StarDrifter stared at Raum a moment longer, then he turned to GoldFeather and opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say anything.
GoldFeather threw her arms about him and pressed her face against his chest. “It is true, my love, it is true. I stood no further from him than Raum now stands from you, but I did not know it was our son!” She started to sob again, and StarDrifter pulled his arm from Raum’s grasp and wrapped it around GoldFeather. “What are we going to do?” he whispered to no-one in particular. “How can we get our son back? How can I leave my son with the Seneschal?”
My son, he thought. I have a son. It was a thought which altered his entire existence. I have an Enchanter son.
Crest-Leader FarSight CutSpur strode through the crowded groves, his raven-backed wings folded carefully out of the way, his sense of military organisation and discipline offended by the excited jumble of Avar and Icarii about him. His black brows frowned as he peered about for StarDrifter SunSoar, his brother wanted him, and what RavenCrest SunSoar wanted he generally got if FarSight had anything to do with it. RavenCrest SunSoar was the Icarii Talon, and the direct commander of the Icarii Strike Force. Under him ranged twelve Crest-Leaders, of whom FarSight was the most senior. Each of their Crests was composed of twelve Wings, the basic unit of the Strike Force, themselves composed of twelve Icarii males and females. Those Icarii in the Strike Force had come to the Yuletide Meet in their guise as military personnel rather than as individual Icarii participating in the Yuletide rite. The Icarii had grievous news to impart to the Avar, but the Talon was insisting that his brother StarDrifter join the Combined Council of Elders, Crest-Leaders, Banes and Enchanters that was now convening within the magical circle of stones surrounding the Earth Tree. Thus Crest-Leader FarSight CutSpur strode purposefully through the crowds, ignoring cheerful greetings and those Avar who fell quiet when they noticed he was fully armed for war with his bow slung over his shoulder and his quiver of war arrows hanging ready down his back between his wings.
No-one had brought weapons to the Avar camps and the groves in living memory.
FarSight found StarDrifter, GoldFeather clinging to his side, in the farthest clearing. The Avar Bane Raum was talking to them earnestly, and FarSight could see that something seriously troubled the Enchanter. Well, these were seriously troubling days, FarSight thought grimly.
“StarDrifter!” he called several times, before having to virtually shout directly into StarDrifter’s face to get his attention. “StarDrifter, the Talon wants you. He has convened a Combined Council in the Sacred Circle, and you must be there.”
StarDrifter was definitely distracted, and GoldFeather distressed, but FarSight was unmoved. If they had family troubles then they would have to set them aside. “Now,” he said firmly and turned his gaze upon Raum. “You must come too, Bane. There are matters that need to be discussed before the rites begin this evening. If the rites begin this evening.”
That got Raum’s attention and his dark eyes deepened in concern. “FarSight, StarDrifter has received shocking news, but I think it may be news that the Council should hear as well. StarDrifter, come. We must go. You too, GoldFeather. You may be able to help the Council.”
They were the last to join the Council and the Talon, RavenCrest SunSoar, was clearly impatient to start proceedings. He was a beautiful birdman with vivid violet eyes, his hair as dark as his younger brother StarDrifter’s was light, and with the underside of his raven-backed wings dyed a brilliant speckled blue. Although Icarii rarely changed the colour of their hair or their wingbacks, they tended to dye their underwings as the impulse took them. RavenCrest’s breeches matched his underwings and about both his upper arms shone the twin silver armbands of his rank. RavenCrest had led the Icarii for over fifty years, since the death of his and StarDrifter’s father RushCloud, yet the past few days had been by far the most harrowing he had ever experienced.
As soon as his brother and GoldFeather joined the group of about one hundred and twenty Avar and Icarii gathered about the base of the Earth Tree, RavenCrest began speaking. As he spoke he strutted up and down beneath the Earth Tree. Behind him and slightly to one side stood his only son, FreeFall SunSoar, who had his uncle’s golden hair but his father’s violet eyes.
