Starman

by Sara Douglass

  Gorgrael may once have assumed this, but not now he had seen her with Axis. Not now he had seen Axis look at her with the face of love.

  The baby…did that baby have the features of Axis? Did it? Did it?

  Yes!

  Gorgrael screamed his jubilation into the ice walls of his fortress until it reverberated for leagues across the tundra. He scrabbled about the room, his hands clenching and unclenching in frenzy, his wings extended, their talons gouging deep wounds into the furniture as he passed.

  The woman…and the child.

  And…Gorgrael abruptly halted, his eyes almost popping out of his head with the memory of what had happened the instant after the woman had destroyed the Gryphon. The Dear Man had materialised screaming with fury. By all the stars in the universe, what have you done?

  The Dark Man had been very upset.

  And all over a human woman and bastard Icarii-child?

  Apparently so.

  Gorgrael sat back down and tried to think it through. What did this mean?

  The Dark Man was overly attached to the woman or the child and perhaps both. No…no, it had not been the child. It had been the woman. Why?

  For most of Gorgrael’s life, the Dear Man had imbued him with all three verses of the Prophecy of the Destroyer. It was the third verse, the Dear Man had said time after time, which gave the all-important information. The Lover, the one whose pain would break Axis’ concentration enough so that Gorgrael could strike the killing blow.

  But what if—for his own reasons and likely connected with that woman—the Dark Man had been trying to mislead Gorgrael?

  What if the Dark Man had lied to him?

  Gorgrael shrieked again, in fury this time, and tore the hearth rug to shreds.

  Which one was the Lover?

  Faraday…or this black-haired woman who rode by Axis’ side?

  Which one could be used to break Axis’ concentration?

  Which one would be useless?

  “And has the Dark Man spent his life lying to me?” Gorgrael whispered as he crouched beside the fire.

  Faraday or…her?

  Gorgrael snarled and hurled handfuls of silk into the fire where it charred and burned, sending a sickening odour wafting through the chamber. Then he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not think while he was so consumed with fury.

  “My dear boy,” he said eventually, grinning to himself, “why not go for both? What matter so long as both die before him?”

  His smile died. Why not? Because Gorgrael had felt the unmistakable aura of power exude from the woman. Gryphon and Skraeling had died at her hand. She was risky. What if he tried to snatch her and couldn’t handle her? What if…

  What if the Dark Man had been training her as well as himself? After all, she had used the power of Dark Music to unravel that Gryphon, had she not?

  Gorgrael whimpered, curling into a miserable ball before the flames.

  The son…

  He did not at first notice the thin voice that reached out to him.

  The heir…

  Gorgrael blinked and rolled over, slowly rising to his knees.

  Vulnerable.

  The son. Vulnerable. What did a man feel more for, a Lover or an heir? And whatever Axis may have bequeathed that boy-child, the baby could not possibly be powerful enough to best Gorgrael. Not by any means.

  Not if both his parents were absent.

  Sooner or later Axis was going to ride north from Sigholt, and the raven-haired woman had already shown she was willing to ride with him.

  Surely they would not take the son as well, would they?

  No.

  No.

  46

  GORKENFORT

  Timozel sat amid the rubble of the Great Hall in the Keep of Gorkenfort and remembered.

  Remembered when he had planned here with Borneheld, thinking that Borneheld would be the Great Lord who would propel him into glory.

  Now Timozel knew better. Now he served Gorgrael, and Gorgrael had invested him with infinitely more power than Borneheld ever could have.

  Yet was Gorgrael as great as he had first thought?

  Timozel had spent weeks retreating to the north, then had lingered weeks here at the mouth of Gorken Pass, awaiting orders. He was slightly surprised that Gorgrael hadn’t called them all the way back to the Ice Fortress, but maybe Gorgrael felt his host was safe enough here where the winds still screamed and the snow still turned to ice within minutes of touching the ground.

  Timozel shifted in irritation. Sooner or later he would have to face what was left of Axis’ army—surely it could be little more than a mopping up campaign—and lurking among the ruins of Gorkenfort would not help.

