Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

Azhure shuddered and pulled her wrap closer. If she had not seen the island under the kind light of the sun she was sure she too would have been more than a little unnerved by this mist. Even sound faltered and died within a few paces; the bustle of the town was muted, while passing pedestrians were only ghostly shapes, more imagined than real.

“And Temple Mount?” she asked.

It was StarDrifter who answered, his eyes staring ahead into the mist. “Temple Mount is always in the light, Azhure. The mist might cling to its skirts, but the plateau is so high it remains open to both sun and stars.”

“You speak as if you have seen it yourself, StarDrifter.” Ysgryff’s voice was amused.

“The Icarii have never forgotten the Temple of the Stars, Ysgryff. Never.” His own voice was flat and expressionless, and after a moment Ysgryff turned back to converse in low tones with the driver.

The road rose as the last hunched shapes of the town’s buildings disappeared behind them. For the entire morning they climbed steadily, the road twisting and turning as the gradient became steeper. At noon they stopped for a meal and to water the horses, but they were off again quickly, for Ysgryff said there was still a way to go.

“The last section we will have to accomplish on foot,” he grunted, lifting Azhure back into the wagon, and StarDrifter shot him an anxious glance.

The mist cleared by mid-afternoon, and Azhure could see stands of great trees and ferns clustered beside the roadway.

“Much of the southern half of the island is twisted jungle,” Ysgryff explained at her querying glance, “and uninhabited.

Apart from Temple Mount and the harbour surrounds, most of the island is as it was when first created by the gods; the pirates leave the jungle alone. Who knows, perhaps strange creatures do live within the deeper jungles.”

Azhure could now see the Mount itself rising before them, its majesty and beauty breathtaking. The sides of the peak rose sharply for a further two thousand paces, covered with low shrubbery between great granite slabs. The road twisted steeply up its side until, about two-thirds of the way up, it terminated in a wide ledge where the wagons could turn about.

From there steep steps climbed to the plateau.

StarDrifter, his earlier waspish mood forgotten, again locked anxious eyes with Ysgryff.

Azhure did not notice. “We’re almost there,” she whispered excitedly to Caelum. “That is where my mother lived!”

Despite the memories unlocked when Axis crashed through the barriers she had constructed so many years ago, Azhure still could not recall much about her mother. A kind and beautiful face, a few words, a gentle touch and an even gentler laugh . . . and the blackened corpse crackling almost apologetically on the hearth. But on the top of this mountain she hoped to find answers, not only about her mother, but also about herself. Both Niah and WolfStar had wanted her to come here, where they both had been. This was the only place the three of them had ever been together, even if one of them was only a barely conceived foetus.

And this was the place where WolfStar had told her she could learn, where others could teach her. What others? Azhure frowned as she crooned wordlessly into Caelum’s hair. The priestesses? Or those strange voices of her dream?

She hoped she would find all answers in this place, because without them, Azhure was terribly afraid Axis would face terrible peril.

The wagons creaked to a halt and Azhure jumped, surprised out of her reverie. She had not realised they’d climbed so far.

She handed Caelum to StarDrifter and let Ysgryff help her out of the wagon. The rest of her retinue, two score of servants and retainers, were climbing out of their wagons and passing down baggage. Azhure turned away from the sheer cliff face before her and gazed out across the island.

From this perspective, and with the now clear sky, the view was awe-inspiring. Far below her the island stretched away to the north and west, and the mist had cleared enough so that she could distinguish the hazy smoke rising from the chimneys of the town about the harbour. To the west lay impenetrable jungle, tendrils of mist still clinging among the leaves of the highest trees. Beyond the western edge of the jungle lay the sea, from this distance as green and mysterious as the trees.

“Azhure?” StarDrifter spoke behind her. “How do you feel? Can you climb the steps, or would you like Ysgryff or myself to carry you?”

