great part of the storm‘s deadly ferocity lay in its malevolence; it was as if the storm was alive
and hungered for the death of all it encountered.
―We cannot attack through such weather,‖ Borneheld muttered, stamping his freezing
feet. ―If we send men outside in this they will die in five minutes, frozen to their horses.‖
―I doubt Gorgrael can attack through this blizzard either,‖ Axis said quietly, his back to
the fire. ―Have not the wraiths always attacked in relatively calm weather?‖
Borneheld glared at him, but both Magariz and Jorge nodded. ―We have had patrols
outside in fierce weather, although never as bad as this, and they have not once been attacked.‖
Magariz said. ―You may be right, Axis, the attack may not happen until the storm abates.‖
―Then why the storm?‖ Roland asked. His bulky clothes and armour made him look even
more massive than usual. ―If Gorgrael has caused the storm, why do so if he cannot send his
minions against us while it rages?‖
―To sap our strength and courage,‖ Jorge said softly. ―Or simply to show us his power.
To let us know what we face.‖
―Perhaps he simply enjoys its fury, revels in its hate,‖ Axis muttered to himself by the
fire.
Borneheld cursed. ―It will not matter when he attacks if all he has to counter is a mound
of frozen corpses. Gautier, when the stocks of coal run out tell the unit commanders they can tear
down the doors and shutters of unoccupied houses and use them as fuel for fires. And let us hope
that this storm doesn‘t keep up for too much longer.‖
If he had reluctantly admitted that it was Gorgrael they faced, then Borneheld had been
furious to learn that word of the Prophecy had spread like wildfire among his own troops and
now all were talking about it. He demanded that they direct their attentions to the forthcoming
battle rather than trying to decipher the useless riddles of an Artor-cursed Prophecy. But his
demands had little effect. Men still talked. Heated discussions were held about fires at night, or
under blankets when coal was not available for fire. Who was this StarMan? Would he help
Achar free itself of the threat from the north, or should they trust to Borneheld? Men muttered
about the Forbidden, uneasy that the Prophecy declared in unambiguous terms that the Acharites
would have to unite with them to defeat Gorgrael. Opinion was sharply divided about whether it
would be wise to admit the Forbidden back into Achar. In many minds, old prejudices refused to
die. In others, new possibilities suggested themselves. The Axe-Wielders were silent as the
arguments were tossed back and forth. When asked by regular soldiers for their thoughts, the
Axemen said simply that they trusted their BattleAxe. He had saved them from Gorgrael before
and would again. They would follow where he asked.
All agreed on one thing. At the moment Borneheld‘s army was all that stood between
Gorgrael and Ichtar. Even if they would help, no-one knew where the Forbidden were. This
battle they would have to get through on their own. And if they could not venture past the fort or
town walls, then all present knew that it would turn into a siege rather than a decisive battle.
Gorgrael would have to break Gorkenfort if he wanted uninterrupted access to Achar. He would
not be able to afford having a well-garrisoned fort behind his own army.
GoldFeather shivered and wrapped a soft goat hair shawl about her. ―It does not usually
get so cold in the Avarinheim, Azhure. Even so far north. At Yuletide, we could normally still go about without extra wraps. But this,‖ she shivered and looked about the small grove near where
the GhostTree Clan were camped, ―is unusual.‖
Azhure nodded indifferently. GoldFeather had tried her best to cheer Azhure since the
decision at the Sacred Tree Grove, but she remained impervious, the spark gone from her eyes.
Now, as she paused to adjust a bootstrap, GoldFeather let her mind drift back, as it often
did these days, to her son and to the imminent arrival of her husband and daughter. About a third
of the Icarii nation should arrive to celebrate Yuletide with the Avar—more always flew down
for Beltide—and GoldFeather could barely wait to see StarDrifter and EvenSong again.
