Battleaxe

by Sara Douglass

  The huge Assembly Chamber of Talon Spike was one of the best examples of Icarii building and decoration. It was circular and tiered with scores of rows of benches on which the adult Icarii sat and fluttered and generally made raucous noise whenever they met in general Assembly. The Chamber, most of the elder Icarii agreed, was at its best both aesthetically and politically when it was completely empty. The walls and benches were faced with golden-veined white marble, the circular floor in the centre of the Chamber of a peculiarly translucent and very beautiful golden marble veined with violet. Pale gold and blue cushions were scattered about the benches; never quite enough for the number of Icarii that squeezed into the Chamber, feathers often flying as they fought over the cushions. The lower three circles of benches were reserved for the Elders, the Enchanters and the family of the Talon. These benches were completely lined with crimson cushions for the Elders, turquoise cushions for the Enchanters, and the royal violet for those of the House of SunSoar. The very top six rows of benches were reserved for the Strike Force, and they were uncushioned as befitted the hard muscles of warriors.

  The most spectacular part of the Assembly Chamber was not the rows of tiered marble benches rising three quarters of the way up the walls, but the circle of gigantic pillars soaring above the tiers which supported the domed roof of the Chamber. Their design was based on the shapes of the carved Icarii birdmen encircling the Star Gate, except these in the Assembly Chamber were five times as tall, far more spectacularly constructed and consisted of alternating male and female figures. In the Chamber of the Star Gate most of the birdmen statues had their arms folded and heads bowed, eyes closed. Here all the statues had their arms and wings extended joyously, their eyes open in wonder and mouths open in silent song. They had been gilded and enamelled in jewel-bright colours, real gems mined from the depths of Talon Spike in their eyes and in the golden torcs about their necks. Each individual hair on their heads and feather in their wings had been picked out in gold and silver and the muscles in their pale naked bodies were carefully defined in the ivory tones of pale flesh. They supported a domed roof completely plated in highly burnished bronze mirrors that, due to the enchantments bonded into their making, gave off a gentle golden light which illuminated the entire Chamber.

  The Icarii entering the Chamber did so between the archways formed by the outspread wings and arms of the great pillars. According to inclination, they then either spiralled down gently though the air or walked down the tiers until they found the appropriate seat with, hopefully, a cushion still in place. On this afternoon in the first week of Wolf-month, only a few days after the New Year, the Icarii took their seats within the Chamber with slightly less than their usual vocal enthusiasm. They knew they would have to make a decision involving war. That knowledge was emphasised by the entrance of the entire Strike Force, fully armed, all the Crest-Leaders and many of the Strike Force with both underwings and wingbacks dyed in the ebony of war.

  Azhure watched silently from just underneath one of the arches of the encircling pillars at the very top of the Chamber. Raum stood beside her. Both were dressed in softly draped floor-length robes, soft grey for Azhure, dark green for Raum.

  The Elders, Enchanters and members of the House of SunSoar entered last, filing silently into their seats from a small door secreted away in the bottom rows of tiers. RavenCrest and his son FreeFall were both draped in violet and ivory; RavenCrest had a jewelled torc about his neck like those worn by the lifeless statues. BrightFeather, RavenCrest’s wife, followed dressed in a paler shade of violet. Close behind came MorningStar, RavenCrest and StarDrifter’s Enchanter mother. Last of all came StarDrifter, draped in a crimson and gold toga embroidered across his chest with the motif of a blazing sun. All had bare feet.

  It was a mark of his status as both a SunSoar and the most powerful Enchanter present that StarDrifter opened proceedings. The Assembly hushed as he halted in the centre of the golden floor. StarDrifter circled the Chamber with his pale eyes, then he abruptly bowed to the assembled Icarii, his eyes downcast, both arms and wings swept low in a gesture both of respect and of abasement, swinging in a slow full circle so that all were included in his bow. The feathers of his almost healed wings swept the floor behind him and all could see the vivid scars among the feathers.

  Azhure took a quick yet deep intake of breath; StarDrifter’s salute to the Assembly was one of the most graceful and courtly gestures she had ever seen performed.

