Starman

by Sara Douglass

  “Well,” Magariz said for something to say, “at least the weather seems to have improved.”

  Overnight the clouds had cleared and, although it was still cold, now the sun shone over them so that the snow melted in ever-larger puddles about their feet. Now Ho’Demi eyed his boots morosely; they were damp to his ankles, and he longed for the dry ice-lands of his home.

  “I shall have to fly the Icarii out within the hour,” SpikeFeather grumbled, “for if we linger among this damp we will all develop wing rot.”

  “No, SpikeFeather, we wait for a while yet. But if no-one emerges from that tent by evening, I will give the order to pull out in the morning. I would almost prefer the driving snows to this soggy melt. We ride for Sigholt.”

  “And what would you do with me, Belial, when you pull out?” Axis said pleasantly as he poked his head out the tent flap. “Roll me up in this canvas and throw me over Belaguez’s back?”

  “Axis!” Belial shouted, and behind him the others rose slowly to their feet as Axis stepped out of the tent.

  Axis let them look, then he grinned at Belial. “I have been abed, Belial, and now I am up, and I would surely appreciate it if you could tell me where you have put my clothes.”

  Belial stared gape-mouthed for another moment, then he burst out laughing and stepped over and embraced the naked man.

  The tent flap stirred behind them and Azhure stepped out, smoothing her blue suit down over her body. “I thought you might prefer him this way, Belial, than dead,” and Belial reached out and included her in his embrace.

  Then the others crowded around, laughing and exclaiming, and the hounds bayed and the sun shone and within heartbeats the entire camp knew what had happened.

  Belial stepped back, his cheeks wet with tears. “My friend. You can have your command back. I think they are pleased to see you,” he said, to the sound of the men shouting out Axis’ name.

  Axis grinned and whistled, and Belaguez reared back from the horse lines, breaking his halter rope, and galloped to join his master.

  Axis seized the trailing rope and vaulted onto the stallion’s back, saluting his commanders as they stood watching him.

  “Where to?” he called to the thousands that milled about, and about him the roar rose, “Where you lead, StarMan!”

  Belaguez reared and plunged, ecstatic to have his master back, well and whole, and Axis laughed for sheer joy. “Where to, Azhure?”

  She smiled, her eyes deep with happiness. “I think it is time we went home.”

  “To Sigholt!” Axis cried, and set his heels to Belaguez’s flanks, sending the horse plunging among the ranks of men crowding about. “We ride for Sigholt, and then? Then to Gorgrael’s Ice Fortress itself! What can stop us now?”

  41

  FERNBRAKE

  Their pace had been, literally, kept to a crawl. Ogden and Veremund had never been as robust as Yr, and with the infusion of the ancient power into their bodies, their physical condition deteriorated rapidly. They could only stumble one or two hundred paces before they had to rest, their faces splotched scarlet and white, their breath wheezing and bubbling in their chests, their hands quivering uselessly at their sides. But Yr had been corrupted by power longer—almost four months now—and there were many days when she could not move at all, when the Sentinels sat in a silent and solemn circle as she struggled to maintain her grip on life.

  Jack and Zeherah were quietly frantic as they approached Fernbrake Lake. They had not thought the journey would prove so hard, and they were taking so long! And the two longer stages were yet to be accomplished.

  And after tonight Zeherah would be left on her own to cope with the other four.

  “I did not think it would be so bad,” Jack said to her as they waited at the lip of the crater that held Fernbrake Lake for the other three to catch up. Ogden was hanging onto Yr’s arm, but Jack did not know who was supporting whom. Behind them Veremund struggled in his own private hell.

  Zeherah leaned against Jack’s body, knowing there were only hours left in which she could touch him. “There are only five months before Fire-Night,” she said. “Five months.”

  “We will manage.” Jack turned from the struggle below and gazed at Zeherah, knowing and sharing her pain.

  “We will have to,” she said, and blinked away her tears.

