Book Two of THE AXIS TRILOGY

Written by Sara Douglass

The Prophecy of the Destroyer

A day will come when born will be

Two babes whose blood will tie them.

That born to Wing and Horn will hate

The one they call the-StarMan.

Destroyer rises in the north

And drives his Ghostmen south;

Defenceless lie both flesh and field

Before Gorgrael's ice.

To meet this threat you must release

The StarMan from his lies,

Revive Tencendor, fast and sure

Forget the ancient war,

For if Plough, Wing and Horn can't find

The bridge to understanding,

Then will Gorgrael earn his name

And bring Destruction hither.

StarMan, listen, heed me well,

Your power will destroy you

If you should wield it in the fray

'Ere these prophecies are met:

The Sentinels will walk abroad

'Til power corrupt their hearts;

A child will turn her head and cry

Revealing ancient arts;

A wife will hold in joy at night

The slayer of her husband;

Age-old souk, long in cribs,

Will sing o'er mortal land;

The remade dead, fat with child

Will birth abomination;

A darker power will prove to be

The father of salvation.

Then waters will release bright eyes

To form the Rainbow Sceptre.

StarMan, listen, for I know

That you can wield the sceptre

To bring Gorgrael to his knees

And break the ice asunder.

But even with the power in hand

Your pathway is not sure:

A Traitor from within your camp

Will seek and plot to harm you;

Let not your Lover's pain distract

For this will mean your death;

Destroyer's might lies in his hate

Yet you must never follow;

Forgiveness is the thing assured

To save Tencendor's soul.

Prologue: The Ruins of Gorkenfort

Gorgrael stood in the deserted bedchamber of Gorkenfort Keep, his breath frosting about his tusks in the frigid atmosphere. His bright silver eyes narrowed as he absorbed the lingering memories and emotions of the room. Bending, he scraped a hand across the bed, catching and tearing the bed linen with his hooked claws. Hate and desire, pain and satisfaction lingered here. He snatched a handful of the material to his nostrils, crushing it between his powerful claws.

She had been here, had slept here, had laughed and cried here. Gorgrael abruptly arched his body back, his muscles rigid, and shrieked his anger, frustration and desire. He hated and wanted this woman almost as much as he hated and wanted Axis.

Outside the Keep's walls the Skraelings stilled and fell silent as they heard their master's voice echo about the frozen wastes. As suddenly as he had given vent to his anger and desire Gorgrael stopped, straightening and relaxing his body. He dropped the fragment of sheet to the floor, and glanced around the ruined chamber. This had been her chamber, hers and that pitiful fool's, Borneheld. He was of no account; Gorgrael would brush him aside at the first possible opportunity. But the woman...she was the key.

Gorgrael knew the Prophecy almost as well as its maker. He knew that now Axis had escaped to his - their — father he would prove a far more formidable opponent. Enough to counter Gorgrael's command of the Dark Music? Gorgrael was not sure. Axis was certainly now too strong to be vulnerable to his SkraeBolds. But as the third verse of the Prophecy gave Axis the key to destroy Gorgrael, so it gave Gorgrael the key to destroy Axis. The Prophet had been kind.

The key was the Lover mentioned in the Prophecy. If Gorgrael could destroy her, he would destroy Axis. Axis was vulnerable to nothing but love, and eventually love could prove his destruction.

Gorgrael shrieked again, but this time in glee. It would take time, but eventually he would have her. The traitor was in place. All he needed was the opportunity.

Faraday. Gorgrael had gleaned much from this room. She was the one to whom Timozel had bound himself, she had given Axis the power of the emerald fire that had decimated Gorgrael's Skraeling force. For that alone she deserved to die. For the fact that Axis loved her Faraday would die slowly. For her alliance with the Mother and with the Trees she would die alone and friendless. Gorgrael dug his claws deep into the mattress and shredded it with a single twist of his powerful arm. This is what he would do to Faraday's body. After she had begged for her life, pleaded for mercy, screamed as she submitted herself to his will. He would shred her!

Gorgrael's eyes drifted towards the shattered window. Most of the hamlets and towns of Ichtar lay in ruins. Hsingard, the one-time seat of the Duke of Ichtar, was useless rubble. Tens of thousands of Ichtar's inhabitants had died.

