Starman

by Sara Douglass

  Then his eyes widened as he felt the bundle on her back.

  “He is asleep,” she whispered, “leave him be for the moment.”

  Axis smiled, tightened his arms and pulled her close.

  “How?” he asked eventually, leaning back from her slightly.

  She kissed his cheek, and then his mouth again. “Do you remember your dream nine nights ago?” she whispered, and smiled at the shudder that swept his body. “I walked with the Moon that night, and I walked into Gorgrael’s dreams and eventually into his chambers. Listen,” and she put her mouth to his ear and whispered.

  Axis burst out laughing. “Vixen! I almost feel empathy for my brother, for you have tortured me ceaselessly since you first walked into my life. But,” his arms reached about her, “Caelum is safe, and you are here, and Xanon tells me that you battled with Artor and bested him.”

  “And Faraday has finished the planting and the trees sing—but you must know that.”

  She felt him withdraw from her slightly. “And Faraday is well?”

  “Well enough, husband. She rests now in the Sacred Grove, with the Horned Ones and the Mother, for she has been through great travail for your sake. She will join you for Fire-Night in the Earth Tree Grove.”

  Axis ignored that. “And the trees will assist in our battle with the Skraeling host?”

  Azhure grinned and snuggled back into his body. “We shall see soon enough, methinks, when we ride into battle.”

  Axis said nothing for a few minutes as he revelled in Azhure’s warmth and presence. He had worried constantly about her and about his son, and he had not realised how much it had affected him until this moment, when both rested safely within the circle of his arms.

  His thoughts turned back to Caelum’s kidnap. How did Gorgrael seize him?

  He felt Azhure shiver, and, as she spoke slowly and softly in his mind, his own body tensed and shook, so great was his fury.

  “I will kill him!” he hissed.

  Azhure’s arms tightened. “No. Axis, I was so angry myself…I have stripped him of his Icarii powers.” She outlined the processes she’d used to make DragonStar’s human blood dominant. “And now he is just the cuddly, beautiful baby that Cazna thought him all the while. He is back in the nursery with RiverStar, for there is no damage he can do now. Poor baby, I could feel her puzzlement as she tried to penetrate the fog of his mind.”

  Axis was still not appeased by the measures Azhure had taken, but he was willing to admit she was right. If he had been there…Axis knew full well that DragonStar might easily be dead by now. “We shall have to watch him as he grows, my love. I still do not trust him.”

  “Nor I. But at least his power has been blunted.”

  Axis nodded and rested his chin in her hair for some time, his eyes on the army spread out before him.

  “We cannot find the Gryphon for you to hunt,” he said.

  She leaned back at that. “Axis…when I left Gorgrael writhing out his frustration upon the floor I felt his anger leap after me. He could not catch me, but hours later I felt his rage find new direction. Talon Spike.”

  “Oh Stars,” Axis groaned, “I had hoped that RavenCrest and BrightStar and all those who stayed with them might yet be safe. Are they still there?”

  Azhure knew he meant the Gryphon. “I don’t know. I have not been able to feel them for many days now. Perhaps I shall have to content myself with sticking Skraelings on the morrow.”

  Timozel sat in the cave high in the rocky walls of Gorken Pass where he had secreted himself from the far-seeing eyes of the Icarii scouts, and chewed his thumbnail.

  Where are they? he questioned Gorgrael.

  I do not know, Timozel, and Timozel could feel the fury and frustration and fear in Gorgrael’s mind. How could anyone lose seven thousand Gryphon?

  No doubt Axis will attack in the morning, Master. I would prefer to have those Gryphon overhead when he does.

  Do you think me a fool, Timozel? and the man reeled from the flaming rage that Gorgrael sent his way. I want those Gryphon to shred his army as greatly as you do. Yet I can do nothing until…

  Abruptly his words broke off.

  Master? Master?

  Timozel! I have them!

  It had taken more than eight days for the befuddled yet rabidly angry Gryphon to find their way through the maze of shafts and corridors to the upper reaches of Talon Spike. They had hunted ceaselessly in that time, searching for the Icarii. They could smell them, yes they could, so surely they were just around the next turn, behind the next door. The shadows teased and tantalised them, and the Gryphon crawled through every space they could find.

