Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 2 – Enchanter

“And when will the water flow, Jack? How is the work going in the cavern?” Belial asked.

Jack wiped his forehead, smearing rock dust into the furrows as he did so. “Your three engineers tell me that whoever filled in the spring simply tipped cartload after cartload of rocks into the fissure where the water bubbled out. Although they finished off the outer layers with mortared masonry, once we cleared those layers all we found was rubble such as filled this moat. If they had taken the time to construct tightly mortared layers from the very base of the spring our task would be so much more difficult. But now we reach the lower layers of the rubble,” he smiled, “and find that the rubble is wet. Over hundreds of years the force of the spring beneath the rubble has been slowly eroding the base of the fill. What we have started at the top, the spring itself is doing from the bottom. Perhaps, eventually, the spring would have broken free anyway.”

“So how close are you to clearing the spring?” Magariz’s excitement was clear in his voice. For some reason he could not wait to see the water surround this gracious garrison and fill the Lake again.

“Three days, Magariz. The men in the cavern work slowly now — they have to be careful. The engineers are planning their route through the rubble cautiously. If they have calculated correctly, then they only need remove about four paces more of rubble before the force of the underground spring will blast the rest free.”

“And the gully?”

“Will be clear tomorrow morning.” Jacks eyes glistened. “In four days at the most the Lake of Life will begin to refill and…and perhaps Zeherah will be freed.”

Magariz laid a hand on the Sentinel’s shoulder. “How long is it since you have seen her?”

A tear escaped and trailed slowly through the rock dust covering Jack’s cheek. “Over two thousand years, Magariz. It is a hard thing to be separated from a loved one so long.”

“I too have loved and lost and now wait,” Magariz said quietly, “although I have not had to wait two thousand years. I hope in a few days’ time your waiting, at least, will be over.”

Belial regarded Magariz curiously. What did he mean? Belial had always supposed that, like himself, Magariz had been too wedded to his profession to think of a wife as well. But now it appeared Magariz had other, sadder, reasons for remaining unmarried. Yet Magariz was a man of honour and worth, as well as being as handsome a devil as any woman could hope to have warm her bed.

“Stand clear!” shouted Fulbright, the senior of Belial’s engineers. “The rocks shift. Stand clear!”

Five men deep within the fissure scrambled to the ropes awaiting them, and teams of men hauled them to the surface as quickly as they could. A rumble deep within the earth confirmed Fulbright’s worst fears.

“Haul, damn you!” he screamed at the men pulling the ropes in, and ran to the nearest team, adding his weight and power to theirs. “HauR”

The gods were benign this day, for the water burst forth the instant after all five had been pulled over the edge of the fissure. “Back!” Fulbright screamed again, but the men needed no encouragement. They scrambled to safety as the water shrieked and wailed its way to freedom, carrying with it the final remnants of rubble.

Fulbright’s eyes widened as steaming water rushed towards the roof of the cavern in a great spout, then cascaded over the lip of the fissure and down the waterway towards the gully. It was a hot spring.

“Axis save us,” he muttered to himself. “We’ll all have a hot bath tonight.”

Belial and Magariz stood anxiously by the moat as the steaming water surged forwards, destroying the flimsy bridge. Jack stood unperturbed as the broken pieces of the bridge sailed past them. “Peace, gentlemen, and wait.”

“Wait for what?” Magariz muttered. “Someone to hand me a piece of soap? This moat will be good for nothing but bathing if we cannot get into Sigholt.”

Jack smiled. These Acharites were so impatient. “Wait for the warmth to penetrate Sigholt’s walls, Magariz. Then watch.”

For another half an hour they all stood there, Belial and Magariz growing increasingly agitated. There were deep ruby tints in the stream, Belial thought, probably the minerals carried to the surface by the water. Dammit! His temper abruptly broke. What were they waiting for?

“Jack,” he began, but stopped as the Sentinel turned to him, his emerald eyes agleam.

“Don’t you feel it?” Jack asked, excited. “Sigholt awakes. Watch the water as it flows by the gate.”

