Axis looked at Sicarius, sitting attentively at Azhure’s side. Make sure that no harm comes to her while I am gone.
Sicarius whined, and shifted slightly.
Azhure looked about the room, bemused. Why was Axis interested in Smyrton?
35
CARLON AND BEYOND
Faraday opened her eyes to the early morning light. Since Borneheld had returned to Jervois Landing she had recovered much of her zest for life.
“Pleasant dreams, dear one?”
Faraday rolled over and smiled at Yr, sitting scrubbed and dressed for the day on the silken edge of the Queen’s mammoth bed. “I dreamed of Axis, Yr. I dreamed he was here with me…loving me.”
Yr pretended genteel distaste. “Does the Queen dream of a lover?”
“Every night, Yr, every night.” Faraday propped herself up on an elbow. “Does he lie in his bed and dream of me? Does he hunger for me as much as I for him?”
She laughed shortly and sat up, trying to dismiss Axis from her mind. “So tell me, Principal Maid, what duties do I have to look forward to today?”
Faraday’s life as Queen was not one of idle indolence. Most days she had to receive guests, flatter diplomats, listen to endless trade missions, attend lengthy and stupefyingly boring ceremonies celebrating obscure alliances and treaties, and listen to either Jayme or Moryson as they detailed their future plans for the Seneschal and the Way of the Plough. The last she hated especially, and she would sit, her face expressionless and her eyes veiled, thinking of the Mother and of the beauty and serenity of the Sacred Grove. Occasionally she amused herself by wondering what Jayme would look like with a pair of antlers sprouting from his forehead.
And Faraday had to sit through all these onerous duties and obligations swathed in jewel-encrusted gowns, scarves, bracelets, crowns, necklets and shoes that together weighed as much as she did and that made sweat trickle down her back.
Yr grinned. She knew how much Faraday hated her duties, and yet she also knew that Faraday carried them out scrupulously. As Queen, Faraday had a job to do, and regardless of what eventually happened, she was determined to serve the people of Achar properly. The entire part of northern Achar might be a battle zone, but here in Carlon ritual and tradition went on as if nothing had changed.
“You have a remarkably free morning, my sweet. The Ambassador for the Barrow Islands has come down with stomach cramps and cannot leave his privy closet. He sends his apologies. At least that is what I think he mumbled through the door.”
Faraday laughed, and inched her way towards the far side of the bed.
“The Baroness of Tarantaise, Fleurian, has a pimple on her chin and is so embarrassed she has declined your kind invitation to share breakfast. Finally, to conclude this list of woes, the Master of the Butcher’s Guild, who had an appointment to meet with you in the hour before lunch, last night sliced off his thumb into the lamb chop casserole he was preparing for his wife’s dinner.” Yr grinned. “The apprentice who brought me his Master’s apologies assured me the casserole was served regardless.”
Faraday could not believe it. Ever since she had become Queen it felt as if each moment of each day was accounted for. Now, finally, she had a free morning.
“What would your majesty like to do with her spare hours? Read? Sleep? Chew sweetmeats? Have one of the lesser nobles demonstrate that the touch of a man’s hand can be a wondrous thing?”
“Do not even jest about it. You know I hate sweetmeats.”
Yr laughed delightedly. Faraday had not joked in months. “The morning is yours, pretty woman. Use it as you wish.”
“Yr,” Faraday said. “I think I feel stomach cramps approaching. I think it would be best if you told the court that I am indisposed this morning and will not make an appearance before lunch.” Her face darkened. “And tell Timozel as well.”
When Borneheld had told Timozel that, as Faraday’s Champion, he must remain in Carlon with her, Timozel had lost his temper and shouted at Borneheld.
“I care not what your visions show you!” Borneheld’s eyes were bright with anger. “Your place is with Faraday.”
Despite his obvious frustration at being left in Carlon, Timozel had taken note of Borneheld’s orders and guarded Faraday every waking moment. In fact, it was as much as she could do to keep him from standing guard by her pillow as she slept. Faraday knew Borneheld had left orders that her every movement was to be watched and reported on. No doubt he had his own fears about the ambitious intentions of some of the more handsome courtiers. Whatever his motive, Borneheld’s orders or the twisted devotion of his Championship, Timozel’s dark and brooding presence shadowed her shoulder virtually every hour of the day.
“The Sacred Grove?” Yr whispered.
“Yes,” Faraday said. “The Sacred Grove. I need to be renewed, infused once more with peace and joy.”
The emerald light bathed her and power pulsed through her body. Faraday tipped her head back and shook her long hair loose, skipping through the light towards the Sacred Grove. It had been months, many months, since she had managed to find her way here, and she had forgotten how good it felt to let the power flood through her, let the love and the peace and the serenity wash away her doubts and fears. The light changed about her, resolving into shapes and shadows, and she stepped onto the grassy paths that led to the Sacred Grove. The trees formed about her and above her head and the stars whirled in their god-driven interstellar dance. Faraday never wanted to leave this place. Exultation filled her.
She stepped into the Sacred Grove. Whispers of wind cradled her body as she walked. Shapes shifted and slipped through the deep shadows behind the trees. She felt no fear at the power of the Grove or the eyes that watched her from the shadows. They did not mean harm, but only wished her strength so that she could find harmony in her troubled life.
Five Sacred Horned Ones stepped forth. The silver pelt who had greeted Faraday on her previous journeys to the Sacred Grove rested his hands gently on her shoulders, and he leaned his stag’s head forward to nuzzle her cheek lovingly.
“Faraday, Tree Friend. We have been so worried. We have seen the pain you suffer, and we suffer with you.”
Emotion almost overwhelmed Faraday. Simply to know that someone besides Yr watched over her filled her with comfort. “Thank you,” she said, and stepped forward to greet the other Horned Ones.
She turned back to the silver pelt. “Have you seen Axis in your visions, Sacred One?”
The silver pelt threw back his head and shook his antlers slightly, his stance noticeably stiffening. Faraday was afraid she had offended him. The other four Horned Ones muttered quickly, then fell silent.
“I have seen him only as he has touched the Avarinheim,” the Horned One said eventually, “for I have not sought him out deliberately.”
“He is well?” Faraday asked.
“He is well,” the Horned One confirmed. “He celebrated Beltide in the Earth Tree Grove with the Icarii and the Avar.” He hesitated. “He has come into his powers as an Icarii Enchanter, Tree Friend. He asked the Avar to pledge to his cause, as the Icarii already have, but the Avar refused him.”
“Oh!” Faraday cried, her eyes wide with shock.
“They wait for you,” the Horned One said softly. “They will not move without you, Faraday Tree Friend. You will be the only one who can lead them to Axis SunSoar’s cause. If you wish to.”
What a silly thing to say, Faraday thought, of course she wished to lead the Avar to Axis’ cause. “Does he think of me?” she asked, hating to ask, but desperate to know.
“He thinks of you daily, and speaks of you to his friends.”
And betrays you with his body, and perhaps even with his heart, the fairy creature thought. Should I tell you that he has given another woman the heir which should have been yours by right, Faraday Tree Friend? No, how can I?
“Thank you. Sacred One…” Faraday hesitated, and the creature stepped forward and rested his hand on her shoulder.
/> “Never hesitate to ask for anything from me, Tree Friend. If I can grant it, I will.”
“Sacred One, you exist in a magical and enchanted world. Does it extend beyond this Grove and these trees here?”
One of the younger Horned Ones stepped forward. “It extends as far as your world does, Faraday Tree Friend, and contains as many, if not more, wonders.” His voice was low and musical, but resonated with power and mystery.
Faraday’s eyes widened.
The silver pelt stepped back and waved. “It is all free to you, Tree Friend. Wander as you will. When you wish to return home, just think of this Grove and you will return. From here you can find your way back to your own world.”
With that he and the other four Horned Ones vanished.
For a long time Faraday stood in the Grove. The stars spun overhead, reminding her of Axis. He had regained his heritage. And he still thought of her! She extended her arms, and danced about the Grove, wishing that he were here with her now. Soon, perhaps, he would share her bed in reality rather than dream.
After some time, Faraday wandered among the trees—and halted in wonder. From the Grove the trees looked dense and closely packed, but once beneath their sheltering branches, she saw that the trees were widely spaced, their branches so high that the trunks looked like the smooth pillars of some sacred hall, lifting the eye to a green-vaulted canopy so distant that it almost became a sky in itself. Her reaction to this enchanted forest was much the same as Azhure’s when she had first wandered into the Avarinheim—she was overcome with the space and the light and the music around her.
Faraday finally dropped her eyes and gazed about her. Small shrubs of exquisite beauty flowered about the feet of the great trees, and between the trees wandered some of the strangest creatures Faraday could ever have imagined in her most fevered dreams. Hedgehogs with horns? Horses with wings? Bulls of pure gold and diamond-eyed birds? Small multi-coloured dragons gambolled along the lowest of the branches and a family of blue and orange-splotched panthers disported themselves in a nearby stream. Dryads and sprites drifted shyly between trees and silver-finned fish flashed beneath the crystal waters of the stream.
As Faraday wandered the sights shimmered and changed, but never became less wondrous. Glades and mountain ranges, oceans and gardens, caves and rolling dunes, this world contained them all. And at the next step always the forest, holding and loving her.
“What can I do for you?” she eventually whispered. “What is it I must do for you?”
The light shimmered about her and Faraday found herself entering a small glade. In the centre of the glade was an immensely cheerful hut, white-walled, golden-thatched and red-doored. Completely surrounding the hut was a spreading garden, enclosed by a white picket fence. There was something a little strange about the garden, but before Faraday could turn her mind to the problem the red door of the hut opened and an incredibly ancient woman emerged.
She wore a cloak as red as the door, but had thrown back the hood to reveal her bald cadaverous head, the papery skin was drawn tight over her cheek and skull bones splotched here and there with wisdom and experience. The woman’s face was saved from outright ugliness by her eyes. They were immense pools of violet, almost childlike in their expression.
She stretched out a wavering hand. “Welcome, child of the trees. Welcome to my garden. Will you stay awhile?”
Faraday started to say yes, but suddenly the light around her darkened into emerald, and before Faraday could say or do anything she had spiralled out of the enchanted world and back into the painful one of the palace court of Carlon.
“I’m sorry I had to summon you back, Faraday,” Yr said brusquely, “but it is gone noon, and the Queen is needed.”
As the power faded from Faraday, Raum whimpered and slowly uncurled from the foetal position he had been rolled into for the past five or six hours.
The two Sentinels had been right about Faraday’s power touching him, but Raum had never felt it this strongly before. Each step she had taken into the forests beyond the Grove had increased the pain within Raum until the forest about him reverberated with his screams.
He knew what was happening to him. But it should not be this powerful, not this painful.
And he was so young, so young to be transforming now. So much to do here. So much.
“Faraday,” he whispered. “Faraday. Where are you? What do you do? Where do you go? Faraday?”
36
GUNDEALGA FORD
They were to meet on the last day of Frost-month at Gundealga Ford on the Nordra. Once it surged out of the Forbidden Valley the Nordra widened and slowed, and by the time it approached Tailem Bend it was shallow enough to be forded by a man on horseback.
Axis camped his force just inside the southern Urqhart Hills, about half a league from Gundealga Ford. He had some thousand mounted soldiers with him, swordsmen as well as three of Azhure’s squads of archers, and two Crest of the Icarii Strike Force. The majority of his command remained behind in Sigholt, although several units currently patrolled the HoldHard Pass and Urqhart Hills. Axis had brought only enough soldiers to convince Borneheld he would be a formidable opponent without giving away his true strength. The sight of his mounted force plus several hundred Icarii wheeling about the sky should be enough to convince Borneheld to think twice about his own strengths. The parley would be as much a mental game as a verbal one.
Axis glanced up as Belial approached through the gloom.
“Borneheld must be close now. How do you feel?”
“As though I have an appointment with a toothdrawer,” Axis grimaced. “I do not look forward to meeting with my brother over the parley table. I don’t think I can cope with the social niceties.”
Belial laughed. He knew Axis would rather face Borneheld with a sword in his hand, and he knew few polite phrases would be traded tomorrow.
“The Icarii scouts have returned,” he said.
Axis’ head jerked up. “And?” His voice was tense.
“Borneheld’s force has camped about the same distance south of Gundealga Ford as we have camped north. If we both leave at dawn tomorrow we should meet at the Ford mid-morning.”
“I do not want the travel details!” Axis snapped. “What force does Borneheld bring with him?”
“About five thousand,” Belial replied quickly. “Mounted men, mostly swordsmen, although the scouts could see a few units of archers among them.”
“Were the Icarii scouts spotted?”
“No, Axis. They are almost impossible to spot at night, with their black uniforms and wings. Their presence will still come as a surprise.”
As if to confirm Belial’s words, FarSight CutSpur suddenly dropped down out of the darkened sky and smiled at the surprise on both men’s faces. That Axis was as startled as Belial was an indication of just how preoccupied he was about his meeting with Borneheld.
“Strike-Leader.” FarSight saluted formally. “Azhure has sent two farflight scouts down with messages from Sigholt. They await at your tent.”
Azhure? Axis glanced at Belial. Both men turned and hurried back to Axis’ tent.
Axis lifted the flap of his tent back and ushered the two scouts inside.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Strike-Leader,” Wing-Leader FeatherFlight Bright Wing saluted, her face hollow and exhausted. “I bring two pieces of news, neither good. Six days after you left one of the patrols returned from the eastern Urqhart Hills. Strike-Leader, the mass of Skraelings at the top of the WildDog Plains have begun to drift south. Azhure has sent six Crest of the Strike Force and a large mounted force through the HoldHard Pass to meet them.”
Axis’ worried eyes met with those of Belial and FarSight. “Azhure has not gone herself?” he asked FeatherFlight.
“No, Strike-Leader. Azhure knows she is too far gone in her pregnancy to go a-fighting. She sent Arne in her place.”
Axis sighed, relieved. But the news was grim, and it tied his hands regarding the negotia
tions. Now he needed the truce as much as Borneheld. Both were going to be facing such threats from Skraelings this winter that neither would want to be fighting on a second front. Well, best he know this now than find out after he had met with Borneheld.
Magariz entered, breathless, and Belial quickly informed him of the news. “Should one of us go to meet Arne in the HoldHard Pass?” Magariz asked, turning back to face Axis. “The fighting will be bloody.”
Axis hesitated. “Arne has sufficient subcommand to support him—any one of the Crest-Leaders I left in Sigholt will do well. Once we are free of this place I’ll lead this force east to meet up with Arne’s command, and FarSight can fly his two Crest there within only a day or so.” He turned back to FeatherFlight. “And the other news?”
“Another band of peasants from upper Skarabost arrived just before I left, dirty, tired and scared. They had fled north, terrified about rumours sweeping Skarabost that an Earl…Burdel?”
“Yes, yes,” Axis said. “Burdel is the Earl of Arcness.”
“Well, this Earl Burdel is apparently sweeping through southern Skarabost with a large force. He is putting to the stake or the cross any whom he finds repeating the Prophecy of the Destroyer. He is supposed to have put an entire village and its inhabitants to the torch where he found the Prophecy to be particularly entrenched. Anyone who mentions your name dies. Anyone who mentions the ‘Forbidden’,” her face twisted in distaste at the name, “with any sense of goodwill also dies. Any that Burdel finds fleeing northwards to join your cause at Sigholt dies. Fear and death sweep Skarabost, Strike-Leader.”
Axis paled. Burdel would not be doing this on his own; it must be on Borneheld’s orders and with the encouragement of the Seneschal. “Damn them!” he whispered.
“What can we do, Axis?” asked Belial.
“Nothing,” Axis muttered wretchedly. “Nothing. We are tied to Sigholt, Belial, by the Skraelings moving south through the WildDog Plains. And I fear that Borneheld and Burdel know it. Damn them!”
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