  But then there was the problem of the weather.

  Timozel’s scouts had informed him that several leagues below Gorkenfort the land had virtually thawed; Gorgrael’s hand was slipping. Was his power slipping too?

  The Skraelings, now fully fleshed, could fight in balmy weather as well as they could in a snowstorm, but they would have little advantage. Part of their success to this date had been that Gorgrael had always prefaced their attacks with numbing cold, severely reducing their foes’ ability to fight.

  “Damn you, Gorgrael,” Timozel muttered, “let me finish the task I have begun so well!”

  Timozel?

  Timozel started so badly he tore his hand along a jagged stone. Yes, Master?

  Timozel, I have some news.

  Yes?

  Axis is not so crippled as we first thought. Even now he rides the plains of Ichtar with…well, he rides fully fit and confident.

  Timozel cursed foully, long and low. Why hadn’t he been allowed to finish the job at the Azle?

  Timozel?

  Yes, Master?

  I shall need you to stop him at Gorken Pass.

  Timozel restrained his temper with extreme effort. Of course, Master.

  Of course, Timozel. My pets shall be with you soon. They lie about the corridors fat with child, and even now their grunting begins. Then they will be unencumbered and free to join you.

  One good piece of news, at least.

  Timozel, I think you may be succumbing to despondency alone in Gorkenfort with none but Skraelings and SkraeBolds to keep you amused.

  No, Master! Timozel broke into a sweat. No, my spirits remain high!

  See that they do. Listen to me. Seven thousand Gryphon—look what Axis did to himself trying to dispose of only nine hundred. Take heart.

  Yes, there was that. Timozel relaxed, his mouth curving into a smile. The seven thousand would be with him shortly; with those he could decimate anything Axis threw at him.

  Timozel, there is something I must ask you. Do you know of a raven-haired woman who rides by Axis’ side?

  Timozel frowned. No, Master.

  Do you know if Axis has a son?

  Timozel almost laughed. A son? He undoubtedly has had the opportunity, but I have never heard of a son.

  And what of Faraday, Timozel? When you left Carlon, what of Axis and Faraday?

  Rutting on the floor, Master, their passions so feral they could not take the five steps to the bed.

  And they were married?

  About to be, Master.

  Gorgrael thought about this. Timozel had not seen Axis for so long that his information was as cold as the stones of Gorkenfort itself. Why didn’t Timozel know about the woman? Why, when it was obvious that well before Carlon she had been sharing Axis’ bed?

  And if the black-haired witch had married him, that made Faraday the Lover, did it not?

  Ah, no matter. Whichever, whoever, Gorgrael still thought he had the better plan. You have done well, Timozel. I am pleased.

  Thank you, Master.

  Seven thousand Gryphon. Axis could never deal with that many. Timozel sat back in the Great Hall of Gorkenfort and laughed. “Come on, Axis. Be brave. Come get me. Lead your men. Let me take you.”

  47

  SIGHOLT

>   “He’s where?” Axis hissed.

  “Gorkenfort,” Ho’Demi replied. “Timozel is in Gorkenfort and his host is ranged about.” As he had in Aldeni, Axis had trusted Ravensbundmen to scout the extreme north of Ichtar where the snow still fell.

  “Are you sure your spies are right in this?”

  Ho’Demi managed not to look affronted; from what he had heard about the battle for Gorkentown and fort it was no wonder the StarMan’s face was now creased with concern. He nodded, then folded his hands before him.

  Axis and his commanders were seated in the Great Hall of Sigholt in the hour before the evening meal was served. Now Axis glanced across at Belial. “Well?”

  Belial considered, then looked at Axis with sympathy shining from his eyes. “It is a good place, Axis.”

  “Who for?” Axis snapped.

  “For him,” Belial said. “He would know the memories the place holds for you. The ghosts.”

  “And he can withdraw into Gorken Pass itself,” Magariz added. “Forcing you to follow him. If he plans well, Gorken Pass could become a death trap for us…especially if he launches Gryphon from the rocks of the mountains.” He finished abruptly. Magariz would rather not fight another battle at Gorkenfort.