The Skraelings had fed well. But not all had gone according to plan, and satisfaction was still a way off. Axis had escaped, and in doing so had badly damaged Gorgrael's force.

If Gorgrael had enough Skraelings to occupy Ichtar then he did not have a strong enough force left to harry either Axis or Borneheld. The Duke of Ichtar had managed to flee south with almost five thousand men (and her) and even now approached Jervois Landing. There he would no doubt make his stand by the running waters.

Neither Gorgrael nor his creatures liked running water. It made music from beauty and peace, not darkness. It tinkled. Gorgrael screamed in frustration and completed his destruction of the bed. He was severely disappointed in his SkraeBolds. Borneheld's escape had been assisted by their inability to focus the Skraelings' attention on attacking the Duke's column as it fled south. While it was true that many Skraelings trembled at the SkraeBolds' screams and threats of retribution, many others did not. Long had the Skraelings hungered to drive into the pleasant southern lands, long had they resented their icy northern wastes.

Now, as the defeat of Gorkenfort opened Ichtar to them, they spread across the province in largely unrestrained and undisciplined glee, a misty, whispery mob that destroyed without thought. The SkraeBolds had found it impossible to rally enough Skraelings to make any serious attempt on Borneheld's fleeing force, and had to confine themselves to harrying the flanks and rearguard of his column.

Not only were the Skraelings proving harder to control and the SkraeBolds less efFectual than he had hoped, Gorgrael also had to admit that his forces had been so weakened by the fury Axis had unleashed on them above Gorkenfort that it would take him months to rebuild an army strong enough and disciplined enough to push further south than Hsingard. And as the SkraeBolds trembled and wept at the thought of reporting their failures to Gorgrael, so Gorgrael himself began to construct the arguments he would need to convince his mentor that it had been the right time to strike Gorkenfort, it had been the right time to begin his drive into Achar. The Dark Man had cautioned him to wait a year or two more, to wait until his army had been built into a more formidable force and his magic was deeper and darker. But Gorgrael had been tired of waiting. While the Dark Man had taught him all he knew, had taught him the use of the Dark Music and crafted him into the power he was today, Gorgrael feared him as much as he loved him.

His claws twitching nervously, Gorgrael began rehearsing his explanations.

Jervois Landing Arrivals

Ho'Demi sat his shaggy horse and contemplated the impenetrable fog before him. His scouts had reported that the Duke of Ichtar and what remained of his command from Gorkenfort drew close. For all Ho'Demi knew they were but ten paces away.

Ho'Demi shivered. He did not like these southern lands with their damp mists. He yearned for the northern wastes of the Ravensbund with its endless leagues of grinding ice. He yearned to be once more hunting the great icebears with the men and women of his tribe — not these Ghostmen whose very whispers defiled the wind.

However, the northern wastes were denied Ho'Demi and his people. For as far back as tribal memory stretched the Skraeling wraiths had existed. Until the past year they had been neither numerous nor brave, and as long as his people hunted in packs, the Skraelings had not attacked. But now, massed by the unseen yet powerful hand of Gorgrael the Destroyer, the Skraelings had driven them from the Ravensbund, down through Gorken Pass, past Gorkenfort and town - where the Duke of Ichtar had stopped the invasion of Gorgrael's Ghostmen - and into these southern lands. Ho'Demi had finally stopped his people's flight here at Jervois Landing. It was here that Borneheld, having somehow escaped the Skraelings, intended to make his stand.

Ho'Demi and his people had always intended to help the Southerners against Gorgrael and his Skraelings; it was part of their heritage. But when he had offered his warriors at Gorkenfort, Borneheld had laughed and said he had no need for Ravensbund assistance. He, Duke of Ichtar, commanded a real army.

Well, now the Duke and his real army might not be so slow to accept the help of the Ravensbund warriors.

Ho'Demi had led as many of his people out of the Ravensbund as he could.

But the Ravensbund tribes lay scattered across the vast territory of the northern wastes and Ho'Demi had not been able to get word to the majority of the tribes to flee into the southern lands. Only twenty thousand had pitched their sealskin tents about Jervois Landing, a mere twentieth of the Ravensbund population.

Ho'Demi shuddered to think of what had happened to those left behind. He hoped they had found a place to hide among the crevices of the ice packs, there to await the day when Gorgrael was defeated by the StarMan. He hoped they had the courage for a long wait.

