Starman

by Sara Douglass

  Each knew there was no escape now.

  The mist thickened and coiled about them until both stumbled blinded into tree after tree, even though they walked cautiously. Bark and rocks scratched at their skin and hair; both quickly suffered a dozen small wounds that stung rather than hurt, worried rather than frightened.

  The mist thickened until even the sound of the other’s footfalls was lost.

  She no longer held her hands out before her, preferring to wrap both arms about her body. The cold penetrated to her bones, and she did not know how much longer she could keep going. Her hair hung heavy and dripping over her shoulders, and her feet were numb.

  Where was the Test? When would she be judged?

  She knew she was right, despite the way the other had sought to manipulate her people. She knew that to make the wrong decision now would be to fate the Avar to a slow and lingering death.

  A footfall sounded to her right and her head whipped about painfully. Was it the other?

  But, no. A white form loomed out of the mist and she sobbed gratefully. “Raum!”

  She clung to the neck of the White Stag as he nuzzled her head and shoulders, and she sniffed, trying to control her tears.

  “Have you come to lead me to safety, Raum?”

  The Stag did not answer. He stepped away, but he did not attempt to shrug off the hand she kept on his shoulder.

  They wandered until she was almost dropping with weariness. How long would it take him to lead her out of the mist? She must have been tested with some method so sublime she had not even realised she was being tested. Now Raum led her to safety, and the Avar people would be all right.

  He stopped so abruptly that she almost fell to her knees, then she gasped, and stepped back hurriedly.

  A great chasm yawned at her feet. In front of her were two bridges, each disappearing into the mist.

  She blinked and looked at Raum in confusion. Which?

  He nuzzled her again, gently, his eyes swimming with love for her.

  Your choice, his voice said in her mind, and she turned back to the bridges.

  Now neither bridge was so empty.

  The bridge to her left resembled one of the fragrant and shaded walks of the Avarinheim. As she watched a bird swooped down over the path, its glad cries echoing and seeming to call to her. At the end of the path was a glade, and figures moved about a welcoming fire. As she watched one of them turned and saw her. He stilled, then lifted his hand so that his fingers flared towards her. It was Axis.

  She turned her head.

  The bridge to her right resembled a long ice tunnel. Strange shapes cavorted beyond its translucent walls. At its end was a door, and as she watched it swung open. She gasped, for Faraday stood behind that door, and Tree Friend smiled and held out her hand for her. Then a shadow loomed behind Faraday and a taloned hand dropped onto her shoulder, and Faraday turned and, sighing, walked back into the room. The door closed.

  She made her choice. She cuddled against the White Stag, thanking him.

  Then she stepped down the bridge towards Axis.

  She stumbled through the mist, her hand on the White Stag’s shoulder. He halted so abruptly she almost fell to her knees. In front of her yawned a great chasm spanned by two bridges.

  Your choice, he whispered in her mind.

  The bridge to her left led into one of the fragrant and shaded glades of the Avarinheim. Two tents sat pitched to one side, and a fire crackled cheerfully in the centre of the glade. Several figures sat about the fire. As she watched one of them turned and saw her. It was the silver-pelted Horned One, and he held out his arms and called out for her.

  She turned her head.

  The other bridge led into a storm so severe that at first she could distinguish no other features. But then a great gust of wind blew the snow to one side and she could see into the recesses of a strange chamber where warped furniture sat crazily about the ice walls. A man wrapped in a dark cloak stood before the fire and she could feel if not hear his laughter. He was standing in a pool of blood.

  She made her choice.

  “I thank you,” she whispered to the Stag, then she smiled sadly and stepped towards the man standing ankle-deep in blood.

  “Stand back,” the woman said, and the Banes who encircled the two still forms bound to the Earth Tree obeyed. Only a few among them had seen her before, yet all knew who she was.

  Faraday. Tree Friend.

  She walked closer to the Earth Tree. She was thin, perhaps as a result of her effort planting out Minstrelsea, but she was lovely nevertheless, with her thick chestnut hair waving down her back, and her green eyes serene and sure. She wore a gown whose fabric reminded all the Banes of the shifting emerald light when it dappled and shaded into the trees of the Sacred Grove.

