Axis had worked tirelessly over the past five weeks and Sigholt had rapidly been turned from a slightly disorganised rebel base composed of disparate elements, into the seeds of a unified kingdom. And at the heart of that kingdom strode Axis and over its head flew the blood-red blazing sun. Rivkah wished this magical time would never, never end. Icarii and Acharite worked as one for the first time in a thousand years and they all worked for Axis.
Rivkah’s eyes drifted about the group. MorningStar and StarDrifter were absent, visiting friends among the Strike Force. Ogden and Veremund sat, exclaiming over a book they had discovered underneath a flour bucket in the kitchens. Beside them Reinald snored softly, asleep even though he was sitting ramrod-straight in his chair. Whatever Veremund and Ogden found so exciting in the book had sent him into a deep slumber. It was probably Reinald who had found the book boring enough to shove it under a wobbly flour bucket in the first instance. Jack was nowhere to be seen. Probably off on one of his silent wanders through the corridors of Sigholt. Still looking for Zeherah, still hoping to snatch a trace of her scent or a lingering of her passing.
Rivkah’s eyes softened as she watched Azhure sitting cross-legged at Axis’ feet. The woman’s pregnancy was now well advanced, but still she rode and trained, although on a quieter nag now that Axis had reclaimed Belaguez. Tonight she spent her leisure hours cleaning the Wolven and her arrows—rags and a small bowl of wax lay to one side. Every so often Axis’ hand would steal down and touch her hair. If Axis ever worried about her continuing to work with her archers, he never showed it. The only concession to her pregnancy he’d forced her to make was to stop riding out on patrol these last few weeks; Axis did not want her giving birth under a bush somewhere in the Urqhart Hills. Azhure had been indignant, and the two had fought, but eventually Axis had prevailed.
Five of the Alaunt hounds were stretched out in front of Azhure, soaking up the warmth of the fire. The Alaunt followed Azhure about like silent shadows; there were always a few close by, and the others not far away. When Azhure had still been riding patrol the entire pack had run with her, capable of killing as silently and efficiently as Azhure’s arrows. Rivkah shook her head. If Azhure had always had a latent talent for violence, as the Avar had accused, then it had found a suitable outlet in fighting for Axis.
In a chair the other side of the hearth Belial sat slumped, his shadowed eyes on both Axis and Azhure. Rivkah had watched him wilt slightly since Azhure had moved into Axis’ quarters. He had a sense of deep sadness about him that he never quite shook, even in more light-hearted moments.
Above Rivkah heard a rustle of feathers. The snow eagle spent the nights perched in the rafters of the Great Hall, but in the days it soared far above the Urqhart Hills, catching mice and rabbits, sometimes winging south and west on strange errands for Axis. Axis had consistently refused to answer any questions about the bird, but on many an occasion Rivkah had watched him talking soft and low to the eagle as it perched on his arm. There was a bond there, but Rivkah did not know what it was.
In a chair close by her side sat the man Rivkah had consciously avoided looking at all evening. Magariz. Now she spoke, although her grey eyes remained on her stitching.
“My Lord Magariz.”
“Princess. What can I do for you?”
“My Lord Magariz, when I first arrived here you promised that you would talk to me of my eldest, Borneheld. Will you do so now?”
Axis turned his gaze from the fire to Magariz’s face, his blue eyes cold. Azhure laid down her bow and Belial also watched Magariz carefully. Even Ogden and Veremund ceased their chattering.
Magariz, uncertain, glanced at Axis, but Axis waved his hand languidly. “You do not have to hold your tongue on my account.”
“Princess,” Magariz sighed, hesitating. How to talk about Borneheld?
“After I served my time with the palace guard, Priam sent me to serve with Borneheld soon after he became Duke. Borneheld gave me the command of Gorkenfort, a lonely and wearying place, some ten years ago—”
“You were in the palace guard at Carlon?” Axis interrupted.
Magariz laughed. “And led it the last two years I was in Carlon, Axis. Why? Do you find me familiar?”
Axis only just managed to resist swearing in surprise. Magariz must have been in Carlon when Axis was a child growing up in the Seneschal. Axis had often played in the back corridors of the palace when Jayme was there. Magariz must have had access to him as a child! Could he be the traitor in his camp? Could he be WolfStar? Axis took a hasty mouthful of wine. The thought was almost as unsettling as the notion that it might be Azhure.
