Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

Yes, tear the baby from her arms and possess her. A moment more, a single breath, and she could be his.

She lifted her mouth from the baby’s hair and smiled at him. “Lover,” she whispered, and Gorgrael lunged.

And she vanished, and the baby with her.

Gorgrael’s arms embraced nothing but the lingering of her scent, and he coupled with nothing but the rough stone floor as it rushed to meet him.

Howling in fury and maddened frustration he scrambled to his feet, his silver eyes narrowed now, his mind fully alert.

And saw nothing but the loneliness of his chamber.

And heard nothing but the heave of his own breathing and the…

… Thump-thud, Thump-thud, Thump-thud . . .

… of a retreating heart.

“Bitch!” he screeched to the vaults above him, and around the corridors and apartments of his fortress Gryphon rose in a single black cloud.

“Bitch!” he screeched yet again, and at first he did not realise the absence of the baby, or its significance. All he knew was that the woman had teased him, flaunted herself in his dreams and in her flesh, and had then denied him the gratification his body demanded from her.

All over Tencendor, men and women cried in loss as the dream wavered and slipped away. Hands clutched at blankets and tears moistened pillows.

Gorgrael’s shrieks ended as abruptly as they had begun. Now he remembered where he had seen that face before.

The woman, terrified, clutching the baby to her as the Gryphon plunged.

The woman, riding laughing beside Axis, the bow slung easy over her shoulder.

The power that had emanated from her. Gorgrael snarled, low and vicious. And now the baby was gone.

She had snatched him! She had deluded Gorgrael in his dreams, invaded, penetrated, and duped.

Promised favours, and then left him lingering with only the floor to embrace.

And she had snatched her son back! The bait was gone!

Now Gorgrael’s entire body spasmed with fury, and he let his power ripple forth. Gryphon erupted screaming into the night and surged out of the Ice Fortress in a continually expanding ring, seeking, hunting, tracking.

But they and their master were too late.

The night was dark with thick cloud now and the moonlight had disappeared.

And so had she.

“Hunt!” the Destroyer cried to his Gryphon, and their efforts doubled.

“Hunt!” he whispered, and this time he did not particularly care what they hunted so long as they killed\ Ripped apart! Tore limb from limb! Sated!

And then Gorgrael thought of a target.

The moonlight flared and Adamon cried out, turning his head away in pain. “Azhure?” Slowly he blinked as the radiance faded. “Azhure?”

She knelt in the centre of the roof, her son cradled against her body, rocking him back and forth, crooning wordlessly.

Adamon rose and hesitantly walked over to her, running his eyes over her body as he did so. She appeared unhurt. But this was more than he could say for her son. Adamon drew in a sharp breath of horror as he saw the lacerations and bruises that covered the boy.

He rested a warm hand on Azhure’s shoulder and squatted down besides her. “Azhure?”

She raised her head and stared at him. Her eyes were hard and bright. “Look what he has done to my son,” she said.

“Will he…?” Adamon was almost too afraid to ask.

“Live?” Azhure dropped her eyes and nodded. “Yes. None of his wounds are mortal, and with care and rest and love he will mend. His body, that is. Who can say how such an experience has touched his soul?”

The baby stirred and both Azhure and Adamon held their breath.

“Mama,” he whispered, and he slowly reached up and grasped a tendril of Azhure’s hair where it drifted over her breast. “Mama. You came.”

Now Adamon let his own breath out in relief. “He trusted you, Azhure, and you came. That is all that matters to him.”

Azhure hugged her son to her as tightly as she dared, her cheeks wet with tears. “Thank you, Adamon.”

“I but gave you added strength, Azhure. The power and the courage to effect this rescue was of your doing.” “You told me what I should do.”

The god smiled and tenderly stroked Azhure’s hair back from her face. He leaned forward and kissed her damp cheek. “And did Gorgrael fall for it, my darling? Did his desire for his dream lover bury his suspicion?”

She laughed. “Fall for it? More than you can imagine, Adamon! It is more than the Destroyer’s pride that is bent out of shape this night, I think!”

