StarMan (44 page)

There was nothing save the lure of the Star Dance.

Back! Back! Come Back!

WolfStar resisted. The Star Dance no longer held the same beauty or lure for him. He looked past it, leaning closer, closer, closer...

"Nothing!" he breathed in relief as he finally stepped back. "There is nothing!"

Azhure shrugged off her linen shift and slipped into the suit Xanon had laid out for her. She stood a long time before the mirror, her eyes solemn, her hands gently stroking the material as it clung to her body.

There could be no name for this material - none like it had ever existed. It glowed raven-blue in the lamplight, as deep a blue as could be without verging into black. Azhure moved slightly, held her breath in wonder, then moved again. Every time she shifted position, even breathed, dark shadows chased each other across the material, now on the curve of her shoulder, now at the swell of her breast, now in the hollow of her back, now sliding down her legs. Dark shapes - representations of the shadow of the moon as it waxed and waned - slid over her body as the shadow of the ever-changing moon slid over the earth.

"Magic," she whispered, pirouetting before her reflection. "I am magic."

And then the tug of the waves caught at her, and her eyes, sliding to the window, darkened.

In the heart of the Temple, StarDrifter opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with Narcis, the God of the Sun. He floated only a pace away from StarDrifter, and when the god extended his hand, so too did StarDrifter, and their fingers touched in the very centre of the beacon.

You have done well, StarDrifter, and I thank you.

"Narcis?" StarDrifter whispered.

The circles burn in an arc around Tencendor, StarDrifter, and the Destroyer's grip loosens.

StarDrifter's fingertips burned where they touched the god's, but the sensation was not unpleasant.

/
have been resurrected and I will float over the world tomorrow, StarDrifter.

"I have done my best." And my best has oftentimes been inadequate, the Enchanter thought, but it has been all I have had to offer.

Your best has been more than we could have asked. For the circles of fire, for the Temple, for your fatherhood of Axis and

for your care of and love for Azhure, I...we...thank you, StarDrifter.

For some time they hovered, arms extended, fingertips touching, eyes locked, bodies floating gently among the stars.

Your life will be blessed, StarDrifter.

And with that he was gone, and StarDrifter was left alone among the stars.

The rites were complete and the Avar and those Icarii massed in the Earth Tree Grove relaxed. All the Enchanters present, and some of the Banes, could feel the success of the rites at the Temple of the Stars, and now most drifted away into the tree line.

RavenCrest SunSoar, Talon of the Icarii, bowed reverentially towards the Earth Tree, then stepped away from the circle of stone, its flames now flickering and dying.

A scout stepped out of the tree line and RavenCrest stopped in his tracks. The birdman's face was lined and exhausted, his wings drooping, his eyes strained yet brilliant with purpos'e.

"Talon!" The scout saluted smartly, although RavenCrest could see he was ready to drop.

"Yes? What is it?" RavenCrest had learned to dread the arrival of exhausted farflight scouts.

"Talon, I bring a message from the Enchantress."

"Yes?"

"Talon, the Enchantress sends urgent word from Temple Mount. She says it is imperative that you evacuate Talon Spike. Those who can't fly south must
not
go via the icy paths by the Nordra. She says, They will have to go down to the waterways and beg, bribe or coerce the Ferryman to take them south.'

"

"What?Has she gone mad? Evacuate Talon Spike? Who is
she
to give me these orders?"

"Talon, the Enchantress was desperate that this message reach you. She fears a strike by Gorgrael."

"Bah! Gorgrael has his Skraeling host many leagues to the west. He would not -"

"Talon!" The farflight scout's tone was now urgent. "She fears Gryphon. Thousands upon thousands of them. I hear tell they have devastated the StarMan's force to the west. The Strike Force most of all," he finished quietly. "Listen."

RavenCrest paled as he listened.

Boots and gloves of matching material waited on the bed and Azhure slipped them on. She could feel the wind calling her name as it whispered beyond the mist, and she could feel the tug of the tides as they lapped the continent of Tencendor, but she swallowed her impatience to be gone . . .

Axis'.

... for goodbyes needed to be said. She strode towards the door to the central chamber, seizing the Wolven and swinging the quiver of blue-fletched arrows over her shoulder as she went.

