Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

There was nothing for it but to lead them downwards. So SpikeFeather waved the two Wing members back to their duties shepherding the adults out of the mountain, and turned back to face the children.

He cleared his throat, then realised he had no idea what he would say. SpikeFeather was not very good with children.

“Ah,” he began lamely, “no doubt you’re wondering …” No, that wouldn’t do.

“Um, we’re about to embark on a remarkable adventure …” Stars! That was even worse!

“Listen,” he said eventually, using his normal speaking voice and not patronising them at all, “Talon Spike faces a terrible danger.”

“Gryphon,” one tiny child piped up from the front.

“Yes, Gryphon. Gorgrael the Destroyer – you’ve heard of him?”

Hundreds of faces nodded.

“Well, Gorgrael has thousands of Gryphon, and many fear that he will throw them at Talon Spike.”

“We’d be- slaughtered if we stayed,” one red-haired girl said, her voice practical, and SpikeFeather glanced at her.

“Yes, everyone would die. So I’m here to organise everyone to safety, and because it’d be too dangerous to lead you down the ice paths by the Nordra, I’m going to try something different.”

“FairEye said that we’re going to go by the waterways!” an excited child cried. “What are the waterways?”

For the next ten minutes SpikeFeather explained about the UnderWorld and the Charonites. He related how he had travelled the waterways with Rivkah, the Enchantress and StarDrifter some two years ago, and that all had travelled safely and with minimal fuss.

“So,” he finished, “do you think you’d like to try the waterways?”

A chorus of excited voices assured him that they would, and SpikeFeather could see no child who looked overly nervous about the prospect. Asking the older children each to take a younger child’s hand, SpikeFeather shepherded the crowd towards the first of the tunnels.

He led, because only he knew the correct turnings to take, and he had to trust that every child followed obediently. What if one took a wrong turning and the hundreds who followed got lost with him? What if one of the younger ones panicked, and the back ranks refused to go any further?

But no-one took the wrong turning and no-one panicked, and all kept up with no complaints. After ten minutes or so one of the children lifted her voice in song, and within heartbeats every child had taken up the melody. It lifted SpikeFeather’s heart, and reminded him that there was hope for the future.

It took them just over an hour and a half to reach the well to the UnderWorld.

Many of the children remarked on the beautiful well that wound down into the earth, and traced the carvings of the dancers in the walls with their fingers. And each stepped eagerly

onto the translucent pink marble staircase that wound down about the walls of the well.

And so, softly singing, the children of the Icarii nation walked lightly down into the UnderWorld.

Previously, SpikeFeather had travelled with injured Icarii, and the children made much faster work of the descent than the adults had. They needed no breaks, and every time SpikeFeather paused to look at the staircase above him he could see line after line of children filing down, all singing, all holding hands.

“If I never do anything else in life,” he murmured to himself on one occasion as he stood watching the children step down two-by-two, “then I am glad I have seen this. Pray that I am not leading them to their doom.”

After several hours they gathered in the stark grey chamber at the base of the well, SpikeFeather making sure that none of the children ventured too close to the lip of the waterway. They were silent now, overawed by the solemnity of the chamber and by the water flowing gently by, stars gleaming in its midst.

As the last child stepped into the chamber, SpikeFeather took a nervous breath and stepped over to the golden tripod that held the bell. He hesitated, then reached out with his fingertips and struck it.

Three clear chimes rang out, and some of the children stirred nervously.

“It is all right,” SpikeFeather said gently, turning back to the crowd. “The Ferryman will take some hours before he -”

Then he noticed that the children were not looking at him, but staring down one of the tunnels from which the water emerged.

There was a light bobbing in the distance.

How quick the Ferryman was! SpikeFeather clenched his fists briefly, nervousness raising the dark red feathers on the back of his neck.

A large, flat-bottomed boat glided into the chamber, a cloaked figure seated in its stern, his hands folded, his hooded

head bowed. As the boat stopped by SpikeFeather, the Ferryman raised his head.

“Who summons the Ferryman?” he asked in a gruff voice. “Who rings the bell?”

