Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 2 – Enchanter

Azhure knelt against the rocks, the Wolven drawn and ready to cast the first arrow. She peered as closely as she could into the thickening dusk; was that movement ahead of her? To her left? Her right?

“Curses!” she breathed as pale shapes flickered at the edge of her vision. “They have surrounded us!”

Suddenly one of the shapes ceased its circling and paced stiff-legged towards the rocks. It was the largest dog Azhure had ever seen, almost as big as one of Ogden and Veremund’s donkeys. Its lips were drawn back into a snarl, great growls rumbling from its throat. As Azhure s fingers tightened about the Wolven, the hound’s eyes, dark gold flecked with silver, fixed into hers, almost daring her to shoot.

Azhure took a deep breath, held it for a heartbeat, then loosed the arrow, notching another one almost as soon as the first had left the bow.

In the instant before the arrow struck, the Alaunt twisted and leaped, snatching the arrow out of the air in his teeth. Instantly the clamour of the other hounds stopped.

Azhure’s hands suddenly slicked with sweat and the Wolven slipped fractionally in her grasp.

The Alaunt stalked closer, the arrow held between its jaws. Its eyes were still fixed on Azhure, and it growled threateningly.

Azhure’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as the Alaunt suddenly reared its forepaws on the rock and stood for a moment. Then, amazingly, it dropped the arrow at Azhure s feet and began to grin happily.

“By the Stars,” Rivkah croaked, “it’s returning your arrow.”

The hound gave a small yip of greeting, then heaved itself entirely over the rock and into the small space occupied by the two women and the Sentinels. It sank down on its stomach in the dirt, its head on its forepaws, its eyes fixed on Azhure.

Ogden and Veremund stared at the hound, stared at Azhure, then turned to stare at each other.

Azhure warily reached out a hand and touched the Alaunt on its massive forehead. It quivered and closed its eyes. She pulled her hand back, clenching her fingers to stop their sudden trembling.

“Arise,” she said very quietly.

The hound rose to his feet, towering over Azhure as she squatted on the ground. She reached out again and rubbed her hand along the hound’s shoulder. “Good dog,” she said.

Later they all sat, quiet and introspective, about a fire. Azhure, Rivkah, Ogden, Veremund and three of the fifteen Alaunt crowded into the space between the rocks. The rest of the hounds lay curled into tight wedges in a pack outside the rocks. The two donkeys had wandered back to the rocks an hour or so previously, their eyes wide and uncertain, but the hounds had taken no notice of them, and finally the donkeys had let Ogden and Veremund soothe them and divest them of their packs.

Azhure studied the three Alaunt close by her. Their bodies were heavy but sleek and shaped for both speed and endurance. Their heads were square, massive, but finely shaped, their muzzles long and strong. Their coats were short and a uniform pale cream, darkening to gold about their paws and muzzles. The lead hound lay with his head in Azhure’s lap.

Azhure raised her eyes to the two Sentinels. “These are WolfStar’s hounds?” she asked.

Ogden paused, then he nodded briefly. “Yes. He bred them for their intelligence as well as their speed and strength, for their loyalty as for their reckless savagery. Their leader’s name is Sicarius – the cunning assassin.” He paused. “The two were parted only by death.”

“WolfStar,” Azhure said. “Why does his name keep returning to haunt me? First his bow, and now his hounds. What else of his will find its way into my possession?”

Ogden and Veremund watched her, wondering exactly the same thing. The bow might have been coincidence, but the hounds as well? No. That was design and plan, not anonymous chance.

“Who was WolfStar?” Azhure finally asked. Veremund hesitated, then decided the bare facts would not hurt. “WolfStar SunSoar was the most powerful Enchanter the Icarii have ever known. Perhaps potentially far more powerful than Axis.”

“The Icarii do not like to speak of him,” Rivkah said from one side. She knew WolfStar’s story, but to speak of WolfStar’s misdeeds would need the permission of the Icarii.

“I will say only that WolfStar died young,” Ogden said. “He was not yet one hundred.”

