Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

Axis sat on Belaguez deep in concentration. It was a delusion only, and not a very strong one at that. But the ice was enough to terrify the Skraelings, and the sight of the Gryphon rolling onto their backs to be pierced and killed convinced them that powerful sorcery was at work.

Behind Axis, his army watched astounded. Never had the men seen such a rout before.

Azhure stood, the arrow loose in her hand now. The Gryphon before her was dead, her flesh falling away to the grave from whence she had been called. The Dark Music that had gone into her making disintegrated. Within moments at the most, all trace of the Gryphon had disappeared.

Azhure looked up. The Strike Force had worked its way through to the back ranks of the Gryphon, where only a few remained, still writhing in anticipation of the fulfilment they had felt their fellows enjoy, exposing their bellies for the flashing arrows.

Gorgrael slowly sank to the floor, his hands gripping the doorframe.

Before him stretched a corridor filled with congealing blood and little else. His entire pack…his entire family…of Gryphon had been destroyed. Not even a scrap of flesh remained from which he could have reconstituted the pack. Blood in itself was useless. He needed the grey substance. The flesh. All that had gone. Gone back to the ancient graves of the Gryphon, and there was nothing Gorgrael could do to recall them.

But for the moment Gorgrael did not care. He slowly bent his forehead to the floor and wept, his arms over his head. He wept for the loss of his friends. They were his children, and they had gone.

And so Gorgrael mourned. He did not have the heart to watch the Skraeling destruction as well.

Finally, SpikeFeather turned about. His right arm was covered in Gryphon blood to its elbow, his eyes sparkled with satisfaction and vengeance. Azhure waved, and SpikeFeather called to the Strike Force, and in the space of a single breath they had lifted into the air and were winging their way back behind the final lines of Axis’ army. Their day was done, and now it only remained for them to stay out of the way.

Axis scanned his army urgently – were they all in place?

Yes. He relaxed, and his eyes swung back to his wife.

Azhure stood alone in the centre of the pass. The only sign of the Gryphon’s existence was the trampled, blood-soaked ground. She sank to one knee, and rested her face in a hand.

Before her, their courage recovered, the Skraeling host inched forward.

“Mirbolt,” Azhure whispered.

Mirbolt.

Mirbolt swayed, her roots sunk deep in the caverns of the earth so she could fathom the mysteries they held, her branches spread to the sky so that the Star Dance could whisper about and between her leaves.

The Nordra leaped and roared, its music a faint undertone to the music that Mirbolt made with her sisters and with the Mother herself, the Earth Tree standing strong and luxuriant in the northern groves.

Mirbolt was content.

Mirbolt?

She stirred, remembering the voice.

Mirbolt, I have need of your assistance.

Yes, Mirbolt remembered that Azhure would ask the trees for aid.

What aid, Azhure? she sang.

Azhure sighed in relief. Mirbolt, see with my eyes.

The Skraelings advanced, their fear diminishing. All they saw was the woman kneeling in the snow before them. Her power had gone, and the arrow lay useless beside her. She sat there, patiently waiting for death.

They whispered and laughed and hiccupped.

They seethed towards her.

To one side, Axis stirred in alarm. The Skraelings had now covered over a quarter the distance between themselves and Azhure…and Azhure just sat there, terribly vulnerable.

Azhure! Say the word and I will order the attack!

No, beloved. Mirbolt listens and she sees. Be patient.

And indeed Mirbolt did see. As the Earth Tree had seen two and a half years earlier, so now Mirbolt. Mirbolt lost her temper and screamed into the sky.

Mirbolt! Stay your anger! Do not let it flood unused! Whisper to your sisters. Whisper, Mirbolt, and show them what you now see. Whisper to the Earth Tree! Ask her for aid. Do this for me, Mirbolt, and for our shared love for Faraday, and for the magical land we both inhabit.

The Skraelings were loping forward, their claws held before them, their teeth gleaming and glinting, their jaws hanging open and slavering obscenely.

See, Mirbolt? See what comes?

Mirbolt saw, and she shared her vision. Anger now rippled through the forests of western Tencendor from the Earth Tree in the extreme north to the Silent Woman Woods in the south.

The Earth Tree saw the threat, and saw the final chance to rid the land of its obscenity. No more would her daughters or the Avar people face slaughter again.

Azhure, the Earth Tree whispered, and Azhure closed her eyes in the face of the Tree’s power. Azhure, you slew the Ploughman for me and for my children. For this we thank you. In return, I shall sing for you.

The Earth Tree changed the note and cadence of her Song. No longer was it the Song of her Making, but…something else.

For a heartbeat every tree in the great extended forest felt silent, listening, learning. Then every one of them took a single breath, held it, added their own voices to the Song.

Azhure opened her eyes and smiled in relief. She could hear the panting of the Skraelings, feel their heat pound towards her, and she could feel Axis’ anxiety reach critical levels. Axis! Stay your hand! They come!

Axis swung away from Azhure to stare south down the pass. All his men turned as well, for all felt it. Horses stirred, and the Alaunt howled and backed away, tails between their legs.

Wrath. It seared across the land in a tide of full-throated vengeance. Song. The Song of the Forest, but altered and rewoven with such ancient anger that it surged in a great wave of death.

The Skraelings halted fifteen paces from Azhure, their laughter and hiccups turning to whimpers.

Azhure, feeling the first stirrings at her back, fell face down in the snow, her body spread as flat as she could make it, her hands extended before her, her fingers gripping the shaft of the arrow, its head pointing directly down the Pass towards the Skraeling host.

The Song roared across the land. It flew over the heads of men and beasts alike, leaving crops quivering and rooftops shaking in its wake. People fell to the ground in terror, but the Song ignored them. It had only one purpose, one destination.

The woman lay in the snow, and in her hands lay the arrow, and body and hands and arrow all pointed at one thing – the grey mass of wraiths. Trapped in the Pass.

The Skraelings tried to run, but their mass was too great to turn easily. Many panicked and fell into the River Andakilsa to be swallowed up by the foaming waves. Others were dashed to death against the rocky walls of the Pass as their fellows pressed frantically against them.

And towards them roared the Song. It swept over the ruins of Gorkentown, and even the solid Keep of Gorkenfort trembled at its passing.

It surged across the plains leading to Gorken Pass, and it funnelled and intensified as it moved between the ranks of the army lining either side of the Pass. It left them unharmed.

All it saw was the woman in the snow, and the arrow in her hands. The Song flowed over Azhure, not stirring a single hair of her head, but she felt it anyway, and trembled at its power.

Then, with the power of the massive reborn forest behind it, the Forest Tree Song hit the milling ranks of the Skraeling army.

As one the Skraeling host broke apart. Limbs fell from torsos and heads rolled from shoulders. Teeth clattered to the ground and jaws wrenched apart.

The SkraeBolds fell from the sky in pieces.

Even the IceWorms, curled waiting at the back of the host, shuddered and split asunder.

In the space of three heartbeats the Song enveloped the Skraeling host and tore it apart.

And, having destroyed, having glutted, the Song vanished.

Far to the south and the east, the forest gently hummed to itself, rustled its leaves, and, in its own way, smiled.

Thank you, Mirbolt. Thank you, Earth Tree. Thank you,

forest.

Do not forget us, Azhure.

Axis kicked Belaguez forward and stared at the sight before him. Behind him his army likewise stared.

Where once had stood a vast host, now blew cold wind. Snow drifted almost apologetically over piles of Skraeling teeth, which were the only remaining sign of what had once been Gorgrael’s conquering force. After a moment, even the cold wind died, and the Pass was wrapped in silence and stillness.