Sara Douglass – The Serpent Bride – DarkGlass Mountain Book 1

with news of a town that was still partly inhabited some three hours ride to the southwest, Axis

was unable to rouse her. He frowned, worried, then lifted her as gently as he could and, instead

of putting her back into the cart, propped her before him on his horse. The donkey-drawn cart

would be too slow—he needed to get Ishbel to aid as soon as possible.

Axis had not really thought about what he might find when he met up with Ba”al”uz” men

and their charge, but it wasn”t the slaughter he had actually encountered, and most certainly not

the sudden meeting with the Icarii. That sight of them, the sight of them being slaughtered, had

wrenched at something very deep in his soul. He”d been living almost in a state of unnatural

serenity, almost a fugue, since he”d been hauled back into this world.

Witnessing the death of those Icarii had propelled him into full life.

Stars! The spectacle of those Icarii, lying in almost unrecognizable tatters of flesh and

drifting, blood-spattered feathers.

As he rode through the night, Ishbel clutched before him, Axis thought about the events

of the day. The conversation with BroadWing had unsettled him badly. It had felt as though he

were being dragged back into a world and a life that was not completely welcome—or

welcoming, for BroadWing had certainly regarded Axis with some suspicion.

And how else was BroadWing supposed to react, eh? The Icarii who were left had been

forced to manage with such great loss and tragedy that Axis had no idea how they had coped.

Suddenly he cursed to himself. Why hadn”t he asked BroadWing about StarDrifter?

Gods, if StarDrifter was alive somewhere then BroadWing may well have known about it.

What a lost opportunity.

Axis rode, one arm about Ishbel, his mind and heart in turmoil. Even though he”d now

been riding for almost fourteen hours, he felt no exhaustion, only a terrible kind of nervous

energy that, after an hour or two, he realized was a deep, unrelenting yearning for the man he had

once been. Not the Star God, not even the StarMan, but those wonderful, intense years when he

had been discovering himself as an Enchanter and as an Icarii prince. When he had been doing

and discovering—two women he had loved beyond imagining; power beyond comprehension;

excitement and life and energy and fear.

The sheer headiness of hurtling forward through life, of discoveries both wondrous and

terrifying, of doing.

As a Star God, Axis had stopped moving forward. His extraordinary journey had come to

a conclusion. He had stopped doing, and that had been the ruination of him.

Now here he was, hurtling through life once more, a company of fellow soldiers

streaming out behind him, a stolen queen held tight in his arms, the stars whirling over his head,

and the prospect of new discoveries, new challenges, new frontiers both glorious and dreadful

before him.

Axis” arm tightened about Ishbel, his heels booted his horse into even greater effort, and

he grinned, and wondered what adventures lay before him.

Ishbel knew almost nothing of that wild ride. In years to come she would remember

flashes of it: the violent motion of the horse, Axis” arm tight about her, and the warmth and scent of his body, the glint of teeth as he grinned, the stars spinning overhead.

The pain.

Her fever was getting worse, and it sank dark fingers of agony into every single one of

her joints. Any movement was a nightmare of hurt: not just her joints, but her head, which felt as

if it wanted to explode, and her stomach, which now twisted and cramped as badly as if it had

been flung onto a bed of hot coals.

She escaped as far as she could into unconsciousness, but even that held little relief for

her. She dreamed, visionary nightmares that melded effortlessly into one another.

Her usual nightmare came to her first: the Lord of Elcho Falling, standing in the snow,

his back to her, then slowly becoming aware of her presence, his head turning, turning, turning,

and then the torrent of despair and pain that engulfed her world as he laid eyes on her and opened

his mouth to speak.

This time it was worse than she”d ever experienced it before.

Then Ishbel dreamed of StarWeb whispering vicious hatred into her ear. Maximilian,

turning on Ishbel in revulsion, and blaming her for the deaths of Evenor, Allemorte, and

Borchard. StarWeb, exploding in a red mist of blood and bone and flesh. Maximilian, hearing the

news of his lover”s death, and breaking down in grief.