  Their journey through the Bracken Ranges had been made doubly difficult by the need to avoid the sharp eyes of hundreds of Icarii who were swarming over the mountains. As much as the Sentinels would have enjoyed their company, they could not afford to be seen. Any Icarii who came close would risk infection by the dreadful power that now radiated from the bodies of three of them; and the Sentinels did not want to risk contaminating the Icarii, nor risk being drawn away from their purpose.

  At least they had the trees to cover them from over-curious eyes. This was their first contact with the forest that Faraday had planted, for they had cut directly north from the Silent Woman Woods and had missed Faraday in her eastwards sweep. Each of the Sentinels took comfort from the gentle humming of the trees, and the trees lent them sympathy and shelter from the frosty nights. At least, they thought, Faraday continues to plant. Pray to the Prophet that she reaches the Avarinheim unscathed.

  Yr and Ogden finally reached the waiting pair, and within a few minutes Veremund joined them. Jack and Zeherah gave their companions almost half an hour to recover, then they started on the downward path towards the Lake. It was almost dusk, and it would be well into the night before they reached the waters.

  Zeherah felt Jack tremble as they turned into the path, and she squeezed his arm gently, treasuring the contact.

  The Avar and Faraday were weeks gone, and the Sentinels had the Lake to themselves. They rested an hour after they had finished their descent to its shores, then Jack hefted his staff and stood up.

  “Will you want me to carry the staff once…once…” Zeherah found she could not finish.

  “No. I will continue with it. I have carried it this long…and no doubt I will need its support once I am through here.”

  Zeherah could no longer hold her tears in check. “I had not thought this to be so difficult,” she sobbed, and Jack leaned down and stroked her cheek. She grasped his hand and kissed it, and Jack battled with his own emotions.

  Yr, Ogden and Veremund, lost in their own misery, watched impassively to one side. This was a goodbye in which they could not participate.

  “Jack,” a voice said, and he looked up. Walking slowly towards him across the grass was the Prophet, silvery and powerful, his coppery hair shining like the late afternoon sun.

  The Prophet reached down and laid a gentle hand on Zeherah’s hair, and she took a deep breath and swallowed her tears, trying to smile at him. Jack stood straight and tall, determined not to let the Prophet see his own doubts.

  But the Prophet saw anyway, and understood. “All goes well,” he said, and gazed lovingly on Yr and the brothers. “The Prophecy spins out to its conclusion, and Axis and Azhure have accepted their heritage.”

  Yr looked up. “Their heritage?”

  “We thought that Axis might be…” Veremund whispered, “but Azhure?”

  “They are the last of the Nine,” the Prophet said, and all the Sentinels took deep breaths. So.

  Jack sighed and looked towards the Lake. “It is time. Prophet, will you hold my staff while I am gone?”

  The Prophet took the staff, his hand closing about Jack’s. “You will be beloved always for the sacrifice you now make,” he said, leaning forward and softly kissing Jack on the mouth. “And you will always rest in my heart. You have proved far more than I could have hoped.”

  Jack blinked, then he bent down to Zeherah. “Beloved,” he whispered, “there are times when I have wished that you had never accompanied me on that expedition to float down the Nordra, so many thousands of years ago. If you had not, if you had stayed safe in the UnderWorld, then you would never have had to face the dreadful fate you do now.”
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br />   “And I would have lost you so much sooner,” she said bravely, lifting her face to be kissed. “Go in peace, Jack, and go with my love.”

  The Prophet took the staff and stood back several paces, inclining his head slightly at Jack, and the Sentinel shed his clothes, shivering slightly in the cold night air.

  “I have regrets,” he confessed, and the others regarded him with compassion. “I never expected to miss life so much.”

  For one more instant his eyes met those of Zeherah, and then he was gone.

  They waited many hours, and it was close to dawn when Jack resurfaced, his eyes glittering with power, the corruption already turning his heart.

  Zeherah’s jaw clenched, and she lowered her head, almost unable to look at him, but then she straightened, smiled and nodded, and let Yr and Ogden and Veremund greet him and welcome him into their painful community.