  She looked, one of the Banes would later remark to the Avar, like the personification of the forest herself.

  Faraday walked to Barsarbe and knelt by her side. She lifted the woman’s head and smiled, stroking the woman’s hair away from her face.

  “A bad choice, my dear,” she said emotionlessly, then she looked up at the surrounding Banes, letting the woman’s limp head drop back to the ground.

  “She’s dead,” Faraday said, then she stepped about the great trunk of the Earth Tree to Shra.

  The girl stirred as Faraday knelt by her side, and the ropes shackling her fell away. Faraday smiled and gathered the girl in her arms. “The saddest choice of all,” she whispered.

  Humbled, the Avar stood before Tree Friend.

  “We will lend Axis the aid he needs,” promised one.

  “And more,” Grindle said fiercely, and Faraday smiled at him.

  “You came to Shra’s defence, Grindle, and for that both I and the forest thank you.”

  Faraday turned back to the Avar assembled before her. “Shra will lead you through the mists and into the future. Listen to her. Respect her.”

  “Will you not lead us, Faraday Tree Friend?” asked Merse, one of the Banes who had accompanied Faraday from Fernbrake Lake.

  “I will provide you with the way, Merse. But I will not lead.”

  “But we thought that…” one of the others began, but Faraday silenced him with her smile.

  “Legends can sometimes be over-vague. They can be misinterpreted. And we can all be tossed and turned by the tide of events so that none of us can do quite what we would like. I will be responsible for giving you the path. Believe that.”

  67

  FIRE-NIGHT

  He stepped noiselessly through the trees, remembering the way as if his last visit had been only weeks instead of years. Arne shadowed him, even more silent and dour now that he had spent hours sitting facing the Ferryman in his magical boat. He was tense and unsure. Arne did not like the darkness that pooled behind the trees, nor did he like the waiting presence he could feel ahead. Axis had made him hide his dagger, but out of sight was also out of ready grasp, and that made him distinctly nervous. Both had left their larger weapons in a dry cache beside the Nordra.

  Axis wore the golden tunic with the blood-red sun blazing across his chest. Both breeches and cloak matched the sun, and he knew he was splendid enough to dazzle any court, impress any cynical ambassador. But how would the Avar react? How would Faraday react?

  And how would he react when he saw her?

  He walked into the Earth Tree Grove behind the stone circle surrounding the Earth Tree, motioning Arne to wait at the tree line, and he stepped into silence.

  The Earth Tree sang overhead, but somehow her Song did not penetrate into the silence that rose like a dense fog from the Avar people who filled the spaces beyond the stone circle. Every one of them was staring at him, and Axis had to force himself to walk around the stone circle with as firm a pace as he could muster.

  Axis may have felt unsure and nervous, but to every Avar eye that watched he looked relaxed and confident, his pace smooth and supple, and he wore his power as easily as he did the cloak that flowed back from
his shoulders.

  They sat before him in a huge semicircle that stretched into the depths of the Grove. Axis had only ever been here on Beltide before, and that night had been alive with life, music and movement. Now all was silence and stillness and thousands of dark eyes that followed, followed, followed…

  As he reached the centre of the semicircle he slowed, unsure what he should do, or if he should say anything. Just as he hesitated, his eye caught a movement at the stone circle, and he turned.

  A small girl walked forth slowly, wearing a robe as blood-red as the sun on his chest. About its hem was embroidered a tracery of leaping white stags. She saw him looking at the embroidery and she smiled. “Axis.”

  He gazed at her, not immediately recognising her. Why the girl? She was a pretty little thing, and of great presence for one so young. Then something in the tilt of her eyes and the turn of her mouth reminded him.

  “Shra!” Without thinking about it he went down on one knee before her. All he wanted to do was speak to her eye to eye, but the gesture was one of reverence as well, and as one the Avar sighed…and relaxed.

