Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

A footfall sounded to her right and her head whipped about painfully. Was it the other?

But, no. A white form loomed out of the mist and she sobbed gratefully. “Raum!”

She clung to the neck of the White Stag as he nuzzled her head and shoulders, and she sniffed, trying to control her tears.

“Have you come to lead me to safety, Raum?”

The Stag did not answer. He stepped away, but he did not attempt to shrug off the hand she kept on his shoulder.

They wandered until she was almost dropping with weariness. How long would it take him to lead her out of the

mist? She must have been tested with some method so sublime she had not even realised she was being tested. Now Raum led her to safety, and the Avar people would be all right.

He stopped so abruptly that she almost fell to her knees, then she gasped, and stepped back hurriedly.

A great chasm yawned at her feet. In front of her were two bridges, each disappearing into the mist.

She blinked and looked at Raum in confusion. Which?

He nuzzled her again, gently, his eyes swimming with love for her.

Your choice, his voice said in her mind, and she turned back to the bridges.

Now neither bridge was so empty.

The bridge to her left resembled one of the fragrant and shaded walks of the Avarinheim. As she watched a bird swooped down over the path, its glad cries echoing and seeming to call to her. At the end of the path was a glade, and figures moved about a welcoming fire. As she watched one of them turned and saw her. He stilled, then lifted his hand so that his fingers flared towards her. It was Axis.

She turned her head.

The bridge to her right resembled a long ice tunnel. Strange shapes cavorted beyond its translucent walls. At its end was a door, and as she watched it swung open. She gasped, for Faraday stood behind that door, and Tree Friend smiled and held out her hand for her. Then a shadow loomed behind Faraday and a taloned hand dropped onto her shoulder, and Faraday turned and, sighing, walked back into the room. The door closed.

She made her choice. She cuddled against the White Stag, thanking him.

Then she stepped down the bridge towards Axis.

She stumbled through the mist, her hand on the White Stag’s shoulder. He halted so abruptly she almost fell to her knees. In front of her yawned a great chasm spanned by two bridges.

Your choice, he whispered in her mind.

The bridge to her left led into one of the fragrant and shaded glades of the Avarinheim. Two tents sat pitched to one side, and a fire crackled cheerfully in the centre of the glade. Several figures sat about the fire. As she watched one of them turned and saw her. It was the silver-pelted Horned One, and he held out his arms and called out for her.

She turned her head.

The other bridge led into a storm so severe that at first she could distinguish no other features. But then a great gust of wind blew the snow to one side and she could see into the recesses of a strange chamber where warped furniture sat crazily about the ice walls. A man wrapped in a dark cloak stood before the fire and she could feel if not hear his laughter. He was standing in a pool of blood.

She made her choice.

“I thank you,” she whispered to the Stag, then she smiled sadly and stepped towards the man standing ankle-deep in blood.

“Stand back,” the woman said, and the Banes who encircled the two still forms bound to the Earth Tree obeyed. Only a few among them had seen her before, yet all knew who she was.

Faraday. Tree Friend.

She walked closer to the Earth Tree. She was thin, perhaps as a result of her effort planting out Minstrelsea, but she was lovely nevertheless, with her thick chestnut hair waving down her back, and her green eyes serene and sure. She wore a gown whose fabric reminded all the Banes of the shifting emerald light when it dappled and shaded into the trees of the Sacred Grove.

She looked, one of the Banes would later remark to the Avar, like the personification of the forest herself.

Faraday walked to Barsarbe and knelt by her side. She lifted the woman’s head and smiled, stroking the woman’s hair away from her face.

“A bad choice, my dear,” she said emotionlessly, then she looked up at the surrounding Banes, letting the woman’s limp head drop back to the ground.

“She’s dead,” Faraday said, then she stepped about the great trunk of the Earth Tree to Shra.

The girl stirred as Faraday knelt by her side, and the ropes shackling her fell away. Faraday smiled and gathered the girl in her arms. “The saddest choice of all,” she whispered.

Humbled, the Avar stood before Tree Friend.

“We will lend Axis the aid he needs,” promised one.

“And more,” Grindle said fiercely, and Faraday smiled at him.

“You came to Shra’s defence, Grindle, and for that both I and the forest thank you.”

Faraday turned back to the Avar assembled before her. “Shra will lead you through the mists and into the future. Listen to her. Respect her.”

“Will you not lead us, Faraday Tree Friend?” asked Merse, one of the Banes who had accompanied Faraday from Fernbrake Lake.

“I will provide you with the way, Merse. But I will not lead.”

“But we thought that…” one of the others began, but Faraday silenced him with her smile.

“Legends can sometimes be over-vague. They can be misinterpreted. And we can all be tossed and turned by the tide of events so that none of us can do quite what we would like. I will be responsible for giving you the path. Believe that.”

Fire-Night He stepped noiselessly through the trees, remembering the way as if his last visit had been only weeks instead of years. Arne shadowed him, even more silent and dour now that he had spent hours sitting facing the Ferryman in his magical boat. He was tense and unsure. Arne did not like the darkness that pooled behind the trees, nor did he like the waiting presence he could feel ahead. Axis had made him hide his dagger, but out of sight was also out of ready grasp, and that made him distinctly nervous. Both had left their larger weapons in a dry cache beside the Nordra.

Axis wore the golden tunic with the blood-red sun blazing across his chest. Both breeches and cloak matched the sun, and he knew he was splendid enough to dazzle any court, impress any cynical ambassador. But how would the Avar react? How would Faraday react?

And how would he react when he saw her?

He walked into the Earth Tree Grove behind the stone circle surrounding the Earth Tree, motioning Arne to wait at the tree line, and he stepped into silence.

The Earth Tree sang overhead, but somehow her Song did not penetrate into the silence that rose like a dense fog from the Avar people who filled the spaces beyond the stone circle. Every one of them was staring at him, and Axis had to force himself to walk around the stone circle with as firm a pace as he could muster.

Axis may have felt unsure and nervous, but to every Avar eye that watched he looked relaxed and confident, his pace smooth and supple, and he wore his power as easily as he did the cloak that flowed back from his shoulders.

They sat before him in a huge semicircle that stretched into the depths of the Grove. Axis had only ever been here on Beltide before, and that night had been alive with life, music and movement. Now all was silence and stillness and thousands of dark eyes that followed, followed, followed . . .

As he reached the centre of the semicircle he slowed, unsure what he should do, or if he should say anything. Just as he hesitated, his eye caught a movement at the stone circle, and he turned.

A small girl walked forth slowly, wearing a robe as blood-red as the sun on his chest. About its hem was embroidered a tracery of leaping white stags. She saw him looking at the embroidery and she smiled. “Axis.”

He gazed at her, not immediately recognising her. Why the girl? She was a pretty little thing, and of great presence for one so young. Then something in the tilt of her eyes and the turn of her mouth reminded him.

“Shra!” Without thinking about it he went down on one knee before her. All he wanted to do was speak to her eye to eye, but the gesture was one of reverence as well, and as one the Avar sighed . . . and relaxed.