“How?” Azhure asked, noting Ogden’s hesitation over the word “died”. “Why did he die so young?”

“He was assassinated, Azhure. By another member of the SunSoar family.”

“Assassinated?” It was, Azhure thought, a delicate word for what must have been a foul deed.

“He was murdered by his brother,” Veremund said blundy, and the three Alaunt about the fire stirred uncomfortably, their dreams disturbed with dark memories. “Murdered in Assembly, before all the Icarii, a knife plunged into his heart and none, none, none of the Icarii moving to assist him. He died, alone and unloved, in a pool of blood in the centre of the speaker’s circle of the ancient Assembly Chamber on the Island of Mist and Memory — with the entire Icarii nation looking on impassively.”

Azhure’s eyes filled with tears. WolfStar had been alone and unloved? She knew how that felt.

OArrival at SigholtThe next morning the Alaunt were still there, Sicarius sleeping curled against Azhure’s back. The other fourteen hounds sat in a precise circle about the rocks, facing outwards, their eyes staring into the distance.

“They are keeping guard,” Veremund said as Azhure rose and saw them. “Even the Skraelings would keep away from such as these. You have won yourself some powerful and loyal companions, Azhure.”

Azhure patted Sicarius on the head and fingered the Wolven. “Could they have simply come to the bow, Veremund? If the bow once belonged to WolfStar, was made by him, then perhaps they simply come to the person who carries the bow?”

Veremund raised his eyebrows at Ogden. The woman had a point. After all, the Alaunt were hunting hounds and their master had wielded the Wolven. And who knew what magic the bow itself contained?

“We will easily find out, Azhure,” said Ogden. “Give the bow to Rivkah – but make sure Sicarius knows you hand it over willingly!”

“Rivkah, will you mind the Wolven for me?” Azhure asked formally, and handed Rivkah the bow.

Sicarius shifted his hindquarters on the ground a little, bored.

“Now, Azhure,” Ogden said, “walk beyond the boulders, as if you are leaving us.”

Azhure walked briskly away from the rocks. As one, the Alaunt rose from their positions and padded silently after her.

Ogden and Veremund looked at each other. No doubt. They had come to Azhure, not the Wolven.

They travelled south for a further week, then turned southwest, looking for the HoldHard Pass. The Urqhart Hills were still a purple smudge on the western horizon.

The travelling was relatively easy, although it remained bitterly cold and all four shivered within their thick cloaks. The women continued to ride the donkeys, which remained placidly uncomplaining about the extra weight. Neither woman had sturdy enough boots to cope with the rough pebbly surface of the WildDog Plains.

Ogden and Veremund’s magical hampers continued to provide food. Each evening as they made camp, the hounds waited patiently in line until Ogden found time to riffle through his packs and toss them joints of meat. But such tame food bored the Alaunt. Sometimes during the day, and often at night, groups of three or four of them would lope off into the distance, returning later with blood-stained muzzles.

In return for the food and the company, the hounds lent their warmth to the group, and the women and Sentinels became used to curling up for the night with a hound at their back. One morning Azhure awakened early enough to see that a group of five or six had even curled around the donkeys. The nights were frosty on the exposed plain.

Two days after they had turned south-west across the WildDog Plains the small group saw a band of horsemen approaching. There were perhaps ten or twelve of them, and they approached cautiously, obviously wary of the Alaunt.

Azhure reached for the Wolven as soon as she saw the horsemen in the distance, and notched an arrow.

“Can you see who they are?” she asked the Sentinels. “Are they Belial’s men, or Borneheld’s?”

Ogden and Veremund peered towards the horsemen, who had now spaced themselves out into a wide line, directly in front of the setting sun. The Alaunt whined, tensing, ready for a fight.

But as the men rode closer, the group of hounds suddenly relaxed and Sicarius gave a short, gruff bark of greeting. He knew these men.

The horsemen were much closer now, perhaps no more than fifty paces away, but their forms and faces were still in shadow.

“Well, the Alaunt like them,” Veremund observed, his hand to his eyes, trying to shade them from the light. “But I’m still not sure that -“