Faraday and the Goodwife unpacked and unharnessed the donkeys, then sat down with the Avar women. Of the Avar foods Faraday had only tasted malfari bread once before, and now she and the Goodwife picked delightedly at the dishes before them, sampling the unusual flavours. On their part, the Avar were astounded by the saddlebag that the Goodwife handed them, drawing out foods they had never even imagined.
“Magic,” Criah said, and Faraday smiled at her.
“The donkeys and their bags were a gift from Ogden and Veremund,” she explained. “Two of the Sentinels.”
Barsarbe nodded, sampling some hot raisin dumplings she had just unwrapped. “Yes, we met them—along with the StarMan—two Beltides previously.” She grinned. “They were a friendly pair.”
Faraday’s own smile dimmed as Barsarbe mentioned Axis; she did not want to talk about him yet. “How did you travel south? Did you encounter any danger?”
The Avar women deferred to Barsarbe, and Faraday thought the Bane must be of significant power to have reached seniority at such a relatively young age.
“We travelled on foot, Faraday Tree Friend,” Barsarbe explained, “through the Seagrass Plains, as have all our Banes when they brought our children to the Mother. But we travelled openly, where before we would have travelled secretly, and we walked proudly and confidently.”
Even if the power of the Seneschal had been broken, Faraday thought, it would have taken considerable courage for these women to brave the unknown. “Did you encounter any difficulties along the way?”
Barsarbe glanced at her companions, then looked back at Faraday. “Little, Tree Friend. Most of the villagers we encountered were curious and offered us shelter at night.” She grimaced, remembering. “But it took us a week or more before we had the courage to accept one of these invitations. Although most of the journey went well, there was one moment…”
Alnar patted Barsarbe on the arm and continued. “We met some trouble in Smyrton, Tree Friend.”
Faraday looked up, her eyes sharp. The people of Smyrton had condoned Azhure’s abuse with indifference and averted eyes. “What trouble?”
The older Bane continued. “They threw rocks at us, Tree Friend, and shouted abuse. Although none of the rocks came close, the hatred evident in their words disturbed us…it still does.”
“Smyrton is a strange village,” Faraday said quietly.
“Yet you will have to plant straight through there, Faraday,” Goodwife Renkin said. “Smyrton will have to be abandoned to the trees. It is the only way.”
Faraday looked up, startled, as did the Avar. Again the Goodwife’s voice had lost its country burr; again it was filled with the authority of the Mother.
“Beware of the shadows,” the Goodwife continued, “for there lurks Artor.” She put her arm about Shra, as if Artor were about to leap from the shadows at this very moment and seize her.
Faraday shivered, more at the power in the Goodwife’s voice than at her words, and she was not the only one.
Barsarbe stared at the Goodwife, then swallowed and looked back at Faraday. “We have come to help you, Faraday,” she said. “We could not sit in the Avarinheim, waiting and not knowing. We have come to help.”
Faraday reached across and took the Bane’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Faraday,” Merse asked, “do you know what has become of Raum? When he left the Avarinheim…well…”
“He was transforming,” Faraday said. “Yes, I know.” She smiled suddenly, brilliantly. “He has transformed. I witnessed for him. He is at peace, Merse, and his feet have found the paths to the Sacred Grove. Be happy for him.”
They held no ceremony to mark Yuletide, for the rites of the sun would be marked at the Earth Tree Grove and, for the first time in a thousand years, at the Temple of the Stars. But the Avar women would light their own circle of fire, and now five of them, together with Shra and the Goodwife, wandered about the perimeter of the Lake laying out piles of dead bracken. Barsarbe and Faraday sat at the edge of the trees, watching them.
“The Icarii always marked Yuletide at the Temple of the Stars before the Wars of the Axe,” Barsarbe explained as the stars came out, “but when they were trapped in the Alps, they flew down to celebrate with us.” She paused. “Although there will be a number of Enchanters at the Earth Tree Grove, we will miss StarDrifter’s presence this year.”
