Battleaxe (51 page)

B
eyond the bronze doorway the group found themselves in a massive circular well with a beautiful patterned translucent pink marble staircase winding around the wall of the well to depths unseen; a waist-high railing guarded against any unwary step. Azhure paused to gaze about her as StarDrifter led GoldFeather down the first of the steps—the craftsmanship of the well was extraordinary. StarDrifter saw her staring at the wall carvings. “Come Azhure. We have a long way to go.”

Slowly they descended, the members of the Wing assisting Azhure and Raum with the injured. But the stairs were wide, the gradient gentle and the footing firm so that even the more severely injured among the Icarii could negotiate the steps relatively easily. After an hour or so StarDrifter started to talk softly, his words carrying easily to those who brought up the rear, sharing what he had been told of the Charonites.

“The Charonites and the Icarii are a related people, both born of the Enchantress.”

“The Enchantress?” Azhure asked.

“The original Enchanter, Azhure, who discovered the power of the Star Dance,” said StarDrifter. “Charonites and Icarii revere her as the founder of their races. As others should.”

What did that cryptic remark mean? Azhure thought, but she bit down her question. She would ask GoldFeather later.

“The Charonites were always a reclusive people,” StarDrifter continued, “inward rather than outward looking. Preferring the depths rather than the heights. Casting their eyes downward rather than upward. They claimed they gave up their wings because they no longer craved the feel of the thermals beneath them.” StarDrifter paused, unable to believe that any would want to give up the thrill of the soar. “I know that some say the Icarii are too mystical, and a little arrogant.” He looked quickly at GoldFeather, and although she kept her face impassive her eyes twinkled, “but we are nothing compared to the Charonites. Well over thirteen thousand years ago they descended to the depths, saying they preferred to explore the inner space rather than the outer, and over the millennia they explored and settled the waterways of the UnderWorld. It is said that the waterways not only stretch beneath all of what Tencendor used to cover but under the oceans as well.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the waterways touch other worlds as well.”

For some time there was silence as everyone pondered the Charonites and their waterways, wondering about the secrets the Charonites must know.

“Few know of the existence of these people,” StarDrifter continued eventually. “Gorgrael himself may not know of them.” He paused again, thinking deeply. “Legend tells us that in the centre of this UnderWorld is a cavern with a crystal roof over a mirrored lake, the source for the magical lakes of Tencendor. From this lake radiate the waterways of the UnderWorld upon which the Charonites ply their ferries, seeking the answers to mysteries. I am hoping that there will be a waterway that stretches from here to the roots of Talon Spike, and I am hoping that the Charonites will agree to ferry us there, although what price they might ask in payment I don’t know.”

“Price?” PreenDeep, one of the injured Icarii, asked.

“It is said that the Charonites always demand payment, but that could simply be because Icarii speak of them with no small disdain for choosing the UnderWorld rather than the limitless freedoms of the skies.”

For a long time after that there was no sound but for the soft shuffle of boots down the pink stairs. Eventually StarDrifter, glancing behind him, called a quick rest. As they settled down, SpikeFeather leaned forward. This talk of their lost cousins fascinated him.

“Why have the races lost contact, StarDrifter? I would have thought that each had many things they could teach the other. And besides, as you said, we are related.”

“There was some coolness,” said StarDrifter reluctantly.

“Coolness?”

StarDrifter wished SpikeFeather had never asked this question, but now all the Icarii looked at him curiously, and if he refused to answer then the question would simply fester in their minds.

“The Charonites claimed that one of our Enchanter-Talons treated them cruelly.”

“Which one?” SpikeFeather asked innocently, and StarDrifter mentally cursed him.

“The ninth,” he said shortly and stared at SpikeFeather with cold eyes.

Azhure, who had been rebandaging one of the Icarii warriors’ wounds, looked up at the sudden silence. Every one of the Icarii sat stiffly, their faces frozen. What had happened? Even GoldFeather’s eyes were cast down.

“Oh,” SpikeFeather said, then stood up. “Have we rested enough?”

They climbed down in silence now, StarDrifter refusing to say any more about the Charonites. As they trod lower and lower a soft wind blew in their faces, and Azhure paused to lean over the balustrade to peer into the depths of the well. Warm wind rushed upwards, tugging at the pins holding her hair in place.