  “I do not want to hear this,” Axis said, but his voice had lost its harsh edge. Gorkenfort. Damn him!

  Everyone else was silent.

  Azhure waited several minutes until she spoke, until the others had begun to shift uncomfortably.

  “Well, where else did you expect him to go, Axis? We knew he was moving north, and Gorken Pass is the only route through to the northern coasts…unless he wanted to try to move his host through the Icescarp Alps. Surely this cannot be too much of a surprise.”

  Axis glared at her, but she did not drop her eyes. He’d hoped Timozel might pull his army back all the way to Gorgrael’s fortress somewhere in the northern wastes. But it had always been a forlorn hope. He knew he would have to face Timozel again, and it might as well be Gorkenfort or Gorken Pass as anywhere else. After all, Skraelings had died there together with men.

  “SpikeFeather? Have your scouts returned from their duty over Ichtar?”

  SpikeFeather shuffled his wings, relieved that the StarMan’s voice had returned to normal. “Yes, StarMan. It is quiet and denuded of Skraelings from the Fortress Ranges to the River Azle—and possibly beyond, but my scouts did not fly that far. Likewise it is quiet and empty from the Icescarp Alps to the Nordra.”

  Axis looked at Magariz. “You have your province back, Prince Magariz.”

  Magariz bowed his head. “Then I thank you, StarMan.”

  Best thank Faraday, Axis thought, for it is she who has driven back Gorgrael’s ice with her trees.

  “Fire-Night,” Azhure prompted gently, “is only some nine weeks away.”

  Axis’ ill-humour returned and he laughed harshly. “Do you hear that, my friends? Fire-Night is but nine weeks away. By the third week of Rose-month I must have cleared this land of its Skraelings so that I can move to meet the Avar in their groves.”

  Belial looked bewildered, as did most of the other commanders.

  “Axis must be in the Avarinheim groves by Fire-Night so that he can take the Rainbow Sceptre with which to destroy Gorgrael,” Azhure explained, her eyes still on Axis. “The Avar will be instrumental in the making of the Sceptre.”

  “That does not leave us much time,” Belial said, then wished he had kept quiet.

  But Axis only waved a hand tiredly. “Then we had better start to move. Belial, what is our state of readiness?”

  Belial spoke for some time, occasionally referring a point to one of the other commanders, or querying something with Axis himself. In the eight weeks since the army had been encamped on the Lake of Life, spirits and health had been restored, gear mended and cleaned, and training had continued apace.

  “Then when can we ride?” Axis said.

  “In two days…if the conditions permit it.” Belial looked at SpikeFeather.

  The Strike Force Leader spoke quickly. “The land is well thawed—”

  “And drained?” Belial broke in.

  “And drained,” SpikeFeather said. “There are still great patches of mud, but the ground forces should be able to ride past them.”

  Axis lounged back in his chair and stretched his legs out. “The Strike Force, SpikeFeather? Should I take you?”

  “Would you have us stay here and mind the children, Axis?”

  “If seven thousand Gryphon get to you before Azhure can manage to contain them, then there will be no Strike Force at all.”

  “We want to fight,” SpikeFeather said. “If we die, then so be it.”

  Axis regarded him carefully. The Strike Force had built itself up so that it now stood at about sixty per cent of its previous strength. But SpikeFeather was young and relatively inexperienced. Should he risk them?

  They have to fight, Axis. Isn’t that what you trained them for in Talon Spike? Did you want them to go home the instant they lost a few members? You gave them their pride, do you now want to take it away from them?

  More than a few members lost, Azhure, but Axis conceded the point. “Very well, SpikeFeather. You can start to send the farflight scouts towards Gorkenfort, but be careful!”

  “And we fight?”

  “Yes. You fight. Ready the Strike Force. You can move out four days after the ground force has gone. Your initial task will be to protect the supply column.”

  SpikeFeather took a deep breath and relaxed. “Good.”

  “SpikeFeather, have you any news from Talon Spike?” Azhure asked.