She took no cloak, for she would not need it.

And she left her hair free, for she would not need to bind it again.

As she strode, silent shapes rose from behind chairs and by walls and before the fireplace and clung to her heels.

It was time to run. To hunt.

She passed through the central chamber and entered the room where the children slept. Imibe lay asleep, the twins in cribs beside her bed. Azhure ignored them, walking directly to Caelum's cot. He was awake, as she felt sure he would be.

Caelum. Do you know what night this is?

It is Yuletide. The night I was born.

Azhure smiled and gently stroked his face, wishing she could take him with her. Do
you remember
that night, Caelum?

He hesitated.
Yes...yes, I do. I caused you great pain.

No. You caused and cause me great joy, my son.She paused.
I must go, Caelum.

/
know it. Will you bring Papa home? If I can.

Caelum noticed her hesitancy.
Come home, Mama.
Azhure's eyes filled with tears. As
soon as I can,
Caelum. As soon as I can.

Then she bent and kissed him and was gone.

Rivkah awoke suddenly, knowing someone was in the room. She stiffened, expecting assassins.

"You remember your early years at Carlon's court too well, Rivkah."

Rivkah relaxed in relief. "Azhure?" She strained her eyes in the dark. "What are you doing here?"

Azhure stepped forward into the dim glow of the fireplace embers and Rivkah gasped and jerked into a half-sitting position. "Azhure! What... what is that you wear?"

Azhure was clad in a suit so well-fitting it scarcely crinkled as she moved; indeed, Rivkah could not see a seam or a join anywhere. At first she thought it was of solid deep-blue colouring, but as Azhure walked forward another step Rivkah saw the dark shadows of moons, some quarter, some half, some full, chase each other across her body. "It's beautiful!" she whispered.

"Xanon gave it to me," Azhure said matter-of-factly, and Rivkah's eyes flew to her face. There was a wildness there she'd never seen before.

Azhure sat on the edge of the bed, taking Rivkah's hand. "Do not worry, Rivkah. I am still Azhure.

Still the girl you befriended so long ago outside Smyrton."

Rivkah nodded. "I have never regretted your friendship, Azhure. I sometimes think that you have been more my daughter than EvenSong."

Azhure squeezed Rivkah's hand. "I am starting my journey to Axis tonight. And towards ..." Her voice trailed off.

"Azhure? What's wrong?"

Azhure shook herself. "Nothing. Will you watch over Caelum for me? He will fret while I am away, and worry about his father."

"We will all fret and worry over both you and Axis," Rivkah said. "Be careful, whatever you do...wherever you go."

Azhure nodded, then leaned forward and kissed Rivkah on the mouth.

Outside the mist the wind howled, and at the edges of the continent the tides tangled with the drifting seaweed.

Azhure! Azhure! Azhure!

The circle of bracken had burned now, and clouds had moved in to obscure the stars, but Faraday could feel that the night had been a success.

"This is the year we will break Gorgrael's ice," she said. "It will be the final year of subjection and invasion."

"Faraday." Barsarbe moved to Tree Friend's side. "I am sorry that I spoke so harshly about your friend Azhure."

You are sorry only that she is my friend, not that you spoke of her harshly, she thought, but nodded anyway. By her side the Goodwife watched Barsarbe carefully; again the Goodwife had Shra's hand bonded tight in hers.

"Barsarbe." Faraday caught the Bane's eyes and held them. "You are the senior Bane among your people, and thus you have a fearsome duty. Do not let your personal feelings interfere in your responsibility to your people. Do not let your personal hatreds colour any advice you may give them."

And by the Mother, she thought, I wish Raum were in your place.

Barsarbe opened her mouth to speak, but Faraday continued, her voice harder. "I have responsibilities, Barsarbe, and they are not only to your people. I do not belong to you. Bane Barsarbe, listen well. I will plant the trees to the Avarinheim, and do it with gladness. But all that I do after I will do for love of Axis and for love of Azhure, and not through any obligation to your people."

Barsarbe stared at Faraday, unsure what to say or how to say it; how could she have mishandled her first meeting with Tree Friend so badly? But then, who would have thought that Azhure could have worried her way so deep into Tree Friend's heart? "You will not lead us into our new home?"

