Starman

by Sara Douglass

  Axis looked sharply at Azhure. “And what did you face in Hsingard?”

  “Perhaps eight or nine thousand all told—adults as well as younglings.”

  “It is too dangerous for you,” he said, his eyes on her face.

  “I want to hunt, Axis.”

  “Nevertheless…”

  Ho’Demi looked between the two of them. “Let me help, Enchantress. I have a thousand men here, many of them archers. Azhure, all of us want to hunt. Use us!”

  “Azhure?” Axis raised his eyebrows.

  She relaxed and smiled, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I am outnumbered, gentlemen. Very well, Ho’Demi, I will use your men and thank you for them. Now.” Her eyes dropped to the rough map Ho’Demi had drawn and her tone turned brisk. “This is what we shall do.”

  Azhure and Axis jogged down the steeply sloping shaft of the eastern-most mine until they reached the opening of the fourth tunnel that branched off to their left.

  “This must be it,” Axis said quietly, and felt in the darkness for Azhure’s hand. They carried no light with them and Axis did not yet make use of the Star Dance to construct a ball of light as he had in Hsingard. Not wanting to give the Skraelings warning, both relied exclusively on their innate powers to negotiate the shaft; neither had stumbled once during the descent.

  At Azhure’s side Sicarius whined softly and she reached down and touched his head briefly. The hound was quivering with excitement but she kept him and the other two Alaunt with him back for the moment.

  “Axis?”

  “Wait,” he whispered. Ho’Demi? Are you ready?

  Yes, StarMan. All is ready.

  Axis smiled and Azhure felt it. “Then let us hunt,” she cried, her voice ringing through the tunnel before her. “Hunt!”

  She gestured with her hand and the three Alaunt seethed forward, the soft sounds of their running disappearing within instants. Music whispered through the air and the ball of light appeared in Axis’ hands.

  Azhure blinked in the sudden radiance. “Axis…”

  “I know, Azhure, I know. This light and the ward of protection. That is all.” Azhure was worried that in the heat of the hunt Axis might try to use the power of the Star Dance to try to kill the Skraelings, and she frowned, wondering if she should warn him yet again.

  “I know!” he said sharply, and she smiled.

  “I’m sorry, Axis. Let’s go,” and she turned and strode into the tunnel, lifting an arrow from the quiver on her back to fit to the Wolven as she went.

  Ho’Demi and his men had managed to completely block the entrance of the extreme western shaft with rubble and rocks so that no Skraelings could escape that way. And now, if all was going according to plan, Ho’Demi would have divided his force into three groups that each advanced down one of the three central shafts, brands blazing and four Alaunt hunting before them.

  The plan was to drive all Skraelings towards a natural cavern at the foot of the shaft to the immediate west of the one Azhure and Axis had descended; there, Azhure had smiled at Ho’Demi, we can all have our fill of death.

  And so it was.

  The noise, light and hounds accompanying the bands of men advancing down the three central shafts terrified the Skraelings so much that they fled in a whispering mob, unsure about what directions to take, colliding and scrabbling among themselves until many died from the teeth and claws of their neighbours and parents before their enemies had even reached them. Among them leapt the twelve hounds who ran before the men, clamouring and snarling, frightening the Skraelings into a stampede east, filling the cavern and then racing along the tunnel towards the final shaft…towards Azhure.

  The mob met Sicarius and his two companions first. The hounds were lying in wait for them, bellies pressed to the floor of the tunnel, and as the Skraelings rushed over the top of them the hounds chopped and snapped, and with each bite a hatchling died, its back broken or its head disengaged from its neck.

  None of the adults cared. They seethed forward, desperate to escape from hounds and light and noise until…until…the leading pack of Skraelings lurched to a halt, shrieking, their hands raised uselessly to their faces, trying unsuccessfully to back up against the mob behind them.

  Along the tunnel flew an arrow. The Skraelings could not yet see it, but they could feel it. It was straight and true and blue-fletched, it glowed and sparked with death—and it was coming straight for them.