The Ravensbundmen were a proud and ancient people who had adapted their culture and society to a life spent almost entirely within the ice-bound regions of northern Achar. Few had any contact with the world beyond the River Andakilsa. The King of Achar (whosoever he currently was) might fondly believe that he ruled Ravensbund as he ruled the rest of Achar, but as far as the Ravensbundmen knew or cared, the Achar King had as much control over them as he did over the Forbidden. Ho'Demi was their Chief, and his was the law they obeyed.

But now, for the sake of the Prophecy and because it was the only thing left for him to do, Ho'Demi would put himself under the command of Borneheld.

Ravensbundmen had been aware of the Prophecy of the Destroyer for thousands of years, and Ho'Demi knew that, divided, no-one could defeat Gorgrael.

Someone had to begin the alliance that would create Tencendor and crush the Destroyer. As the Skraeling threat grew infinitely worse, he had quickly realised this was a sign that the Prophecy had awoken and now walked. Of all the peoples of this land, perhaps the Ravensbundmen were more loyal to the name of the StarMan than most. When he called, then they would rally.

In groups of never less than a thousand, the Ravensbund people had passed by Gorkenfort, many weeks before Axis had arrived. As yet they did not know where the StarMan was; they did not know who he was. Until they found him, until they could declare their loyalty and their spears for him, Ho'Demi had decided they would fight with Borneheld. If he would have them.

Borneheld knew what the bells were the instant their gentle sound reached him through the fog, and he hunched even further beneath his voluminous cloak.

It had been two weeks since they had fled Gorkenfort. As soon as Axis had drawn the Skraelings northwards away from the fort, Borneheld had ordered the gates opened and led his column out through the ruins of Gorkentown. The march south towards Jervois Landing was a desperate trek through icy conditions which hourly weakened his men's resistance to death. Many had died from the freezing cold or from the physical effort of the march. In the past week even more had died as the Skraelings made nibbling attacks on the rear and flanks of Borneheld's retreating column. Others deserted. Even those two old brothers who Axis had dragged north with him from the Silent Woman Keep and who had babbled incessantly about musty prophecies had disappeared one night.

As far as Borneheld was concerned, the Skraelings could feed all they wanted on those two as on any others not prepared to stay with him.

Unaccountably, the Skraelings had left them alone for a critical five days after their escape from Gorkenfort. They had ridden as hard and as fast as they could — until the horses started to die beneath them — expecting an attack from Gorgrael's army at any moment. No-one in Borneheld's company knew that it was because Axis and his command had hurt the Skraelings so grievously in the icy wastes above Gorkenfort that the SkraeBolds had needed to regroup the decimated Skraeling forces.

All Borneheld and his company knew was that they'd had five days' start on the Skraelings, and that five days was the difference between life and death.

When the Skraelings did finally reappear, they did not do so in force, and Borneheld's column had managed to keep moving further south towards the comparative safety of Jervois Landing. The Skraelings would not push so far south. Surely.

Yet every step they took southwards towards safety increased Borneheld's bitterness. It hadn't been his fault that Gorkenfort had fallen. Traitors had undermined his command and betrayed both Ichtar and Achar. Magariz's actions had confirmed that. His most senior, most trusted commander had chosen to ride with his bastard half-brother rather than fight for Borneheld and the cause of Achar. For thirty years Borneheld's jealousy of Axis had dominated his life; now bitter resentment twisted his gut. Artor curse him, he thought, I hope he died out there in the frozen wastes. Screaming for me to ride to his rescue, screaming my name as the wraiths chewed the flesh from his bones.

But even that thought could not bring a smile to Borneheld's cold-chapped face. Now, after the treachery of Gorkenfort, Borneheld trusted few. If Magariz could turn against him, then who else might prove treacherous? Even Jorge and Roland, riding silent and introspective further back in the column, did not enjoy the same depth of trust as they once had. No, Borneheld truly trusted only Gautier and Timozel. Who would have thought that such a young whelp - and an Axe-Wielder to boot - could grow into such a loyal and devoted servant to the Duke of Ichtar? Timozel had clearly demonstrated his worth on this march south, proving that he could harry men into obedience as well as Gautier, and fight with as much courage as Borneheld himself. Now he rode his horse slightly to the left and behind Borneheld, sitting tall and proud in the saddle, the occasional flare of his visionary eyes keeping Borneheld's own hopes alive.

