Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

“By the Stars,” Rivkah whispered, “how can a baby have so much ill-will festering inside him?”

Azhure wiped her face of all expression. “DragonStar, listen to me.”

He was silent. Confident. All could feel the amusement emanating from him.

“I cannot let what you have done go unanswered. You manipulated Cazna, who only ever meant you well, and abused her hospitality and care. And you planned your brother’s kidnap – and murder, for all I know – aware of the hurt it would do Axis and myself. Listen to me, DragonStar.”

“Nothing you can do will touch me,” he sneered. “You don’t have the courage. The strength of will. You are my motherl”

“Then you underestimate me. DragonStar, listen to me and answer me true. From where do you derive your power?”

“From the Stars, from the Star Dance,” he said, and all could tell he was bewildered at the sudden change in topic.

“Yes, from the Stars. And from where did you inherit your ability?”

“From my parents. From you and Axis.” Now his voice was clearly puzzled.

“Yes. From me and Axis. DragonStar,. let me be even more specific. You inherited your power from the Icarii blood we bequeathed you. I inherited mine from my father, WolfStar, and Axis from his father, StarDrifter.”

“Yes, yes.” Was she going to punish him by giving him endless lessons in bloodlines? Stupid cow.

“DragonStai;” Azhure said, “from the gift of your grandmothers – from Rivkah, here to witness today, and from Niah, whose death you witnessed yourself – you have inherited an equal amount of human Wood.”

He was silent as his mind raced to try and work out what she meant, what she was going to do.

“You have equal amounts of Icarii and Acharite blood, DragonStar, and in every known case of mixed parentage, the Icarii blood has always proved the stronger.”

“No! You wouldn’t dare\”

“I wouldn’t if you hadn’t dared to betray, DragonStar. Listen, and hear me well. I will twist your blood order about. From the instant that I have finished speaking your human blood will prove the stronger, and your Icarii blood will lie in subjection to it. I disinherit you of your Icarii blood and I curse you to a human life, DragonStar.”

“No/” He twisted about the table, his fists stabbing into the air.

“Your wings shall lie dormant, DragonStar, and you shall never fly.”

“No/”

“Your power shall remain untouched and unused, DragonStar, and you shall never hear the sweet music of the Star Dance again.”

Deprived of the Star Dance? He screamed, a thin wail of stark terror.

“You will live out the lifespan of a human, DragonStar, and your sister and brother shall watch you age and die before they leave their youth. Make the best use of your years that you can, for you will not have many of them.”

She had to raise her voice now, for the sound of his terror threatened to drown her out. “And finally, DragonStar, worst cruelty of all, I condemn you into the life of a human baby. Your mind shall lose its acumen and you shall live the next few years locked in the dim fogginess of human babyhood.”

She stood and stared at him, tears streaming down her face, her hands tight about Caelum, who was also silently crying.

“I strip you of your Icarii name, for you will not need it again.”

“Nooo/”

She tried to collect herself, but tears choked her voice. “I have finished speaking, DragonStar.”

There was instant silence.

One of the Enchanters stepped forward. “There is nothing there, Enchantress, save mild discomfort that he lies so exposed to the breeze.”

Azhure nodded, unable to speak for the moment. She handed Caelum across to Rivkah; the boy this time accepting her actions without complaint.

Then Azhure bent and picked the tiny baby up. “Such a beautiful baby,” she whispered brokenly. “Welcome home, Drago.”

Then, horrifyingly, she tilted her head to one side and stared into the sky. “Hark,” she said, emotionlessly. “The Gryphon hunt.”

Talon Spike RavenCrest turned from the alps far below and smiled at his wife in the rosy dawn light. They’d never enjoyed a passionate marriage, BrightFeather was not of SunSoar blood, but they had come to respect and honour each other.

“Are you now regretting your decision?” he said.

BrightFeather smiled and linked her arms with his. The breeze ruffled their hair and lifted their feathers. “I could not leave Talon Spike, nor you. You were right, RavenCrest, when you said that the new world held little for us. But…but. . .”