“My friends and neighbours,” RavenCrest began, “the Strike Force has brought me disturbing news. Our far-flight scouts have reported great numbers of Skraelings, as well as other unknown creatures, massing in the southern parts of Ravensbund at the River Andakilsa. They are preparing to strike the Groundwalkers’ fort in Gorken Pass. That is the reason we are so late; we did not want to leave our observation of northern Ichtar until the last moment possible. Currently it lies under a fearsome storm of some dark sorcery that we do not yet understand.” RavenCrest held up his hand to silence the nervous chatter that broke out and went on. “There is more. Storm clouds build to the north of the groves, and the Skraelings are also massing along the northern borders of the Avarinheim. My cousins Avar, I fear that the Avarinheim will shortly suffer the same action as Gorkenfort.”
“But that’s impossible!” cried Bane Mirbolt. “The Skraelings have ever been loathe to enter the Avarinheim. They cannot stand the trees, nor the closeness of the groves to the northern borders of the Avarinheim.”
“Gorgrael now lends the Skraeling wretches the benefit of his power, Mirbolt,” Raum said quietly, standing so that his words could be easily heard. “Who knows what they will do now? RavenCrest SunSoar, before you go any further, there is something you must know. The Prophecy of the Destroyer walks the earth.”
RavenCrest rocked on his feet, horror sweeping his beautiful strong face, and all the Icarii present looked deeply shocked. “Ah, no,” StarDrifter whispered, and rested his head briefly in his hands. This as well as the news of his son.
Raum quickly described what he had learned from the Sentinels at Fernbrake Lake and his contact with the Tree Friend. Then, with a glance at StarDrifter, who stared at the ground, Raum told them about meeting with the BattleAxe of the Seneschal, and how, incredibly, he carried the soul of an awesomely powerful Icarii Enchanter—powerful enough to sing the Song of Recreation as though he were humming a simple ballad. As that news sank in, and as those Icarii elders and Enchanters who were present turned to whisper to each other, Raum paused and looked pityingly at StarDrifter. “Perhaps now StarDrifter must tell you something,” he said softly.
Slowly StarDrifter raised his face and looked about the assembled group before his eyes locked into those of his brother’s. “RavenCrest, my brother, the BattleAxe is my son. GoldFeather’s child, stolen from her at birth by the man who has become the Brother-Leader of the Seneschal. I have only just found out myself.”
“What is going on here?” RavenCrest exclaimed, confusion turning his temper towards anger. “How can an Icarii Enchanter be raised among the Seneschal filth?”
Raum stepped forward, holding his hand up for quiet among the hubbub of noise. “There is one more thing I must say. The Prophecy walks and Gorgrael gathers his forces to strike south. The Sentinels walk abroad, as does Tree Friend. An Icarii Enchanter lives in the ghastly clothes of the BattleAxe of the Seneschal. My friends, why should four of the Sentinels and Tree Friend all be gathered, at one time or the other, about the person of the BattleAxe? Who carries Icarii blood and has the makings of the greatest Enchanter that has ever lived? We all know the Prophecy. Gorgrael is of mingled Avar and Icarii blood. The StarMan is related to him, a half-brother who shares the same father with Gorgrael.”
“No,” StarDrifter whispered to himself, his hands clenching by his sides in horror as the implications of what Raum was saying struck home with dreadful force. “No, no, no, no!”
“My friends,” Raum continued, his eyes half on StarDrifter. “Must I spell it out for you? Who else can the StarMan be but the BattleAxe, the Icarii Enchanter lost in the lies of the Seneschal that bind him tight? And if that is so, as I believe it must be, then, StarDrifter, have you also fathered Gorgr
ael?”
StarDrifter lifted his head back and screamed, a primeval sound of pure anguish, and leapt to his feet. He stared wildly at Raum, his wings raised and outstretched as if he would leap into flight, then Crest-Leader FarSight grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground, their wings thrashing together as they struggled. Both Icarii and Avar stumbled out of the way. RavenCrest flapped his wings in a single powerful movement and landed beside his brother, seizing his golden hair in his hand and forcing StarDrifter to look him in the eye. “We need to know,” RavenCrest ground out between locked jaws. “Is it possible?”
“Before I met GoldFeather anything is possible,” StarDrifter whispered, his entire body slumping. “You know as well as I that during Beltide unions between Icarii and Avar often occur.”
