For some time the five men sipped their tea in silence, their movements slow and graceful, contemplating the complications that night raid on Nevelon’s patrol had wrought among the Ravensbundmen.
It was Ho’Demi, as was his right, who eventually spoke again. “Both the Wolven and the Alaunt hounds walk the night,” he sighed. “And they walk with those who wear the emblem of the bloodied sun.”
“Both the Wolven and the Alaunt walk with the black-haired woman,” Inari said. “She who would be so beautiful if only her face were not so naked.”
As the Ravensbundmen had passed on the Prophecy for thousands of years, so too had they passed on the story of WolfStar. The Icarii might think that none but they knew of WolfStar’s story, but the Ravensbundmen had heard of WolfStar many, many generations ago. And they knew enough to recognise WolfStar’s bow and his hounds.
“I wish Borneheld’s wife, Faraday, and her companion, the SentinelYr, were here to discuss this with us,” said Ho’Demi. “But they are far away in Carlon, and this is a decision that I must make on my own.”
“Must we make a decision so soon?” asked Tanabata, one of the elders, inclining his head in deference to Ho’Demi. His face was so aged and wrinkled that the swirling blue lines on his face had lost their symmetry.
“I cannot ignore the signs, Elder Tanabata. Both this man, Magariz?” Ho’Demi raised his eyebrows at the two warriors for confirmation of the name, and they nodded. “And the woman, Azhure, wore the badge of the bloodied sun.”
All present glanced at the designs emblazoned on their cups as Ho’Demi spoke.
“The woman carries WolfStar’s bow, and his hounds trot by her side. Magariz spoke the name of the StarMan as if he were this Axis. ‘Axis comes with the power of the Prophecy behind him’,” Ho’Demi recited, repeating Magariz’s message for Borneheld. He looked at the others. “Is he the one who will forge the alliance to defeat Gorgrael?”
Ho’Demi was worried. He had committed his people to fight for Borneheld – the Ravensbundmen hated Gorgrael and his Skraelings and, if Borneheld was committed to fighting the Skraelings, the Ravensbundmen would help him. But they owed their first allegiance to the Prophecy – and thus to the StarMan. But what were the marks of WolfStar doing marching with the StarMan? Ho’Demi did not understand it, and it made him reluctant to act. Where best did his people belong? With Borneheld, or with this unknown Axis?
For an hour, their cups empty and cold in their hands, the Ravensbundmen debated back and forth what they should do. Ho’Demi hesitated to commit himself to Axis, not only because of the Wolven and the Alaunt, but also because none had seen Axis or his army. The patrols of the force Gautier’s men had engaged within the southern Urqhart Hills had been small…but they had also been highly skilled and disciplined.
“It is not an easy age in which to make decisions,” Ho’Demi finally said, feeling his uncertainty keenly.
“The decision should not be rushed, Ho’Demi,” the other elder present, Hamori, reassured. “You cannot hurry what may be the last remnants of your people into the unknown.”
Ho’Demi, about to speak, was interrupted by a cough at the tent flap. “Come,” he called.
One of the Ravensbund warriors entered. He bowed deeply, then knelt. “My Chief. A message from Gautier. You are to meet with him in the morning. The King intends to meet with the rebel force and their commander in three weeks’ time to offer a truce for the winter while we battle the Skraelings. You are to attend.”
Ho’Demi glanced at the other four men, his eyes gleaming. “The gods have heard my prayers, rny people. My questions may be answered after all.”
Forgotten VowsAxis stared into the fire, letting the crackling flames and the soft melody of the Star Dance relax him. He was still tired from the patrol he had led home last night. Driven by one of Gorgrael’s SkraeBolds, small bands of Skraelings were drifting south through the WildDog Plains, testing Axis’ strength. If the bands of Skraelings were relatively small, the wraiths were vicious and the fighting bitter, and his patrol had come home smaller than it had left. Soon he would have to move a sizeable force into the Plains. Damn it! All he wanted to do was lead his army south…south to wrest control of Achar away from Borneheld.
