Battleaxe

by Sara Douglass

  “I am impressed, Jack,” Yr said very quietly. “You seemed to have learned well during your long wait for the StarMan.” Jack raised his head from his contemplation of the steps. His jewel-like eyes were faintly satisfied. He nodded in acknowledgement of her compliment.

  “Let us go. Timozel, you will bring up the rear with one of the lamps. I will lead with the other. Yr and Faraday can come between us. The climb is long, I fear. Please be careful, the steps can sometimes be uneven.”

  They had to climb slowly. The stairs were steep and, as Jack had cautioned, uneven in places as the stairwell wound down deep into the earth in tight spirals. Jack, Yr and Faraday had to carefully hold their cloaks out of the way lest they trip over their trailing hems, and Jack gave the lamp to Yr so that he could manage both his cloak and the heavy staff.

  Faraday concentrated hard to avoid falling. The steps seemed to spiral down into infinity, and she lost all track of time. Her calves and knees ached after only a few minutes and, as they descended further, the ache intensified into a burning sensation. She was so lost in contemplation of her pain that she bumped heavily into Yr when she stopped in front of her.

  “Pay attention!” Yr snapped. “Jack has called a rest.”

  Faraday mumbled an apology and sat down to massage her aching calves. “How much further, Jack?”

  “We’re about halfway down,” Jack said. Faraday was glad to see that both he and Yr were also massaging their legs. Magical creatures they might be, but it didn’t stop their muscles from complaining. Timozel was stoically pretending that his own legs didn’t ache.

  Yr began to comb out Faraday’s wet and tangled hair with her fingers. Faraday smiled and closed her eyes. She would give two years of her life for a warm bath, she thought vaguely, lulled into tranquillity by the touch of Yr’s hands.

  As Faraday’s eyes closed Timozel surreptitiously stretched his legs across the width of the stairwell, his face grimacing with relief as the ache began to abate. He sighed and settled his shoulders comfortably against the stone wall.

  For a while he watched Yr comb Faraday’s hair, then his eyes, like Faraday’s, slowly closed.

  He was on a great beast—not a horse, something different—that dipped and soared. It screamed with the voice of…

  Timozel’s eyes flew open and he sat forward, startled. For an instant he could have sworn that he was…

  “What’s wrong?” Jack’s quiet voice asked, concerned. Yr and Faraday were too absorbed in each other to notice Timozel.

  “Nothing,” said Timozel tersely. “Nothing.”

  Jack stared a moment longer, then sat back, turning his face to the blackness below them. No wonder the Axe-Wielder is unsettled, he thought. This is a stairwell haunted by the memory of strange steps. He tried to rest, wishing that fate had not brought them to this Barrow. Prophecy.

  Slowly Timozel leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes.

  He fought for a great Lord, and in the name of that Lord he commanded a mighty army that undulated for leagues in every direction.

  Again Timozel’s eyes flew open, but this time he kept still. Commanded a great army? He almost chuckled. Commanded a great army? Humph! Not if Axis had his way, he thought sourly. So determined is he not to favour me because he beds my mother I’ll be lucky to achieve chief of the horse lines before I’m fifty. Timozel felt a stab of resentment, deeper than he’d ever felt before. He had a poor future in the Axe-Wielders.

  He closed his eyes again.

  The cold wind blew at his back as hundreds of thousands screamed his name and hurried to fulfil his every wish. Before him another army, his pitiful enemy, lay quavering in terror. They could not counter his brilliance. Their commander lay abed, unable to summon the courage to meet Timozel in just combat.

  This must be a vision from Artor—a reward for taking the holy vows of Championship.

  Remarkable victories were his for the taking.

  “Yes,” Timozel whispered.

  In the name of his Lord he would clear Achar of the filth that invaded.

  “Yes,” he said, louder this time. He revelled in the power he would wield. His fist clenched by his side.

  His name would live in legend forever.

  “Timozel?” Faraday touched his hand. “Are you all right?”

  Timozel hesitated, not wanting to let the vision go, then he opened his eyes and smiled at Faraday. “Yes. Yes, I will be all right.”

