“I will only do what was asked of me,” Isfrael said quietly, and Axis winced. “To help build and to offer Banes to maintain the ward. Nothing else.”
“You know how we,” Axis indicated the Circle of Star Gods, “and the Enchanters rely on the Star Dance for our power. If the Demons get so close as to be able to bulge through the Star Gate, then they will likely cut us off from our source of power completely! We need the power of the trees here then!”
“No,” Isfrael said, and folded his arms across his bare chest.
“You offer as much help as the Avar did during the majority of my campaign against Gorgrael,” Axis snarled, unable to stop himself.
“And it was my mother who died for you, and the Song of the Trees that splintered apart Gorgrael’s army for you.”
“Then help us now, damn you!”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Oh!” Axis turned aside, furious. Damn the Avar for turning against him yet again!
“If I and most of the Banes were to be killed here trying to maintain the ward against an invasion of the Demons – as I believe we would be – then the forests would be left vulnerable. Axis, my first loyalty and responsibility is always to the forests, whatever else slithers and creeps across the plains.”
“Stop this,” Adamon interrupted quietly. “Let us build the ward. Who stays to protect it, or reinforce it, can be decided later. For now, please, let us build the ward before it is too late.”
They worked through the night, exhausting themselves in the process. From the forests, Minstrelsea and the Avarinheim, and from the Earth Tree which guarded the forests, Isfrael and the Banes called forth the power of the Mother, of the soil and of the seasons. It swept down over the land, majestic music, as powerful as a sea-maelstrom and twice as terrifying, and it was gathered up by the Enchanters who encircled the Barrows and funnelled down the stairwell to the Star Gate chamber itself. There, Isfrael, powerful beyond belief, and aided by Shra and the other Banes present, caught the music and fashioned it into a translucent dome of jade-green, its diameter a perfect fit for the low circular wall about the Star Gate, and then he manipulated it so that it hung over the Star Gate itself, its edges resting on the wall. The translucent dome picked up the sound of the Star Dance that still -only just – filtered through the Star Gate, magnifying it, then spinning it about the chamber to be caught by the Star Gods and the Enchanters. From the music of the Star Dance they fashioned a dome similar to Isfrael’s, except it was of a lovely silvery sheen, and this they placed over the jade dome. The two domes fitted perfectly, jade and silver swimming together in rivers of power, humming with life and intent.
It was all they could do.
“Will it work?” whispered Azhure.
Axis, exhausted, slid his arm about her.
“It will have to,” he said. “Or else all is lost.”
The Demons stood on the balcony of their many-pillared chamber and they looked into the sky. Above them the once-blue firmament had transformed into swirling streams of jade and silver.
“A ward!” cried Sheol, and clapped her hands.
“How pretty,” said Raspu with a sneer.
“And how very, very useless,” murmured Mot. “How utterly, indescribably useless.”
And then they all burst into shrieks of merriment that echoed about their chamber, and then about the orchard, and then speared into the sky to fret against the enchantments warding the Star Gate.
Lead’s Loyalties Divided E verything will be for the best, Leagh,” Zared said, his hand cupping her chin gently. “Believe rthat.”
Her eyes slipped away to watch the preparations in the central courtyard. Men scrambled, horses fidgeted, weapons gleamed. The scraping of metal against metal, and steel against cobble, irritated her beyond measure.
“I do hope so,” she said quietly.
“If I leave you in charge of-Carlon, Leagh, will you be true?”
Her eyes returned to his face. True to whom? “I will do what I think best,” she said. “I am your husband.”
And you almost murdered my brother. “I know that. I know where my duty lies.”
“You took vows to be true to your husband.”
“I know that!” But what if I now regret those vows, Zared?
What should he do? Zared thought. He could leave Herme or Theod in Carlon, for control of the city needed one of the highest-ranking nobles, but he could ill afford to leave either of them behind. But could he trust Leagh?
He remembered how she’d defended him to Axis, and he quieted his thoughts.
He leaned forward and kissed her briefly. “Keep well, Leagh.” Keep true.
“And you, husband.”
He mounted, then glanced at her once more before turning his horse’s head for the gate. “Herme! Pass the word! We move out!”
Fourteen thousand men took over two hours to move through the cheering, crowded streets of Carlon and then swing north for the ford above Grail Lake. Leagh spent most of that time atop the battlements, thinking.
Whom did she owe her loyalty to? Askam and Caelum, or her husband and the ecstatic crowds in the streets? Who was right, and who not? Was Caelum wrong for not listening to the needs of the people? Was Zared right in seizing and then destroying Kastaleon? Crippling her brother but not telling her?
The units moved northwards along the shore of Grail Lake in a sinuous column. The sunlight glinted off metal and silken banners. Leagh knew Zared rode at the forefront, although they were so far away now she could not see him.
An army of Achar rode again. A King of Achar rode at their head.
And she, the Queen, was left behind to rule in the absence of her lord. Strange that she did not feel very much like a Queen.
What should she do?
The easiest thing would be to just stay here and oversee the daily bureaucratic decisions of the major city of the realm. Smile at the mayor. Hold out her hand for the occasional ambassador to kiss. Listen with sympathy to the petitions of street urchins and aggrieved housewives.
But that would be too easy.
Leagh felt the heavy load of responsibility and guilt on her shoulders. How many nights now had she lain by Zared’s side, listening to him gently breathe in sleep, wondering if she committed treason against Caelum by doing so? Did she betray Caelum by giving herself so willingly night after night to Zared, or would she betray her husband if she turned him a cold back? Ah! Why was love never easy?
She owed Zared responsibility and loyalty, but she also owed her brother and their overlord, Caelum. How many times had she sat at her father’s knee and listened to his tales of the dreadful struggle Axis had to unite Tencendor and defeat Gorgrael? If she stood back quiescent, watching while Zared single-handedly destroyed that unity, would she then bear as much guilt as he?
What came first, the wishes of one race among many, or the integrity of a nation?
Leagh could not bear the thought that Caelum no doubt found her as guilty as Zared, yet neither could she bear to think that Caelum and Askam’s force might well decimate Zared’s. She did not want to wear the weeds of widowhood yet.
Leagh lifted her hands and wound her hair into a heavy rope over her shoulder. Her fingers twisted until her hair was tangled and knotted. She did not notice. Her eyes were still fast on the now-distant army riding north.
What would happen when -if- they met the army of Norsmen? Would Zared die? If he succeeded, would Caelum set the Strike Force to his destruction? And if Zared then succeeded again, would Tencendor be torn apart in a bloody civil war of retribution, Icarü against Acharite? Age-old hatred nurturing new-found malice?
Leagh’s fingers stilled, and her eyes filled with tears. Whatever decision she made, whatever she decided to do, she would commit treason against either husband and people or brother and overlord.
She lay in bed awake, unmoving, until late into the night. The palace lay still and quiet. Everyone was abed, fast asleep after the excitement of the day. She rolled her head to one side, looking at the empty pillow beside hers, pristine and lonely in the moonlight. Where was Zared now? Where Caelum?
“Ah!” she exclaimed softly, and sat up. She paused in the moonlight, then got out of bed, grabbing a robe to wrap about herself. She missed Zared. She wished he was here.
Leagh walked into their robing room, rummaging about in closets and drawers until she found what she needed. Breeches, small enough to fit her form. A simple worsted shirt and jacket; leftovers from a time when she’d once ridden to the hawks in the plains above Carlon. Belial had liked to do that, and she’d not gone a-hawking since he’d died. After the jacket a cap, under which she twisted her hair, and then some sturdy boots.