Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 2 – Enchanter

The Dark Man had been a part of Gorgrael’s life since he was small. The five Skraelings who had midwhred Gorgrael’s terrible delivery had brought him back to their burrow in the northern tundra, had somehow managed to feed him until he was able to crawl out of the burrow and forage in the snow, catching first small insects, then the white mice of the northern wastes, then finally the small mammals, hot and juicy, that fed his growing flesh and provided the stiff furs that kept him warm at night. The Skraelings had sheltered him and loved him, but Gorgrael had led a miserable life among the silly wraiths until the day that, scampering across a small ice field, he had seen the cloaked figure striding towards him. At first the tiny Gorgrael had been afraid of this tall and mysterious man, but the Dark Man had picked him up and whispered to him of things which soon had him cooing in delight and squirming in the stranger’s arms. The Dark Man had sung dreams to the child, had offered him hope.

No-one but Gorgrael knew about the Dark Man – the five Skraelings, later transformed by Gorgrael into Skrae-Bolds, had never known he existed. The Dark Man, the Dear Man, had come to Gorgrael almost every day when he was little. Singing strange songs of power and enchantment, teaching him about his heritage, teaching him about his path for the future. Gorgrael had learned well from the Dark Man, and had come to love and respect as well as fear this stranger who taught him. He had learned very early that it was not a good thing to cross the Dark Man.

But through all these years he had never found out who the Dark Man was. Whenever he asked, whenever he tried to pry, the Dark Man would laugh and evade his questions and inquisitive eyes. There were some things he knew about him. The Dark Man knew Axis, for he had told Gorgrael about his hated half-brother very early in life and had taught Gorgrael the Prophecy of the Destroyer. Gorgrael knew also that the Dark Man lived a dark and crafty life, using his disguises to fool many who loved him. He knew that the Dark Man was a manipulator of considerable skill, and sometimes Gorgrael wondered just how much he had been manipulated as well.

Gorgrael knew that the Dark Man had a purpose, but he did not know exactly what that purpose was.

“It was her wedding gown,” Gorgrael mumbled. “Timozel’s sleeping mind told me that. Dear Man,” he lifted his gaze to the still figure before him. “I need a trustier lieutenant than these SkraeBolds. I want Timozel, but he is tied to Faraday. What can you tell me?”

“You will have hiin eventually,” the Dark Man assured him. “Many bonds that have been forged will tear apart. Many vows that have been spoken will become meaningless.”

“Will I have Faraday?”

“You have read the Prophecy. You know it as well as any.” The Dark Man’s voice was a little harder now.

“Axis’ Lover. The only one whose pain can break his concentration enough for me to kill him. Faraday.”

“Axis’ Lover. Yes,” the Dark Man agreed. “Only love can provide the means to destroy him. You know the Prophecy well.”

Faraday, Gorgrael thought, I must have her!

The Dark Man sat and watched Gorgrael’s thoughts play across his face. Gorgrael would do well – he had proved his worth already – but he would have to learn to curb his impatience.

“You moved too fast,” the Dark Man said abruptly, his voice harsh.

“How much longer was I supposed to wait? My forces were massed, my magic was strong, and Axis knew little about his true identity, his true ability. It was a good time tomove.”

“You should have waited another year. Waited until you had more Skraelings, more ice creatures who could work your will for you. Waited until you had more control over your creatures!” The Dark Man’s voice was scathing now, and he leaned forward from the hearth, stabbing his finger at Gorgrael. “Now you have gained Ichtar, true, but you can go no further until next winter. And meantime the forces of opposition are forming against you. Six months ago Axis had no idea of his true nature. But your precipitate action has flushed out all the major actors in this little drama. Now Axis has cast aside the lies of the Seneschal and absorbs his lessons from StarDrifter as a sponge absorbs water. You have woken the StarMan, Gorgrael, but you have weakened yourself so seriously in the process that you cannot yet move against him!”

Gorgrael twisted his head away from the Dear Man, sulking. “I will win.” Did the Dark Man not believe in him?