Artor had graced Timozel with visions, and that meant Artor would eventually grace Borneheld's cause with victory as well.

Borneheld's eyes slipped to the horse that followed a few paces behind Timozel's. His wife, Faraday, clung to the saddle and toYr, as she had since her horse succumbed to the cold three days ago. Could he trust Faraday? Borneheld frowned under the hood of his cloak. He had thought that she loved him, for had she not whispered words of love and devotion to him night after night, and fled to his arms when Axis had proved incapable of protecting her? But what was it she had murmured to Axis as they said goodbye in the courtyard of Gorkenfort?

Curse her, he swore silently. Her future would be with him, not with Axis.

She would provide Ichtar with an heir, not whatever shadowland Axis currently ruled. He would rather see her dead than betray him as Magariz had.

The loss of Gorkenfort and, subsequently, Ichtar had hurt Borneheld to the core of his soul. As a young boy growing up in a loveless household, deserted by his mother, ignored by his father, Borneheld had always had Ichtar. And when his father died and Borneheld became Duke of Ichtar at only fourteen, he finally felt that his life had meaning. Ignored by so many when he was simply the son of Searlas, Borneheld revelled in the power he wielded as the new Duke. Power brought him the attention he craved, the respect he demanded, the command that was his due, and, eventually, the woman that he desired above all others.

Now most of Ichtar was lost to him, and Borneheld felt the loss as keenly as a physical wound. What power would he command as the man who had lost Ichtar? What respect? Even if he could win back Ichtar — and he would - he would still feel vulnerable. He would only feel safe if he commanded ultimate power over all of Achar, if he sat the throne itself. As King, Borneheld would have all the power, the respect and the love he craved. As King, he would surely be able to flush out the traitors about him once and for all. Desperate as he was to get it back, Ichtar was no longer enough for Borneheld.

And didn't Timozel's visions indicate that Borneheld would become King?

Yes, it was Artor's wish that he take the throne.

Now, as he approached Jervois Landing, Borneheld reviewed the forces he still commanded. Despite the losses at Gorkentown - all of which had been the fault of either the demon-spawned Axis or that traitor Magariz - he still controlled a powerful force. The original column of five thousand he had led from Gorkenfort had been swelled by the refugees from Ichtar. As sorry as these refugees were now, they could work and some could be trained to fight. There wefe also troops still stationed in Achar that Borneheld could command. There was still a cohort of five hundred Axe-Wielders guarding the Brother-Leader at the Tower of the Seneschal. All these could be his. And, if those soft chimes meant what he hoped they did, he would also have the Ravensbundmen.

Uncouth savages to be sure, but they had both spears and horses. If they could stick an enemy in the gut then they would be useful. Finally, there were the resources of the Corolean Empire to the south of Achar. If that simpering fool of a King, Priam, hadn't yet thought about arranging a military alliance with the Coroleans then Borneheld would make sure that he soon would.

Suddenly a stationary horseman loomed out of the mist and Borneheld barked an order to halt. He sat for a moment and looked at the inscrutable Ravensbundman's face. It was even more intricately tattooed in blue and black than most of his race. Dizzying whorls and spirals covered not only his cheeks, but his forehead and chin as well - although, strangely, there was a circular area right in the centre of his forehead that remained naked and untattooed. As with all his race, the savage had tiny chips of blue glass and miniature bells threaded through his myriad greasy black braids. Even his mount - ugly, stunted, yellow-furred nag that it was — had glass and bells woven into its mane and tail.

Uncivilised savages. Still, if they could kill they might yet serve a purpose.

Ho'Demi let the Duke stare at him a moment, then spoke, demonstrating a fluent command of the Acharite language. "Duke Borneheld. Gorgrael has taken my land and murdered my people. He drives his Ghostmen south. The Ravensbundmen live only to defeat Gorgrael. If you fight against Gorgrael then we will stand by your side."

Borneheld narrowed his eyes at the barbarian. "I do fight Gorgrael. But if you want to fight with me then you will place yourself and your people under my command."

Ho'Demi wondered at the implicit threat in Borneheld's tone, but it did not perturb him. He nodded. "Agreed."