“King!” Axis snorted, and took a sip of wine from the goblet he held. “I cannot imagine that Borneheld would make an impressive King.”
Rivkah looked up from her embroidery. One son King, the other longed to be King. She shivered and blamed the cool air. Even by the steaming waters of the Lake of Life, winter chills were starting to penetrate Sigholt, especially once the sun went down. She looked about the rest of the group sitting before the fire in the Great Hall of Sigholt. Previously no-one had felt comfortable sitting in the vast Hall. Now, with Axis here, it somehow felt right.
Axis had worked tirelessly over the past five weeks and Sigholt had rapidly been turned from a slightly disorganised rebel base composed of disparate elements, into the seeds of a unified kingdom. And at the heart of that kingdom strode Axis and over its head flew the blood-red blazing sun. Rivkah wished this magical time would never, never end. Icarii and Acharite worked as one for the first time in a thousand years and they all worked for Axis.
Rivkah’s eyes drifted about the group. MorningStar and StarDrifter were absent, visiting friends among the Strike Force. Ogden andVeremund sat, exclaiming over a book they had discovered underneath a flour bucket in the kitchens. Beside them Reinald snored softly, asleep even though he was sitting ramrod-straight in his chair. Whatever Veremund and Ogden found so exciting in the book had sent him into a deep slumber. It was probably Reinald who had found the book boring enough to shove it under a wobbly flour bucket in the first instance. Jack was nowhere to be seen. Probably off on one of his silent wanders through the corridors of Sigholt. Still looking for Zeherah, still hoping to snatch a trace of her scent or a lingering of her passing.
Rivkah’s eyes softened as she watched Azhure sitting cross-legged at Axis’ feet. The woman’s pregnancy was now well advanced, but still she rode and trained, although on a quieter nag now that Axis had reclaimed Belaguez. Tonight she spent her leisure hours cleaning the Wolven and her arrows — rags and a small bowl of wax lay to one side. Every so often Axis’ hand would steal down and touch her hair. If Axis ever worried about her continuing to work with her archers, he never showed it. The only concession to her pregnancy he’d forced her to make was to stop riding out on patrol these last few weeks; Axis did not want her giving birth under a bush somewhere in the Urqhart Hills. Azhure had been indignant, and the two had fought, but eventually Axis had prevailed.
Five of the Alaunt hounds were stretched out in front of Azhure, soaking up the warmth of the fire. The Alaunt followed Azhure about like silent shadows; there were always a few close by, and the others not far away. When Azhure had still been riding patrol the entire pack had run with her, capable of killing as silendy and efEciendy as Azhure’s arrows. Rivkah shook her head. If Azhure had always had a latent talent for violence, as the Avar had accused, then it had found a suitable oudet in fighting for Axis.
In a chair the other side of the hearth Belial sat slumped, his shadowed eyes on both Axis and Azhure. Rivkah had watched him wilt slighdy since Azhure had moved into Axis’ quarters. He had a sense of deep sadness about him that he never quite shook, even in more light-hearted moments.
Above Rivkah heard a rusde of feathers. The snow eagle spent the nights perched in the rafters of the Great Hall, but in the days it soared far above the Urqhart Hills, catching mice and rabbits, sometimes winging south and west on strange errands for Axis. Axis had consistently refused to answer any questions about the bird, but on many an occasion Rivkah had watched him talking soft and low to the eagle as it perched on his arm. There was a bond there, but Rivkah did not know what it was.
In a chair close by her side sat the man Rivkah had consciously avoided looking at all evening. Magariz. Now she spoke, although her grey eyes remained on her stitching. “My Lord Magariz.” “Princess. What can I do for you?”
“My Lord Magariz, when I first arrived here you promised that you would talk to me of my eldest, Borneheld. Will you do so now?”