Belial peered, then he realised there was a…film…between his eyes and the surface of the water. As he watched, it solidified until what appeared to be a solid bridge of greystone curiously marbled with deep ruby-red veins stood before him spanning the moat.

His eyes bulged. “What? How?” He could not get any other words out. At his side Magariz stood similarly astonished. The bridge looked solid and wide enough to support not only mounted men, but heavily laden carts as well.

Jack waved at the bridge. “Cross, Magariz, and see what happens.”

Magariz glanced at Belial. Cross? This magical bridge? It might vaporise underneath his feet! He took a deep breath to steady himself then stepped forth to the edge of the bridge. But, just as he prepared to step onto the structure itself, the bridge spoke.

“Are you true?” it asked in a woman’s deep melodic voice. Magariz leapt back a full pace, his eyes wide. “What?” “Are you true?” the bridge asked again, patiently. “Answer her, Magariz,” Jack said. “She will only ask three times, and after that you may never cross.”

“Answer her?” Magariz repeated, -dragging his eyes away from the bridge and turning to stare at Jack. “Answer what?” “Answer with whatever is in your heart, Magariz,” Jack snapped, “but answer! Now!”

Magariz stepped up to the bridge again. “Are you true?” the bridge asked for the third time. Magariz hesitated, then answered. “Yes, I am true.” “Then cross, my Lord Magariz, and I will see if you speak the truth.”

Magariz stepped onto the bridge and paused, obviously expecting to fall straight through. Then he took another step, then another.

“You speak the truth, Magariz,” the bridge suddenly said. “Welcome to my heart.” And with that he was across.

Magariz noticed all the men watching him, and walked back across, his gait now confident. “The bridge let me cross back unchallenged?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jack said. “It is only the first time that the bridge will ask the question. She knows you now. She will greet you, but she will not challenge you again – unless she feels your heart has been corrupted since last you trod her back. Watch.”

Jack stepped up to the bridge and placed a foot upon its surface unchallenged. As his weight bore down on the stone the bridge spoke.

“Welcome, Jack,” the voice said warmly. “It has been many years since you have trod my back.”

“I greet you well, dear heart,” Jack replied softly, “and it gladdens my heart to see that once more the waters flow.”

“I have been sad,” the bridge said, “but now I am happy.”

Later, after the bridge had questioned each member of Belial’s force, Belial stood with Jack in the courtyard of Sigholt.

“Well? What of Zeherah?”

Jack shook his head sadly. “Perhaps she needs the Lake to refill before she can return.”

But as the Lake gradually filled over the next few days, there was no sign of the fifth Sentinel. After six days of watching from the rooftop Jack retired to his private chamber and did not emerge for many days. When he did, his face was creased and haggard with grief. There was nothing else he could do. Zeherah was lost unless he could discover the enchantments that bound her.

‘I Will Lead You Back into Tencendor!”

The Assembly Chamber of Talon Spike was vast, tiered with dozens of rows of golden-veined white marble about a circular floor of translucent and very beautiful golden marble veined with violet. Pale gold and blue cushions lay scattered about the benches. The lower circles of benches were reserved for the Elders, the Enchanters and the family of the Talon. These benches were completely lined with crimson cushions for the Elders, turquoise ones for the Enchanters, and royal violet for those of the House of SunSoar. The very top seventeen rows of benches reserved for the Strike Force were uncushioned, as befitted the hard muscles of warriors.

A spectacular circle of gigantic pillars soared above the tiers and supported the domed roof of the Chamber. Five times life height, the pillars were carved into alternating male and female figures, their arms and wings extended joyously, their eyes open in wonder and mouths open in silent song. They were gilded and enamelled, with real gems in their eyes and in the golden tores about their necks. Each individual hair on their heads and feathers in their wings had been picked out in gold and silver and the muscles in their pale naked bodies were carefully de ned in the ivory tones of flesh. They supported a domed roof completely plated in highly burnished bronze mirrors which, due to the enchantments bonded into their making, gave off a gentle golden light that illuminated the entire Chamber.