Faraday nodded. “StarDrifter is at the Temple now,” she said, her arms about her knees as she stared across the Lake. “Azhure told me he relit the Temple some time ago, and now it sends a great light into the sky. No doubt he will lead the rites there.”
Barsarbe blinked. “Azhure? You know her?” She had thought—hoped—never to hear of that woman again. Some of the warmth in the night died.
“Indeed, Barsarbe. She has become my friend. Why do you ask?”
“She stayed with us for many months,” Barsarbe said.
“You do not like her,” Faraday observed.
Barsarbe replied slowly, careful now that Faraday had already said Azhure was her friend. “She was the first Plains Dweller, apart from Rivkah, most of us met. We found her unsettling…we found the violence that followed in her wake unnerving.”
Faraday turned to gaze at Barsarbe steadily. “She has been as much a victim of violence as your people, Barsarbe.”
Barsarbe shuddered, unable to conceive of Azhure as a victim—despite what she knew of the scars on her back. “I am sorry, Faraday Tree Friend, but for some reason I have never been able to like her.” She paused. “What has become of her?”
Faraday continued to regard the Bane with steady green eyes. “You will not want to hear this, Barsarbe, but she has married Axis, and has borne him three children.”
Barsarbe recoiled violently, her eyes wide and furious. “That should have been your right!” she hissed. “Why did she…why did he do that to you?” Her eyes flew downwards. “How could he do this to you? Betray you like this! It must have been her fault! Hers!”
“Barsarbe,” Faraday interrupted, “fault cannot be apportioned for anything that has happened. There is no blame, nor any ill feeling. There is regret, yes, and sadness, but no blame. There is no fault, Barsarbe, that can be apportioned to Azhure.”
But Barsarbe was not to be appeased. “The second verse of the Prophecy clearly said that you would—”
“The Prophecy was misunderstood,” Faraday snapped. “Yes, I lay with the man who slew my husband, but I did not marry him. And Azhure…Azhure is the pain-riddled child who concealed ancient arts. She is Icarii, and an Enchanter, and perhaps far more than that. She wields as much power as do I or Axis, and she has been accepted by the Horned Ones and the Mother, not only for her power, but simply for who she is. Try to do the same.”
Barsarbe turned her head away, a muscle in her cheek twitching.
“She is my friend, Barsarbe,” Faraday said.
Barsarbe suddenly understood why she hated Azhure so much. It wasn’t just the violence that followed her like a shadow—although that was sickening enough in itself—it was the until-now unconscious and intuitive knowledge that Tree Friend loved Azhure. Barsarbe resented that, resented the bond that existed between the two women. Tree Friend was the Avar’s, and should belong to no other!
“I belong to no-one!” Faraday hissed. “And I choose as my friends those whom I please. Axis needs Azhure, I need her, and Mother help you, Barsarbe, if one day you find that you need her as well!”
“I cannot believe he betrayed you for her,” Barsarbe said. “Perhaps the Avar should reconsider their pledge to stand behind him.”
Faraday battled to control her rage. She could not believe that Barsarbe could not only hate so much, but misunderstand so much. No wonder, she thought, that Gorgrael hates as he does; it is a trait of his Avar blood.
She managed, eventually, to bite back her bitter words. “If the Avar decide not to assist Axis,” she said, her voice flat, “then they must be prepared to endure Gorgrael
as their lord. Axis’ eventual success rests in your people’s hands, Barsarbe, for it is Avar power that will make the Rainbow Sceptre. The trees will back him, this much I know. Choose as you will, but be prepared to accept your choice!”
It had been a thousand years since the Yuletide rites had touched this much power. In the Earth Tree Grove and on Temple Mount, Icarii Enchanters lit the sacred circles of fire to the accompaniment of Song, and the circles were fuelled by the reawakening power of the land, of the trees that Faraday had already planted out, of the Earth Tree, and by the reappearance of the Star Gods themselves.