  “Shra…it is good to see you again.”

  Shra understood what he wanted to say. “It is good to see you again, Axis, for I have not yet thanked you for either my or Raum’s life.”

  She took his hand in hers and kissed it softly.

  Axis smiled, remembering how good it had felt to hold her tiny body in his arms and suffuse it with life. “You were my first enchantment, Shra. Your suffering was the key that unlocked the gate.”

  She laughed. “You are as much a courtier as an enchanter, Axis, for you misrepresent the truth so charmingly that it is hard to be cross with you for it.”

  “And you speak far too well for a child who should still be clinging to her mother’s skirts.”

  Shra’s smile faded. “My mother is dead.”

  “Forgive me, Shra. Azhure told me of your mother’s fate.”

  She patted his hand and motioned him to stand up. “If my tongue is smoother than that of most five year olds, Axis StarMan, then perhaps it is because of the mystical filaments you wove into my recreation.”

  He stood reluctantly, wishing he had hours to speak with the girl, but already she was turning to her people. He thought she would speak, and it did not seem strange to him that she stood at the head of the Avar. She was Raum’s natural successor, and somewhere in a dark corner of his mind Axis wondered what had become of Barsarbe.

  But Shra did not speak. Instead she stood, waiting, eyes fixed into the darkness that had gathered beyond the Avar, and Axis lifted his eyes as well.

  A woman walked out of the tree line, and every muscle in Axis’ body froze.

  Faraday.

  Oh Stars, he thought bleakly, how could I have betrayed her as I did? How could I have treated her so badly?

  His nervousness returned.

  Faraday stepped gracefully through the ranks of the Avar, her eyes fixed on the gold and crimson figure before her. She thought she had resigned herself to her fate, but the instant she had seen him step into the grove every doubt and fear she’d ever entertained returned to plague her. But none could have guessed Faraday’s inner turmoil as she walked past them. Her face remained serene, her eyes still and calm, her gait smooth.

  As she approached Axis and Shra she dropped her eyes to the girl.

  “Shra,” she smiled, and rested a hand on her shoulder. Then, very slowly, she raised her eyes to Axis’ face.

  “Axis.”

  “Faraday.” He wondered if every time they met after long absences it would be before large crowds of potentially hostile people. This scene reminded him uncomfortably of the afternoon he had seen her enter the hall in Gorkenfort to stand by Borneheld’s side as his wife. Now he did not lust after her as he had then, but he would still have liked to hold her, to embrace her, and to whisper that he loved her.

  For he did love her. He could admit that to himself now. It was not what he felt for Azhure—he could never love another woman the way he loved Azhure—but his love for Faraday was like a still, cool lake in the hot, tangled jungle of his existence. He would never remain true to it because he could never be sated by it, but now and again he would like to touch it, to rest by her side, to draw strength from her stillness.

  But he could not touch her now, not in front of the assembled Avar, so he merely inclined his head, and hoped that somehow she understood.

  She lifted her hand from Shra’s shoulder and reached out for his. Her skin was cool, and he was afraid to press her fingers too firmly. She was far more fragile than he had ever seen her before—what had so drained her that it left hollows under her cheeks and her skin so translucent? But her fragility only added to her beauty.

  Her fingers trembled in his, and he wondered if she were as calm as she appeared.

  “My friends,” Faraday addressed the Avar, but she did not turn her eyes from Axis’. “I present to you Axis Rivkahson SunSoar, StarMan of Prophecy. He is the one for whom Plough, Wing and Horn have waited for so long, and he is the one who will heal the hurts that have torn our peoples apart for so long.”

  Now she did wrench her gaze away from Axis and look at the Avar. “Will you give him the aid he needs to defeat Gorgrael?”

  A man stood from the front ranks. He was muscular and swarthy, with greying brown hair, and he wore a tunic with branches embroidered about its hem.

  Faraday took one of his hands in hers and nodded at him. The man reached out and took Axis’ hand with his, so that the three stood in a triangle; Shra stood slightly to one side of Axis and Faraday.