When Rivkah entered the Great Hall for her breakfast she halted in astonishment.

Azhure was seated before the fire, dressed in a pale grey gown, and asleep in her lap was Caelum.

Rivkah blinked, sure she was mistaken, sure that Azhure held one of her other children, but as she stepped forwards Azhure turned her head and smiled. Her smile was of such beauty, such peace and contentment, that Rivkah indeed knew it was Caelum she held. She stopped several paces away, her heart thumping. “How . . . ?”

Azhure’s smile widened. “Did you dream last night?”

Rivkah’s cheeks coloured slightly. Indeed she had dreamed, but she could not quite remember exactly of what. But she did remember the sensations the dream had caused her – what had she been thinking, and in her condition?

Azhure’s smile broadened. “Your cheeks stain as prettily as those of the pageboy who served my breakfast, Rivkah. I cannot think what came over you all.”

Rivkah gathered her composure and sat down at a side-table. The pageboy, his cheeks still rosy, laid a platter of fruit

and bread before her, then almost stumbled in his rush to retreat to the shadows by the door.

“Caelum?” Rivkah asked softly, ignoring the food and staring at Caelum. He was scratched and bruised, but he slept peacefully enough, and his flesh did not have the flush of fever.

Azhure stroked her son’s cheek gently. “He is well, Rivkah. Better than I could have hoped. His fear and his memories will fade over time.”

The boy shifted slightly, and roused from his slumber. / will never forget you standing there in the moonlight, Mama, smiling and reaching for me.

“But how?” Rivkah asked.

Azhure shook her head. “A dream, Rivkah. Nothing more. The Moon was powerful last night, and she invaded many people’s dreams.”

Rivkah stifled her cross words, for she knew the tone. She had lived among the Icarii for thirty years and could not fail to recognise their cursed retreat into euphemisms and mysticisims whenever they did not want to explain something.

And whatever Azhure had done, she had bested Gorgrael.

She took a deep breath. “I am glad, Azhure,” she said, and Azhure raised her eyes from her son.

“I know, Rivkah. Thank you.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now I find out how Gorgrael managed to penetrate Sigholt’s defences.” She stood up and held Caelum out to Rivkah. “Come, Caelum, sit with Rivkah for a few -”

She stopped mid-sentence, appalled by the shriek that flew from the boy’s mouth. He clung to her desperately and she held him tight against her body, crooning again, her eyes locked with Rivkah’s.

“I don’t think he wants you to leave him again,” Rivkah said gently.

Azhure nodded and, clutching the crying baby closely, she left the hall.

“He is home!” the bridge cried, gladness investing her voice with a boom that echoed about Sigholt.

Well, thought Azhure, now everyone knows. “Yes, bridge, he is home.”

“Is he well?”

Azhure frowned at the tone of the bridge’s voice – she sounded nervous, “Well enough, bridge, well enough.”

Caelum had quietened now and clung to his mother, half asleep again.

“I am glad,” the bridge whispered, “for I bear the guilt of his abduction.”

Azhure was silent. Waiting. She had come to the bridge for this purpose – how was it that Gorgrael had managed to penetrate its defences without the entire garrison being alerted?

“I should have challenged the invader, the snatcher.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My fault,” moaned the bridge. “My fault.”

Azhure stifled her impatience. “Caelum is home, bridge, and he will eventually grow out of his terror. But he, and I, want to be sure that this will never happen again. Why didn’t you challenge Gorgrael?”

“Gorgrael!” The bridge almost rocked in her distress. “The snatcher was Gorgrael’)'”

“Surely, bridge.”

“Oh! Oh, woe is me! I have failed you, Enchantress, and I have failed the boy who rests so trustingly in your arms!” “Why didn’t you challenge him?'”

The bridge was silent for a full minute. “Because I trusted him,” she whispered eventually. “You trusted Gorgraeli”

“No, no, no,” the bridge moaned, “please do not make me tell you, Enchantress!”

“Tell me of your own free will or I will tear the memory from you, bridge!”

“I felt him descending, Enchantress, and I did begin to challenge him. But… but…”