DragonStar narrowed his eyes into tiny slits. / want to be your heir! I must be StarSon, not that sop-eyed tot you carry in your arms! What quirk of fate seeded me SECOND into Azhure’s used womb?
Utterly appalled, Axis lost his temper. How can you lie there and berate me for what I did to Azhure, when you tore her almost to shreds in your efforts to be born! You do not deserve her for your mother, and I, at least, am glad that you are not my eldest son! I have every reason to be glad you are not my heir, DragonStar. And I will not welcome you into the House of Stars until you have learned both humility and compassion!
He took a huge breath, his eyes wide and furious, then he strode from the room.
DragonStar stared at him through the gaps in the wickerwork as long as he could, watching his father stride away, Caelum cuddled tight against his chest, and hated.
/ will be your heir, he thought with malevolence surprisingly focused for one so young, for none deserve it more than I!
Axis had managed to control his temper by the time he found Azhure and Belial conversing quietly outside Roland’s chamber,
but anger still coursed through him. Azhure looked up as he approached, and she paled at what she saw on his face.
“I want DragonStar out of our apartments,” he said tightly. “I do not want him near Caelum or his sister. If she is indifferent, then it is because of his influence.”
Belial opened his mouth, appalled. “Axis? He is but a baby. How can you -”
Axis rounded on him, his temper out of control again. “But a baby? He hates enough for a battalion of Skraelings, Belial! I do not have to live with that, and I do not have to expose my other children to it!”
Azhure placed a hand on his arm, and Axis turned his eyes on her, sharing the memory of what had gone on in the room.
“Axis!”
Belial looked between the two of them, wishing he could understand. “Axis,” he said, “do not let this night ruin your relationship with your son.” He thought quickly. “If you like, Cazna and I will take him, give you time to think things over. I’m sure that Cazna would like to have a baby to croon over.”
“Better to give her one yourself!” Axis snapped, but he nodded curtly after a minute. “As you wish. You can take the boy. But keep him out of my way!”
And with that he was gone, Azhure hurrying after him.
Choices They fare welled Roland at dusk the next day, sending him on his journey into the AfterLife with a great pyre on the shores of the Lake of Life. Almost everyone attended, for Roland had been loved among the people of Lakesview as well as among most of the soldiers in Axis’ army. Even the remainder of the Strike Force were there, forming an honour guard as Roland’s body was carried from the Keep to the pyre.
The bridge wept as Roland passed over her for the last time, for they had spent many a long hour talking compan-ionably together, and the bridge had come to respect him very much.
Cazna was there too, the baby boy in her arms, still faintly surprised at finding herself so precipitously cast into motherhood. But she smiled and crooned over the baby and remained totally insensitive to the fact that DragonStar directed a constant stream of malevolence towards his parents and elder brother.
When it was done, Axis waved SpikeFeather TrueSong over to him and Azhure.
SpikeFeather saluted smartly, then stood ready.
“SpikeFeathe^” Axis began, “we are worried.”
Azhure took over. “Few Icarii have come this way, have they, SpikeFeather?”
“No, Enchantress,” SpikeFeather said. “There were some here when we arrived, but most of them had been here since well before the StarMan locked Sigholt in her enchantments.
Anyone else coming from Talon Spike would probably be unable to find the place.”
“Have you heard word of any movement south from Talon Spike?”
SpikeFeather smiled. “Enchantress. You know how isolated Sigholt has been. If Icarii fly south then they would go through the Avarinheim, then directly south from the Nordra.”
Azhure exchanged a worried glance with Axis. “Spike-Feather, you may not know this, but two months ago I sent word to RavenCrest to evacuate Talon Spike. I feared attack by Gryphon – Gorgrael still has many at his command – and you know Talon Spike is almost defenceless.”
SpikeFeather’s face darkened. “I could fly the Strike Force there within -”
“No,” Axis said, raising his hand. “No. SpikeFeather, Gorgrael has over seven thousand Gryphon left…”
SpikeFeather blanched so badly Azhure thought he would faint.