  He shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Enchantress. All I know is that the majority of the Icarii made it safely to the Avarinheim. Some have stayed there with the Avar, but many are continuing south to the Minaret Peaks, some to Nor and Carlon, and some to the Island of Mist and Memory.”

  Azhure nodded. She felt responsible for RavenCrest’s decision to stay, but it was his choice, and it was his life. At least most of the Icarii had escaped—and who knew, perhaps Gorgrael wouldn’t think to launch his Gryphon on the mountain anyway.

  But already she could feel the black surge of Gryphon to the north, a tidal wave of destruction—almost seven thousand, three hundred of them. And their pups, mewling and crawling in an even blacker wave. Waiting. Wanting.

  “Well,” Axis said with forced lightness in his voice, “so in two days we ride into yet another battle.” He reached across to Azhure and took her hand. “Thank the Stars you will ride with me this time.”

  She gave him a tight, tense smile.

  “I can’t come with you, Axis.”

  They were alone in their bed chamber.

  He spun to her. “What?”

  “Axis, please understand, I can’t come—”

  He seized her shoulders, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Azhure, I need you!”

  She winced at the strength of his hands and the pain in his eyes but kept her voice soft. “Axis, I will be there in time for the battle, it’s just that I’m needed elsewhere at the moment. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  “Needed elsewhere?” He laughed incredulously. “Needed elsewhere? What? Does RiverStar need to be burped just so? Is Caelum fussing over a tooth? Dammit, Azhure, there’s no need to prove to me that you are a good mother!”

  “Faraday.”

  “Faraday?”

  She took a deep breath. How could she explain without telling him what Faraday did not want him to know? “Faraday draws close to Smyrton. She is tired, exhausted, yet she faces the greatest danger of all in only a week or two.”

  “Can’t she plant the last few trees by herself, Azhure?”

  “Artor waits in Smyrton, Axis. Faraday needs me and I need her. Neither of us can face him alone, and no-one can ignore him.”

  “I need you, Azhure,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  “How can I deal with the Gryphon without you?”

&nb
sp; “Shush. I’ll be there in time,” she said.

  “I’ll fail without you!”

  “Axis…”

  He drew her close to him. “Azhure, I will fail without you!”

  “We will both fail without Faraday,” she said fiercely, trying to make him understand. “I can deal with the Gryphon, but what about the mass of Skraelings? What will you do at Gorkenfort?”

  “I dealt with them at the Azle.”

  “No,” she said brutally, “you only bought yourself a few precious hours to retreat in. Don’t you want to advance this time? Secure Ravensbund for Ho’Demi as you have secured Ichtar for Magariz?”

  He was silent, his face averted. His hands slipped away from her arms and hung at his sides.

  Azhure wrapped her own arms about him as tightly as she could, pressing her body against his, maintaining the contact. “The trees will help us, Axis, but only if they are joined to the Avarinheim. If the Song of the Earth Tree can touch them.”

  “And what will the trees do, Azhure,” he said harshly, “pick up their roots and march forth? Can I rely on them to get there in time?”

  She pressed her face against his chest. “The trees will help us, Axis. Faraday has promised.”

  He was silent long minutes. “She has reason enough to hate me, to lie to me.”

  “She does not hate you, Axis, and she does not lie to you.”

  “I lied to her.”

  Azhure was silent.

  “I lied to her,” Axis whispered. “I wish before every star in the firmament that I’d had the courage to treat her as she deserved.”

  Azhure lifted her head and considered him. “Then make sure you tell her that, Axis, when you have the chance.”

  They held each other quietly, wrapped in their own thoughts. “When will you leave?” Axis asked eventually.

  “Tomorrow. For the past two or three days I have felt a growing urge to go to her…this afternoon it became almost unbearable. I must leave in the morning.”

  “Azhure…”

  “I will be there for you,” she said. “I will get to you in time!”

  Imibe stood on the roof of Sigholt, the baby girl in her arms, watching with a careful eye as the other nurse played ball with Caelum. She liked to bring her charges up here every morning and afternoon so they could bask in the sun and breathe in the gentle breeze wafting off the Lake.