  Unlike the previous occasions, the Prophet was still with them, and he handed Jack his staff and let his hand rest on his shoulder briefly. Then he gazed at the other three suffering Sentinels. Their bodies were wasted, their strength almost gone. In places their skin hung in narrow strips, and their eyes glittered with as much pain as power. Heat radiated from their flesh and while Yr had lost most of her hair, Ogden and Veremund were now losing theirs in uneven handfuls.

  “It is hard on you,” the Prophet said. “I understand that, and perhaps I can do something to help you on your way.”

  He turned and walked down to the Lake until its waters lapped his toes. He did not know if this would work.

  He spread his arms wide. “Mother!” he cried. “Hear me! I seek Your aid for my servants who are Your servants too. Did not Jack and Yr lead Tree Friend to You? Did not Yr protect and comfort Faraday during her darkest hours? Have not all five worked as much for Your redemption as for that of the Star Gods? Mother, hear me. Help them complete their task. If You require blood, then have they not given enough already?”

  When the Mother replied it was only the Prophet who heard.

  Blood, WolfStar? Who are you to speak to Me of blood sacrifice? Must not My Daughter offer the ultimate—

  Mother! I beg You, do not vent Your righteous anger at my actions onto the Sentinels. They have done as much for You and Faraday as they have for me or any other.

  “Help them,” he said and, without affectation, let tears trail down his cheeks.

  His sorrow turned the Mother’s heart. She had been indifferent to the Repository that lurked in the depths of Fernbrake Lake, and She had been largely indifferent to the fact that Jack had watched over the Lake for so many years. But She found that She could not remain impervious to the Prophet’s sorrow.

  She, like so many others, had thought him indifferent to pain or love.

  The Lake burst into brilliant emerald light that bathed the faces of those who watched. The Prophet turned to the Sentinels, the trails of his tears clearly evident on his cheeks; and the Sentinels were as much moved by his sorrow as they were by the power of the Mother.

  “Bathe,” he whispered. “Bathe in the waters, and the Mother will hold you and love you and suffuse you with Her power and strength and courage so that you may continue. You too, Zeherah, for you will have to bear the burden of care, love and courage over the next months.”

  And so, stumbling with pain and exhaustion, the Sentinels walked into the arms of the Mother.

  42

  OF DEATH AND INHERITANCE

  They rode through a world in the process of rapid recovery. It was late Wolf-month and thus winter still had a powerful grip on the land, but it was winter only, and Gorgrael’s purchase had slipped over much of mid-Tencendor.

  The StarMan and the Enchantress led their army, and ranged to either side rode the commanders Belial, Magariz and Ho’Demi, and all who marched behind them were sure that victory was but a month or two away at the most.

  Axis turned to Magariz and Belial at his left and laughed. “See, my friends? Gorgrael’s hold slips! Soon, perhaps, most of this land will be free of him.”

  Magariz shifted in his saddle. “Axis? When do we go north to challenge Timozel and his host?”

  “Keen to win your lands back, Prince? Well, I don’t blame you. I am as eager to see every Skraeling filth wiped from this land as you are. And to finally face this brother of mine,” Axis added under his breath. “When?” His eyes briefly scanned the sky. “Spring, I think, or perhaps early summer. I have no more desire for winter campaigning.”

  “Is it wise to wait so long?” Ho’Demi asked, and Axis gazed at him, understanding. Even more than Magariz the Ravensbund chief was desperate to recover his land…and people, if any were left.

  “We all need time to heal, Ho’Demi,” Axis said. “This army may have had its spirits restored, but it needs its strength. Sigholt will give us the time and the opportunity to recover strength. And, Ho’Demi, look at this land.” His hand swept in an arc, indicating the melting snow and the burgeoning greenery. “This process will spread north over the next months as Faraday continues to plant. I cannot defeat the Skraeling host until she has completed her planting, and neither do I wish to. I want this thaw to spread to the Icescarp Alps before I ride north; it will put the Skraelings at a disadvantage and give us every advantage. Damn it, my friends! I want to win this time!”

  He laughed, and his good humour was infectious. His commanders laughed with him, but after a moment Belial turned away. Mother, pray he is right, he thought. Pray this time of beauty and hope will last, and he lifted his head to smile at his friend. Pray this time we have the reality, and not the lie.