But the Icarii were late, and GoldFeather was not the only one fretting about it. All the
Avar whispered among themselves. Here it was Yuletide Eve, only eight or nine hours away
from the time when the rites would have to begin, and there was no sign of them. The rites would
be a disaster without the Icarii, and particularly without their Enchanters. What was happening in
Talon Spike to so delay her people?
GoldFeather and Azhure continued wandering through the groves, both preoccupied,
their eyes occasionally checking the skies. It was always better if Yuletide could be conducted
under a clear sky. Azhure dropped her eyes from another brief scan of the sky, and stopped,
puzzled. A strange noise filled the air, getting louder every minute. It was almost identical to the
sound the River Nordra made when it cascaded through the chasm of the Forbidden Valley.
Azhure turned to GoldFeather, but was stopped from saying anything by GoldFeather‘s face.
Normally a reserved woman, GoldFeather had an expression of intense excitement on her face.
Her eyes shone and she laughed in both joy and relief, clapping her hands like a small child.
―The Icarii!‖ she cried, grabbing Azhure‘s arm and forcing her to run towards the inner groves,
―they‘ve come!‖ Her hand twisted in Azhure‘s sleeve, dragging the surprised woman along the
grass towards the entrance to the next grove. ―StarDrifter!‖ she yelled. ―Where are you?‖
―Behind you,‖ an amused and deeply musical voice said, and Azhure was almost
knocked to the ground as GoldFeather whipped around to stare behind her. Settling down on the
ground was the most amazing creature Azhure could ever imagine existing, while above them
the air was filled with the sight and sound of beating wings so profuse they almost blotted out the
sky. GoldFeather gave a wordless cry, picked up her skirts and dashed madly across the distance
between herself and the birdman, throwing herself so violently into his arms that he almost fell
over, laughing. ―GoldFeather,‖ he said softly, and wrapped both arms and wings about her as he
bent his head to kiss her mouth.
Azhure took a deep breath and stared. StarDrifter. There was no-one else that
GoldFeather would cling to so desperately. Azhure knew she was staring and knew that it was
probably considered very impolite, but she could not tear her eyes away from the pair in front of
her. Besides, they were so completely enveloped in each other she doubted they were aware of
anyone else. Around her other Icarii drifted out of the skies and even more were pouring over the
top of the cliff face of the Icescarp mountain and drifting down into the groves.
Azhure was utterly captivated by StarDrifter. He was tall and of a lean and muscular
build, and while his torso was bare he was clad from the waist down in a pair of tight golden
breeches and boots. His head was covered in shimmering golden hair which curled down from
the back of his head, lightening into pale gold and then into silver as it gave way to feathers and
then to the luminous white wings that sprouted from his back at the level of his shoulder blades.
Although his wings were now wrapped about GoldFeather, Azhure had caught a glimpse of them
as he‘d landed. Fully extended they were wider than three men laid out head to foot. Azhure
blinked and looked about. The groves were now full of excited Avar and Icarii, wings beating and then folding as Icarii after Icarii landed, loose downy feathers drifting through air filled with
the sound of shouted greetings.
GoldFeather tilted her head back and stared into the face of her beloved StarDrifter.
Relaxed with love and joy she looked younger, as beautiful as the young girl the Enchanter had
fallen in love with so many years ago. StarDrifter laughed and raised a gentle hand to her face,
his wings holding her so tight that both were cocooned in their soft strength and warmth.
―I have missed you, woman of my roost. My heart and my bed have been cold these past
few months.‖ StarDrifter‘s face was extraordinarily beautiful, fine pale skin stretched tightly
over high narrow cheekbones and a thin, jutting nose. Tilting and utterly compelling pale blue
eyes gazed lovingly at GoldFeather from under flaxen brows and a high forehead that sloped
gently back into his golden curls. The entire shape of his face and head was narrow and very
slightly elongated, but the alien aspects of the bone structure of his skull and face gave him an air
of mystery, perhaps even of arrogance, rather than of unnaturalness.