Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

“Fool girl,” Moryson snarled, “wandering about planting your pretty garden. Watch the shadows!”

Faraday stared at him. The Mother’s power vibrated through her but, while she could feel Moryson’s anger, she did not sense that she was in any danger from it. Slowly she let the power ease away.

Shockingly, Moryson laughed. “Do you know who I have just killed, Faraday? The last Brother-Leader of the Seneschal! He, he, he! Poor old Gilbert, murdered by his adviser!” He capered about Gilbert’s body in a ghastly parody of a dance, then he stopped still and stared at Faraday once more. “Faraday!”

She stiffened, stunned by the command that rang through his voice.

“Faraday, your friend lies trapped under the weight of eight Brothers. But they are a cowardly lot, and should you bear

down upon them with the Mother’s power blazing from your eyes I think they will disappear faster than Skraelings before emerald fire. But watch!” he said. “Watch the shadows! Artor is not gone, merely his servant, and Artor still wants you dead…badly. Watch the shadows! Not time to die yet.”

He pulled his cloak about him and some of the madness faded from his eyes. “Ask Azhure to help you, Faraday. If Artor comes after you personally, then only she can save you. The Mother’s power cannot help you against Artor.”

Then he turned and hobbled away.

Faraday blinked, and Moryson was gone.

For several heartbeats she stood and looked at the place where he had been, then she picked up her skirts and ran to find the Goodwife, the power of the Mother blazing from her eyes.

Artor paced behind His Plough and his bulls tossed their heads and roared.

Gilbert was dead…by Moryson’s hand? That feeble Brother? Something was not right here…in fact something was very, very wrong, and Artor could not understand it.

And that made Him afraid. Nothing was going right. Gilbert had failed Him, and now those who had been banished walked again.

Artor paced behind His Plough and thought. There was only one chance left. One chance where even if He met this Tree Friend bitch face-to-face, even with what allies she could summon, He would still stop her. Kill her.

The one place left in this land where His power was all-consuming. The place where He had originally made mankind the gift of the Plough. Where the Mother could still be vanquished, as any others who stood to deny Him His right to this land and to these souls.

One place. His place.

Smyrton.

Of Tides, Trees and Ice Azhure pushed against the railing at the prow of the Seal Hope and leaned as far into the surging spray as she could, arms spread wide, laughing with the wind. They were close to the mouth of the Nordra, and soon, two days at the most, she would be in Carlon. And from there to Spiredore . . . and from there to Axis. Two days. She turned to look back along the deck. Only Ysgryff, the children, Imibe and several attendants had travelled back with them, and now Imibe sat on deck feeding one of the twins; Azhure refused to feed them. The Icarii, including StarDrifter, had remained on the Island of Mist and Memory.

StarDrifter had been aghast at Azhure’s decision to take the children with her.

“Leave them with me,” he had begged, “for their teaching needs to be continued. And they will be safe here.”

Azhure had shaken her head firmly. “No, StarDrifter. The children come with me. You will see them again soon enough. And their teaching?” She had shrugged. “Caelum can learn from either myself or Axis, and if the twins refuse to learn from us, then they can stay untrained.”

And it would not be such a bad thing, she thought, to leave their training for some time yet. Training would only give them the skills to make our lives miserable.

Azhure had told StarDrifter little of what she had learned about herself in the Sepulchre of the Moon. She knew she was

changed, and she knew the change shone from her eyes and in her daily demeanour, but she did not feel that StarDrifter — or anyone else apart from Axis — should learn of her true nature immediately. It would, no doubt, be revealed in time.

And in the fullness of the moon. Azhure glanced above her, even though the moon was hidden in the bright sky. It waxed now, growing stronger with each passing hour it floated among the stars, and even during the day hours Azhure could feel its pull in the surge of the tides and the cry of the waves. Even now they called to her, Azhure! Azhure! Azhure! and the porpoises that flashed before the prow of the ship danced to the music of her name.

Azhure smiled at Ysgryff who, standing before Imibe, regarded her with some bewilderment. None could understand her amazing return to vibrant health, but all rejoiced in it. Despite the vague news from the north of a disastrous battle, and of Axis’ crippling injuries, no-one who was with Azhure felt overly despondent.

Not when she smiled and laughed and said, “It will be all right.”

The storm had swept down over the remains of Axis’ army with the strength of GorgraePs full vengeance. Despite the decision to make for Sigholt, the driving winds and ice had forced the army to take shelter in the foothills and, eventually, in the mines of the Murkle Mountains.

For three days they huddled in the mines, the healthy sitting, depressed, cleaning their equipment as best they could, the injured lying as still and as sightless as the StarMan himself in the dark tunnels.

At least they were not harried by the Chatterlings. Ho’Demi spent some time with them, for they sought him out, and one day he reappeared from the depths of the mine grasping a rough wooden box.

Belial raised his eyebrows at him.

“I made a vow,” Ho’Demi explained, and Belial nodded. Ho’Demi had told him of his peculiar promise to these lost souls.

“I was going to return after the wars were over to collect them,” Ho’Demi went on, “but here we are and they whispered and argued and drove me to agree to take them with me. So, here they are,” he held up the box and Belial stared at it in the flickering light of one inadequate brand, “and none must open it but me. None, understand?”

Belial nodded again. He had no wish to open a box full of mischievous lost souls.

Ho’Demi attached the box to the back of his belt where it did not hinder his movement and where, when the dark seemed particularly still, those close to him could almost feel the excited chitter, chatter of the souls within.

On the fourth day of their incarceration the storm blew itself out. The scouts reported that the sky had lifted and lightened, although clouds still blanketed the sun. Snowdrifts littered the plains below the mountains, but, with perseverance and determination, perhaps they could begin their way east.

“What do you think?” Belial asked Magariz and Ho’Demi, sitting huddled together for warmth. Axis lay beside them, but he had been silent so long that only the occasional twitching of his blanketed form showed he was still alive.

“I say we leave this cheerless place as soon as we can,” Magariz said. “I would prefer to die under the open sky than in these mines.”

“Ho’Demi?”

“I concur, Belial. There is no point staying here.”

“But what if this is a trap? What if Gorgrael has pulled the storm back to tempt us out? If a storm of that magnitude hit us when we had no chance of shelter we would all freeze to death.”

All except me, Axis thought, listening to the conversation wash over him. I would be trapped inside a frozen corpse; alive yet not alive. What must I do to let this life go?

Over the past three days Axis’ condition had shifted from the appalling to the abysmal. His flesh was rotting about him, and yet he remained stubbornly alive. And with each passing hour, each passing minute, his pain flowered.

“The choice is yours, Belial,” Magariz said.

Belial glanced at Axis and saw the gleam of the man’s eyes. It decided him. Axis could not be left to linger in this darkness any longer.

“We move,” he said, “as fast as we can for Sigholt.”

As Magariz and Ho’Demi left to begin the evacuation, Belial squatted down by Axis, “Are you awake, my friend?”

Axis nodded his head imperceptibly. “I cannot sleep, Belial.”

Belial felt helpless. No-one could do anything to ease the man’s misery. And what of the larger question? What of Gorgrael? What if they did get to Sigholt? What then? Where then?

“It has all been a dream,” Axis whispered, and Belial did not know if he was addressing him, or speaking to himself. “All a magnificent dream. We were teased with a single moment of beauty, of hope, and then we woke to find that it was all a sickening lie. We are finished, Belial, finished.”