“StarDrifter!” she cried in amazement, delighting in the feel of the warm air upon her face. “What is that?”

“That is the breath of the world, Azhure. Every second day the world inhales, every other day it exhales. Today, apparently, it exhales.” A pity he thought, a tail wind would have been nice. “All of
these wells—there are many of them about the land that was Tencendor—are breathing vents for the world. I do not know if the Charonites built them, or merely built these staircases into fissures that already existed.”

Soon everyone could feel the warm wind. It had a wonderful fragrance, like warm spices freshly picked and left to dry in the sun, and it grew stronger as they neared the foot of the stairs.

“How far have we come?” GoldFeather asked as they finally stepped out onto a flat grey stone floor.

“Who knows? But we have reached one of the outer waterways.”

Azhure looked about her. They were in a wide cavern, walled and domed in smooth stone as grey as the floor. She heard the gurgle of water and walked some few paces towards the centre of the cavern. “Ah!” she breathed in wonder. A river flowed gently through a wide channel, entering the cavern through an arch on one side, and exiting through another arch on the far side. It was perhaps ten paces wide, and the edges were marked with translucent white stone so that visitors should not step unwarily into the water.

The water glowed a deep emerald in colour, and in its depths Azhure could see bright sparkles she was unable to define. She peered more closely, trying to work out what they were, before feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder. StarDrifter had stepped up to stand close to her, his eyes fixed on the water, his own expression one of awe. “The Charonites have not left the Stars behind them, after all,” he said softly. “Look, they glow in the depths of the water.”

StarDrifter was right. Stars glowed deep within the emerald water and impulsively she reached down to the water.

“No!” StarDrifter caught her hand in his own. “Do not touch the water. I do not know what it will do to you.”

“And now?” SpikeFeather asked quietly as he joined them. “Now what?”

“Why, we summon the Ferryman, SpikeFeather!” StarDrifter pointed to one side. A large golden bell hung at shoulder height from a golden tripod. StarDrifter walked over, hesitated a moment, then struck it with his fingertips.

A clear chime rang out, once, twice and then a third time. Then the bell fell silent.

“And now we wait for the Ferryman to arrive,” StarDrifter said to the others.

As they waited, most succumbed to weariness and sat on the floor, some of the injured stretched out asleep. Azhure and Raum did what they could for them, then Raum forced a nervously excited StarDrifter to sit down while he and Azhure tended his wounds. Raum and Azhure carefully cleaned his lacerations with some water they had carried down with them, wiped the clean wounds with an astringent lotion that even made StarDrifter forget who he was and what he waited for, restitched two of the wounds that needed it, making the Enchanter curse, and finally dusted all of StarDrifter’s injuries with the herbs and healing powders Barsarbe had given Azhure.

“There,” Azhure smiled at StarDrifter’s wan face. “Presentable.”

“Thank you very much,” StarDrifter managed to say, the sting of the restitching and the astringent fading.

“StarDrifter!” SpikeFeather’s tense voice called. “Something comes!”

Raum helped StarDrifter to his feet and they moved to the water’s edge. Deep inside one of the tunnels carrying the waterway into the cavern they could see a light bobbing.

“The Ferryman,” StarDrifter whispered. “Finally, after thousands of years, we are to meet our lost brethren again.”

Azhure felt a little apprehensive, and as she gazed at StarDrifter’s exhilarated face she hoped the Charonites would feel as excited about the reunion as the Icarii Enchanter obviously did. She looked back to the tunnel entrance.

A large flat-bottomed boat slowly emerged into the cavern, approaching the huddled group without any obvious means of propulsion, a deeply hooded figure seated at the stern with his hands folded in his lap. As the boat reached them it stopped.

“Who summons the Ferryman?” a gruff voice asked from beneath the hood of the ruby-red cloak. “Who rings the bell?”

StarDrifter stepped forward and bowed to the figure, trying unsuccessfully to see beneath the hood as he did so. “I, StarDrifter SunSoar, Icarii Enchanter, summon you, Ferryman. May the Sentinels one day return safe to their home.”

The figure sat totally unmoved by the Enchanter’s words. StarDrifter grew uneasy as the Charonite remained silent. He fought to keep from fidgeting, and instead stood tall, his spread wings drooping to the floor behind him in the traditional Icarii gesture of goodwill. Perhaps the Charonites had forgotten such polite gestures, StarDrifter mused, wondering if he should say anything more.