  And in an instant they could see it, too. It flew around the final bend in the tunnel, keeping to the very centre of the passage, its metal head glowing as bright as a sun, its blue feathers screaming as they slid through the air.

  The three Alaunt snapping at the bellies and feet of the pack flattened themselves along the tunnel floor.

  The arrow exploded the instant it hit the first line of Skraelings, now turned to face their companions in a futile effort to flee back the way they had come. A flame, at first gold, then orange, then shading into a deep indigo, flared through the ranks of the Skraelings, eating its way back through the tunnel as far as the cavern.

  Every Skraeling caught in that tunnel turned to grey ash, and, as the ash drifted to the floor it turned violet, and by the time it settled on the floor it had been changed into Moonwildflowers, and the floor was carpeted in beauty.

  Now the tunnel itself was lit with a gentle blue radiance.

  Azhure laughed as she strode through the flowers, leaning down and snatching up the arrow as she went. Before her the hounds rose, flowers cascading to either side, and bounded forward to continue the hunt. Behind her Axis walked, extinguishing his ball of flame, an expression of utter wonder mixing with quiet pride on his face.

  Then he saw Azhure stumble slightly, and he hurried to catch up.

  The Skraelings were trapped in the cavern, screaming and writhing, arrows raining down on them from behind and above and before. The light and the hounds were bad enough, but the woman with the arrows was murderous. And so they died, weeping and fretting and screeching, and soon even the men lowered their bows in awe as they stood and stared at the Enchantress across the cavern, watching as she loosed a flood of arrows into the Skraeling mass, watching as with each Skraeling who fell a flower drifted from unseen heights above them into the massacre below until the floor of the cavern was lost in blood and floating flowers and the disintegrating flesh of the Skraelings.

  As the last flower fell Axis tightened his arm about Azhure’s waist. The Wolven drooped in her hands, and she leaned her weight back against him.

  “You’ve done too much,” he said, feeling her muscles tremble, feeling her gasp for air, knowing that the amount of power she had expended threatened her beyond exhaustion.

  “I’ll be all right after I’ve rested,” she murmured, but she did not resist when he swung her into his arms.

  “StarMan?” Ho’Demi called across the cavern, still dazed by what he had witnessed. “Is she all right?”

  “She needs rest, Ho’Demi. Take your men up the shafts and we will rejoin you as soon as we can.” He indicated the violet and red mess between them. “None can cross this. We will all have to use the shafts we came down.”

  As the Ravensbund Chief turned to go Axis called him. My friend? My thanks.

  Ho’Demi looked over his shoulder and regarded them silently. Take care of her, StarMan.

  Sicarius and the other two hounds at his heels, Axis strode back along the tunnel. Now the excitement of the hunt was over he was also feeling the drain of exhaustion, and he thought it would take him two, perhaps three, hours to climb the shaft.

  Then he stopped in his tracks, suddenly wary. Ahead of him the tunnel curved…but in this all-consuming blackness he should not have been able to see that. Feel it, yes, but not see it.

  Faint light outlined the walls and their ancient chisel marks, and Axis lowered Azhure slowly to her feet. Who was there? What?

  My love? You will have to stand by yourself awhile. There is…

  The thought
was cut off mid-sentence as Sicarius pushed past their legs, the other two hounds an instant behind him, and loped down the tunnel, disappearing around the bend.

  “Axis?” Azhure struggled to focus through her fatigue.

  Axis opened his mouth, then froze. Footsteps shuffled through the rock dust and a shadow loomed on the rock wall. Axis fumbled at his hip then remembered he had left his sword above ground; he glanced at the Wolven but discarded the thought before it had even formed. Even if he had been able to draw the bow he would not have been able even to hit a comatose cow with an arrow at five paces. Of all weapons, Axis had never mastered the bow.

  A bent and ragged figure shuffled around the bend. It was a man, elderly, and clad in the dirty, stained rags of a miner.

  “Good sir,” he called, “good sir? Will you sit with us a while? We have sweet water and currant cakes, and your lady wife needs sustenance.”

