As Axis withdrew his power from Azhure he turned his eyes to survey the emotion which swept the Assembly. He had thought long and hard about what to say to them and had finally fallen back on a maxim that Jayme, Brother-Leader of the Seneschal, of all people, had once taught him. “Learn to seize the hearts of your audience with your first words, for those hearts will always remain the most loyal. If someone needs to be persuaded with hours of arguments, then he will forever remain a potential traitor in your camp.”
Finally Axis held up a hand for quiet. The Icarii only very gradually subsided into their seats and into silence. When he had the complete attention of the Assembly Axis spoke again.
“I will lead you back into Tencendor, but it will not be easy, nor will it be all that you expect. It may be years before you can reclaim what you lost.” This was the dangerous moment, Axis knew—when the Icarii would have to realise that their dreams would not be accomplished overnight. “You know that the Prophecy walks and that I am the StarMan. Even as I speak two of the Sentinels sit among you.”
Heads craned and Ogden and Veremund gave small embarrassed waves.
“Whatever I do, wherever I lead you, it must be as the Prophecy dictates, my people. If Tencendor will rise again to defeat Gorgrael, then we must all heal the rift within. Icarii, Avar and Acharite must reunite into one nation. If we cannot find the bridge to understanding, then will Gorgrael earn his name and bring destruction hither,” Axis said, quoting the Prophecy to them. “My first task and, I think, my hardest, will be to unite the three races and recreate Tencendor. I face deadly opposition in doing this.”
“The Acharites,” a voice hissed.
“No, not the people of Achar.” Axis paused and stared at the Icarii for a moment. “Not the people of Achar, whom I think will accept both you and the concept of Tencendor again, but it will be the Brotherhood of the Seneschal and the Duke of Ichtar who will oppose me…us. Was it not the Seneschal who persuaded the Acharites to drive you from Tencendor during the Wars of the Axe? The Seneschal will oppose us and they will use Borneheld and his army to do it.”
“And Priam?” someone asked.
“Priam cannot oppose both the Seneschal and Borneheld. No, my friends, there are two battles ahead of us. One to reunite the three races against the opposition of the Seneschal and Duke Borneheld. The second to throw the combined weight of the united races against Gorgrael.”
Again Axis paused and gave the Icarii the chance for speech, but they all sat silent, absorbing his words.
“If you want Tencendor,” he continued, “then you will have to fight for it. This summer the Icarii can start to move south again. I already have waiting for us an army of Acharites who are committed to me as StarMan. FarSight CutSpur?” Axis turned and addressed the Crest-Leader where he sat high above the rest of the Icarii. “Have your farflight scouts brought word of Belial’s force?”
FarSight stood, the combination of his ebony wings and uniform with his black hair and eyes and swarthy complexion giving him the appearance of a bird of prey. He saluted Axis crisply, then spoke.
“My fellow Icarii. This morning five of our farflight scouts, who have been on a long and dangerous mission to the Urqhart Hills, brought astounding news. Axis’ army, commanded at the moment by his loyal lieutenants Belial and Magariz…”
Far below, Rivkah’s face went ashen with shock.
“…has taken possession of the ancient Keep of Sigholt. Sigholt lives, and it waits for us. Our first step back into Tencendor has been taken.”
Again cheering broke out, but Axis did not let it go on so long this time.
“My people,” he shouted, “listen to me! It is from Sigholt that we will reunite Tencendor, from Sigholt that we will bring the Seneschal and Borneheld to their knees.”
Ah, Azhure thought to herself. So that is what he meant when he said my first target in war may not be Skraelings. Well, it will hardly grieve me to take part in the destruction of the Seneschal.
“It is from Sigholt that we will create the momentum which will win us Tencendor and drive Gorgrael from this land!”
Axis stood proud and tall in the centre of the golden floor, his tunic glowing, the blood-red sun blazing on his chest. He raised his hands in appeal to the assembled Icarii.
“I am the StarMan and I will lead you back into Tencendor. I promise you this. Icarii, will you come home with me?”