  All will be well.

  I will be a powerful Champion, he thought, for people to scream my name thus. He muttered a quick prayer to Artor, thanking him for the vision.

  “All will be well,” he whispered.

  “Let’s move,” Jack said finally, and they all rose stiffly to their feet. Yr had done her best with Faraday’s hair, and now it lay coiled into a neat roll in the nape of her neck, the worst of the tangles and mud removed. Faraday turned to look at Timozel as they started to climb down again, his confident smile reassuring her. She thought she was going to like having her own personal Champion.

  Timozel followed the others with new assurance. Artor’s vision made him feel older, more purposeful. Harder. Ready to stand and defend Faraday—and Artor himself, if need be—at a moment’s notice. A true Champion.

  They continued to climb down the stairs, the only relief from complete blackness the dim glow provided by the lamps Yr and Timozel carried. Faraday shivered as she thought what it must have been like for a person to climb down this stairwell in total darkness. But then, perhaps these Enchanter-Talons made their own light.

  Eventually they became aware of a faint sound of wind echoing up the stairs around them.

  “What’s that?” Faraday whispered, and felt Timozel touch her shoulder reassuringly.

  “It is the sound of the Star Gate,” Yr replied. Her voice was stiff with barely suppressed excitement, and Faraday looked at Timozel, intrigued.

  The sound grew louder as they got closer and a faint blue light began to augment that of their lamps. Finally the light was strong enough for Jack to ask Yr to douse her lamp, and after a moment’s hesitation Timozel did the same. Yr was almost pushing Jack’s back in her eagerness to get to the bottom of the stairwell.

  “Peace, Yr, we’re almost there,” grumbled Jack though he was also keenly excited. He had seen the Star Gate on three previous occasions, yet three hundred viewings would never be enough for him.

  As they rounded one more bend, the stairs abruptly ended in a long corridor that angled towards an open archway in the distance. Blue light and sound pulsed at them from the far side of the archway. Jack stopped them for a moment, although Yr looked so excited that for a moment Faraday thought she might break and run down the corridor towards the strange blue light. Her heart began to pound, and Timozel pulled her a little closer to his body, thinking she needed reassurance.

  “There is no danger as long as you do not step through the Star Gate,” Jack said, his eyes keen as they searched those of Faraday and Timozel. “But there are one or two things that I must warn you of. Yr? Do you listen as well?” Yr nodded her head impatiently, her eyes on the distant archway. Jack turned back to Faraday and Timozel. “No human has been down here for almost a thousand years, and in the time of the Icarii rule it was rare indeed that a human was allowed to see the Star Gate. This is one of the most sacred Icarii sites in this land, so treat it with due reverence. The Star Gate is very beautiful, and it will tempt you to step through. You can hear it sing now. But if you do that you will never come back. Do you understand?” Both Faraday and Timozel nodded.

  “Well then, let us enter the Chamber of the Star Gate.”

  Timozel gripped Faraday’s hand tightly as they followed Jack and Yr. He was a Champion and he would lead great armies; there was no need to fear this blue light.

  As soon as they stepped through the archway into the Chamber of the Star Gate, their ears were buffeted by the sound of a gale, although not a breath of wind touched their faces.

  Fa
raday’s first impression, after she had adjusted to the sound, was that the chamber was a smaller, if more exquisite, version of the Chamber of the Moons in the palace of Carlon. It was perfectly circular and surrounded by pillars and archways. Each of the pillars was carved from translucent white stone in the shape of a naked, winged man. Most of the men stood with their heads bowed and arms folded across their chests, wings lifted and outstretched so as to touch those of the men next to them, their touching wingtips forming the apex of the archways. Faraday noticed that an entire section of pillars across the far side of the chamber were different. These winged men had their heads up and their eyes wide open, golden orbs staring towards the centre of the chamber, their arms uplifted in joy with their wings. She did not have to count to know that there were twenty-six.

  “Faraday,” Timozel whispered, and when she turned to look at him he pointed towards the vaulted ceiling of the chamber. Blue shadows leaped and chased each other across the white stone vault. Like demons, Timozel thought.