  As he straightened out of his bow the Enchanter started to sing, very softly at first, although each word could be heard at the very topmost tier of seats, then gradually his voice strengthened and grew in passion until it soared to the very bronze mirrors of the domed roof.

  Again StarDrifter sang in the alien ancient language. Again Azhure found she had no difficulty understanding his words—indeed the exotic intonation of the words and phrases made her blood sing.

  He sang of the Icarii origins, of the time when the Icarii had finally learned the art of flight and of the day when they had first discovered the sun and the stars. He sang of their proud heritage, of their leadership of Tencendor, of the dances and the songs they had performed high in the summer sky above the magic lakes and forests of their homeland. He sang of a time when the Icarii could soar and drift the thermals from the Icescarp Alps to the Sea of Tyrre, a time when their children learning the Way of the Wing did not have to be guarded against deadly arrows loosed from below. He sang of their downfall, of their inability to realise that the Groundwalkers feared and resented their beautiful cousins, and of their inability to realise that this fear and resentment would eventually prove fertile ground for the whisperings of the Seneschal.

  Tears rolled down many faces as the Icarii remembered what they had lost. Azhure found she wept with them.

  StarDrifter sang of the Wars of the Axe, those dreadful decades when their ancestors had lost all they had gained, when the Groundwalkers had taken the axe to both feather and forest, when the Icarii had fled in the night with the Avar to huddle, senseless with grief, behind the Fortress Ranges. StarDrifter paid more attention to this part of the Song than he had the previous verses, describing in detail both what the Icarii had lost and how they had been unable to counter both the wicked lies of the Seneschal and the axes of the Groundwalkers who rallied to the Brotherhood. His voice was indescribably beautiful, yet so sad and haunting, so full of death and fear, that Azhure’s tears turned from sadness and loss to shame and humiliation. Her people had driven these creatures of such incredible beauty and gifts from Tencendor?

  StarDrifter sang of the new home the Icarii had built for themselves in the desolate yet welcome isolation of Talon Spike, of the ingenuity with which they had transformed their mountain home into both beauty and comfort. He sang of their years spent in peace here, of the mysteries they had unravelled, and the unparalleled vision of the Stars they had from the peak of Talon Spike. Then, lest the Icarii be lulled into thinking that they did not mind that they had lost so much of Tencendor, StarDrifter sang of the wonders and the sacred sites they had lost to the Groundwalkers—the larger part of the Avarinheim and the enchanted glades that it had contained, now ravaged under the deep bite of the Plough; the Sacred Lakes, dying through lack of love; the Enchanted Keeps, most of which had been destroyed or defiled with the touch of the Seneschal; the enigmatic Spiredore. The Island of Mist and Memory, where the Gods lay trapped by filthy and diseased pirates. The Nine High Priestesses of the Order of the Stars, doubtless raped and forced to bear the children of their captors. The Sepulchre of the Moon, bricked up and dark. The Ancient Barrows, now crumbling. Star Gate. Lost.

  As one the Icarii moaned and wrung their hands, and Raum turned in surprise as a small moan escaped Azhure. Why did she weep? Had she understood StarDrifter? It had taken Raum many years of close study to be able to grasp the general meaning of the Icarii sacred tongue—yet here was Azhure weeping as if she had understood every nuance of StarDrifter’s song. Puzzled, Raum turned back to
watch StarDrifter.

  “Now,” StarDrifter whispered, abruptly switching to a speaking voice. “There is a chance that you can regain all of this.” He paused, closed his eyes, folded his hands upon his breast and began to sing again.

  This time he sang the Prophecy of the Destroyer. The first two verses only, for all knew that the third verse was the province of the StarMan alone, but StarDrifter hummed that verse, his voice so rich and with so many complicated strands interwoven into the underlying music that it sounded as if a whole choir were singing a song whose words were only slightly out of focus. Raum grasped Azhure’s hand, overcome by the splendour and power of StarDrifter’s talent. Neither the Bane nor Azhure had ever come close to seeing the true extent of StarDrifter’s gift, and even now they did not realise that they heard only a minute fraction of what he was capable of.

