Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

“She’s doing what she has to,” the Goodwife said, “and we can do nothing for her. Not yet.”

“Soon,” said Azhure, her voice brittle.

“Assuredly,” the Goodwife soothed. “Soon.” She gathered her full skirts as if she would follow Faraday, but she paused as she placed one boot beside the seedling Faraday had just planted. She hummed a little lullaby, bending momentarily to stroke the tiny seedling’s leaves. Then she straightened and clumped after Faraday.

Azhure, holding her hand out for Shra, hurried after her.

One final time Faraday knelt in the soil, wet here where the Nordra sprayed forth. She paused, her eyes misting with tears. Here. It had all come to this. One final time . . . and then the final journey. One more time, and then Tree Friend’s task was done.

“Mirbolt,” she whispered, the roar of the Nordra masking her words from the three who had halted two paces behind her. “Mirbolt, take what strength I have left and use it to surge towards the sky. Be joyful, for your time is here and you will be the one to join ancient with replanted. Yours will be the task to receive the Song from the mother tree.”

Singing softly under her breath, Faraday dug her fingers into the soil, and then she gently tipped the seedling from its crib and placed it in the hole. “Mirbolt, you are the last, and to you I would entrust my message. Behind you your sisters stretch to the Cauldron Lake, their voices ready to raise with yours. Before you lies the Avarinheim, and the Song of the Earth Tree. Mirbolt, when the time comes I would that neither you nor your sisters nor the mother tree herself hesitate. Axis, the StarMan, will need you. His wife, my sister, will also need you.”

She turned her head slightly and indicated that Azhure join her. When the woman had knelt by her side, her face puzzled, Faraday took Azhure’s hand and touched her fingers to the top of the seedling. “Mirbolt, this is Azhure – you already know her. Azhure is beloved of myself, of the Horned Ones and of the StarMan…and she is accepted among you.” She lifted her head. “Azhure…do you feel it?”

Azhure nodded, her face filled with gentle wonder. “Yes. I feel it. She accepts me.”

“Yes,” Faraday said. “She accepts you.” She dropped her eyes again. “Mirbolt, when the time comes and Azhure calls, come to her aid, for in doing so you will aid not only the StarMan, but myself as well. Now,” her hand tightened about Azhure’s, “Azhure and I will secure you together.”

And with several deft movements, Azhure’s and Faraday’s combined hands patted the soil firmly about the seedling.

“It is done,” Faraday said, and, glancing into her face, Azhure was horrified to see despair.

“Faraday!”

The Goodwife placed a hand on each of the women’s shoulders. “Be still. I must sing to her.”

She hummed her special cradle song again, one last time, but Azhure did not hear it. She stared into Faraday’s eyes, riveted by the pain, the horror and the sorrow she could see there.

What was wrong? What could she see?

But as the Goodwife ended her song, Faraday blinked and the horror faded from her eyes. Now they were only tired, and if they reflected pain then it was no more than Azhure expected to see there at this time.

“Stand with me,” the Goodwife said, extending her hands, “See.”

Azhure took the Goodwife’s hand, using her other to help Faraday rise, then turned to follow the Goodwife’s eyes.

Across the plain behind them the seedlings Faraday had planted that day sprang towards the sky. Neither Faraday nor Azhure had ever seen this process before. Always seedlings had sprung into their full potential under cover of darkness; now they would not wait.

“Faraday,” Azhure whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Faraday!”

But Faraday did not hear her, so enraptured was she by the sight before her.

The seedlings uncoiled – it was the only word that Faraday could grasp to even remotely describe what she saw. It was as if each seedling had encompassed within its tiny form the complete tree; now that tree unwound as if a giant spring had been set free.

The Avar women, some paces distant, all fell to their knees, hands to mouths.

Azhure hugged Faraday gently to her. “Faraday,” she murmured into the woman’s ear, “look what you have done!”

As she spoke the trees finally uncoiled to their full height, reaching to the first stars glimmering in the twilight. Their branches stretched out each to the other until they covered the ground below with gently swaying shadows.

Whatever memory still lingered of Smyrton was gone forever. In its place wove forest.