Azhure turned. Everyone, wagon drivers and her own retinue, was regarding her silently. Her eyes flitted to the steps before her, and she cricked her neck slightly as she traced their flight towards the plateau; already the Alaunt had bounded up half their height. Did they think she could not manage?

The thought of climbing such a flight did concern her, but Azhure’s pride was stung by the image of being hauled bodily upwards by either StarDrifter or Ysgryff. Damn these babies, she cursed silently. Unencumbered I could have skipped those stairs without losing breath.

“Save your breath for the climb,” she said shortly, gathering her skirts to march resolutely to the foot of the steps. “I shall manage well enough.”

Within ten minutes everyone knew the lie of her words as she suddenly collapsed, scraping her shins and knees against the stone steps, frantically clinging to the slim iron railing with sweat-dampened hands to try to slow her slide. If Ysgryff had not been directly behind her, Azhure would undoubtedly have

slid all the way to the foot of the steps, but he caught her in strong arms and hoisted her up.

“Cursed pride,” he muttered, out of breath himself. “No doubt she gets it from both her Nors and Icarii blood.”

StarDrifter stepped down and took Azhure’s face in his free hand, holding Caelum securely on his hip with the other.

“Can you or a member of the Wing fly her to the top, Enchanter?” Ysgryff asked.

“No,” StarDrifter said. “She’s too heavy. Will you manage?”

Ysgryff grinned. “When I can’t you’ll get your turn, birdman. And when she exhausts both of us I’ll call forward one of her burly men-at-arms.” He twisted his head slightly, trying to see Azhure’s face. “Azhure?”

“She’s fainted,” StarDrifter said. “Come on, man, I have no wish to waste any more of this day on the side of this mountain. The priestesses can care for her when we reach the top.”

They did, eventually, manage to carry Azhure safely to the top of the steps, the final score to the accompaniment of her soft moans as she came out of her faint. Ysgryff, who had taken Azhure back from StarDrifter some ten minutes earlier, set her down gently on the soft carpet of grass and watched the woman who had been waiting for them step silently forward.

“First Priestess,” he said. “We have a woman here, ill and pregnant, and she needs your help.”

But the First Priestess, grey-haired and gaunt, had eyes for neither Ysgryff or the woman crumpled at his feet.

“Enchanter,” she whispered, and bowed low in front of StarDrifter. “At last!”

“I greet you well enough,” StarDrifter said, “but I beg you to help this woman here.”

The priestess finally looked at Azhure, and squatted before her, lifting the woman’s head in her hands. For a long moment she stared into Azhure’s face, her complexion paling.

“Oh, by the Stars in the heavens,” she finally whispered, her hands tightening about Azhure’s face, “you are her daughter!”

Temple Mount Azhure slept for the rest of that day, throughout the night and well into the next morning. When she did awaken, it was to find a grey-haired woman sitting at the end of her bed, dressed in a white linen robe, a sky-blue sash about her waist and draped over her left shoulder.

“You are awake, Sacred Daughter. Good. Do you know where you are?”

“Temple Mount,” Azhure muttered, struggling to sit up.

“Yes, good.” The woman lifted a glass from the table. “Drink this.”

Azhure took the glass and raised it to her lips, realising that her mouth and throat were parched.

“It is a strengthening brew, Daughter,” the woman said. “You are sadly lacking in strength. But do not worry, your babies are well. They are, I think, what drains you so badly.”

Azhure finished the drink and handed the glass back to the woman, glancing about the sparsely furnished room. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled, her face losing its austerity. “I am First Priestess.” She paused. “I have no name.”

“You know who I am?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, I do, but… no! Hush. I do not want to speak of it now.”

Azhure’s eyes filled with tears and the Priestess leaned forward and cupped Azhure’s face in her hands. “You have questions,” she said, “I know that. But you have time enough for answers, for I do not think you will be going very far until those babies are born. For now you will eat, then I will bathe and dress you – for that will be my privilege alone – and then we will go and reassure both the Icarii and the Nors men outside who fret about you.”