  After StarDrifter’s voice had faded the Chamber remained totally silent for a full five minutes. StarDrifter had reminded them, more vividly than ever before, that they were a race who were mere shadows of their former selves. Talon Spike, no matter how beautiful and comfortable, could never replace what they had lost. StarDrifter had shown them how they could perhaps regain it. The Prophecy of the Destroyer was also, perhaps, a Prophecy of Hope.

  StarDrifter stood with his head bowed, arms folded across his chest, listening to the silence. Rivkah stared at him with tears rolling down her cheeks. She had never loved him more than she did at this moment. Finally StarDrifter took a deep breath and raised his head. His movement broke the spell in the Assembly and a sound of whispering arose. StarDrifter let his hands fall from his breast and walked quietly over to the bench to sit between Rivkah and EvenSong, smiling at each of them. He folded his hands in his lap, although Rivkah desperately wanted him to reach out and hold her hand.

  RavenCrest stood up and took the floor, the spare material of his toga draped over his left arm, his torc shining brilliantly in the light. “My fellow Icarii,” he began, his voice clear and strong. “You all know of the events of the previous ten days, so I will not bore you with a repetition. You know that the Prophecy has awakened and walks the earth, so I will not try your patience with repeating the details that have circulated among you for the past week. You know that Tree Friend walks and that Earth Tree Sings. You know that we face Gorgrael and that he is the son of StarDrifter SunSoar and the Avar woman Ameld of the FarWalk Clan.” StarDrifter hung his head, but RavenCrest did not look at him. “You know also that the StarMan is the BattleAxe of the Seneschal, and that he is Axis, son of StarDrifter SunSoar and Rivkah, Princess of Achar. What we must decide today is whether we go to his aid in Gorkenfort and whether we can accept the BattleAxe of the Seneschal among us as the true StarMan.”

  A number of clear hisses drifted down from the Assembly. After StarDrifter had so clearly and wondrously reminded them exactly what they had lost to the cold steel of the axe, how could they accept the BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders among them?

  RavenCrest took no notice of the hisses. “But first we must hear the news of Gorkenfort. Crest-Leader FarSight CutSpur, your farflight scouts have now returned from reconnaissance around Gorkenfort. What news?”

  FarSight stood up from his bench at the very top of the Chamber. He was a forbidding sight, his already swarthy appearance enhanced by his ebony-dyed wings.

  “Talon, I bring grave news. Gorkenfort is under siege from an army of Skraelings twenty-fold larger than the force which struck us in Earth Tree Grove. The town is lost and a shambles, all the Groundwalkers who survive are in the fort.” He paused. “The battle for the town must have been fierce and desperate. We lost many hundreds in the Earth Tree Grove, they lost many thousands. The dead are still piled high, the Skraelings so glutted they cannot feast any more. Four SkraeBolds now lead the siege, tens of thousands of Skraelings mass in a grey mist about the town. Comrades, I am at a loss to describe the horror that must face those Groundwalkers whenever they peer over the battlements of their fort.”

  “Will it hold?” someone called from halfway up the tiers.

  FarSight took a deep breath and considered. “No. I do not think so. In the end the cold and the lack of food—I suspect the fort is crowded with too many men—or perhaps simply the fear will mean the fort will fall. Gorgrael’s army is too large. They cannot stop it from marching south. Gorgrael has the cream of Achar’s army, or what is left of it, bottled up in Gorkenfort.”

  “And he has my son bottled up there, too,” said StarDrifter quietly.

  “Yes,” FarSight said, “he has your son in there. The scouts have seen him, StarDrifter SunSoar. Walking the walls in the black of the BattleAxe. He has been injured in the fighting, StarDrifter, the farflight scouts say that even from the height they have been circling they can see that he has the ashen face of one who is only just managing to recover from massive blood loss.”

  StarDrifter moaned, and this time he did take Rivkah’s hand; both looked stricken.