  And they found nothing. Now biting hunger fed their fury, and as they climbed higher and higher in a seething mass, their anger intensified until it glowed from their eyes and steamed with their breath and their shrieks tore through the mountain. Then, as the first of them crawled out onto the flight balcony of Talon Spike, Gorgrael finally managed to touch their minds again.

  West! West! Haste! Haste! Where have you been?

  Chasing shadows, Master, they whispered back. Talon Spike is clear…we think.

  Then fly! Fly! Fly! Great feeding awaits you in Gorken Pass. Manlings a-plenty mass for the feast—but you shall have to fight back the Skraelings.

  We shall eat them, too.

  Save your thunder and your anger for the battle, my beauties. Now, FLY!

  And the Gryphon, waiting for their fellows to emerge from the mountain, massed about its peak. As the mountain groaned under their weight they launched themselves into the air, spinning about Talon Spike in a maddened black cloud until, as the final few of their brethren emerged from the mountain, they wheeled as one and flew west into the night sky.

  Nothing would stop them feasting now.

  60

  DREAMERS IN THE SNOW

  Magariz stood fidgeting in the pre-dawn light as Belial’s man fumbled with the buckles on his master’s armour.

  “Peace, Magariz,” Belial said. “I am almost fastened up.”

  “I admit I cannot wait until this day is over,” Magariz said.

  “And I, my friend, and I.”

  All about them men readied for war, and when Belial glanced at Axis and Azhure’s tent he could see the shadows of movement within.

  Belial’s man stood back and Belial straightened and looked at Magariz. “Nervous, my friend?”

  “Deathly afraid, more like.”

  “There is no shame in admitting to fear,” Belial said. “I hardly slept myself. But think of it this way, Magariz. Either we will be dead by this evening or we won’t. And if we lose the field, if Timozel’s forces win the day, then I don’t want to be alive to witness the destruction that will sweep Tencendor.”

  “You sink into philosophy again, my friend,” Axis said cheerfully, and Belial turned to look, then started.

  Axis had emerged from his tent dressed in his golden tunic with its blood-red sun blazing across his chest. Across his shoulders flowed the red cloak, and the rising dawn light caught golden flecks in his beard, trimmed close to his cheeks, and in his hair combed neatly back into its braid. His hand rested on his sword hilt, and Belial realised that Axis still wore Jorge’s sword.

  “Perhaps I shall get to stick Timozel with it today,” Axis said.

  “Have you gone mad?” Belial hissed. “Where’s your armour? Axis, you will fall in the first minute if you attempt to ride into battle dressed like that.”

  Axis’ lightness faded. “I want them to know who they face, Belial, and I want them to know where I am. And,” his smile returned, “I shall not need armour.”

  Belial opened his mouth to retort, but just then Azhure stepped out of the tent, Caelum clasped in her arms. She paused to speak quietly with a man-at-arms, then stepped to her husband’s side. “Belial, Axis and I have spent much of the night talking. We have revised the battle plans somewhat.”

  “Oh, damn it!” Belial snapped. “We spent hours last night wor
king those plans out to the finest detail, and now you say lightly that you have revised them? Without thinking to consult your commanders?”

  “Belial,” Axis said, “We apologise for any lack of thought. Yes, we should have consulted you, but it was so late when we had finalised things in our own heads that it would have been pointless waking you.”

  “I was awake most of the night, anyway,” Belial said.

  Magariz stepped forward. “Tell us, Axis. What have you dreamed up that makes you leave your armour behind?” Axis always wore armour for major action, as did all his men, and even Azhure wore chain mail when she entered the fray; Magariz could remember she wore as heavy a complement of chain as any man during the Battle of Bedwyr Fort.

  “I have sent for SpikeFeather and Ho’Demi,” Azhure said. “I want them here.”

  “And then we will explain,” Axis said, taking Caelum from Azhure’s arms and laughing with him over some shared thought.

