Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

Faraday nodded. “StarDrifter is at the Temple now,” she said, her arms about her knees as she stared across the Lake. “Azhure told me he relit the Temple some time ago, and now it sends a great light into the sky. No doubt he will lead the rites there.”

Barsarbe blinked. “Azhure? You know her?” She had thought – hoped – never to hear of that woman again. Some of the warmth in the night died.

“Indeed, Barsarbe. She has become my friend. Why do you ask?”

“She stayed with us for many months,” Barsarbe said.

“You do not like her,” Faraday observed.

Barsarbe replied slowly, careful now that Faraday had already said Azhure was her friend. “She was the first Plains Dweller, apart from Rivkah, most of us met. We found her unsettling…we found the violence that followed in her wake unnerving.”

Faraday turned to gaze at Barsarbe steadily. “She has beet as much a victim of violence as your people, Barsarbe.”

Barsarbe shuddered, unable to conceive of Azhure as ; victim – despite what she knew of the scars on her back. “I an sorry, Faraday Tree Friend, but for some reason I have neve been able to like her.” She paused. “What has become of her?”

Faraday continued to regard the Bane with steady greei eyes. “You will not want to hear this, Barsarbe, but she ha married Axis, and has borne him three children.”

Barsarbe recoiled violently, her eyes wide and furious “That should have been your right!” she hissed. “Why did shi…why did he do that to you?” Her eyes flew downwards “How could he do this to you? Betray you like this! It mus have been her fault! Hers!”

“Barsarbe,” Faraday interrupted, “fault cannot b< apportioned for anything that has happened. There is no blame nor any ill feeling. There is regret, yes, and sadness, but nc blame. There is no fault, Barsarbe, that can be apportioned t< Azhure.”

But Barsarbe was not to be appeased. “The second verse o the Prophecy clearly said that you would -”

“The Prophecy was misunderstood,” Faraday snapped “Yes, I lay with the man who slew my husband, but I did no marry him. And Azhure…Azhure is the pain-riddled chile who concealed ancient arts. She is Icarii, and an Enchanter, anc perhaps far more than that. She wields as much power as do or Axis, and she has been accepted by the Horned Ones and th< Mother, not only for her power, but simply for who she is. Trj to do the same.”

Barsarbe turned her head away, a muscle in her cheel twitching.

“She is my friend, Barsarbe,” Faraday said.

Barsarbe suddenly understood why she hated Azhure sc much. It wasn’t just the violence that followed her like i shadow – although that was sickening enough in itself – it was the until-now unconscious and intuitive knowledge that Tree Friend loved Azhure. Barsarbe resented that, resented the bond that existed between the two women. Tree Friend was the Avar’s, and should belong to no other!

“I belong to no-one!” Faraday hissed. “And I choose as my friends those whom I please. Axis needs Azhure, / need her, and Mother help you, Barsarbe, if one day you find that you need her as well!”

“I cannot believe he betrayed you for her,” Barsarbe said. “Perhaps the Avar should reconsider their pledge to stand behind him.”

Faraday battled to control her rage. She could not believe that Barsarbe could not only hate so much, but misunderstand so much. No wonder, she thought, that Gorgrael hates as he does; it is a trait of his Avar blood.

She managed, eventually, to bite back her bitter words. “If the Avar decide not to assist Axis,” she said, her voice flat, “then they must be prepared to endure Gorgrael as their lord. Axis’ eventual success rests in your people’s hands, Barsarbe, for it is Avar power that will make the Rainbow Sceptre. The trees will back him, this much I know. Choose as you will, but be prepared to accept your choice!”

It had been a thousand years since the Yuletide rites had touched this much power. In the Earth Tree Grove and on Temple Mount, Icarii Enchanters lit the sacred circles of fire to the accompaniment of Song, and the circles were fuelled by the reawakening power of the land, of the trees that Faraday had already planted out, of the Earth Tree, and by the reappearance of the Star Gods themselves.

StarDrifter was inside the Temple of the Stars, ringed by fire, spiralling gently in the centre of the cobalt beacon amid the floating stars. Wings and arms spread wide, he let as much of the power as he dared flood through him, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, unable to bear the beauty of the

Temple. To those watching outside, StarDrifter glowed like a great silver cross as he hovered amid the deep violet of the Temple, the stars drifting by him, yet never touching him.

“I have been blessed,” the First Priestess whispered, tears running down her aged cheeks, “to have been allowed to live to witness this.”

“It is a time for great blessing,” said a soft voice behind her.

“Indeed,” the First said, without turning to see who spoke.

Xanon, her face hidden beneath a deep hood, smiled. “And I count myself no less blessed to have been served by you and yours. I thank you.”

Curious now, the First turned, but the woman behind her had disappeared into the crowd standing around the perimeter of the Temple.

The First frowned slightly. The woman had gone, yet there was an unusual scent still clinging to the air, and the woman’s voice lingered in her head. Thank you.

When she looked back to the Temple and the silver figure floating in the beacon, the First could see that another floated with him.

In the Earth Tree Grove, the Avar and Icarii present marked Yuletide with blood sacrifice, as they had been wont to do for thousands of years. As the circle of flame leapt into life the Earth Tree’s Song soared even higher; she could feel the spread of Minstrelsea to the south, and longed for the moment when she could join her Song with theirs. But they were still far distant, and even the power of the Earth Tree’s Song could not yet reach them.

About Fernbrake Lake the Avar, assisted by the Goodwife, lit the bracken they had laid out. As it caught alight, and as the fingers of flame touched each other to create the complete circle, the Lake burst into emerald life, and the eight women and the child wept as they beheld her beauty.

Faraday tried to forget her harsh words with Barsarbe, although the thought that the Avar might yet refuse to assist Axis frightened her. The emerald beam speared into the night sky, as it had not done the night that Raum had invoked the name of the Mother, and Faraday thought it looked like a beacon.

Gorgrael writhed and twisted, screaming his fury as the circles of fire were lit across Tencendor. As each flame leaped into life he felt his hold on the ice falter.

“I can feel the fire!” he screeched, capering about his chamber in agony. “It burns!”

But none were there to share his pain save the seven thousand Gryphon. They scampered across the floor and up the walls and dropped off the roof and seethed through the crevices of the Ice Fortress and across its outer surface, until the Fortress resembled a cake that had been overrun by a myriad of ants.

It would not be long before they gave birth.

As he had four thousand years before, and as he had every Yuletide since he had returned to Tencendo^ WolfStar stood at the very brink of the Star Gate. All the Icarii Enchanters were above celebrating Yuletide; he could afford to linger.

One foot resting on the low wall surrounding the Gate, he leaned forward intently, listening and watching.

There was nothing save the lure of the Star Dance.

Back! Back! Come Back!

WolfStar resisted. The Star Dance no longer held the same beauty or lure for him. He looked past it, leaning closer, closer, closer…

“Nothing!” he breathed in relief as he finally stepped back. “There is nothing!”

Azhure shrugged off her linen shift and slipped into the suit Xanon had laid out for her. She stood a long time before the mirror, her eyes solemn, her hands gently stroking the material as it clung to her body.

There could be no name for this material – none like it had ever existed. It glowed raven-blue in the lamplight, as deep a blue as could be without verging into black. Azhure moved slightly, held her breath in wonder, then moved again. Every time she shifted position, even breathed, dark shadows chased each other across the material, now on the curve of her shoulder, now at the swell of her breast, now in the hollow of her back, now sliding down her legs. Dark shapes – representations of the shadow of the moon as it waxed and waned – slid over her body as the shadow of the ever-changing moon slid over the earth.