"Good." Borneheld peered into the mists behind the Ravensbundman, trying to see how many men-he had with him. "How many will you bring to my command?"

"Of the twenty thousand in my camp, eleven thousand can fight."

"You have done well to choose my cause," Borneheld said quietly. "Together we will make our stand here at Jervois Landing against whichever of our enemies attack first. This time, / will prevail."

Talon Spike

Four weeks after StarDrifter tore the crossed axes from his breast, Axis —

BattleAxe no longer — sat in his favourite spot on Talon Spike letting the wind ruffle through his blond hair and beard. Every few days Axis found he had to spend time alone, to lose himself in contemplation of these beautiful northern alps rather than in the intricacies of the magical Star Dance, Icarii society and his new life.

From his eyrie perch on the rock ledge Axis gazed at the blue-white glacier a thousand paces below, crashing a path through the lesser Icescarp Alps beyond Talon Spike to calve its massive icebergs into the Iskruel Ocean. One month ago the bergs in the Iskruel Ocean would simply have been flecks at the edge of his vision. Now he could see that the huge icebear on the smallest of the bergs had lost an ear in some past ursine dispute.

He sighed. Even the wonders of his new-found powers could not make him forget that Faraday was still trapped with one half-brother while the other, Gorgrael, was undoubtedly remarshalling his forces to invade Achar. And if Faraday or either one of his despised half-brothers did not occupy his thoughts, then Axis found himself worrying over the problems of his new life.

Father, mother, sister, uncle, grandmother. All exciting, all troubling in their own right. But it was StarDrifter who dominated Axis' days. His father, the man who had only existed in court gossip and innuendo for almost thirty years and whose conspicuous absence had given Gorgrael the grist to torment Axis in his nightmares for so long, was as compulsively drawn to Axis as Axis was to him.

Their relationship was not easy. StarDrifter was a forceful man with powerful expectations. He drove his son from first waking until Axis, exhausted, lay down his head late at night. And Axis, having been alone for so long, having been his own man for so long, both resented his father's intrusions and yearned for his father's attention. It was not easy reconciling resentment and need every minute of the day.

Axis' mouth twisted as he thought of their morning's training session. After hours confined in the one chamber, they had fought, bitterly, savagely.

MorningStar, StarDrifter's mother and Axis' grandmother, who was often present, had finally dismissed Axis as she tried to reason with her son. Yet all Axis wanted to do was stay in that chamber and ask StarDrifter another question about his heritage and powers.

"You fought again."

Startled, Axis turned his head towards the voice. It was Azhure, dressed in a pale-grey woollen tunic and leggings, walking confidently along the narrow rock ledge. She halted a few paces away. "May I join you? Am I intruding?"

Axis smiled. "No, you're not intruding. Please, join me."

She sat down gracefully, curling her legs underneath her. "It is a superb view."

"Can you see the icebear?" He pointed to the distant iceberg.

Azhure laughed. "I have not your Enchanter's vision, Axis SunSoar."

Axis relaxed. Since he had come to Talon Spike, Azhure had become a good friend. She was the one person he felt he could talk to, who understood the problems he encountered as he embraced his heritage.

"You have developed a good head for heights since living among the Icarii, Azhure. Few Groundwalkers could even stand on this ledge, let alone wander along it as if strolling the flat plains of Skarabost."

"Why fear when I have an Enchanter to hand to save me should I tumble?"

Axis laughed and changed the subject. "How did you know StarDrifter and I had fought?"

"He came back to the apartments and snapped at Rivkah. She snapped back. I left them bickering and thought to find the source of such marital disharmony so that he could explain himself."

"Do you think I should have re-entered their lives, Azhure?" Axis asked.

"If there are problems between them, you are not the cause, Axis," Azhure replied. "I am sorry if I implied, even laughingly, that you were."

Axis leaned his arms on his raised knees and considered his parents. Tension marked the relationship between himself and his father, while with his mother there was nothing but warmth. When the five Icarii had escorted him into Talon Spike she had been the first to step forward. She had said nothing, just folded him in her strong arms. For long minutes they had stood, each weeping silently, holding each other as close as they could. Axis recalled how he had summoned the memory of her struggle to give him birth and fight for his life. For so long he'd believed that she had cursed him as she died in his birth. Those long minutes holding each other had been a time of healing for them both.