Magariz smiled at Axis, misunderstanding the reasons for his stare. “You were a mischievous child, Axis. I once found you in the stable, tying all the horses’ legs together with a long ball of twine.”
Axis forced a light-hearted grin to his face. If Magariz was WolfStar, then he would possibly have had access to the northern wastes above Gorkenfort. Access to the northern wastes and to Gorgrael. No! He had to stop this! Had to stop staring every friend in the face, trying to see the traitor lying beneath.
Magariz, still unaware of Axis’ inner turmoil, touched Rivkah gently on the arm. “Rivkah, I am sorry. You wanted to know about Borneheld. Well, he is a complex man. Though often harsh, he does try to be fair. He is organised, disciplined, and has a strong sense of right and wrong. When I knew him he always tried to do what he thought was right, always. He is too narrow-minded, but that is the way he was brought up. He does not know how to love, but that is because he was never loved.”
Rivkah put her embroidery down, her face blank.
“He is crazed in his jealousy of Axis, true, and for several reasons. Rivkah, you loved Axis’ father, not his, and he believes you abandoned him for StarDrifter.” Rivkah opened her mouth to deny that, but Magariz forged on. “As far as Borneheld is concerned, your death while giving birth to your unknown lover’s child constituted abandonment.”
Blinded by the tears in her eyes, Rivkah winced and cried out softly as a pin stuck deep into her thumb. Was Magariz talking of Borneheld…or of himself?
“Borneheld is also jealous of Axis because Axis has the charm that Borneheld never had and will never have, and Borneheld has always been aware of his sad lack of charisma.” Magariz paused. “And Borneheld suspects that Axis is the better war leader than he is—and fighting is the one thing Borneheld feels he is reasonably good at. At Gorkenfort Borneheld watched Axis daily earn the adulation of his soldiers, and that cut deep, very, very deep. Now Borneheld is probably consumed with jealousy that Axis, his hated half-brother, is the fabled StarMan, the one who is prophesied to save Achar.”
Aware of the emotions he had already sparked, Magariz wondered if he should go on. “And then there is Faraday,” he said very, very quietly. Both Axis and Azhure stilled. “Does Borneheld realise that Faraday loves Axis? If so, then it will deepen Borneheld’s anger and jealousy…perhaps beyond reason.” Magariz hastily drained his wine glass, wishing he’d kept quiet.
“If Borneheld has one serious flaw, Magariz, one thing we might exploit, what would you say that to be?” asked Belial.
“Besides his consuming resentment of Axis? Borneheld’s major fault is that he is too set in his ways, too rigid. He will not, cannot, change his attitudes. The Forbidden will always remain the Forbidden, never potential allies. He is a sad man and will feel abandoned by a world that changes about him.”
“A sad man, Magariz?” Axis’ voice was harsh. “Misunderstood? Tell that to FreeFall SunSoar who felt Borneheld’s sword slice open his heart. You witnessed that murder, and by your own confession it was what decided you to turn to my cause. Borneheld is marked by death, do not try to turn him into a martyr to a lost world now!”
“Enough!” Rivkah cried, and abruptly stood from her chair, the silks and material tumbling from her lap in a bright flood to the floor. “Enough! I wish I had never asked about Borneheld!”
She turned on her hee
l and hurried towards the door. Both Axis and Azhure made as if to go after her, but Magariz waved them back. “It was my fault,” he said quietly, and limped after Rivkah.
He caught her just outside the door and took her hands. “Rivkah, I am sorry. I did not think too carefully on what I said. If I appeared judgemental, then I did not mean to be. These past years were—”
“I am such an inconstant woman, and such a bad woman,” Rivkah whispered, distraught. “You were right to speak of abandonment to me. I deserved no less.”
“Rivkah—”
“I never loved Searlas, you know that.”
“Yes, I know it.”
“I never wanted to marry him.”
“Yes, I know that, but—”
“I was not untrue to Searlas at all when StarDrifter landed on that roof, was I, Magariz?”
He was silent, his eyes dark.