There was no doubt about the response. Every Icarii in the Chamber surged to his or her feet, screaming Axis’ name.
His family, sitting to one side, regarded Axis with mixed emotions. Rivkah and StarDrifter watched with soaring pride that they had created this man. MorningStar watched him and felt regret at the passing of an era. Life for the Icarii would never be the same again. EvenSong watched him and thought of FreeFall. Axis had, to all intents and purposes, usurped FreeFall’s position, but could FreeFall ever have united the notoriously divisive Icarii like this?
RavenCrest, like his mother, sat and watched the passing of an age. Tonight he had witnessed the eclipse of his own power. Talon he still might be, but Axis now wielded true authority in the Icarii nation. Already he had grasped power. RavenCrest’s shoulders and wings slumped a little. Like EvenSong, he too thought of FreeFall.
Again Axis held his hands up for silence. “Peace, my people. I thank you for your support.”
“When will we return to Tencendor?” a voice called from high up in the Chamber.
“When will we mass to fight the Seneschal and Borneheld?” cried a member of the Strike Force.
“We will return and we will fight,” Axis said. “But we will do neither tomorrow. The Strike Force still needs training, and especially training with those who await them in Sigholt. In two weeks we go to Beltide celebrations with the Avar, and following Beltide and over the next few months the Strike Force will begin to move down to Sigholt. And I, too, need more training.”
“No!” cried one overly excited Icarii. “You are already the most powerful Enchanter we have seen in generations. More training? I think not!” He was supported by a surge of cheers.
Axis grinned. “I will be more powerful with the training I have in mind. Rivkah, my mother,” he turned and gave her a small bow and she smiled and inclined her head, “has won for me the right to ask the Charonites for assistance. The assistance I shall ask for will be their secrets.”
His words surprised the majority of the Icarii, for not many knew the Charonites still existed. StarDrifter allowed a small flicker of pride to show. His son would learn the secrets that the Charonites had guarded for so many thousands of years.
“I shall be gone from you for some time following Beltide,” Axis continued, “but I will return. And when I return, then will I lead you out into Tencendor. I will take you home.”
The cheering broke out anew. The Icarii had waited a long time for this and they were not going to quibble about a small delay now.
13
DINNER AT THE TIRED SEAGULL
Timozel sat wrapped in his own peculiar stillness, as if the others seated at the dining table did not exist. The visions came more often now, and far, far more vividly.
He rode a great beast—not a horse, something different—that dipped and soared. He fought for a great Lord, and in the name of that Lord he commanded a mighty army which undulated for leagues in every direction. 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.
In the name of his Lord he would clear Achar of the invading filth.
“Yes,” he mumbled, and Borneheld shot him an irritated glance.
A great and glorious battle and the enemy’s positions were overrun—to the man (and others stranger that fought shoulder to shoulder with them) the enemy died. Timozel lost not one soldier.
Another day, a
nother battle. The enemy used foul magic, and Timozel’s forces were grievously hurt…but Timozel still won the field, and the enemy and their commander retreated before him.
Another day. Timozel sat before the leaping fire with his Lord, Faraday at their side. All was well. Timozel had found the light and his destiny.
His name would live in legend forever.
All was well.
The vision dimmed and Timozel heard Borneheld chastise Faraday yet again.
“You are worthless to me!” Borneheld hissed. Faraday stiffened. Her husband’s words were clearly audible to all those seated at the table.
“Worthless!” Borneheld said. “How many months have we been married? Four? Five? Your belly should be swollen with my son by now.”
Faraday focused on a distant point of the room, refusing to let her cheeks stain red. The Mother had answered her prayers and continued to bless her with barrenness, and she was not going to force false promises past her lips. The line of Dukes of Ichtar would end in her empty womb.
Her calm expression intensified Borneheld’s fury. “Your barrenness is not for want of trying on my part, Faraday,” he said, louder now. “Perhaps I should summon a physician to mix you a herbal.”
