What was happening to Axis?
The StarMan had fallen to the ground and was now convulsing. Wisps of smoke rose from his eyes, and – Arne gagged – they were burning*.
Timozel snarled as his Gryphon burned before his very eyes. The Gryphon! Frantically he looked over the scene before him, but then he relaxed a little and smiled. Perhaps the commander across the river had won the day, but at a dreadful cost. A dreadful cost.
Timozel laughed again. There were over seven thousand Gryphon younglings waiting in GorgraePs Ice Fortress, for these nine hundred who now died had given birth some months previously. Soon the seven thousand would give birth themselves, and when they had done that, then they could fly south to join him.
And the man who had used such foul magic to destroy these nine hundred now lay screaming and writhing on the ground, his eyes burning in his head, his skin rippling and crisping, his fingers smouldering into black claws, and Timozel knew he would never, never, wield such power again.
Or any power, for that matter.
“The day is yours,” he whispered. “Enjoy your death.”
Tomorrow he would find a way across that river and set the Skraelings to what was left of Axis’ army. Perhaps the IceWorms could swim across. Yes. Yes, they did not mind the water, and they could disgorge tens of thousands of Skraelings into the pitiful remnants of that foul army.
Timozel laughed again.
Arne dropped his sword and fell to his knees. “Axis,” he whispered.
The man’s twitching had stopped and he was almost dead. His face – what was left of it – twisted, and from somewhere he found the strength for a last whisper.
“Azhure, I am so sorry. So very sorry.”
Azhure Azhure was sitting under a marmalade tree in the orchards of Temple Mount, nursing Caelum and enjoying the sunshine of the enchanted isle, when she felt the fragile link between her and Axis snap.
For several heartbeats she sat unmoving, staring into space, wondering at the sense of complete loss that consumed her. Then, just as she realised what it was, a whisper reached her mind.
Azhure, I am so sorry. So very sorry.
“Noooo!” Azhure screamed, and Caelum screamed with her, for he too felt the living link with his father break. She lurched to her feet, running with ungainly strides towards the Temple where she knew StarDrifter was. “Noooo/”
He reached her by the Dome of the Stars. StarDrifter had known instantly what had happened, for he remembered the feeling at the moment when MorningStar had been murdered, and this was the same – except now it was his son’s life force that had been snuffed out.
Azhure was sobbing hysterically, and Caelum no. better, and StarDrifter managed to quell his own grief in his efforts to calm mother and child.
But Azhure would not be calmed. StarDrifter seized Caelum from her arms and set him down in the grass – there was not much Caelum could do to harm himself there – and wrapped arms and wings about Azhure, trying desperately to stop her writhing and her cries.
She beat at his chest and at his encircling wings, wanting to strike out, wanting to hurt, wanting to deny what that snap and whisper meant. “No!” she kept screaming. “Live for me!”
“Azhure,” StarDrifter muttered, broken-hearted. His son? Dead? How could that bet After having lost him for so long, only to lose him again like this?
“Azhure…he’s gone. There’s nothing we can do. Nothing.”
She started to sob, and buried her face against StarDrifter’s chest. “No, no, no, no,” she muttered over and over again, a litany of denial, and StarDrifter was about to guide her back to her chamber in the Priestess’ dormitory when she shrieked, agonised this time, and collapsed to the ground.
“Azhure? Azhure? What is it?”
Azhure writhed and clutched at StarDrifter. She stared at him, her eyes wide with agony, but she could not speak as a contraction so violent seized her she doubled over and gagged.
“Oh gods,” StarDrifter groaned, and screamed for the Priestesses.
It was a terrible birth.
StarDrifter never left Azhure’s side, but neither he nor the three Priestesses who attended could do much to help her.
The twins were intent on escaping her body, and doing it as fast as they could. It was the boy who led, who forced the birth, and nothing StarDrifter could say to him or his sister could stop their headlong rush. Unlike most Icarii babes, they were not scared by the birth, merely so impatient they did not, would not, pause to consider the damage they did to their mother.