  Above Jervois Landing the weather turned bitter, and they rode into a northerly wind that still held snow and traces of ice. But even though Gorgrael’s grip still held firm over most of Ichtar, there were signs that a thaw would soon break through. And, as soon as they rode into the Urqhart Hills, much of the wind’s bite was blunted, and the ground was generally free of snow.

  Within a day or two they would spot the soft mist that hid Sigholt and the Lake of Life, and that meant they would be only a few hours’ ride at the most from shelter and succour.

  “And your wives.” Azhure grinned at Belial and Magariz as they rode through one of the narrow passes early one afternoon. “You two shall have to give up your carefree bachelor existence to resume your husbandly duties. Perhaps you would rather ride straight for the north and Gorgrael’s stronghold.”

  Belial winked at Magariz and laughed. “I cannot wait to see Cazna again, Azhure. All three of us,” and he indicated Axis as well as Magariz, “were forced to abandon our wives within weeks of marriage to ride north. Axis has been more fortunate than us in resuming his conjugal burden a little earlier than planned.”

  They all laughed, but Axis caught Azhure’s eye. Have you told Magariz?

  No. That is Rivkah’s right and pleasure.

  Axis turned away, and Azhure took a deep breath. He had not reacted well to news of his mother’s pregnancy.

  The forward scouts spotted the blue mist late that afternoon, and Axis smiled at Azhure, then addressed Belial, Magariz and Ho’Demi. “Well, my friends, do we spend one more night out in the open and ride through in the morning, or do we—”

  “Go in now!” Magariz said, his handsome face alive with excitement. “I fancy a warm bed tonight.”

  It will be warmer than you imagine, Axis thought dryly, then raised his eyebrows at the other two.

  Belial laughed at Magariz’s eagerness, but he did not try to conceal his own. “Would you camp out for the night knowing Azhure awaited you within, Axis? I think not. I vote we ride.”

  Ho’Demi nodded. “Sa’Kuya has told me of this magical fortress of yours, StarMan. I will have many things to say to the bridge.”

  “Then we will have a night ride and a starry welcome, my friends. Arne? Ride back and tell the unit commanders that we’ll be continuing for the next few hours, but that at the end lies comfort and a good meal and rest from this wind.”

 
As soon as they entered the blue mist the wind faded, and within minutes the entire army was encased in the eerie haze. Axis pushed Belaguez slightly ahead of the others, relishing the feel of the damp magic against his cheeks.

  “Axis?” Azhure rode up beside him. “Will you disencumber Sigholt of her mist now that you’re home?”

  “Now that we’re home,” Axis said absently, then he smiled at Azhure. The blue mist clung to her form and she looked like an ethereal sorceress who had floated out of myth to tempt him.

  It had been his intention to remove the enchantments enveloping Sigholt once he returned, but the sight of Azhure floating through the mist at his side changed his mind. “No,” he said. “I’ll let Sigholt linger amid her blue skirts for a while longer. Danger still lurks about the land.”

  Azhure smiled. She did not mind the thought that Sigholt would stay hidden some time yet. She was about to speak when she was halted by a loud, ecstatic voice.

  “StarMan! Welcome home! Welcome!”

  “The bridge,” Axis said, and kicked Belaguez into a gallop.

  The Keep and courtyard of Sigholt were alive with excitement as people rushed from beds, pulling cloaks over linen shifts or their nakedness, and milled about as the first riders cantered across the bridge.

  About Sigholt the bridge’s voice boomed, greeting friends and challenging strangers, but those already across forgot her in their own excited greetings.

  Everyone was bathed in brilliant moonlight, and occasionally a fragile Moonwildflower would drift down on a moonbeam and tangle in someone’s hair.

  “Where is he?” Cazna cried, her long black hair flying loose about her cloak, her hand gripping Rivkah’s arm, frantic eyes searching the men and horses that now crowded the courtyard. “Isn’t he here?”

  Rivkah started to say something, her own eyes equally frantic, when a horseman rode up behind Cazna, leaned down, and hauled her into the saddle.