To his left Gautier grinned, but Duke Roland, sitting on Faraday’s other side, looked extremely embarrassed.
Faraday lowered her eyes to her plate of food, hoping her lack of responsiveness would lead to Borneheld tiring of the topic. Yr sat silently in a shadowy corner of the room and Faraday could feel her silent sympathy and support.
If Faraday had managed previously to tolerate her marriage to Borneheld in Gorkenfort, now she could barely keep her distaste for the man safely hidden. She no longer sought to please or humour him in their bed, nor pretended to love him or desire his company.
Borneheld now realised her feelings for Axis and suspected she had lied to him in Gorkenfort. Yet he could tolerate all of this—if only she provided him with an heir.
And yet Faraday remained barren despite his most strenuous exertions. Borneheld had never been charming or courtly, but in Gorkenfort he’d made an effort to treat Faraday with respect. Now that he had been forced to abandon Gorkenfort and Ichtar, Borneheld slipped into almost perpetual surliness, not hesitating to humiliate Faraday in public. Something dark and sinister had taken root in his mind since the fall of Gorkenfort, and daily Faraday watched it grow.
Borneheld abruptly turned aside and began to discuss with Gautier and Timozel the continuing efforts to construct a viable defence system around Jervois Landing.
Faraday let her breath out in relief and looked about the room. Borneheld and the immediate members of his command had taken over the Tired Seagull, the very same inn that she, Yr and Timozel had stayed at on their way to Gorkenfort. The men who had escaped Gorkenfort with them were either quartered about the town, or camped in the massive tent city that had sprung up about Jervois Landing.
Faraday caught the eye of the Ravensbund chief, Ho’Demi. She almost looked away, sure the man would be as embarrassed and uncomfortable as most others in the room, but Ho’Demi smiled at her warmly. There was nothing but sympathy and respect in his dark eyes. Faraday straightened her back a little, and Ho’Demi inclined his head in approval.
Faraday had never had a chance to speak to the man, as Borneheld did his best to keep her sequestered from anyone save Yr and Timozel. But Ho’Demi had such a natural aristocratic bearing for one whose appearance was so savage and frightening that Faraday found him fascinating. Indeed, she was intrigued by the entire Ravensbund population camped about Jervois Landing. On the few occasions Borneheld had allowed her out of their quarters (with a suitable guard), Faraday had seen their multicoloured tents spreading for what seemed like leagues about the town, the air around them filled with the sound of the soft chimes which they threaded through their hair and the manes of their horses, and which hung from every available space in their tents. All of them were tattooed to some degree, the different designs denoting different tribal groups, but all of them, no matter their tribe, had that peculiarly naked circle in the centre of their foreheads where no line crossed.
Little did Faraday know that Ho’Demi was equally interested in her. All Ravensbund people knew the Prophecy. They lived to serve both it and the StarMan, and Ho’Demi instinctively knew that this woman was one of those named in the Prophecy. But he could get near neither she nor her Sentinel maid, so closely watched were they by Borneheld’s men. One day. One day. Meantime, why did Borneheld humiliate one so obviously Prophecy-born? He did not understand it.
Faraday turned her eyes away from Ho’Demi, lest her attention draw Borneheld’s suspicion on the man’s head, and saw Timozel watching her.
There was no sympathy or support in his eyes at all. Over the past months Timozel had, tragically, become Borneheld’s man. Timozel was still her Champion, supposedly devoted to her welfare and interests, but he seemed to have decided that the best way he could serve Faraday’s interests was by serving her husband. Timozel admired and respected Borneheld, and Faraday found that very hard to understand.
Timozel had not thought to share his visions with her as he had with her husband.
Faraday averted her eyes. If she had known Timozel would turn into this dark, brooding, frightening man, she would have refused his request to be her Champion. Now Timozel stared at her, having sided with Borneheld on the issue of the child.