“And I don’t want you, or anyone else, to pretend that what’s left of the Strike Force could protect Talon Spike against the Gryphon.”
“We thought we could send you, perhaps with a Wing, north to Talon Spike,” Azhure said, her eyes locked onto Spike-Feather’s face. “Find out what’s happening, help if you can.”
Azhure could go herself, but she was reluctant. She knew that Faraday would need her within six or seven weeks, and she didn’t think she could get to Talon Spike and back with enough time to spare; her instinctive powers did not permit travel between sites as Axis’ Enchanter powers did. Her instinct, however, did warn her that to attempt to confront the Gryphon now would be fatal; she still needed to grow further. And Azhure didn’t want to leave Axis. Not when she’d just found him again. Or Caelum.
“It will be hard, if not impossible, to evacuate Talon Spike,” SpikeFeather said. “There are the young children …”
“I sent word that RavenCrest should use the waterways to get the children to safety,” Azhure said. “I can see no reason why Orr should refuse them.”
SpikeFeather glanced at Axis; he had met the Ferryman two years ago, and he did not think the cantankerous Charonite would accede to anything without great persuasion. The Charonites did not think very highly of the Icarii, and if RavenCrest had gone down there personally and imperiously demanded that the Ferryman take the children . . . SpikeFeather shuddered, and his reaction did not go unnoticed by either Axis or Azhure.
“SpikeFeather,” Axis said. “We need to know that the Icarii in Talon Spike are safe. Make sure they are flying to the Avarinheim, or even further south into Tencendor, but make sure that they are out of there!”
SpikeFeather nodded, saluted, and turned away.
He left at dawn the next morning, a Wing behind him, and flew as hard and as fast as he could. They rested six or seven hours each night in the Avarinheim itself, with one of the Clans if they could find one, and the Avar reported that there had been no large-scale movement south since Yuletide.
One Clan leader had shrugged. “Daily flights of about two hundred for several weeks before Yuletide, and groups of fifteen to twenty every few days since, Crest-Leader, but that’s all.”
Stars! SpikeFeather cursed, tens of thousands must still be in Talon Spike. That night he gave the Wing only four hours rest before he hustled them back into the sky.
When they finally arrived at Talon Spike they found the mountain still crowded with Icarii, a discovery that sent SpikeFeather spiralling as close to depression as he had since the virtual destruction of the Strike Force at the Azle.
They had been spotted approaching the mountain, and RavenCrest himself met SpikeFeather at the flight balconies at the very apex of Talon Spike.
“Talon,” SpikeFeather said, spreading his wings behind him as he bowed low.
RavenCrest’s mouth quirked in grim humour. “Crest-Leader I see, SpikeFeather, by the insignia you wear. Next you’ll be telling me that you command the Strike Force itself.”
SpikeFeather rose from his bow, and in his dark eyes was such great sorrow that RavenCrest recoiled. “No,” he whispered. “It cannot be!”
“Talon,” SpikeFeather began, but RavenCrest ignored him.
“I had heard,” he said as he half turned away, “that the Strike Force had been devastated by the Gryphon, but FarSight? HoverEye? SharpEye? SpreadWing?”
At SpikeFeather’s compassionate look, RavenCrest groaned.
“I had not thought it to be so bad,” he said. “Spike-Feather?” He looked back at the birdman. “Is it so desperate?”
SpikeFeather shook his head, wishing RavenCrest would lead them inside out of the wind, “No, it is not. I believe there is still hope. But, sire, you must order the evacuation of the mountain. No-one can defend this mountain!”
RavenCrest finally motioned him inside. “Send your Wing for some refreshment, SpikeFeather, and we will talk.”
“Sire,” SpikeFeather said urgently, “we spent the night with the Avar, and we are not tired. My Wing can get the evacuation under way. But by the Stars, sire,” SpikeFeather could restrain himself no longer, “why is anyone here at alii”