  Then he turned and shuffled out of sight again.

  Axis stared after him, then felt Azhure slump even more heavily against his side.

  “Stars,” he said, “I hope you are what you look like.” He scooped Azhure back into his arms and nervously walked towards the bend; only the fact that the hounds had seemed relaxed kept him from turning and trying to negotiate the bloodied mess of the cavern floor.

  Around the bend a small fire glowed in the centre of the tunnel; about it sat four men and three women, all elderly, all clad in miners’ rags.

  The man who had invited Axis waved. “Sit.”

  Slowly Axis lowered himself to the floor, keeping Azhure close beside him. She roused as she felt the floor beneath her and looked about. “Why—” she began, but the old woman closest to her pressed a flask into her hands.

  “Drink, Lady, drink. It will refresh you.”

  Azhure did as she asked, and indeed she seemed to rouse. She pressed the flask into Axis’ hands and he took a sip as well, feeling a warmth like brandy-fire spread through his stomach. Without a word he handed it back to Azhure, his eyes on the seven sitting about the fire.

  “Who are you?”

  “Currant cake?” Now a man on the far side of the fire leaned forward, and passed a plate around towards Axis. “Just baked, good sir, and still warm.”

  Axis hesitated, but Azhure murmured at his side, and he reluctantly took the plate. Nine cakes sat there.

  “Take one,” Azhure whispered, helping herself, “and pass the plate along.”

  Already she seemed stronger and sat up without any need for support. Axis glanced at her, then took a cake and passed on the plate. Each of the seven miners took one.

  Azhure bit into her cake and instantly her back straightened and her eyes flared with life. She chewed, crumbs at the side of her mouth. “Eat,” she mumbled about her mouthful.

  Eyes still wary, Axis slowly raised the cake to his mouth and bit into it. Almost as soon as he tasted the sweet cake strength flooded through him and he jerked in surprise, managing to keep his mouth shut and chewing only through an extraordinary effort.

  “Welcome, Axis.” One of the women extended her hand and Axis took it, still overwhelmed by the strength the cake gave him.

  “My name is Xanon,” she said softly, and Axis stopped chewing and stared at her.

  A rag dropped to the floor, and then another. The hand that he held was hard and calloused one moment, smooth and round the next. Her smile broadened, and the creases of her face smoothed out, and Axis realised he was staring into the face of one of the loveliest women he had ever seen.

  He swallowed, and Xanon laughed. Half rising, she leaned forward and kissed him.

  He trembled, and Azhure shot Xanon a sharp look, but then the others were rising and taking his hand and kissing him on the mouth and murmuring greetings, and about them rags fell to the floor and skin firmed and pallor assumed lustre.

  As the last leaned back, the Circle of the Stars on Azhure’s finger flared into such brilliance all had to squeeze their eyes closed until the light died down.

  “We are Nine,” Adamon said. “Finally, we are Nine.”

  They sat for time unknowable, talking, laughing, sharing, until finally Adamon stood and extended his hand to Axis, helping him to his feet. Fully recovered now, Azhure stood beside him and took his hand once Adamon had released it.

  “I may not have the chance to speak with you before you move to meet Gorgrael,” the God of the Firmament said softly. “Know that we watch and hope. May the Stars shine on you now and forever more.”

  Axis nodded, unable to speak. He had felt such a sense of homecoming among this group that he thought he could hardly bear it. Azhure’s hand tightened about his own.

  “When you do meet Gorgrael, none of us can help you,” Zest said, stepping forward. “Not Adamon, not Xanon, not myself, not even Azhure. It must be you and he alone.”

  Narcis laughed and rested his hand briefly on Axis’ shoulder. “And make sure you win, Axis. Your place among us is sure only if you win. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise Gorgrael will take it,” Xanon said, keeping her distance this time. “And I do not think Azhure wants to be standing there holding Gorgrael’s hand!”

  “I have no intention of leaving her, Xanon. I will prevail.”