“You regret not seeing FreeFall again?”

She nodded, her eyes over-bright. “Yes, very much so. I could hardly credit when I heard . . . wfien I heard that Axis had led him back from the River of Death. For two years he has lived in this world, my husband, and for all that time he has not come home to see us.”

“He belongs to the new world, beloved,” RavenCrest said softly, and BrightFeather turned her face to him, loving him for the rare endearment.

“And to EvenSong,” she said.

They stood quietly. “Do you think they will come?” BrightFeather asked, her eyes on the horizon.

RavenCrest considered. “Azhure thought they might, but perhaps she was wrong.”

BrightFeather shivered and RavenCrest wrapped a wing about her. “Talon Spike seems so empty now, my husband.

Empty of the joy and exuberance of the Icarii nation. I miss them.”

“Our brethren are undoubtedly spreading their joy and exuberance among the Acharites, BrightFeather. Come. What are we doing here on the flight balcony letting the cold wind whip about us?”

“Enjoying the Alps, RavenCrest,” she replied. “As we have for the past two hundred and fifty years.”

He briefly hugged her, then they turned and walked inside, and both missed by less than a minute the black line that appeared on the eastern horizon.

They were driven almost mad by Gorgrael’s anger and pain. Nothing mattered but that through their actions some of his anger and frustration should be alleviated. His voice roared in their minds and they knew only one thing – destroy.

A cloud seven thousand, two hundred and ninety strong. They had whelped a month earlier and now their young could do without them. They were ready, and they were hungry.

The entrance ways into Talon Spike were many, but they were relatively narrow, and the peak of the mountain was covered in a writhing black mass for almost half an hour as the Gryphon slowly penetrated the ancient Icarii home.

Once in, they slaughtered.

Many died in the Assembly Chamber where they had gathered to reminisce about their lives before the Time of the Prophecy.

Others died in the shafts and corridors of the complex. Still more died in the Chamber of Steaming Water. Many of those trapped there endured a slower and more terrifying death than their comrades in the halls and shafts because they tried to preserve their lives a few minutes longer by diving below water. But they had to surface for air eventually, and when they did they found their faces grasped by talons, and they were hauled,

kicking, out of the water and deposited on the granite benches for the predators to feast on.

All died well and, strangely for the circumstances, with peace in their hearts.

RavenCrest SunSoar, Talon of all the Icarii, and his wife BrightFeather died in their apartments. They were among the last to die, for it took the Gryphon some time to reach them, and their deaths were the most terrible because of that. For almost an hour RavenCrest and BrightFeather had to endure the agony of listening to their fellows die, listening to the horror of Gryphon screaming through the complex, before the first of the creatures crawled through the open doorway.

She halted as soon as she saw them, her red, blighted eyes fevered, her breath fouled by those she had already killed. She crouched in the doorway, weaving her head back and forth, wondering which one to attack first.

Then she cried, shrieking with the voice of despair, and her dragon claws scrabbled on the exquisite mosaic floor as she leaped forward.

BrightFeather screamed and fell to the floor, RavenCrest trying, uselessly, to shield her with his body.

BrightFeather felt the comforting weight of his body only an instant, and as she opened her mouth to scream again she paused, horrified, as she saw the Gryphon lift her husband to the ceiling and tear him apart.

Her mouth, still open, collected the blood as it fell in a bright shower from above, and she turned to one side and gagged, numbed with horror.

Thus it was that she felt no pain and even less surprise when the second Gryphon, who had rushed through the door at the smell of blood, seized her and tore off her head with one vicious swipe of her beak.

Gorgrael had expected that his Gryphon would enjoy a massive killing in Talon Spike – unaware that it had largely been evacuated. As the Gryphon clung to the crest of the mountain, screaming their frustration at their inability to get in quickly, Gorgrael had spoken in their heads, whispered of the tens of thousands of Icarii they would find in the corridors and hidden places of Talon Spike.