  The man met Axis’ eyes without hesitation. “Yes, the Avar will give the StarMan the aid he requires.”

  Some of the tension left Axis’ shoulders.

  “Will the Avar give blood to aid the StarMan?” Faraday asked. Startled, Axis’ eyes flew to her face.

  “Yes,” the man said. “The Avar will give blood to aid the StarMan.”

  No! Axis wanted to cry out, but he said nothing, and Faraday carried on, her voice resolute.

  “Will the Avar seek out that which they have created for the StarMan?”

  “Yes.”

  Faraday paused, and now the corners of her mouth lifted in a slight smile. “Will the Avar give that which is needed to form the Rainbow Sceptre?”

  “Yes, the Avar will give freely to the StarMan.”

  Faraday leaned over and brushed the man’s cheek with her lips. “Grindle, Leader of the GhostTree Clan, I would present you to Axis, StarMan.”

  Then she repeated the words to Axis, presenting Grindle. “Grindle is Shra’s father,” she added, and Axis smiled at him.

  “Now,” Faraday said, “I would present you to the other Clan-Leaders.”

  As they slowly moved along the front ranks of the Avar, Faraday introduced each Clan-Leader by his name and the name of his Clan, and with each hand that gripped his Axis understood that each man made the same pledges that Grindle had mouthed aloud. It was so different to his last meeting with the elders, Banes and Clan-Leaders of the Avar that Axis felt as if he were in a dream. Any moment now this veil of civility would drop and their hostility would shine forth.

  But it didn’t. It was then Axis realised that something fundamental had changed among the Avar. Something had been accepted, and it wasn’t only himself.

  When the introductions were done Faraday and Shra each took him by a hand and drew him back towards the circle of stone, halting some fifteen paces away.

  Axis glanced at them both, puzzled, but they motioned him to silence, and then looked at the stone circle.

  He followed their eyes. As it had been on Beltide night, torches flickered about the upright stones; beyond he could just see the shape of the Earth Tree looming. Everything else within the stone circle was shadowed. What was going to happen now?

  Something moved beyond the stone archways.

  Faraday tensed at his side, but Axis did not look at her. Figures were moving slow
ly about the trunk of the Earth Tree, but even Axis, even with his Enchanter-enhanced vision, could not make them out. He felt Faraday tremble, and this time he did look at her.

  Tears were rolling slowly and silently down her cheeks, but she shook her head slightly when she saw him looking at her.

  He turned back to the stone circle, feeling the silence of the Avar behind him almost as a weight.

  A figure shuffled into view and Faraday, as Axis, gave a low cry of horror. It was Ogden, but an Ogden so warped and contorted by sickness that Axis took an involuntary step forward.

  “No!” Ogden cried hoarsely, holding up an unsteady hand. “No, Axis! Stay back. You must not touch us!”

  “Oh, Stars!” Axis mumbled, stricken by the sight of the Sentinel. His hair had all but fallen out, only a few wisps clung above his ears. His skin was reddened, covered in running sores, his face so bloated that his eyes were almost swollen shut, and his mouth hung open as he fought to breathe. Even from this distance Axis could hear the breath bubble in his lungs.

  Veremund and Yr struggled out behind him, and their condition was, if anything, even worse.

  Faraday took a harsh breath and looked away momentarily. Yr was almost unrecognisable—where were the sharp blue eyes, the irrepressible humour, the knowing smile now?

  Gone, gone into the same well of pestilence that consumed Ogden and Veremund.

  Now Zeherah—and even the stoic Avar silence crumbled when she appeared, and a low moan rippled about the grove. Zeherah could no longer walk, and she had to drag herself from the circle, her fingers clawing into the dirt, her legs dragging uselessly behind her.

  “I have to help!” Axis said, appalled, but Shra hauled at his hand as he stepped forward.

  “You must not touch them!” she hissed. “Let them alone, Axis,” she continued more gently, “for they know what they do.”

  Axis halted, staring at the horror before him, then he dragged his gaze around to Faraday. “Did you know?” he whispered.