And the rest of the east? There were the populous plains of Skarabost and Arcness. But populated with Acharites – and how many of them might elect to slip past Caelum and run helter-skelter for their shiny new King?
That left the Avar and the Icarü.
Caelum’s boot heel caught in a small hole and he cursed as he tripped and almost fell. Had it come back to this? Avar and Icarü against the Acharites? It was the Wars of the Axe all over again, save for the name.
And all due to the damned ambition of Zared. Axis should have done more to ensure that line stayed dead and buried than just declare the throne destroyed. Rivkah should never have been allowed to bear that child. Never.
Caelum shivered. In the time it’d take him to raise a force capable of striking back, Zared would have consolidated his own position. Ample time for him to raise more mischief to tear the realm apart.
He quickened his stride. In a few weeks he would meet what forces Marrat could muster, as well as Yllgaine’s horsemen, in the northern plains of Arcness. Between then and now he had to raise what he could from the Icarü and, possibly, the Avar. Although what his strange half-brother would give him was debatable.
Askam stood waiting for Caelum just beyond the camp’s perimeter. He had gained strength over the past weeks, although his face was still unnaturally thin and prematurely lined. Askam had not found pain the best of companions. His jacket sleeve flapped uselessly in the wind; Askam refused to pin it out of the way, saying that he did not want to hide Zared’s cruelty from the world. Of all the major players, Askam had lost the most from this sudden descent into hostility. Virtually the entire West had abandoned him for Zared.
Along with his sister.
“When do we move out?” he asked.
“Are you rested enough?”
“Dammit, I am not an invalid! When?”
Caelum let his eyes drift over the mountains to the south-east. The Minaret Peaks.
“In the morning,” he said. “At dawn. You and I to the Minaret Peaks. Dare Wing will meet us at FreeFall’s court. Unit commander Froisson will lead the rest of the force into the Rhaetian hills to await our return in their shelter.”
“The Icarü will assist us,” Askam said, his voice cracking.
Caelum looked at him. “I surely hope so.”
“FreeFall is family. He must help you!”
Zared is family, too, yet see what he does, Caelum thought. But he smiled and clapped Askam on his right shoulder and led him back to their tent.
The Minaret Peaks had once been known as the Bracken Ranges, but that was before Faraday had planted out the Minstrelsea forest that crowded their slopes, and before the Icarü Enchanters had recovered the ancient cities that had lain buried under enchantments during their thousand-year exile. Now the ranges that ran from eastern Rhaetia to the Widowmaker Sea were crowded with minarets and spires that rose from the magical forest of Minstrelsea. It was a beautiful and mysterious region of Tencendor, and Caelum regretted that war had brought him here for the first time in almost fifteen years.
He should have left Sigholt more, he realised as he and Askam cantered their horses towards the first of the trees. He should have showed himself more to the peoples he led.
No wonder the greater number of humans now flocked to a man they could – at the very least – put a face to.
The paths of the forest were cool and calming, and Caelum ordered they rein their horses back to a walk.
“Why?” Askam demanded. “We have no time to saunter along these paths, StarSon. We are on a mission of war, not a picnic.”
“Nevertheless,” Caelum said, “Minstrelsea does not like horsemen rushing about her paths. Do you not hear how she sings? Can you not feel her beauty?”
Caelum’s Enchanter powers opened him to the more magical of Minstrelsea’s songs, but he knew that ordinary mortals could well sense – if not completely hear – the music that floated about the trees. He let it relax him, let it comfort him.
His eyes drifted to the strange creatures that cavorted in the shadowy spaces and light-dappled glades. Diamond-eyed dragons crawled along branches and luminescent badgers snuffled beneath bushes. And others, yet stranger.
Askam pulled his horse back with bad grace. Stars! But it would take them six weeks at this pace!
But he had underestimated the magic of Minstrelsea. It was not yet gone noon when he noticed an Icarü birdman standing in the centre of the path before them.
“StarFever HighCrest,” Caelum said, pulling up his horse as he recognised FreeFall’s Master Secretary of the Palace. “I greet you well.”
StarFever bowed low. Every last speck of him, whether feather or robe, was a saffron orange. “And I you, StarSon. The Talon received word two days ago of your visit, and he and his wife have been eager to meet with you.”
Caelum tried to ignore Askam’s obvious impatience at StarFever’s long-winded speech; StarFever had gained his position for his skill at protocol, not his reticence.
“It has been too long since I last visited the Spires, StarFever.”
“Then let me lead the way, StarSon,” and StarFever turned and strutted in stately fashion down the forest path.
Caelum cautioned Askam into patience with a sharp glance, and they pushed their horses after the Master Secretary.
StarFever led them deeper and deeper into the forest. After some time Caelum noted that while trees still soared to each side of the path, shapes also humped just under the moss-covered soil, too regular to be natural. A few more minutes down the path low structures began to snake their way through the trees, and then resolve themselves into walls that soared towards the sky.
“Gods!” Askam breathed, his impatience forgotten as he realised that massive buildings filled the spaces between the trees – yet harmonised so completely with the forest that they added to the impression of space and light between the trees. Their walls were of pastel-coloured stone, sometimes shading towards pink, sometimes towards mauve, sometimes towards gold, and they curved and fell and soared into arches and cloisters and columns and spires.
“The minarets reach at least three hundred paces into the sky,” Caelum said in a low voice to Askam as StarFever led them off the path towards a wide archway. “And tunnels and chambers are carved deep into the mountains themselves. The Minaret Peaks are honeycombed into Icarü wonders. Have you never been here?”
Askam shook his head, dismounted where StarFever indicated and handed the reins to a man of solid build and dark eyes and skin. An Avar. The people of the forest. Caelum noticed Askam watching the Avar man, and wondered if this was also the first time he’d seen one of the forest people. The Avar rarely ventured out of their forest homes, whether the Minstrelsea or the Avarinheim, and many Acharites were initially wary of their formidable build and fierce expressions. But the Avar lived peaceful lives, deeply attuned to the cycles of the seasons and the needs of the earth.
StarFever bowed to the Avar man. “I thank you and yours for your help, Heddle. Will you keep the horses well until StarSon and his companion return?”
Heddle nodded, his eyes skipping over Askam to rest on Caelum. He inclined his head, but he did not bow. “You are welcome among the trees, StarSon.”
Caelum thanked him, then he and Askam followed StarFever into the world of the Spires.
This was truly an Icarü wonderland. The walls of the wide and high passageways glowed with a soft radiance that owed more to magic than any lamp. Above their heads flew jewel-bright Icarü, and through the doors and archways they passed could be glimpsed chambers and spaces that led even deeper into the mountain. Soft murmurs of voices and music drifted through the air.
Why did I leave it so long before coming back? Caelum wondered again, and before he could answer his own rhetorical question, StarFever had led them into an enormous chamber underneath one of the spires, and FreeFall was hurrying to greet them.
FreeFall hugged Caelum, then turned to Askam.
“By the Stars, Askam!” he said, shocked. “What has happened to you?”
“He lost his arm in the explosion that destroyed Kastaleon,” Caelum put in before Askam could respond.
FreeFall swung his violet gaze back to Caelum. “Not only Askam’s arm, but over four thousand lives were lost, I believe.”
Caelum nodded soberly. “Whatever Zared packed into the cellars of that castle was murderously spiteful.”
FreeFall sighed, and beckoned Askam and Caelum over to a round table situated directly under the spire. Caelum glanced upwards as they approached. Smooth walls adorned with gold and silver swirls fled upwards towards a speck of blue sky at the apex of the spire. Even Caelum, with his Enchanter heritage and Icarü blood, felt a moment of dizziness.