If they cared about it.
For the final half hour Azhure lay limp and mercifully unconscious, and StarDrifter stopped his efforts to plead with the twins to focus his entire energy on Azhure.
After an indeterminate time he turned to stare at the First. “Gods, Lady, what can we do?”
“Pray, StarDrifter,” the First muttered, “that these babies birth themselves soon. She is almost gone.”
“Gowe?” StarDrifter whispered, then stared back at Azhure. Her breathing was shallow, her skin slack and damp, gleaming with unhealthy pallor.
“She has little strength,” the First said again. “And I fear she does not want to live. What brought this on?”
StarDrifter told her how he and Azhure had felt Axis’ death.
The Priestesses shared horrified glances, but they did not have time to mourn the loss of the StarMan. Not when the Sacred Daughter’s life veered so close to extinction itself.
StarDrifter leaned over Azhure and seized her slack face in his hands. “‘Live, Azhure. I could not bear it if you died too.”
And so the birth went on, with only the Priestesses sharing a thought for the babies struggling to be born, and then only a sparing one, for the mother was far more important.
As the babies slipped from her body Azhure haemorrhaged, and they almost lost her. As it was she bled so much before the First could persuade her womb to contract and stem the flow that both the First and StarDrifter found themselves covered in blood.
It was left to the two junior Priestesses to take the babies to one side and wash and bind them. They squalled healthily and happily enough, pleased to finally make their own way in the world, and they did not spare a thought for their mother’s struggle for life.
It was not until late that night, after five hours of effort and strain and worry, that the First told StarDrifter that Azhure had a chance of life.
“If she does not develop a fever or infection,” she said, “and if she still has the will to live.”
StarDrifter lifted his eyes from Azhure’s face. “If she does not have the will, First, then I will infuse her with mine! I will not let her die!”
The Priestess stared at him for long minutes, then she nodded and silently left them alone. Time would tell.
Hilltop Conversations t rage.
Iimozel stood atop his low hill, watching the tattered remnants of what had once been Axis’ army withdraw to the south-west. He was almost incandescent with Great Lord. We have them at our mercy!
In his Ice Fortress Gorgrael paced back and forth, back and forth. Nevertheless, I want you to do as bid.
Timozel tensed, trying to bring his rage under control, trying to come to grips with Gorgrael’s utter stupidity. Great Lord, I can quash them in a day. Two at the most. When mom-ing comes I can begin to direct the Ice Worms across the Azle.
No. I want you to move north.
Gorgrael had been devastated by Axis’ destruction of nine hundred Gryphon. His petsl Axis had burnt them! The fact that Axis had ruined himself in the effort had slipped completely from Gorgrael’s mind. His Gryphon were dead!
You have seven thousand with you, Master, and in only six weeks’ time they will birth over sixty-five thousand. Master! Hear me! Let me finish them now! Victory is within our grasp!
NO! Gorgrael’s voice roared through Timozel’s head. NO! You WILL do as I order! Retreat to the north. Once we have recovered from our grievous loss then we can finish the job. But I will not risk any more. You said you would win this battle!
And I bloody well have! Timozel seethed, but kept the thought from Gorgrael. Retreat may well kill us, master.
How, Timozel? How? Is not Axis and his army all but destroyed? I want you north. Now.
Dammit, Timozel thought In only a day he could wipe out-
Suddenly he was gripped by Gorgrael’s power and he arched his back and screamed with such agony that the Skraelings massed below shifted and whispered in agitation.
DO AS I ORDER!
Yes, Master, Timozel whimpered, and turned to give the orders.
“My pets!” Gorgrael muttered angrily. “How could he destroy my pets!” He bent to touch the heads of his remaining two Gryphon, the originals created from the disintegrating mass of dead SkraeBolds. Thank the Dark Music, he thought, that I had these two here to keep me warm at nights. Gorgrael’s immediate reaction was to pull his arm back to the protection of the yearlong ice and snow, closer to home.