“I was untrue to you. You have never remarried, Magariz, and yet I have betrayed you twice, once with Searlas and once with StarDrifter. The two sons and the daughter I bore should have been yours.”
“Rivkah. You know that I would not have expected you to remain true to our vows. Not after what happened.”
Rivkah blinked the tears from her eyes. Too late to cry now about the mistakes of over thirty years ago.
“I wonder how people would react, Magariz, if they knew that you are my legal husband, not Searlas, not StarDrifter.” There. The words were said.
For the first time in many years Magariz let his mind drift back to that long-ago night in Carlon. Rivkah was an impetuous fifteen year old, and he an equally impetuous seventeen. Rivkah had rushed down to his room, furious that her father, King Karel, had just promised her to Searlas, Duke of Ichtar. Determined to defy her father and Searlas, Rivkah had whispered her plan to her friend. They had fled via poorly lit passageways and unguarded doors to a small Worship Hall in the seamier quarter of Carlon. There a Brother, old and careless, had accepted the gold Rivkah thrust into his hand and married them. Magariz remembered how he’d taken Rivkah back to his bare room in the lower regions of the palace where, awkward and shy, they had both lost their virginity.
But the next day Karel had unexpectedly spirited Rivkah northwards and forced her into marriage with Searlas. What to do? If Magariz spoke out he could endanger both their lives and if he kept quiet he would lose Rivkah forever. So young, Magariz could do nothing but grieve for the brief love he had lost. Two years later, when Rivkah had died in childbed of her second son, Magariz had taken to his room and wept, swearing that his single night with Rivkah would last him a lifetime. When her foundling bastard son had arrived in Carlon under the care of Jayme, Magariz had taken every opportunity he could to play with the child. And he had always wondered, until he had actually set eyes on Borneheld, whether her eldest son was his or not. But Borneheld was the image of Searlas, and Magariz was grateful that he did not have the guilt of Borneheld on his conscience as well.
Rivkah pulled her hands from his, interrupting the memories. “We can never recapture the past, Magariz, or strive for what might have been. We cannot prove our marriage—if indeed we would want to now after so many years. But there is always the future, and,” she smiled, “there is always the fact that since Azhure moved to Axis’ bed, I have lain cold and lonely at night. No-one, in this crowded Keep, has come to share my quarters. My chamber lies in an isolated corridor, my Lord Magariz, and should you decide to wander down it one night, I doubt that you shall find the door to my chamber locked.”
Then she was gone.
34
PARLEY
They stood in the central map-room of the Keep of Sigholt—Axis, his senior commanders and his father and grandmother. All stared at Arne, standing grey and haggard after riding for three days for Sigholt.
Four days ago a band of eight soldiers from Jervois Landing had made contact with Arne’s patrol in the southern Urqhart Hills. They’d been led by Nevelon, and Roland’s lieutenant had a message for Axis that had astounded Arne.
“A parley? What do you think?” Axis asked Belial.
“He thinks to use us,” Belial surmised. “He is weak on his northeastern front, and hopes we’ll keep the Skraelings back in the WildDog Plains.”
Axis grimaced. “As do I, my friend. As do I. Daily those wraiths increase their nibbles at our patrols.” The fear that the Skraelings might cut off HoldHard Pass and his supply routes south gave Axis nightmares.
Forcing the problem of the WildDog Plains from his mind, Axis turned to Magariz. “You know Borneheld better than any of us. What do you think?”
“That he is doing the sensible thing,” Magariz said without hesitation. “I would do the same in his position. Neither of you can afford to fight on two fronts, Axis. Better that we effect a truce this winter than fight each other and let Gorgrael slip south through our ranks.”
“I had wanted to move south this winter,” Axis muttered, though he had always known a move south into Achar before next spring would be all but impossible. “And I do not want to speak to Borneheld without having the opportunity of running him through with my sword.” He glanced at the snow eagle on the windowsill. How long would he have to wait? How long? The days were turning and fading, and the GateKeeper was counting.
Axis strode to the window and stared out. A thin layer of grey clouds skimmed across Sigholt despite the Lake of Life’s warmth. Axis chewed his lip, thinking, thankful that none in the map-room could see his worried face. Could he avoid a lengthy and damaging civil war by defeating Borneheld in single combat when he met him at the Nordra? But Axis could not challenge Borneheld without Faraday present. Borneheld could not die without Faraday there as witness.