  “Oh!” Faraday gasped, “it’s beautiful!”

  “It is not there you should be looking, lovely lady, but beneath the shadows,” said Jack, standing in the middle of the archway they had come through, his extended arm indicating what looked like the low rim of a large circular pool which occupied the centre space of the floor.

  Faraday walked towards the pool, dragging a reluctant Timozel with her. She was almost breathless with excitement. A few paces from the pool Timozel baulked; he would go no further. Faraday let Timozel’s hand go and walked to the rim, it was about knee height and wide enough to sit on comfortably. Without hesitation or a backward glance, Faraday sat down. Deep blue light pulsed across her face and reflected far above on the stone vault.

  Faraday’s lips parted and her eyes widened. For a few moments she forgot to breathe. Yr and Jack joined her at the rim, and for long minutes all three stared transfixed into the Star Gate.

  The circular pool contained no water; instead, to all intents and purposes, it contained the universe. The real one, not the faint shadow that lights the night sky. Stars reeled and danced, suns chased each other across galaxies, moons dipped and swayed through planetary systems, luminous comets threaded their mysterious paths through the cosmos. The sound of vast interstellar winds roared out into the chamber and a luminous deep blue light pulsed through the Star Gate. Its depths stretched into infinity.

  Faraday opened her mouth to say something to Jack, sitting next to her, but there were no words to describe what she saw. She started to cry through sheer wonder at the incredible beauty and majesty of the Star Gate. No wonder the Icarii worshipped here and, when they could not be here, worshipped the Star Gate’s reflection in the night sky. Artor paled into utter insignificance for Faraday as she battled to come to terms with what she saw. Nothing she had been taught about Artor and the Way of the Plough could compare with this. She envied with every fibre of her being the Enchanter-Talons who had stepped through this Gate. What incredible joy they must have felt as they slid over the rim of the pool and into infinity! Perhaps even now they joined the stars themselves as they danced through the universe. “Ah,” she moaned, longing to join them, wondering if she would be good enough for the Gate to accept her. Her hands stretched towards the Star Gate.

  Jack’s arm slid about her shoulders. “No, sweet one. No, do not be tempted. It is not for you or I to step through this Gate. Only an Icarii Enchanter powerful beyond telling could ever hope to survive.”

  Faraday dragged her eyes away from the Star Gate and looked at Jack. His cheeks showed the trail of tears as well. “So, it is not only the dead Enchanter-Talons who go through?”

  Jack thought carefully before he replied. “No. It is said that one day the Icarii will breed an Enchanter powerful enough to journey through the Gate and manage to come back out again. I do not know what he would find there.”

  Or what he did find there, he thought. His eyes slipped momentarily to the line of twenty-six statues whose arms were uplifted in joy.

  Faraday’s eyes had drifted back to the Star Gate and she did not notice Jack’s glance. “I do not know why he would ever want to come back out again,” she whispered.

  “It is good that you have seen this,” Jack said quietly. “It will help you through the next years of your life. Remember it always.”

  “Always,” Faraday echoed fiercely, and then Jack was pulling her back from the brink and handing her to Timozel who still refused to look into the Gate. “Keep her back, now, lad,” Jack said, and Timozel nodded, annoyed at being called lad, but pleased that Jack had entrusted Faraday to his care.

  Jack returned to the stone rim surrounding the Star Gate and spoke quietly to Yr, who still sat enraptured by the Gate. After a moment she reluctantly inclined her head and stood up, following Jack back to where Timozel and Faraday waited.

  “Do each of these archways lead to a Barrow?” Timozel asked as Jack drew level with him. “There are more archways than Barrows.”

  “Only some of them lead to the Barrows. Others lead…elsewhere. The Icarii needed access to the Star Gate through doorways other than those of the Barrows of the Enchanter-Talons. And then there are others who ply their way to and from the Star Gate and use corridors still stranger than those the Icarii used. Come, make sure Faraday follows, and I will lead us out through another passage.”

  Jack took Yr’s hand and led them towards one of the arches surrounded by sleeping winged men. As they passed under, Faraday roused, turning for one last look at the Chamber of the Star Gate.