“Oh, yes,” the Dark Man said. “Undoubtedly. Trust me.”

The Brother-Leader PlansThe silvery, secretive waters of Grail Lake lapped against the foundations of the white-walled, seven-sided Tower of the Seneschal. Deep within, Jayme, Brother-Leader of the Seneschal and most senior mediator between the one god Artor the Ploughman and the hearts and souls of the Acharites, paced across his chamber.

“Is there no news?” he asked Gilbert for the fourth time that afternoon.

The fire blazing in the mottled-green marble fireplace behind the Brother-Leader’s desk was stacked high and the light it threw off shimmered along the edge of the fine crystal and gold that stood atop the mantel. Before the fire lay an exquisite rug of hand-woven emerald and ivory silk from the strange hot lands to the south of Coroleas. The Brother-Leader’s private chambers lacked no comforts.

“Brother-Leader.” Gilbert, his junior adviser, bowed respectfully, his hands tucked away in the voluminous sleeves of his habit. “The only word from the north comes from Duke Borneheld s camp at Jervois Landing. And the last Borneheld saw of your BattleAxe, he was whooping and screaming as he led his depleted Axe-Wielders to the north in an attempt to draw the Skraelings away from Gorkenfort.”

Jayme frowned at the referral to Axis as “your BattleAxe”. Gilbert had never liked Axis, and felt justified in his dislike when news of Axis’ appalling betrayal of the Seneschal’s cause reached the Brotherhood. Yet Jayme was so sick at heart he said nothing to reprove Gilbert.

“An attempt that nevertheless succeeded, Brother Gilbert,” murmured Moryson, Jayme’s senior adviser and closest friend for over forty-five years. He sat close by the fire to warm his creaking joints. “Axis’ self-sacrifice saved many lives, Borneheld’s the most important.”

Gilbert continued. “Since the forces of this Gorgrael have moved through Ichtar I have received no word from north of Jervois Landing. Who knows if Axis lives or moulders?” As Borneheld had, so too had Jayme and his advisers reluctantly accepted that the foe they faced, Gorgrael, was something even more terrible than the Forbidden.

Jayme paced about the centre of the chamber. “Artor curse it, I did not love Axis and raise him from a baby to lose him like this! How many hours did I nurse that parentless child, sing him cradle-songs to comfort him to sleep?”

“Better to have lost him in the service of Artor than to lose him to the service of the Forbidden,” Gilbert intoned.

“How could Axis betray the Seneschal – and me – like this!” shouted Jayme.

“Blame it on Rivkah for bedding with one of those damn lizards!” spat Gilbert. Borneheld’s report had been very detailed. “Women ever were the weaker vessel!”

“Gilbert! Enough!” Moryson stood up from his chair, wavered for a moment, then walked over to put a comforting arm about Jayme. “Recriminations will not help us at this point, Brother Gilbert. We need to plan for the future.”

Gilbert’s lip curled at the two old men. What the Seneschal needed was an infusion of blood strong enough to save the Brotherhood from the possibility that the Forbidden would one day re-enter Achar. Artor needs young men to save the Seneschal, Gilbert thought, his eyes expressionless, not old men afraid of fighting words and deeds.

“Thank you, my friend,” Jayme muttered, patting Moryson’s arm. “I am all right now. Just for a moment…”

Moryson nodded in understanding and let Jayme go. When word of Axis’ defection to the Forbidden had reached the Tower of the Seneschal it had almost caused Jayme a fatal apoplexy. That a man entrusted with such a position of responsibility within the Seneschal could defect to the Forbidden of all things — the races he was committed to destroy – was almost beyond belief. But what cut even deeper was that Jayme had raised Axis from a new-born infant. Oared for him, loved him, taught him, indulged him. And for that care and love Axis had not only led the military wing of the Seneschal, the Axe-Wielders, to the service of the Forbidden, but he had betrayed both his god and everything Jayme believed in. Jayme’s hurt was the pain of a father betrayed as much as that of a Brother-Leader deceived.