"Let us wait for the outcome of the Prophecy, Barsarbe. If I am free, then I will be glad to do so. But whatever happens, you will have your leader."

Faraday wanted to explain further, though she felt sure that Barsarbe - as all the other Avar present -

knew of what she spoke, hut just then she felt a small hand clutch her own and she glanced down. Shra now stood beside her, her young eyes fixed firmly on Barsarbe.

"Accepted," she said clearly. "I accepted Azhure, Bane Barsarbe, on behalf on the Avar. The Horned Ones have accepted her, too. Faraday?" She lifted her eyes and Faraday smiled at her. "Faraday, do not grieve or fear. The Avar will help Axis. I give you my word."

To one side Barsarbe's mouth jerked angrily.

Faraday stared at the little girl, and she suddenly wondered
who
led the Avar. Barsarbe? Or Shra? A powerful and experienced Bane, or a five-year-old girl? Faraday found herself hoping it was the latter.

The Goodwife looked at the little girl and smiled proudly, lovingly. As she caught Shra's eye, the Goodwife gave a little nod of approval.

After Azhure had gone Rivkah leaned back against her pillow, her eyes reflective. She lifted her hand to brush a stray hair from her eyes and instead brushed her fingers against something soft and delicate on the pillow.

Ever wary, Rivkah started, then relaxed, a mystified expression on her face.

Resting on the pillow by her face was a Moonwildflower.

The HuntressAzhure paused only long enough to saddle Venator and swing onto his back, then, the Alaunt following like silent shadows, she kicked the stallion through the Keep's gates and across the bridge.

From Sigholt, Azhure angled south-west through the mist, aiming for the western passes of the Urqhart. And from there to Hsingard.

One of the Alaunt bayed, but Sicarius silenced him with a short, sharp gruff.

The enchanted soft blue mist clung for almost a league about Sigholt. Any whom the bridge did not recognise would wander lost and confused for hours until they found themselves back at their original entry point. But Azhure did not get lost, and she rode Venator at a sharp canter through the mist until, close to dawn, they emerged into the western Urqhart Hills.

Beyond the mist, GorgraePs hold on the winter had not loosened. The winds roared across the hills, whistling through the passes, carrying snow and ice in their wake. As she rode the winds seized Azhure's hair and tugged at her body, but she laughed and tossed her head, and neither horse nor hounds were bothered by the cold or the wind.

"Hsingard," she whispered, and pushed Venator into a gallop.

Sicarius at their head, the Alaunt began to run.

Nine months earlier, Azhure had led a force of several hundred men into Hsingard to discover what it was the Skraelings did there. Gorgrael's force had turned the once proud city into sad rubble and, as Azhure and Axis discovered, had worked the heaps of stone into nests. Massive underground chambers served as breeding grounds for the wraiths.

Now Gorgrael had vast numbers of Skraelings - Azhure could sense them undulating like a great tidal mass to the north - and no doubt they still bred in their remaining comfortable stony chambers below Hsingard.

The last time Azhure had come here she had only barely managed to flee with her life and those of the men she had led. Although she and her men had struck the Skraelings hard, her greatest accomplishment had been in escaping the city with her force largely intact. Now, Azhure was riding back to finish what she had started so many months previously.

She rode through the day, neither rider nor horse nor even the hounds tiring, until, at dusk, she rode out of the final pass towards Hsingard, half a league across the plains.

The hounds streamed out before the horse and rider, the scent in their nostrils, their lips drawn back from their teeth, and both the hunting party and the path before it was lit by a broad moonbeam, shining as brightly as if there were a full moon. But the moon was still waxing, and nothing could explain the occasional violet Moonwildflower that drifted gently undisturbed through the screaming winds to lie in Azhure's wake.

As she passed the moonlight faded and, as it faded, so the wind tore the flowers to tatters.

But Azhure, as horse and hounds, had eyes only for the great piles of rubble that rose twenty paces into the air before them and spread for almost half a league from north to south. Hsingard.

She leaned back in the saddle, unslinging the Wolven from her shoulder and fitting an arrow.

"Hunt!"she screamed, and the Alaunt raised voice.