Maximilian, blaming Ishbel for StarWeb”s death.

Herself, giving birth to a twisted, lumpen mass destroyed by Ba”al”uz” poisons.

Maximilian blaming her for his much-wanted child”s death, too.

She was unaware that occasionally she called out his name—Maxel! Maxel!

Maxel!—and that Axis” arm tightened fractionally about her every time she did so.

Worst of all, though, was the dream in which the Great Serpent appeared to her, hissing

and spitting, cursing her for losing Maximilian, and any chance they had of preventing tragedy

and annihilation.

What kind of foolish woman are you, the Great Serpent hissed, to so lose Maximilian?

And then, sometimes, dreams of Maximilian and the Great Serpent faded completely, and

she was filled with a sense of total loss and foreboding, and she knew then that the Lord of Elcho

Falling was close.

Torinox was more village than town, but it had an inn still open, and, blessed be to all

gods, it had a physician called Zeboath waiting inside that inn. Apparently he”d been due to leave

for the resettlement convoys gathering in the east the previous week, but his horse had needed

rest to recover from a slight lameness, and he was still in the town. Zeboath had spent his time

waiting, so far as Axis could see, sampling most of the innkeeper”s remaining stocks of ale.

Still, Zeboath was a pleasant enough man, in both manner and aspect, and seemed

competent despite his slight intoxication, giving Ishbel a quick examination as Axis carried her

in.

“She”s burning with fever,” Zeboath said. “She needs to be put to bed immediately, given

a bath, and she needs to have fluids.”

“She tried to drink for me,” said Axis, “but was unable to keep the water down.”

“Fever?” said the innkeeper. “Fever? I am not so sure I want her to stay—”

Axis turned to the man, Ishbel still in his arms. “I hold in my arms the Queen of Escator,

and your tyrant”s future bride. If you want to refuse her aid, I am not entirely sure that Isaiah will understand.”

The innkeeper shut his mouth with an audible snap, and hastened to show Axis to a room

set aside on the ground floor.

Zeboath did what he could for Ishbel, but it was not very much. He and the innkeeper”s

daughter washed the filth of travel and sickness from her, and the physician managed to get some

herbal medicine down Ishbel”s throat, which he said would ease both her fever and her nausea.

He also left pieces of juice-filled fruit in her mouth so that, even in her deep sleep, she could

suck moisture and sweetness from them.

“But for the rest,” Zeboath murmured to Axis as they stood by the door of Ishbel”s

chamber, “I can do little. I do not know what drugs she was given, so cannot counteract them. As

for her fever…” He stopped, looking back through the door to where Ishbel lay motionless in the

bed. “I cannot yet tell what has caused it, although I do not think it a plague or blight. More

likely a result of weeks of little food and water, of sorrow and terror, if what you tell me about

her circumstances is correct.”

“And her baby?”

Zeboath shrugged. “Who can tell? She is about halfway through her pregnancy and the

child is small. I cannot feel it move. She will either lose it, or manage to keep it until birth, but what damage may have been done to it, I don”t—” He stopped suddenly, giving a shamefaced

half smile. “And I should stop saying „I don”t know,” yes?”

Axis put his hand briefly on the man”s shoulder, instinctively liking and trusting him.

“You have done what you can.” He glanced at Ishbel himself. “Until she wakes, and can speak, I

doubt there”s little anyone can do for her.”

“Her husband?”

“I have no idea where he is,” said Axis. “North of the FarReach Mountains, I assume.”

He remembered what BroadWing had said—Maximilian will tear the earth apart for

her—and he wondered how long Maximilian would stay north of the FarReach Mountains once

BroadWing had reported back to him.

Zeboath was now looking at Ishbel with a degree of softness Axis found a little

surprising. “If I had lost such a wife,” Zeboath said, “I”d go mad trying to discover her again.”