RavenCrest turned back to the Avar present, his hand still buried in his brother’s hair. “Do any of you know of a child born to one of your women from a Beltide coupling?” he asked fiercely. Now the Avar looked shamed as they considered the unthinkable. Had one of their women not aborted a Beltide babe?
“StarDrifter,” Raum said softly, his eyes sorrowing for his people. “Tell us. Which of the Avar could you have fathered Gorgrael on?”
StarDrifter’s wings drooped. He had no more resistance to deny the obvious truth. “The Beltide night before I flew down to Sigholt,” he whispered, “there was an Avar woman. Beautiful.”
“StarDrifter!” RavenCrest hissed again, impatient, his hand giving StarDrifter’s head a slight shake. “Who?”
“Ameld,” StarDrifter whispered so quietly that the others could barely hear. “Her name was Ameld.”
Mirbolt gave a horrified cry and RavenCrest turned his piercing eyes on her. “What do you know, Mirbolt?”
“My sister Ameld disappeared some five months after Beltide that many years ago,” she said, her hands to her face. Her sister had given birth to Gorgrael? “My sister, my poor beautiful Ameld! How did she die?”
Raum watched the group for a few minutes before squatting down by StarDrifter, wincing as his ankle flared in pain as he shifted his weight, and put a hand on the Enchanter’s shoulder in comfort and friendship.
“My friend, there is no blame to be apportioned here. The Prophecy has chosen its time to awaken, and you are merely one of its instruments. Think not of the horror of siring Gorgrael, but the joy and wonder of siring the StarMan, joy and wonder that GoldFeather can share with you. Remember, the StarMan must unite all three races of Tencendor, and your son carries within him the royal blood lines of both Icarii and Acharite people. He has been well-bred.” He stood again and turned his eyes to the others. “We can only grow strong from the knowledge that this afternoon has given us. We know something of Gorgrael, we know he wields powers similar, if greater, to an Icarii Enchanter. We know who the StarMan is. And we know where he is.”
StarDrifter looked up suddenly, his face losing a little of its grey horror. “Where?”
“Gorkenfort. He is in Gorkenfort with Tree Friend.”
49
YULETIDE
Axis and Belial, swathed in heavy cloaks, walked down one of the narrow alleyways that separated the town walls from the outer blocks of houses. The storm raged overhead, but the walls on either side of the men protected them from the worst of Gorgrael’s wind. Sentries stood shadowed in the eerie twilight, and Axis stepped close to one man to speak with him.
“Higginson,” he said, recognising the soldier as one of the regular troops helping the Axe-Wielders reinforce the wall, “a cold afternoon. Have you been on duty long?”
Higginson nodded at the BattleAxe, impressed he had remembered his name. “Some hours, BattleAxe. But I have this doorway to shelter me, and Gorgrael’s storm does not concern me.”
“Good man,” Axis said, seeing the glint of fear in his eyes, but clapping him on the shoulder. “Make sure you get some warm food in you once you stand down.”
As they strode further down the alleyway Axis turned to Belial, shouting from underneath the hood of his cloak. “This storm saps our strength, Belial, yet I fear its cessation almost as much as I fear its fury.”
Belial could only just catch his words amid the howling from the rooftops. He nodded, then indicated a doorway some paces further down the alley. There was little point in them trying to inspect the defences at this stage.
After Borneheld and his commanders struggled back to the fort via houses and sheltered alleyways, Axis and Belial spent hours inspecting walls and talking to men. Men were positioned in the battlements, ready to man the walls once—if—the storm abated, while other units sheltered in the houses adjacent to the walls. All had orders to keep as warm as they could, but no orders that Axis gave could stop the fear that grew with each passing hour.
Grateful to be out of the frigid air, Axis and Belial hurried through the door, slamming it behind them. The room, once a cobbler’s workshop, was now set up as a kitchen, and a small fire burned in one corner, a pot hanging from a tripod above it. Pulling off his cloak and gloves Axis sat on a small stool before the fire and motioned Belial to do the same. The unit’s cook took one look at them, ladled out bowls of gruel, then retreated to a storeroom in the back of the building.
“I’m afraid,” Axis admitted quietly as he finished the gruel.