In her shadowy corner Yr watched Faraday’s shoulders straighten as she recognised the sympathy and support in Ho’Demi’s eyes, watched them slump again as she saw the accusation in Timozel’s. Yr seriously wondered whether she and the other three Sentinels had done the right thing in so forcibly persuading Faraday to deny her love for Axis and marry Borneheld. We thought it might help to keep Axis alive, Yr thought bitterly. So we persuaded the darling girl, so full of sweetness and love, to give herself to Borneheld. Why did we find it so necessary for the Prophecy that we force her into this boorish man’s bed?
I hope she will eventually find love and peace with Axis, Yr prayed. That Axis loved Faraday Yr had no doubt—everyone had seen that at Gorkenfort. And that Axis would fight through Achar to rescue Faraday from Borneheld’s side, Yr also did not doubt. She could not doubt it. She didn’t want to think that Faraday’s heartache would be for nothing.
And, as Faraday had done, Yr also glanced at Timozel. She and he had once been lovers, but Timozel’s tastes had become too dark for Yr’s liking and she’d ended the affair. As far as Yr was concerned, she and Faraday would have to stand together to survive this dreadful situation.
Pray Axis come quickly, she thought, pray that he come and rescue us both from this.
“My man,” Brother Gilbert said, “I represent the Brother-Leader of the Seneschal himself. I demand entrance to Duke Borneheld’s quarters immediately!”
The guard sniffed and looked this pimply, skinny Brother up and down. If I were the Brother-Leader, thought the guard, I would find myself a more imposing representative.
“I have papers! Proof of my identity,” Gilbert shouted, losing patience. Both this dullard’s parents must have been riddled with the pox to have birthed a child so grossly underwitted! It had been a hard, fast and dreadfully cold journey up the Nordra from Carlon to reach Jervois Landing, and the sooner Gilbert saw a fire—preferably with Duke Borneheld standing in front of it—the better. Gilbert was just about to shout at him again when a figure loomed in the darkened corridor behind the guard.
The guard snapped to attention, which puzzled Gilbert when he saw who the newcomer was—one of those savages from the northern wastes, a Ravensbundman, with even more lines scribbled across his face than normal.
“Chief Ho’Demi,” the guard saluted. “This underfed scrawling claims to be on a mission from the Brother-Leader.”
“I have papers,” Gilbert said, indignant. Him? An underfed scrawling? He had always thought himself a rather attractive man.
The savage snapped his f
ingers at Gilbert. “Well? Show them to me!”
Gilbert pulled a sheaf of papers out of the lining of his cloak and handed them to the savage. So, he was going to pretend he could read, was he?
“You have news for Borneheld regarding Priam, Brother Gilbert?” the savage finally asked, looking up from the papers.
Gilbert stopped himself from gawping only through a supreme effort. So the savage had managed to read Priam’s name. He would have guessed the rest. “Yes,” he finally got out. “Important news regarding Priam and the situation in Carlon. Important news,” Gilbert repeated slowly in case the savage had not understood him the first time.
Ho’Demi folded the papers and slipped them inside his furred waistcoat, ignoring Gilbert’s yelp of disapproval. “I will take him through, Eavan. You have done well.”
Gilbert sneered as he pushed past the guard. Done well, indeed. He hurried after Ho’Demi, almost tripping over a broom that some careless slut had left by a door, then stumbled up a similarly darkened stairwell.
“Little fuel about for lamps,” Ho’Demi explained as he heard Gilbert trip over the hem of his robe.
At the head of the stairs there was a large door, securely closed, with another two guards before it. Both snapped to attention as Ho’Demi brushed past them into the room, beckoning Gilbert after him.
Gilbert blinked as he accustomed himself to the light in the bright room, then stepped out of the way as two women hurried towards the door.
“Wait up, Faraday,” he heard Borneheld call. “Perhaps I will get my son on you tonight.”
Harsh laughter followed as Faraday slipped by Gilbert and out the door. It had been some six months since he had seen Faraday. Then she had been a vibrant girl, now the person who brushed past him looked wearied by the sadnesses of the world.
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