But things between Rivkah and StarDrifter were not idyllic. That they loved each other, Axis had no doubt. But their passionate affair atop Sigholt had not transferred easily to Talon Spike. Perhaps Axis had arrived in their lives only in time to watch the sad disintegration of their marriage.

"It must be hard to look into the face of your husband and see a man who looks no older than your son."

Axis' expression hardened a little. His Icarii blood ran much stronger than his human and, like his sister, he would live the full span of an Icarii lifetime -

perhaps some five hundred years, should he be left in peace to do so. What would it be like to watch his friends age and die while he still enjoyed youthful vitality? What would it be like to see the sods thrown on their grandchildren's coffins before he had reached his middle years?

"Do I like it that in four hundred yean I might still be sitting here watching the icebears hunt seals on the icebergs, trying desperately to recall the name and face of a lovely woman who had once sat here with me? Whose bones have turned to dust in some forgotten tomb? No, Azhure. I do not like it. I find it...

hard."

Azhure reached out and took his hand. Axis stiffened briefly, then he forced a smile. "But these powers I daily learn as an Icarii Enchanter give me a few compensations. Such as making the woman who sits here with me a small gift for the friendship she offers me."

For an instant Azhure thought she caught the hint of a faraway melody in the wind. Then she was laughing in delight as the soft, velvety blooms of the violet Moonwild-flower rained down about her. She let Axis' hand go and tried to catch as many as she could.

"How did you know?" she gasped. She had not seen a Moonwildflower for over twenty years - when she was a tiny girl her mother had occasionally taken her on walks during full moon to find the flower.

Axis plucked a flower out of the air and threaded it into her wavy black hair.

He was mildly disturbed, for he had meant to shower her with soft spring roses.

"A lucky guess, Azhure. You sometimes remind me of the Moonwildflower.

Hidden in darkness, desperate not to be found or touched."

Suddenly awkward, Azhure gently cradled a flower in her hands. The cascade drifted to a halt and she spoke, changing the subject. "EvenSong wants me to join her at training this afternoon. She says I show aptitude."

EvenSong had been impressed by Azhure's extraordinary fighting ability so clearly demonstrated during the battle in the Earth Tree Grove at Yuletide. While the Icarii Strike Force had faltered helplessly, unsure of how to combat the Skraeling wraiths, Azhure had discovered the Skraelings' vulnerability - their eyes

— and almost single-handedly rallied the Icarii and Avar to fight back. During the battle she had also saved StarDrifter from certain death.

EvenSong admired Azhure for her cool head and bravery, and for some weeks she and her Wing-Leader, SpikeFeather TrueSong, had been pressing Azhure to join weapons training with the Strike Force.

Axis could see Azhure's doubts and knew the reasons for them. Had he not reviled her for the death of her father and the assault on Belial as she escaped into the Avarinheim with Raum and Shra? Had not the Avar rejected her, suspicious of her violence, even though she had saved so many of their lives?

"Azhure," he said gently. "You did what you had to. Now do what you want with your life. Would you like to go with EvenSong this afternoon?"

Azhure hesitated, then nodded. "I have seen the Strike Force practise at archery. They look so smooth, so graceful. I would like to try that. SpikeFeather has offered to demonstrate for me and," her mouth quirked, "teach me the proper use of the arrow." Again she hesitated, then forged on. "I am sick of feeling helpless, directionless. I feel as though I have spent my life in a deep, dark well. Now, after so long buried in Smyrton, I am starting to make my way towards the surface - but the surface is still so very far away. Each day away from Smyrton, each new experience, brings me a little closer, wakes me up a little more from the torpor of my previous life. You are right. I must seek my own path."

She laughed now, her good humour returning. "I am glad I'm not an Icarii Enchanter like you, destined for heroic deeds. That would be a heavy burden."

Axis turned away, his face expressionless. "I am no hero."

Azhure lowered her eyes to the flower she still held. If Axis had his moments of denial, then she did not blame him. Not a day passed that Axis did not grieve for those who had already died for him. He despised the thought that yet more would die. And it haunted him that his sister blamed him for FreeFall's death.

"You must bear with EvenSong. She has not yet reconciled herself to FreeFall's death. