Once the palace was secure, Axis spent the day in and about Carlon. Talking, soothing, taking charge of the city. The Carlonese had simply shrugged their shoulders and accepted that Axis had replaced Borneheld. They were far more enthralled by Princess Rivkah’s return. Rivkah had spent part of the day in the streets, talking to the mayor and several of the Masters of the Guilds, as also to some of the ordinary citizens who hung shyly about, hoping to be noticed. Faraday accompanied her, and the widowed Queen and the resurrected Princess did much to calm people’s fears about what the previous night had wrought. Several of the Icarii accompanied them, and the citizens’ worries about the flying creatures were allayed by Rivkah and Faraday’s assurances. The mayor was so enthralled by SpikeFeather he invited him home for dinner that night.
Belial cast open the gates of the city, as Axis had requested, and slowly the people of Carlon began to mingle with members of Axis’ force. News, food, gifts and laughter were exchanged and mothers, wives and sweethearts learned word of who had and hadn’t survived. By late afternoon there was a slow procession of women and children walking on the freshly turned graves of the fields beyond Bedwyr Fort, carrying flowers and last gifts, to say a final and quiet farewell.
Finally alone in one of the palace’s guestrooms, Axis closed his eyes and let the warmth of the fire soothe his wounds. He was tired. So tired. Within a few days he would proclaim Tencendor, then move north to confront Gorgrael. Perhaps, he thought vaguely, his mind starting to drift off, it would be best to start sending troops north soon. Tomorrow morning. Who knew when Gorgrael would choose to attack. He must know of the troubles in southern Achar—Tencendor! This would be the perfect time to strike.
Faraday slipped into the room, wearing a deep blue cloak. Her hair was loose and her eyes shone. She smiled with love at Axis, asleep in the armchair by the fire. He had washed and changed out of his bloodstained breeches during the day, but he still bore the marks of his fight with Borneheld. His chest and upper arms were bruised and marked in several places with the bristling cat-gut stitching of the surgeons. The joints of his sword hand were swollen with the effort of gripping the sword for so long.
“Axis,” she said softly. She had waited so long for this. So long. Faraday had no intention of waiting any longer.
Axis opened his eyes, blinking slightly as he focused on her. “Faraday?”
She fiddled with the tassels holding the cloak at her throat, then suddenly it was free and fallen to the floor. She was completely naked underneath.
Axis stared at her. Stars, didn’t she know how tired he was? He had not slept in almost two days—and had spent the last night grappling to the death with her husband. His entire body ached, and the freshly stitched wounds hurt more than he had been prepared to admit to the concerned surgeon.
But Faraday was a beautiful woman, and Axis slowly sat up, staring at her.
She smiled and knelt down at his feet, pulling his boots off, running her hand teasingly up the inside of his thigh. Then she leaned forward on her knees and kissed his breast, again teasing, and Axis physically jerked as his body began to respond to her touch.
Oh Azhure! he thought, carefully shielding his mind. It has been so long since you let me touch you, and you knew that it would come to this.
But as Faraday’s hands moved more firmly over his body and her mouth grew insistent, Axis’ internal turmoil grew. One moment he wondered, consumed with jealousy, if Borneheld had taught Faraday these tricks—these were not the actions of the young virgin he had kissed beneath the stars of the Ancient Barrows—and the next he writhed with guilt that his body should betray Azhure in this way.
Faraday laughed when Axis finally seized her, but as he made love to her on the hearth rug before the fire Faraday did not know that his ardour was driven by his desperate need to bury as deep as he could the guilt he felt over his betrayal of his Lover. It took all of Axis’ self-control not to call out Azhure’s name in his desire. And when it was over, and Axis had finally relaxed by her side, Faraday thought he cried for love of her, not for the love he had betrayed.
No-one, not Belial, not Rivkah, not even the Sentinels, had yet told Faraday about Azhure or about Caelum. And when the betrayal did come, Faraday would always resent very keenly that none had warned her. That none had thought to tell her.
As Faraday held the secret for the success of the Prophecy, so she also held the seeds of Axis’ destruction in her power.
59
SHATTERED VOWS
Timozel spent the night looking for Faraday, his mouth tight as he strode the corridors of the palace in Carlon. Borneheld had been good. Good. Brave. A true knight. To die like that had only underscored his goodness in Timozel’s eyes.
He forgot that Borneheld had not wanted to listen to his vision; had refused to grant Timozel command of his armies.
Occasionally as he wandered the corridors Timozel would have to flatten himself against a stone wall to avoid one of the Forbidden wandering through the palace. Filth! his mind whispered. Filth! They were already infiltrating the palace and before much longer they would take control of Achar. By winter all that the Seneschal had achieved would undoubtedly be lost. Before the year was out the Forbidden would have enslaved the good people of Achar again.
All was ruined. All was lost with Borneheld’s death. The light had gone from Timozel’s world.
He needed to speak with Faraday. Needed to remind her of her duty to her dead husband’s memory, to tell her that the only suitable life for her now was one of serene contemplation in a quiet Retreat far from the excitement of Carlon. Faraday could not be trusted to control her own weaknesses. Especially regarding Axis.
He found Yr eventually—the slut was wandering back from the barracks in the early morning light—and asked her where Faraday was.
Yr raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Why, with Axis, no doubt,” she said. “Last night was a night when lost loves were reunited. EvenSong and FreeFall. Jack and Zeherah. And Axis and…”
“No!” Timozel interjected, so angry he was tempted to strike her, but Yr’s blue eyes blazed with such power that Timozel took a step back.
“Think not to strike me!” she hissed, and Timozel took another step backwards. “Now that we are five, now that we are whole, our power has increased dramatically. We will provide the weapon that Axis will use to best Gorgrael! Think not to touch me now!”
Gorgrael! Timozel’s face darkened with fear, and then he turned and bolted inside the palace.
Yr looked after him, a puzzled expression over her pretty face.
Still Timozel roamed the corridors of the palace. He had checked most of the main apartments, startling many a sleepy occupant with his sudden entrances and then equally sudden departures. Timozel was sickened to discover noblewomen of court disporting themselves with the flying filth that Axis had brought into the palace in three separate apartments.
Where was Faraday? How could she have succumbed to Axis’ seductions not twenty-four hours after her husband had been torn apart at her feet?
He found them eventually, in one of the lesser apartments normally reserved for visiting diplomats. They were curled asleep together, naked before the glowing coals of a fire.
“Faraday,” Timozel whispered, aghast.
Faraday’s eyes flew open. “Tim!” she gasped and sat up, her face red, her eyes hurriedly searching for her cloak.
Axis had been heavily asleep, his body desperate for rest after his duel with Borneheld, and his mind was so fogged with sleep that he did not realise immediately what was going on.
“You whore!” Timozel shouted, stepping forward and raising his fist threateningly. “Your husband has been dead less than twenty-four hours and you allow his murderer to crawl onto your body. You have violated his memory with your disgusting lust!”
Axis leapt to his feet, fully awake now. “Timozel,” he grunted, reaching for the sword that hung in its scabbard by the fire.
“Stop it!” Faraday cried, rea
ching for Axis.
Axis turned before he was halfway to the sword and stepped back to grasp Timozel by his upraised fist. “What Faraday does is none of your business,” he hissed. “Get out!”
“You have as much control as a rutting tom-cat, don’t you Axis?” Timozel sneered. “Have you enjoyed the Queen, then? Have you impregnated her with whatever filthy diseases you have picked up from the whores you’ve slept with in the past?”
“Timozel!” Faraday cried again, but Timozel and Axis were now staring each other in the eye, almost totally unaware of her presence.
“I have heard of the licentious behaviour of the Icarii,” Timozel grunted, his face only inches from Axis’ now. “Heard of their filthy rutting ways. Have seen them assaulting fair women in apartments of this palace. Have you impregnated Faraday with disease of human whore, Axis, or Icarii?”
Axis’ face twisted with rage and he literally growled, reaching for Timozel’s throat with his other hand.
“Stop!” Faraday screamed, certain that one would kill the other before she had time to draw the next breath. “Stop!”
Both men paused, neither wanting to be the first to drop his eyes from the other’s stare.
“Timozel,” Faraday said more quietly, although her voice was still strained. “Timozel, look at me!”
Grudgingly, Timozel looked away from Axis and towards Faraday. What he saw made him step back from Axis in shock.
“Faraday, no!” he whispered in horror.
Faraday, standing straight and tall, held a large earthenware pot in her hands, and she was staring into Timozel’s eyes unflinchingly. The time had come to end this charade of Championship.
“No,” Timozel whispered again and took a step towards her.
“Stay back,” Faraday said, her voice firm. Axis stepped back himself, his eyes swinging between Timozel and Faraday. What was happening between them? The power almost blazed out of Faraday’s green eyes, while Timozel was abnormally ashen.
“I accepted your oath of Championship two years ago,” Faraday said calmly, “when I was young and friendless and going into a marriage that I knew I would loathe. I thought that you would be a friend, a support, a pillar of strength who I could lean on through difficult times. You have proved anything but, Timozel. You supported Borneheld against me, you derided me when I needed love, you lectured me on my behaviour when I needed sympathy.”
“No.” Timozel reached out his hand to her. “No, Faraday. I have only ever done what was best for you. I have only told you what you needed to hear. You have been wayward, sometimes, and a Champion’s duty is to return his Lady’s steps to the correct path.”
“I pity you, Timozel, and I grieve for you,” Faraday said slowly. “I grieve for the bright-eyed, tousle-headed boy who I met riding across the Plains of Tare. Where did you go? What happened to you? Why this brooding hulk before me now? You are no Champion of Brightness, Timozel, but a Champion of Shadow. You will wander strange borderlands until you lose your way and your soul completely.” Faraday’s eyes had glazed over until it appeared she was dreaming—even her words had the singsong quality of seer-saying.
“I have done with you, Timozel. If ever you find your way into the Light again, then wander my way, for I shall be glad to see once again the friend I have lost. Timozel. As this pot shatters,” she said very, very quietly, “so then will the ties that bind us shatter.”
She let go the pot and Timozel made a desperate dive for it. He almost made it, almost caught it, felt his fingertips graze its smooth surface the instant before it shattered into a thousand pieces across the stone floor.
“No!” he screamed, and both Faraday and Axis recoiled a little at the sound of his despair.
“So shatter the vows that bind us, Timozel. You are my Champion no longer. Begone.”
In his ice castle so far to the north Gorgrael leaned his face to the wind and screamed in pure joy. Timozel! He was his! His!
Darkness swirled about the room and threatened to overwhelm Timozel. As the pot shattered across the floor he had felt the last vestiges of the boy he’d once been shatter and disappear. No-one mourned the loss of that carefree boy more than Timozel himself. And no-one hated more than he the man he had become.
But he was unable to resist the slow darkening of his soul. Thoughts that were not his crowded his head until he felt he would shriek in despair. Memories that were not his were taking over his life. Once, once…oh, once, Timozel had woken to find himself standing at the very lip of a well, listening to the screams of the young girl he had just flung down to drown in the waters far below.
That experience had virtually driven Timozel mad.
What had he become?
What forces were trying to take over his life?
Now, as Timozel raised his tear-stained face to Faraday, he knew that he need wonder no longer. She had shattered the vows that bound him to her, and she had freed him to Gorgrael’s service.
“Get out,” Faraday said flatly, stepping back. “Get out of my life.”
Timozel slowly raised himself to his feet, staring at Faraday as she clutched the blue cloak around her nakedness. Had he treated her badly? Timozel had only tried to do what he thought was right.
“I’m sorry,” he said vaguely, and he was not sure if he addressed the apology to Faraday or to Axis, or to both of them.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and then turned on his heel and walked out of the chamber, closing the door quietly behind him.
He walked down to the courtyard, mounted the first saddled horse he could find, then rode through Carlon, tears streaking his face.
All who saw him stood back and let him pass.
Once he was past the gates of Carlon, Timozel turned his horse’s head north, for already he could feel Gorgrael’s grip tightening.
Neither Axis nor Faraday would see Timozel again for a very, very long time.
60
TENCENDOR ON THE SHORES OF GRAIL LAKE
Eight days after killing Borneheld, Axis proclaimed Tencendor in a grand and emotionally charged ceremony on the shores of Grail Lake. It was later than Axis had wanted, but he had underestimated the time that he—that everyone—would need to heal after the war between himself and Borneheld. Virtually the entire population of Carlon moved to the fields that abutted the eastern shores of the Lake for the ceremony and the celebrations. Mingling with the people of Carlon (and the thousands of other Acharites who had journeyed to the city to see for themselves) were the individual members of Axis’ army: Ravensbund men and women, Acharites and Icarii. Most of the Carlonese, never strong followers of the Seneschal, had accepted the presence of the Icarii with little trouble; indeed, they had welcomed the birdmen and women into their markets. Other Acharites—especially those from the rural areas—hung back, unsure, some even sullen, but overall there was surprisingly little fuss made about the presence of the Icarii.
Embeth, feeling slightly lost and overwhelmed by the events surrounding her, and missing Judith (who had elected to remain behind in Tare), had succumbed to StarDrifter’s eyes and insistence and now shared an apartment in the palace with him. Embeth knew their affair would fade and die in the days or weeks ahead, but she desperately needed something, someone, to cling to. Soon, perhaps, she would move back to Tare. There was nothing left for her here. Her two youngest children were now married and lived far to the west; and Timozel…Timozel had vanished. Embeth turned her back on the excited crowd and slowly began to walk back to Carlon.
On the night of the duel, Azhure spent the entire time pacing the eastern shore of Grail Lake, watching the dawn gather, waiting, waiting, waiting. When the golden standard was finally run up the flagpole above the palace, Azhure had broken down and wept, both with relief and with wretchedness, because she knew she had finally lost Axis to Faraday.
Azhure was more than a little bit nervous about today’s ceremony. She had not seen Axis since he had rowed off into the night to face Borneheld, although she had heard most o
f what had happened from Belial. Today she would see him—and Faraday. She had heard that the woman had spent the past eight days laughing with joy—and why shouldn’t she? She had spent those eight days with Axis.
And the problem of her pregnancy increased Azhure’s nervousness. Axis had sent word that he wanted Azhure richly dressed today—and in a gown he’d had made for her. Azhure was now moving into her fifth month of pregnancy, and even though Icarii babies were small, this one bulged more than Caelum had at the same stage. Well, Azhure smiled a little bitterly, a gown it would be. She would no longer hide her growing pregnancy behind the armour of tunic and mail.
The rich, dark red material of the gown set off Azhure’s pale complexion and blue eyes perfectly, and Imibe threaded tiny seed pearls through Azhure’s hair to match the pearls that had been stitched into the gown. It was a noblewoman’s gown, and Azhure stared at her reflection for a long time once Imibe had finished dressing her hair.
She heard a step, and a rose-and-gold-brocaded Ysgryff entered to escort Azhure to the ceremony. Over the past eight days no-one had spent more time with Azhure than Ysgryff. He had spent his evenings with her, making her laugh, despite her sad-heartedness, with his stories of life among the Nors capital of Ysbadd and his early years spent sailing with the pirate ships of Pirates’ Nest. In those hours when he sensed that Azhure simply needed companionship, Ysgryff would sit quietly, watching the fire crackle, perhaps scratching the head of one of the Alaunt.
Ysgryff complimented Azhure on her appearance, then stared at her belly for a long moment. “If you need anything, Azhure, anything, then ask me,” he said, taking her elbow. “Axis is a fool ten-times over that he does not take you for his wife.”
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