  She smiled. “Axis. Be wary. We all have our limits. You have seen tonight how use of her power can exhaust Azhure.” Her smile died. “And you have felt first-hand what happens when you exceed or misuse your own powers. Be wary and be thoughtful. That is all I want to say.”

  Axis nodded soberly, about to say something himself, but then, astoundingly, the seven were gone, and the tunnel was empty of any save Axis and Azhure and the patient hounds.

  They looked at each other, laughed, and climbed towards the surface.

  When they arrived, it was to find that the night had passed and the sun shone high overhead. Only Ho’Demi’s feeling that Axis and Azhure were well had kept him from sending down search parties to find them.

  Above them the black dot that had been circling for over a day drifted off on the wind.

  45

  GORGRAEL CONSIDERS

  Gorgrael sat back in his chair, his feet extended towards the fire, and considered. For hours he had ridden in the Gryphon’s mind, watched with the Gryphon’s eyes, heard with her ears.

  And what he had seen and heard made him wonder if he shouldn’t be considering a minor revision in his plans. Had brute force been the correct tack? Would not some subtlety have been more appropriate? Well, maybe so, but it was not too late, certainly not too late.

  So he sat back and thought.

  And he mostly thought about that raven-haired woman who rode at Axis’ side. The Gryphon he had sent scouting was one of the original two and Gorgrael had hated to risk her (the massive pack of Gryphon waiting in the corridors would give birth later this week and soon he would have seven thousand at his disposal), but he had been frantic for information. Timozel had withdrawn so far to the north that any information he could send his master was weeks outdated, or so useless he might as well not have sent it at all.

  What was Axis up to?

  Where was he?

  What force did he have at his disposal?

  And how much further did that bitch have to plant before the hated trees were joined to the Avarinheim? Already winter had all but slipped from Gorgrael’s grasp below the Gorken Pass, but even that would not matter if he could only use what intelligence he had to cripple Axis’ plans.

  His Gryphon scout had not been able to garner much—a nest destroyed and some breeding stock massacred—but what little she had seen and heard would prove more than useful.

  Who was that raven-haired woman?

  Who…?

  Why had Axis smiled at her with such affection when Faraday was his Lover?

  What was that bow slung about her neck, and what power was held by the pale hounds who ran before her?

  Who…ah! Gorgrael leapt out of his chair, slipped and would have fallen had not the talons at the tips
of his wings caught on the mantelpiece and saved him from an ignominious slide across the floor.

  But he did not care, for a memory had quietly surfaced…a memory that Gorgrael had buried because he did not think it significant when events of greater moment had surrounded it.

  But perhaps this was the event of greatest moment.

  When Axis had taken Carlon from that fool, Borneheld, Gorgrael had sent a Gryphon to scout over Grail Lake. She had done well, and reported many profitable facts, but she had made a fatal error. She was experienced, experienced in the taste of man-flesh from the trenches of Jervois Landing, and she had thought to taste sweet flesh again when she had seen the unprotected mother and child standing atop the white tower. So she had attacked, and everything she had seen until the moment of her death had been faithfully shared with her master.

  Now Gorgrael stood twitching with excitement before the fire, recalling the Gryphon’s death. She had angled in from the sun, a good tactic, for the woman had not seen her until it was almost too late. But instead of tearing the woman to shreds, the Gryphon had instead been seized and…and unravelled. It was the only word Gorgrael could use to describe the Gryphon’s death. The enchantments that had gone into her making had been unravelled, and it had been that woman—the same who now rode by Axis’ side—who had done it.

  Gorgrael concentrated his thoughts on the woman and child. She was of what the Acharites called Nors blood; that race of women who often followed armies about offering their favours for a meal and a few hours’ paltry warmth in a bedroll. Not surprising, then, to see her at the scene of a successful battle, and not surprising to see her cuddling the result of some careless thrust.

  Gorgrael fixed the image of the baby’s terrified face in his mind. That baby had the features of an Icarii. His mother’s colouring, but the face of an Icarii stared out at him.

  So perhaps the woman had lingered overlong with one of the feathered beasts.