  “Why did they put wings on these men, Jack? Is it meant to symbolise their status as StarFarers?”

  Jack turned around, his disbelief making him laugh a little. Did she not understand? “Symbolise? No, sweet heart, these pillars are accurate representations of the Icarii. Sweet lady, the Icarii are winged people.”

  24

  ACROSS THE PLAINS OF ARCNESS

  If the climb down to the Star Gate was hard, the ascent was a nightmare.

  The stairwell that had led down from the tomb to the Star Gate had been made of well-crafted stone, but the stone corridor Jack took them through to escape the Star Gate quickly degenerated into nothing more than a tunnel carved out of the living earth, only the occasional wooden strut looming out of the dark to relieve the uncertain lines of the earthen walls. As they gradually came closer to the surface, deep tree roots pierced the walls of the tunnel and water dripped down from the roof. Caught in the fold of a cloak or a skirt and then sucked free, the moisture provided only bare relief from thirst. Along with the moisture, great chunks of earth also fell periodically from the roof. To preserve light Jack allowed only one lamp to glow at any given time and Faraday clung close to Timozel as they stumbled over the uneven floor, terrified that the tunnel would collapse on her at any moment.

  According to Jack, and how he knew neither Faraday nor Timozel could fathom, it took them the best part of a day and a night to reach the surface. Jack explained that their ascent was taking a great deal longer because this particular tunnel led them to a spot far distant from the Barrows. It was the tunnel he had used on his previous three journeys to the Star Gate, he said, and had once been in much better repair—it had, in fact, been one of the main entrance ways to the Star Gate for the Icarii. But with the passing centuries the tunnel was slowly collapsing in on itself.

  Faraday found herself spending long stretches of time thinking of her mother. Silent tears welled and flowed down her cheeks, and she brushed them aside, trying to be strong.

  Timozel hardly spoke during their ascent. He stayed close by Faraday’s side, lying down beside her to keep her warm whenever Jack called a rest and supporting her as they floundered through the dark tunnel, but unusually reticent whenever Faraday tried to talk to him.

  Finally, when it seemed as though they could not go on, that they’d never see daylight again, they came to a solid earth wall blocking their path.

  Timozel pushed past Yr to stand ne
xt to Jack, who was running his hands over the wall. “Can your magic get us past this, then?” he rasped, barely managing to get the words out through his parched throat. Timozel’s dislike and distrust of Jack had grown with each step through the dark and dank tunnel.

  Jack stared at him flatly. “No magic, boy, but your back and mine. This is the wall, perhaps some two paces thick, that conceals the entrance. We should be able to dig through it with just the two of us. Yr, Faraday, stand back, but be prepared to move quickly when I call.”

  Yr and Faraday took several paces back, as Jack began scraping at the wall with his hands, but Timozel put a hand to his shoulder.

  “Wait,” he said. He pulled his axe from his weapon belt and started to hew into the earthen wall, standing well back and swinging his entire shoulders into the effort. Jack leaped out of the way as clods of earth flew in every direction.

  “Be careful, you fool boy!” he croaked, choking on the loose dirt drifting through the air, “or you’ll bring the whole tunnel down around our ears.” He hefted his staff in his hand, as if he was debating with himself whether to strike Timozel or the earthen wall.

  Timozel took no notice of Jack’s warning and Faraday found herself praying, to whom she did not know or care, that Timozel would break through quickly. She felt as if she would die if she did not stretch her face to the sky soon.

  Finally there was a rush of earth and the remaining lamp was smothered in dirt. Timozel stepped back, choking as the earth tumbled about his shoulders.

  “Now!” cried Jack. The women hesitated, terrified by the sudden dark and the sounds of the earthfall before them, but both Jack and Timozel reached for their arms and hauled them through the shifting, collapsing mass of earth. For several terrifying heartbeats the four battled through the earthfall, trying as best they could to protect their heads and to prevent too much of the dirt from entering their noses and mouths.

  Then, suddenly, miraculously, they were free into cold, grey daylight, stumbling through dry knee-high grass, coughing and choking as they tried to free their throats of dirt.