StarDrifter was inside the Temple of the Stars, ringed by fire, spiralling gently in the centre of the cobalt beacon amid the floating stars. Wings and arms spread wide, he let as much of the power as he dared flood through him, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, unable to bear the beauty of the Temple. To those watching outside, StarDrifter glowed like a great silver cross as he hovered amid the deep violet of the Temple, the stars drifting by him, yet never touching him.
“I have been blessed,” the First Priestess whispered, tears running down her aged cheeks, “to have been allowed to live to witness this.”
“It is a time for great blessing,” said a soft voice behind her.
“Indeed,” the First said, without turning to see who spoke.
Xanon, her face hidden beneath a deep hood, smiled. “And I count myself no less blessed to have been served by you and yours. I thank you.”
Curious now, the First turned, but the woman behind her had disappeared into the crowd standing around the perimeter of the Temple.
The First frowned slightly. The woman had gone, yet there was an unusual scent still clinging to the air, and the woman’s voice lingered in her head. Thank you.
When she looked back to the Temple and the silver figure floating in the beacon, the First could see that another floated with him.
In the Earth Tree Grove, the Avar and Icarii present marked Yuletide with blood sacrifice, as they had been wont to do for thousands of years. As the circle of flame leapt into life the Earth Tree’s Song soared even higher; she could feel the spread of Minstrelsea to the south, and longed for the moment when she could join her Song with theirs. But they were still far distant, and even the power of the Earth Tree’s Song could not yet reach them.
About Fernbrake Lake the Avar, assisted by the Goodwife, lit the bracken they had laid out. As it caught alight, and as the fingers of flame touched each other to create the complete circle, the Lake burst into emerald life, and the eight women and the child wept as they beheld her beauty.
Faraday tried to forget her harsh words with Barsarbe, although the thought that the Avar might yet refuse to assist Axis frightened her. The emerald beam speared into the night sky, as it had not done the night that Raum had invoked the name of the Mother, and Faraday thought it looked like a beacon.
Gorgrael writhed and twisted, screaming his fury as the circles of fire were lit across Tencendor. As each flame leaped into life he felt his hold on the ice falter.
“I can feel the fire!” he screeched, capering about his chamber in agony. “It burns!”
But none were there to share his pain save the seven thousand Gryphon. They scampered across the floor and up the walls and dropped off the roof and seethed through the crevices of the Ice Fortress and across its outer surface, until the Fortress resembled a cake that had been overrun by myriad ants.
It would not be long before they gave birth.
As he had four thousand years before, and as he had every Yuletide since he had returned to Tencendor, WolfStar stood at the very brink of the Star Gate. All the Icarii Enchanters were above celebrating Yuletide; he could afford to linger.
One foot resting on the low wall surrounding the Gate, he leaned forward intently, listening and watching.
There was nothing save the lure of the Star Dance.
Back! Back! Come Back!
WolfStar resisted. The Star Dance no longer held the same beauty or lure for him. He looked past it, leaning closer, closer, closer…
“Nothing!” he breathed in relief as he finally stepped back. “There is nothing!”
Azhure shrugged off her linen shift and slipped into the suit Xanon had laid out for her. She stood a long time before the mirror, her eyes solemn, her hands gently stroking the material as it clung to her body.
There could be no name for this material—none like it had ever existed. It glowed raven-blue in the lamplight, as deep a blue as could be without verging into black. Azhure moved slightly, held her breath in wonder, then moved again. Every time she shifted position, even breathed, dark shadows chased each other across the material, now on the curve of her shoulder, now at the swell of her breast, now in the hollow of her back, now sliding down her legs. Dark shapes—representations of the shadow of the moon as it waxed and waned—slid over her body as the shadow of the ever-changing moon slid over the earth.
“Magic,” she whispered, pirouetting before her reflection. “I am magic.”
And then the tug of the waves caught at her, and her eyes, sliding to the window, darkened.
In the heart of the Temple, StarDrifter opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with Narcis, the God of the Sun. He floated only a pace away from StarDrifter, and when the god extended his hand, so too did StarDrifter, and their fingers touched in the very centre of the beacon.