“There is no shame in that.” Belial threw the few remaining lumps of coal onto the fire and sat back, rubbing his hands. “All are afraid.”
“None can escape the venomous intent of this storm, Belial.” Axis paused, listening to the fury of the wind. “Even Belle wouldn’t insist her husband venture outside to save Cow Crumbocke. Not unless she truly desired a widowed old-age.”
Belial tried to smile reassuringly at Axis, but it didn’t work.
Axis sighed. “What will Gorgrael throw at us, Belial? What tricks does he have waiting for us beyond the walls?”
Earlier both men had tried to peer through one of the arrow slits, but could see nothing.
“I think we will not have to wait very much longer to find that out,” a voice said behind them, and Axis and Belial swung about in surprise to see Ogden and Veremund hurrying through the door.
Belial frowned. “What are you two doing here? Return to the fort where you will be safer.”
But Axis moved his stool to one side to make room for the Sentinels by the fire. “Have you come to tell me how to use my powers, old men? Have you come to tell me how to save these walls and my men?”
Belial did not like the tone in Axis’ voice. “You will do as you have always done, Axis. You will fight to the best of your ability and lead your command to the best of your ability. It is all you can do.”
“Damn it!” Axis said intensely, staring at the flames. “If I am the StarMan, I should be able to do more than what I have simply done before. Ogden, Veremund,” he lifted his eyes to the Sentinels, “can you help me?”
Ogden spread his hands, apologetic. “We are only servants, Axis, and as the Prophecy unfolds we can only stand and watch. We have no powers to save this town and fort. We cannot teach you how to use your power.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Axis said harshly. “Why did you come?” His deep sense of helplessness in the face of the horror that waited beyond the storm found release in anger.
“We have to witness, dear one,” Veremund said gently. “And we must do our best to make sure that you live through this. The Prophecy must grow at its own pace. If it had wanted you at your full power for Gorkenfort then it would have moved sooner.”
Axis stared at Veremund for a moment, then gestured towards the door in an abrupt, angry movement. “And tell me, Sentinel, will you and your Prophecy make sure that these fourteen thousand live through this as well?”
Veremund held Axis’ stare, his face impassive. “Who lives and dies is not my decision. I only know that you must live.”
Axis dropped his eyes. “Is my father close, Veremund? Ogden? Will he tell me what to sing to drive these wraiths back?”
; “I cannot say, dear one,” Veremund replied. “We cannot know that.”
For long minutes Axis stared into the fire. Would the BattleAxe be enough to save this town? Or did he need the powers of the StarMan? StarDrifter, he thought, where are you? Where are you?
Belial leaned across and rested his hand on Axis’ arm. “You will do your best, Axis. It is all you can do.”
Axis took a deep breath and looked at the Sentinels. “Perhaps it were best if you returned to the fort, my friends. If you stay around here any longer you may be required to perform the Service of the Dead more times than you might wish.”
“And we must…” Belial began, rising to his feet, then stopped. “What?” he said, bewildered.
As Axis stood up, his face towards the door, the Sentinels looked at each other. It was time.
“The storm has broken,” Axis whispered, his face white. “Gorgrael is ready to strike!”
Without another word Axis and Belial grabbed their cloaks and gloves and rushed for the door.
The sacred and ancient rituals of Yuletide began as the first stars glittered through the gaps in the cloudy sky. The combined council had debated fiercely whether or not to conduct the rites given the recent ominous news, but had finally agreed that it was essential. If Gorgrael disrupted the rites of Yuletide the winter might never lift and his creatures of ice and cloud would drift unhindered ever lower into the lands of Tencendor.
The damnable thing was, Yuletide was the ideal time for Gorgrael to strike since many of the Icarii and most of the Avar were gathered in one spot, together with their Enchanters and Banes. Recognising the danger, the Icarii and Avar took what precautions they could. Crest-Leaders posted sentries about the forest and the cliffs to give advance warning of any attack, while all Avar children under the age of twelve years were taken as far down the paths into the southern Avarinheim as they could in the time available; the Icarii never brought their children to the groves. No people could survive if their helpless children were slaughtered.
Battleaxe Page 47