Then Faraday gasped and jumped in Azhure’s arms, and all three women and the Avar girl had to step out of the way. Mirbolt-that-was now leapt for the sky, and the air about hummed with power and vibrancy and joy as the tree unravelled.

Faraday clapped her hands.

“Look, Azhure!” she laughed, “Mirbolt lives!”

“My Lady,” the Goodwife said, “it is almost time for me to leave you.”

“Leave?” Faraday cried. “Goodwife, you cannot leave me now\ I will need you . . . soon!”

“Hush, m’Lady,” the Goodwife said, gathering Faraday into her arms. “Hush, lovely Lady. Your sister is here. Azhure is here. She has enough experience and she has the hands and the love to guide you through. The path you take now will have little to do with me…the planting is done.”

Faraday started to cry. “Goodwife …”

“Hush, child,” the Goodwife comforted. “I have a family to go back to.” She hesitated and looked at the wood stretching behind her. “Or perhaps I will wander the forest paths awhile. Collect herbs. Recollect the stories my granny told me. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. Wander the forest paths awhile.” Her broad face broke into a smile, then it faded a little and she hugged Faraday tightly to her. “No doubt we will meet, my girl, along those paths one day. Wandering. Free. Unfettered.”

Faraday swallowed her tears and nodded, understanding. Unfettered. Yes.

“Brave girl,” the Goodwife murmured, and kissed Faraday’s cheek. “Don’t forget the words your Mother taught you.”

Faraday sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“When all seems lost and dead and dark,

Of this I can assure you –

A Mother’s arms will fold you tight,

And let you roam unfettered.”

The Goodwife sighed in profound relief. “Do not forget them, Daughter, ever. Call My name, and I will come.”

She turned to go, but caught sight of Shra standing silent to one side. “Girl,” she said, and Shra came to stand by her side.

“Girl, you must learn to speak as needed. You are too quiet for your wisdom.”

“Yes, Mother.”

The Goodwife smiled, her face full of love. “‘Yes, Mother’, that is all she can say. Well, it is enough.” She reached out and patted Shra’s cheek.

And then she was gone, striding into the woods, waving cheerfully over her shoulder, calling her goodbyes to the Avar women as she was went.

“She was the Mother, wasn’t she, Faraday,” Shra said quietly.

Faraday nodded, her eyes still on the Goodwife’s form as it faded between the trees. “At times, Shra, yes she was, but mostly she was just Goodwife Renkin who was my friend.”

Azhure’s arm tightened about Faraday’s waist as she felt the woman tremble. “Faraday, what happens now? The last tree is planted out… I would have thought. . .” Her voice trailed off.

Faraday shook her head. “I don’t know, Azhure.” She grimaced slightly and Azhure glanced at her, her worry for the woman deepening. But Faraday caught her breath and straightened a little. “I don’t know. Perhaps there’s something I should do.”

“You need rest and you need our care,” Barsarbe said as she joined the three standing under Mirbolt’s spreading

branches. She looked at Azhure as she spoke and her voice was hostile.

Faraday drew a quick, sharp breath. “I need only -” she began, when Shra pulled at her robe.

“Look!” she cried, pointing down the Forbidden Valley.

The women turned and stared, their eyes narrowing in the rapidly fading light. After a moment Azhure caught sight of a slight movement. A bird, fluttering above the Nordra. It had flown out of the Avarinheim.

“It is an owl,” Shra said, her voice subdued now. “The Grey Guardian Owl.”

“It haunts the canopy of the Avarinheim,” Azhure explained to Faraday, remembering what Pease had told her. “It is rarely seen, but it watches over the entire forest, and at night its soft cry haunts the dreams of sleepers.”

Barsarbe stiffened, resenting every word the woman spoke, but before she could speak, the Grey Guardian flew into the topmost branches of Tree Mirbolt.

And the gates opened.

The river spray thickened and yet, conversely, lightened, until the entire valley was cloaked in dense bright mist. In places it bulged, as if strange creatures cavorted within, and it reverberated with the echoes of far more than surging waters. Thousands of unseen eyes stared at them, distorted voices whispering Faraday’s name, while power seeped towards and about them. Yet none of the watchers was frightened, while Faraday and Azhure, who knew, broke into laughter.