SpikeFeather stepped forward and bowed so low he almost knelt; behind him his wings scraped the surface of the stone floor as they spread out three paces either side of him.

“I do, Ferryman,” he said, his eyes downcast, “Crest-Leader SpikeFeather TrueSong, of the Icarii Strike Force.”

“What?” The Ferryman’s voice sounded surprised. “What, SpikeFeather – and don’t think that I don’t remember you – no Enchanters this time to harry and annoy me?”

SpikeFeather raised his eyes. “No, Ferryman. None but myself and the innocent children of the Icarii race.”

The Ferryman burst into laughter and pulled the hood back from his face, revealing the bald cadaverous features surrounding his incongruously child-like violet eyes. “No children are innocent, SpikeFeather, for the moment they draw breath they draw in the experience of life. Come now, stand up, and tell me what you do here.”

SpikeFeather straightened. “Ferryman, I come to ask you a great boon.”

“A boon? Surely you know better than that, SpikeFeather.”

SpikeFeather licked his suddenly dry lips. “Ferryman, Gryphon threaten Talon Spike and we must evacuate. These children cannot fly, and we cannot use the exposed icy walks by the Nordra. Ferryman -”

“No.”

“You have not heard my request!” SpikeFeather cried, stepping forward, his hand out in entreaty. –

The Ferryman stared at him. “You want me to somehow spirit these children to safety, SpikeFeather.”

“Yes, I -”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I do not particularly like children, and this is such a rabble of them!”

SpikeFeather’s lips- thinned. “They are well behaved and polite, Ferryman, and they deserve the chance of life.”

The Ferryman shook his head, and slowly drew his ruby hood over his head.

“Axis sent them to you!” SpikeFeather cried.

“I have fulfilled my debt to Axis.”

“And Azhure!”

The Ferryman’s hands paused, but then he drew the hood further over his head, shading his entire face. “No.”

“I am willing to pay the price.”

The Ferryman’s sallow face peered out from beneath the ruby hood. “The price?”

“The greatest mystery of all, Ferryman. A life.”

Orr stared at SpikeFeather. The birdman stood very tall now, his dark eyes calm, his entire bearing dignified and proud, his dark red wings held out slightly away from his body.

“Whose life?” the Ferryman whispered.

SpikeFeather gazed steadily at him. “Mine.”

The entire chamber was silent. Every child’s gaze was fixed on SpikeFeather.

“You are willing to give your life for these children, SpikeFeather TrueSong?”

“It is a tiny price to pay, Ferryman.”

“But you are young, vital… courageous.”

SpikeFeather was silent, holding the Ferryman’s eyes in his own.

“Very well,” the Ferryman said, closing the deal, “I accept. Your life for transportation of these children.” But he still watched SpikeFeather closely.

SpikeFeather relaxed in relief. “Thank you, Ferryman,” he said. “I am honoured that you think me worthy the price.”

No, I am honoured, the Ferryman whispered in his mind, for few would have offered themselves. Even when I told

StarDrifter of the price he glanced about the group he led, never once considering himself. No, am honoured, SpikeFeather TrueSong.

“Now, where would you like these children to go?”

SpikeFeather’s mouth slowly opened. He had thought about everything else but the children’s eventual destination. “Ah . . . Sigholt?”

“Easily done, SpikeFeather, for these waters empty into the Lake of Life herself. Now, if the children would like to step into the boat…” and he motioned to the first ranks of children impatiently.

“But they will not all fit, Ferryman,” SpikeFeather began, then he saw the Ferryman smile and indicate behind him.

“Perhaps you did not notice these, SpikeFeather.” Ranged behind the Ferryman’s boat, each with its lights glowing gently, were a dozen more of the craft bobbing gently, all connected by ropes.

SpikeFeather nodded, and waved the children forward. Slowly, but with growing assurance, they stepped calmly into the boats. The Ferryman got out of the first boat as the children settled themselves down, waited until all the boats were full and not a single child remained unseated, then turned to SpikeFeather.

“Your life, SpikeFeather,” he said, and placed his hand over SpikeFeather’s face.