  “The question,” FreeFall strode into the circle of the floor to stand by his father, “is whether or not we go to Gorkenfort’s aid. I say we must—can we let the StarMan, the one who can lead us to victory against Gorgrael, die on the walls of Gorkenfort for want of our help?”

  “Peace,” RavenCrest muttered, annoyed that his son should have entered the debate so precipitously. But FreeFall shook off his father’s cautionary hand. He was hot for action, and his violet eyes flared at the Assembly, challenging them to disagree with him.

  “I say we have no choice!”

  His words sent the Assembly into an uproar. Relatively quiet until this point, now the Icarii turned to their neighbours beside, above and below them on the benches and argued back and forth. Feathers started to drift down along with the words and shouts.

  “We always have a choice, that is what this Assembly is all about!”

  “This is not a matter to be decided so lightly or quickly, we must think on this for days!”

  “Would we do any good against the might of the Skraelings? Would we not be better simply to bolster the defences of Talon Spike?”

  “Perhaps all Gorgrael wants is Achar, perhaps we should let him have it.”

  “Help the Groundwalkers? You must be demented, boy! Where is the Icarii pride?”

  “Burned with the bones and the flesh of our dead in Earth Tree Grove!” FreeFall screamed into the roar of voices, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his wings raised behind him as if he would lift any moment.

  RavenCrest grabbed FreeFall’s arm with one hand and raised the other to silence the Assembly. It didn’t work, the Icarii were in uproar. RavenCrest’s lips twitched in anger a moment, then he screamed, “Silence!”

  His voice penetrated to the very bronze mirrors, echoing back down through the Chamber. Everyone stopped talking at once.

  “Do you think I come lightly before you to raise this issue?” he snarled. “Do you think that I have not twisted at night with the horrors that face us if we do not agree to help the Groundwalkers, and twisted with the horrors that we face if we do? Do you think that I have not considered the legacy of hatred that exists between the Groundwalkers and the Icarii? Well, think again. I want reasoned discussion on this issue, then I want a quick and painless decision. StarDrifter, you are more personally involved than any other Icarii present and you are far more knowledgeable. Speak to us.”

  RavenCrest stepped backwards, dragging FreeFall with him.

  StarDrifter let Rivkah’s hand go and stepped forward. “I speak both as a father and an Enchanter,” he said, raising his face to the Assembly. “Gorgrael has moved, and so must we. Inaction will result in our ruin, and the ruin of all we hold dear. There is only one who can save us—Axis, BattleAxe of the Seneschal. The Prophecy speaks thus, and I know thus. He has grown to manhood without my support and has learned to view the world without my explanations.” StarDrifter shrugged, a small smile twitching across his lips. “Perhaps that is as well. But I know my son from what I learned of him in
the womb. Icarii fathers! You all sing to your children as they grow in the womb. But how many sing back?”

  His last few words had stunned the Assembly, and StarDrifter waited for the whispers to die down. “My son sang his own Song of Creation. He created himself. Perhaps it was my seed that planted him, and perhaps it was Rivkah’s womb that nurtured him, but my son took of us both what he wanted and made himself.”

  No-one could speak for long minutes. This was unbelievable.

  “Think on the power hidden in this man that waits for release,” StarDrifter finally said. “I beg of you, do not let him die in Gorkenfort. He is all that can save us.”

  Murmurings arose from the Icarii—many were still not convinced. Perhaps he did have the makings of an Enchanter only dreamed about in legend. But could they trust this half-Icarii, half-Groundwalker? A BattleAxe?

  Above them all Raum stood forth, pulling Azhure with him. “Hear me!” he called and heads turned and craned to see who spoke.

  “I have two things to say,” Raum said, slightly unnerved by the many thousands of faces turned his way. “First, we should not forget that Gorkenfort contains others besides Axis BattleAxe. Within those walls also stand at least three of the Sentinels. I need not remind those familiar with the Prophecy that the loss of any one of those Sentinels, let alone three of them, would be disastrous itself. Also within those walls stands Tree Friend, Faraday, probably Duchess of Ichtar by now.”