  Belial stared at them. When they had sat about the campfire last night, sharing food and ideas, Caelum had almost been inseparable from his father, clambering about his lap or sometimes sleeping quietly in his arms. He shuffled in his heavy armour. It always took an hour or so to get used to, and after eight or nine hours of chafing and rubbing it was a relief to be divested of it. But it was not the weight of his armour that concerned him now.

  Why was Axis so cheerful? Belial had fought by his side for many years now, and they had survived more battles together than Belial cared to remember. Always, whether before a march or a battle, Axis was snappy—it was his way of releasing tension—and Belial had never seen him this relaxed before. What had those two planned?

  “A rout,” Axis said softly. “Ah, here’s SpikeFeather and Ho’Demi. My friends, today Azhure fights with us and whatever victory we glean will be at her hands. Azhure, will you speak?”

  Azhure smiled at him, then turned to the other commanders. “Gentlemen, there are only two tasks to be accomplished today—to rid the skies of Gryphon, and to rid the land of Gorgrael’s ice creatures, the Skraelings foremost among them. Simple.”

  “Simple, Enchantress?” SpikeFeather raised his eyebrows. He was an imposing sight in the early light, his wings again dyed black, his dark red hair and feathers slicked back down his neck, his black eyes snapping with determination. “Simple? There are hundreds of thousands of Skraelings who wait for us. And the Gryphon, well, we do not even know where the cursed Gryphon are.”

  “SpikeFeather.” Azhure’s voice was heavy with sorrow, and she stepped forward to rest a hand on his arm. “Even now the Gryphon are massing on the rocks of Gorken Pass. They flew in during the night…from Talon Spike.”

  SpikeFeather gave a low cry and turned away. When he had composed himself, he looked Azhure in the face again. “Enchantress, this I swear,” he said. “Every member of the Strike Force will kill two of the creatures before we die ourselves. For RavenCrest’s and BrightFeather’s deaths, as all those of their fellows and of so many of the Strike Force, I pledge to you the Strike Force will do you proud today!”

  “Oh,” Azhure said, “I know you will do me proud. Here.”

  She lifted the quiver of arrows from her back, pressing it into SpikeFeather’s hands. “SpikeFeather, do you remember these arrows?”

  Puzzled, SpikeFeather nevertheless smiled with the memory. “Yes, Enchantress, I do. I did not believe you would be able to use the Wolven, which I had flaunted before you, and I wagered ownership of the bow itself and a quiverful of arrows fashioned with my own hands and fletched with feathers from my own wings if you managed to use it.”

  “And I demanded that you dye the feathers as blue as my eyes,” Azhure laughed. “Well, all know the result, and now you hold the quiverful of arrows that you fashioned so long ago. SpikeFeather, tell the members of the Strike Force that they will not need their weapons today. Instead, take this quiver and distribute an arrow to each member.”

  “But there aren’t enough for more than three Wings—”

  Azhure placed her hands over his. “SpikeFeather, I think you will find there are exactly enough arrows in this quiver for all the members of the Strike Force, and one left for me.”

  Captured by the expression in her eyes and the warmth of her hands, SpikeFeather nodded. “As you order, Enchantress.”

  “And when we step out onto the field of battle, SpikeFeather,” she said, “the Icarii will have some measure of revenge for the hurt the Gryphon have done your people.”

  SpikeFeather took a deep breath. “Good.”

  Axis, shifting Caelum to one hip, motioned at the fire. “Will someone stoke that fire for me? I have not yet breakfasted, and I do not want to do so before cold ashes.”

  “But, Axis,” Magariz began, then suddenly found himself encumbered with Caelum.

  “Here, Magariz, your task today will be to play nursemaid, for Azhure and I wish that our son ride at the forefront of the force. Besides, Magariz, you shall shortly have your own son to bounce on your knee, and you need the practice.”

  “Axis!” Belial said. “Will you tell us what it is that you and Azhure have planned?”

  Axis’ smile died. “We are teasing you, my friend, and for that I apologise. Come, sit here with me, and divest yourself of some of that armour. Spread the word. I want my men to enjoy a hearty breakfast, for we will not be rushing the field before mid-morning, I think, and I want them to wear only enough armour to make a decent glint under the sun.” Then, as his companions sat down about the fire, Axis spoke.