You have done well, StarDrifter, and I thank you.
“Narcis?” StarDrifter whispered.
The circles burn in an arc around Tencendor, StarDrifter, and the Destroyer’s grip loosens.
StarDrifter’s fingertips burned where they touched the god’s, but the sensation was not unpleasant.
I have been resurrected and I will float over the world tomorrow, StarDrifter.
“I have done my best.” And my best has oftentimes been inadequate, the Enchanter thought, but it has been all I have had to offer.
Your best has been more than we could have asked. For the circles of fire, for the Temple, for your fatherhood of Axis and for your care of and love for Azhure, I…we…thank you, StarDrifter.
For some time they hovered, arms extended, fingertips touching, eyes locked, bodies floating gently among the stars.
Your life will be blessed, StarDrifter.
And with that he was gone, and StarDrifter was left alone among the stars.
The rites were complete and the Avar and those Icarii massed in the Earth Tree Grove relaxed.
All the Enchanters present, and some of the Banes, could feel the success of the rites at the Temple of the Stars, and now most drifted away into the tree line.
RavenCrest SunSoar, Talon of the Icarii, bowed reverentially towards the Earth Tree, then stepped away from the circle of stone, its flames now flickering and dying.
A scout stepped out of the tree line and RavenCrest stopped in his tracks. The birdman’s face was lined and exhausted, his wings drooping, his eyes strained yet brilliant with purpose.
“Talon!” The scout saluted smartly, although RavenCrest could see he was ready to drop.
“Yes? What is it?” RavenCrest had learned to dread the arrival of exhausted farflight scouts.
“Talon, I bring a message from the Enchantress.”
“Yes?”
“Talon, the Enchantress sends urgent word from Temple Mount. She says it is imperative that you evacuate Talon Spike. Those who can’t fly south must not go via the icy paths by the Nordra. She says, ‘They will have to go down to the waterways and beg, bribe or coerce the Ferryman to take them south.’ ”
“What? Has she gone mad? Evacuate Talon Spike? Who is she to give me these orders?”
“Talon, the Enchantress was desperate that this message reach you. She fears a strike by Gorgrael.”
“Bah! Gorgrael has his Skraeling host many leagues to the west. He would not—”
“Talon!” The farflight scout’s tone was now urgent. “She fears Gryphon. Thousands upon thous
ands of them. I hear tell they have devastated the StarMan’s force to the west. The Strike Force most of all,” he finished quietly. “Listen.”
RavenCrest paled as he listened.
Boots and gloves of matching material waited on the bed and Azhure slipped them on. She could feel the wind calling her name as it whispered beyond the mist, and she could feel the tug of the tides as they lapped the continent of Tencendor, but she swallowed her impatience to be gone…
Axis!
…for goodbyes needed to be said. She strode towards the door to the central chamber, seizing the Wolven and swinging the quiver of blue-fletched arrows over her shoulder as she went.
She took no cloak, for she would not need it.
And she left her hair free, for she would not need to bind it again.
As she strode, silent shapes rose from behind chairs and by walls and before the fireplace and clung to her heels.
It was time to run. To hunt.
She passed through the central chamber and entered the room where the children slept. Imibe lay asleep, the twins in cribs beside her bed. Azhure ignored them, walking directly to Caelum’s cot. He was awake, as she felt sure he would be.
Caelum. Do you know what night this is?
It is Yuletide. The night I was born.
Azhure smiled and gently stroked his face, wishing she could take him with her. Do you remember that night, Caelum?
He hesitated. Yes…yes, I do. I caused you great pain.
No. You caused and cause me great joy, my son. She paused. I must go, Caelum.
I know it. Will you bring Papa home?
If I can.
Caelum noticed her hesitancy. Come home, Mama. Azhure’s eyes filled with tears. As soon as I can, Caelum. As soon as I can.
Then she bent and kissed him and was gone.
Rivkah awoke suddenly, knowing someone was in the room. She stiffened, expecting assassins.
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