“Arne? Did Nevelon say anything about Faraday? Do you know if she is still in Jervois Landing?”
There was a stunned silence in the room and Azhure turned away, her eyes downcast. Did Faraday fill his thoughts? When they lay curled together at night, edging towards sleep, did he imagine that it was Faraday his arms encircled? When he caressed her, did his hands feel another woman’s body?
Her baby, Caelum, shifted in sympathy as he caught some of his mother’s misery.
Arne frowned. “Nevelon said nothing, but she is Queen, my Lord Axis. She would hardly be in Jervois Landing.”
“Yes, you are right. Well, never mind.” Axis looked at FarSight, Belial and Magariz. “So, my friends. Borneheld wants to meet with us at the border of the Urqhart Hills and the Nordra, a halfway point between Sigholt and Jervois Landing. Should we go? Should we parley? Should I smell a trap?”
Magariz shrugged. “We have the advantage, Axis, with the Strike Force. We will be able to scout for a trap long before he could spring it. And we also have the advantage of approaching through the hills. He must approach through flat plains. What trap could he spring?”
“While Borneheld engages Axis in parley far south of Sigholt, Magariz, a force from Jervois Landing could swing north and attack the Keep.” Azhure’s voice was flat, and MorningStar eyed her speculatively. She still deeply distrusted Azhure—what better disguise could WolfStar adopt than one who would ensnare every male SunSoar Enchanter within lusting distance?
Axis ignored Azhure’s tone. “No. I don’t think Borneheld would be able to get a large force close to Sigholt. There are so many Skraelings packed into the ruins of Hsingard now that any force riding by would be eaten before they had time to spur their horses into a gallop. All other approaches to Sigholt through the Urqhart Hills are commanded by my men, and patrolled by both air and ground forces. Sigholt will remain safe for the time being, I think. No,” he said slowly, “I think I will attend this little parley my brother asks for. As he undoubtedly wants to survey my forces, so I wish to survey his.”
He smiled suddenly, illuminating the entire room. “Somehow, my friends, I do not think that Borneheld’s commanders will stand as strong behind his back as I know mine will behind me. Azhure?”
She looked up. “Yes?”
&n
bsp; “I will leave you in charge of Sigholt and the main part of my army. I—” He halted at the flare of anger across her face.
“Axis! I do not want to stay here!” Azhure began, but then stopped equally abruptly. Her pregnancy was too far advanced for her to ride south…and she knew if she protested against Axis’ orders he would reprimand her without hesitation and as severely as any other commander who dared argue with him—even if he did share his bed with this one. Anyway, Azhure thought bitterly, all he can think about is Faraday.
“Yes, my Lord Axis,” she replied very formally. “As you wish.” She relaxed slightly. “But I will cede you my pack of Alaunt for the venture. Take them…please.”
Axis smiled. “I will take four couples, Azhure. The others I will leave for your own company.”
Azhure felt the gossamer touch of his power. And to keep you and our son safe and warm at night, Azhure, while I am away.
“Magariz, Belial,” Axis’ tone was now brisk as he spoke to his two most senior commanders. “We need to discuss who we will take with us, which route to take and, most important, what terms we will demand. Perhaps we can yet twist this to our advantage.
“MorningStar, StarDrifter? You may be interested to know,” he said off-handedly, “that my messengers have come back from Smyrton. Their report has confirmed what I already knew. Do you understand?”
Both MorningStar and StarDrifter knew exactly to what Axis referred. Axis had sent to Smyrton for confirmation that Azhure had indeed been born and spent her childhood in the northern Skarabost village.
StarDrifter smiled at his son, relieved, but MorningStar’s expression did not change, and Axis knew that the news had done nothing to ease her suspicions.
If I come home from meeting with Borneheld and find Azhure dead at the foot of Sigholt’s main staircase, MorningStar, I swear that you, too, will die.
MorningStar’s face blanched. No-one threatened her like that! But Axis held her eyes with his, and kept her wrapped in his power, and eventually MorningStar was forced to concede with a curt nod.
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