  They rode past the ruins of Gorkenfort and town in the hour before noon, holding tight formation, the Strike Force wheeling above and slightly behind them. Axis shivered as he thought of all the men he had lost there, but he winked at Caelum, riding at the front of Magariz’s saddle. As requested, Magariz had divested himself of most of his armour, wearing only a breastplate to gleam under the strengthening sun, and there was plenty of room in the saddle for both man and boy. Caelum was patently excited at being allowed to ride into battle. His cheeks were red and his eyes bright, and he was bundled into a suit of blue-tipped white fur that kept the cold winds from his skin.

  Axis turned to his other side. There rode Azhure, the hounds restrained at her side, and beyond her Belial. Belial had recovered his good temper, and had spent much of the ride thus far chatting with Azhure about which oils were best added to the fires used to temper the metal of arrowheads.

  From Gorkenfort, Axis swung his column northward, delighting in the sound of the hooves, the jingle of gear and weapons, and the melodious chime of Ravensbund bells behind him. His army was a fine sight, he knew, and he hoped that Timozel would have a moment’s doubt when they rode down the pass.

  “Gorken Pass,” he said under his breath, and urged Belaguez into a long-striding canter.

  Timozel sat in his cave and watched them approach…and laughed.

  “Foolish, prideful man,” he chortled, sharing the view with his master. “See how he rides so exposed at the head of his pitiful force. They ride straight for us, and they ride directly to their death. Look! They have left their greaves at home, and their helmets remain unlaced!”

  Then make sure you do them death, Timozel. I am tired of the games he and she play.

  She? But Timozel dismissed the thought. Gorgrael seemed concerned about this black-haired woman—and, yes, Timozel could see her riding by Axis’ side—but Timozel was not worried if Axis’ harlot chose to ride into battle with him. She could die as easily as any other.

  Then he sat forward, bewildered.

  Any good commander would have ranged his force into units to attack those that Timozel had ranged before him (and for a league back into the Pass, Timozel gloated). But Axis…Axis was dividing his force in two and, even stranger, was directing them so that each half lined the sides of the Pass, leaving the centre ground bare. Was he manoeuvring for a battlefield…or a parade ground? The Strike Force, evil, feathered things, were landing on the snow behind the forward
group of commanders, and Timozel was unable to believe what he saw.

  Each carried only one arrow, and no bows.

  Timozel’s hand tightened about the ruff of the Gryphon who lay by his side. The Gryphon had finally arrived during the night, and now they lay secreted among the rocks of the Alps, ready to launch themselves upon Axis’ army.

  Timozel gasped in surprise…was that a child one of the forward commanders carried? He grinned. Axis had gone mad after his brush with death. Now he brought babes to fight for him. Or was it only that he brought his family to share his fate? Timozel laughed again.

  Axis was waving his commanders away now, until only he and the woman and the Strike Force remained. They exchanged some brief words, then Axis wheeled his mount away to the line of soldiers by the river. The woman dismounted, gestured to the pack of dogs that surrounded her to sit behind Axis, and strode forward until she was some two hundred paces from the first of the Skraeling ranks.

  Timozel had to admit she was very beautiful. The Gryphon by his side grunted, and Timozel glanced at her. What was going through her mind?

  Slowly, the raven-haired woman turned her eyes to the rocks.

  She could feel if not see the Gryphon. They were there, waiting, and Azhure wagered that each and every one of them had her eyes on Azhure. She smiled, and reached with both hand and power, and called softly. “Lover?”

  Instantly, every single one of the Gryphon fell back into her dream.

  Azhure only wanted the Gryphon to dream, and she directed her power carefully. But she could feel its effect almost immediately, and there was a great collective sigh as each of the creatures closed her eyes and dreamed.

  Timozel stared at the Gryphon beside him. She had rolled over onto her side, her eyes closed, and now she twitched and moaned, as if on heat.

  He was so surprised he forgot to share the sight with Gorgrael, and his master paced his chamber in frustration, wondering what was happening.