Finally the Ferryman spoke. “The Sentinels have forsaken their home forever, Enchanter. Have you not understood the Prophecy?”

By the Stars! StarDrifter thought bleakly, I was simply trying to be polite! “The Sentinels walk abroad now that the Prophecy has awoken,” he said, wondering if the Charonites yet knew that the Prophecy itself walked. “Who knows how the Prophecy will turn. Perhaps the Sentinels will return to their home, in one form or another.”

“You have a smooth tongue, Enchanter. Perhaps too smooth if it got you Gorgrael.”

StarDrifter’s face hardened. The Charonites knew too much. “Then you also know what else it got me.”

The Ferryman stood up, slowly unfolding what turned out to be an extremely tall frame, and bowed to GoldFeather as she stood slightly behind StarDrifter. “Greetings, Rivkah. I hope the Enchanter’s arrogance will have been tempered by your humanity in your son.”

GoldFeather smiled and inclined her head. “Greetings, Ferryman. I am ashamed that until this day I did not know what mysteries lay beneath my feet. I will strive to learn more so that my ignorance may not embarrass me again.”

The Ferryman was pleased by her smile and her gracefulness. The Charonites had always been niggled by Icarii arrogance. He lifted pale age-spotted hands and drew the material of the cloak back from his head and down over his shoulders. The Ferryman’s bald skull and
cadaverous face bespoke great age, yet the resemblance to the Icarii shone through in the tilt of the eyes, the high cheekbones and the narrow nose. His eyes, however, belied his otherwise ancient appearance. They shone as lustrous and bright as those of a child, innocuous pools of violet in his desiccated face.

“You speak well, Rivkah,” the Ferryman said, “for a member of those people who have forgotten the joy of the mysteries.” Then, surprising all who watched, he turned and bowed deeply to Azhure, his hands covering his heart. “You are welcomed, Sacred Daughter and Mother of Nations,” he said in tones of deep reverence. “Find peace.” For long moments he stayed bowed in obeisance to Azhure. StarDrifter turned and gazed at her in amazement.

Startled, Azhure stared at the Ferryman. She recovered quickly however, noting how the Ferryman had responded to GoldFeather’s gracious words. “I stand with Rivkah in shame that I have not previously recognised your mysteries,” she said with a dignity her companions had not seen in her before. “Find peace, Ferryman.” Sacred Daughter? Mother of Nations? she thought. What did he mean?

I speak of a time both before and beyond the Prophecy,
the Ferryman’s voice whispered in her mind as he raised himself from his bow, and Azhure only just managed to stop herself from rocking on her feet with surprise.

The Ferryman turned to StarDrifter. “Because of these two women who accompany you,” he said softly, “the Ferryman asks no price. Where do you wish to go?”

“Talon Spike,” said StarDrifter and then couldn’t resist asking, “what is your usual price?”

The Ferryman stood back and gestured for GoldFeather and Azhure to step into the boat first. His eyes flickered to StarDrifter. “The normal price is a life, Enchanter. The greatest mystery of all.” He paused and a merciless smile lit his face. “Who would you have picked to pay it?”

StarDrifter’s face paled. Who
would
he have picked?

They loaded quickly, the flat-bottomed boat easily holding them all in comfort. They sank down on thin cushions, the Ferryman seating GoldFeather and Azhure on either side of him in the stern of the boat. Neither woman could see any means of steering or propulsion, but as the Ferryman folded his hands serenely in his lap, the hood remaining draped over his shoulders, the boat moved smoothly forward.

For a long time there was silence. The Ferryman’s words regarding the price of passage had shocked them all, as did his obvious reverence for the two women, especially Azhure. Icarii pride was pricked. With them travelled one of their greatest Enchanters, someone towards whom the Ferryman should have been more respectful, and yet he seemed to prefer the two Groundwalker women. SpikeFeather’s curiosity about Azhure increased.

They travelled through tunnels whose roofs only cleared the Ferryman’s head by a handspan. Both walls and roofs were of the pale stone lining the walls of the wells, and light was given off by the emerald glow of the water. After a while Azhure shifted a little in her seat and said quietly, “May I speak with you, Ferryman?”