurt you?”
She hesitated, averting her eyes, and Axis had his answer. His face hardened. “Everyone must answer for their actions, Azhure, and one day they will too.”
“But for now they are only babes, and perhaps they just need love and care.”
He laughed dryly and rolled away from her. “You believe that even less than I do, Azhure. I can feel it. We cannot pretend to each other. Now,” his tone softened, and he cradled her back in his arms, “tell me what else you have learned.”
For some time she talked: of the First and Niah’s letter; of the wonders of Temple Mount and the relighting of the Temple; and, eventually, of darker things.
“Artor walks, Axis,” she said quietly, and she felt him tremble.
“Stars! What have we done to deserve him?”
She smiled wryly. “We walk, Axis, thus so does he. Adamon tells me that Faraday and I must deal with him eventually.”
“Azhure! Oh no! Surely I can—”
“No.” Now she stopped his mouth with her fingers. “It must be Faraday and me.”
She felt him tremble again.
“There is more.”
“Yes. There is more. Gorgrael has more Gryphon.”
“What!” Axis raised himself on an elbow, horrified.
She spoke softly, quickly, telling him what WolfStar had told her.
Now Axis trembled, and Azhure realised how deep his pain had really gone; the thought that at least he had rid Tencendor of the Gryphon had helped him endure his agony. “Azhure! Azhure…I cannot deal with that many. I…the Star Dance…I can’t…”
“Hush, my love. I will deal with them. I have my bow and my hounds and I will hunt them down for you.”
He studied her. “You have grown, haven’t you, Azhure?”
She reached for his face. “We are a team, Axis. You and me and Faraday. Together we will defeat Gorgrael and any other who moves against us.”
“But in the end, it must be me alone who faces Gorgrael.”
“Yes.” She paused. “Adamon sends you a message, Axis. He says that you must attend Fire-Night in the Earth Tree Grove this summer.”
“Fire-Night…it is almost six months away.”
“Do you know much of it?”
He shook his head. “No. Only that the Seneschal forbade its observance among the peasants.”
“The Avar will be instrumental in the making of the Rainbow Sceptre, Axis, and it can only be made in the Earth Tree Grove on Fire-Night. It will use the power of the ancient gods who crashed and burned on the first Fire-Night.”
“Azhure,” Axis said, “the third verse of the Prophecy warns me that when I meet Gorgrael only my Lover’s pain can distract me enough to destroy me. My love, be wary! I do not want Gorgrael to snatch you!”
She laughed, genuinely amused. “Gorgrael snatch me? I should like to see him try, Axis. Well,” her smile died as she saw how concerned he was, “at least you do not have to worry about the Traitor any more. At least he has made his move.”
“Oh,” Axis sighed slowly, understanding. “Timozel.”
He was quiet for a long while. “I loved him when he was a boy, but he changed when he grew into a man. I wish I knew what it was that drove him to Gorgrael’s service.”
“We may never know, Axis. But at least you do not have to worry about shadowy Traitors any more.”
He grimaced. “What you mean is that at least I do not have to tear my friends to pieces in my desperate bid to find him. Yes, you are right. The Traitor has made his move. Now,” he cupped her chin in his fingers, “all I have to do is keep you out of Gorgrael’s hands.”
She kissed him gently. “Axis, there is one more thing I must tell you. It is about your mother.”
Belial, Magariz, Ho’Demi, Arne, SpikeFeather and several other commanders had sat about the fire through the night and well into the next day.
“You are sure that Azhure was well?” SpikeFeather asked for the umpteenth time, and Belial glared at him.
“And these strange visitors who said you must not disturb Axis and Azhure?” Arne worried yet again. “Are you sure that they should be trusted, Belial? What if they are locked in desperate struggle with unknown fiends within the confines of the tent, and wait for us to save them?”
“Your imagination does you proud,” Belial said, although he had played the same scenario over in his mind again and again. Only the strange beat that every so often he could feel in his heart stayed his hand.
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