This would be their last night in the boat. Tomorrow they should reach that part of the Lhyl where they would abandon the water for the long trek eastward toward the coast and, hopefully, a waiting vessel to take them back north to Elcho Falling.
Maximilian lay, staring at the stars. He’d had the dream again, drawn into the Otherworld by someone’s desperate need to speak to him.
Yet still he did not know who, or, more worryingly, what was so important that Maximilian was being drawn into the Otherworld to discover it.
He was wide awake now, with no hope of slipping back into sleep for the remainder of the night. Maximilian drew in a small sigh, letting it out silently, not wanting to alert Avaldamon to his wakefulness, then closed his eyes, and travelled the eighty-six steps to the door of the Twisted Tower.
Perhaps Josia might have some clue.
“It has been a long time, Maxel,” Josia said as Maximilian opened the door and entered the tower. “I had thought you to have forgotten me.”
Maximilian tipped his head in apology. “I am sorry, Josia. To be honest, I have been enjoying the first relaxing period of time since . . . gods alone know when. Just drifting northward in our small riverboat, with nothing to occupy me save drawing Ishbel close at night and watching the countryside drift past during the daylight hours, has been refreshing. What news from Axis and all at Elcho Falling?” “Ah, well, Axis has left Elcho Falling. He —”
“What?”
“You should have come sooner, Maxel. Yes, Axis and Inardle have left Elcho Falling on some foolhardy mission to save Isaiah from the Skraeling advance. I do not know the full details.” Josia turned about, fiddling with an item on one of the crowded tables. “Georgdi is left in charge of Elcho Falling. I do not like him as well as Axis.”
Maximilian chewed his lip, wishing desperately that Axis had not left Elcho Falling. Georgdi was a good man, but . . . “Any other news?”
Josia turned back to face him. “The Lealfast Nation have arrived at Elcho Falling, and have taken up their residence in Armat’s old camp. Kezial and some sixty thousand men have now allied with Eleanon, who leads the Lealfast. Elcho Falling lies under tight siege.”
So much for his unworried days, Maximilian thought. He’d spend the rest of the time before he reached Elcho Falling in a state of sick anxiety.
“Any news of Ravenna?” he asked, and Josia shook his head.
“I have not noticed her,” he said.
Maximilian sighed. “Well, that at least is some good news.”
“What brings you here now, Maxel?”
Maximilian perched on the end of one of the tables. “I have been having dreams.”
“Dreams?”
Maximilian told Josia about his dreams of the Otherworld, of his sense that someone wanted to meet with him quite desperately. “Avaldamon says it must be important, that someone needs to tell me something, warn me of something, very badly.”
“Ah,” Josia waved a hand dismissively. “It is likely little more than a remnant of the time you spent dead, Maxel. How many hours was that? Two? Three? You hovered at the very border of the Otherworld until Ishbel pulled you back. I think the dreams are little more than that. Just a shadow of the time you began the journey.”
“You think? If so that would be a relief.”
“Maxel, I am glad that you found the time to visit with me tonight. I need to see both you and Ishbel urgently.”
“Why?”
“You are about to set off on your journey eastward?”
Maximilian nodded.
“Then you will come across Hairekeep.”
“Yes,” Maximilian said. “The fort sits just beneath the southern approaches to the Salamaan Pass. We’ll pass by it on our way to the ports of the eastern coast of Isembaard.”
“Hairekeep is stuffed full of Isembaardians, Maxel. You and Ishbel can rescue them. It will be something you can do for this land. I have been watching the fort from the window atop this tower. I can see it, and I think I know how you can free those trapped inside.”
Maximilian nodded. “Does Ishbel need to be involved? I feared for her so much in DarkGlass Mountain.”
“This task will need both you and Ishbel. Both of you to unwind the One’s power and release the tortured souls from their imprisonment. Bring Ishbel back with you the next time you visit and make it soon. I will explain more then.”
“And the One? Avaldamon postulates, and Ishbel and I are inclined to believe him, that the One was not destroyed during the obliteration of DarkGlass Mountain, but escaped elsewhere. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”
“I agree, Maxel. The One is too powerful to have been killed by Ishbel. But as to the where . . . I have no idea. I am sorry.”
Chapter 17
The Outlands
Axis had been riding for six days and thought he must be close to Isaiah. He’d angled inland as Inardle had told him, riding as hard as he could, using every minute of light available in the lengthening days to push forward.
He had not seen Inardle since that night she’d told him of Bingaleal’s death. He did not care. Axis was utterly done with her. He hoped she drifted off somewhere and he would not have to think about her again.
He had not seen Inardle and was happy for that, but Axis was growing weary of the lonely ride. He’d always had a companion — someone . . . Belial, Azhure, any number of Axe Wielders, other companions, Star Gods, more recently Insharah or Georgdi.
Now there was no one save himself, and Axis did not always find too much of his own company a good thing.
He was truly looking forward to meeting with Isaiah again.
It was well after noon and Axis was hoping that soon he’d see a smudge on the horizon that would tell him a large army was moving ahead. If luck was with him, if he saw that smudge, then maybe he’d be sitting with Isaiah about a campfire tonight.
Axis’ heart lifted at the thought.
He pushed his horse a little harder, his eyes scanning the horizon as carefully as he could. His Icarii blood gave him excellent vision, far better than any pure human, but even so .
Damn Inardle for not being here and sharing with him her elevated view.
Axis glanced upward, vaguely hoping that she might materialise above him and tell him that Isaiah was, indeed, only just over the horizon.
But there were only a few scattered birds, high in the sky. No Lealfast to be seen.
Of course, Inardle could be invisible and just above him anyway.
“Inardle?” Axis called.
There was nothing but the gentle breeze and the sound of the horse’s hooves.
Axis silently cursed her. Inardle was likely hovering directly overhead, knowing precisely where Isaiah was, but refusing to communicate with him out of spite because he had not shared her tears at Bingaleal’s death.
Axis rode for a few more minutes. Now he was beginning to obsess about Inardle’s lack of response and the fact she likely knew just how much further he had to ride.
Curse her!
For perhaps the first time in his life Axis began to wish he had not refused StarDrifter’s offer to coax out his wing buds. It was all very well to refuse when you thought you would always have winged companions who would be true to you and who would always provide you with as much information as they knew, but when you had to depend on someone like Inardle .
Winged companions who were always true, and who always provided information . . .
Axis suddenly smiled, looking up into the sky again.
There! An eagle, soaring high above him.
When Axis had been the StarMan of Tencendor, he’d had a venerable eagle often serve as his eyes in the sky. Would this one be as amenable?
My friend eagle? Axis used his power to call out to it, even though he knew such use of the Star Dance would light him up like a candle in a dark cave for any Lealfast about. My friend eagle?
The bird said nothing, but it tipped it wings and spiralled down closer to Axis.
My friend eagle, I crave your aid.
You are the StarMan. I know you.
I am indeed, but how can you possibly know me?
My venerable father’s aunt had a mate who came from Tencendor. That eagle knew of you and spread word among the eagles of this land of your name and accomplishments.
Then I thank him. Friend eagle, I have need to see through your eyes. May I do so?
It is of no matter or risk to me. You may do so.
The next moment Axis found himself looking, not at the rolling plains before him, but at the world from several hundred paces in the air.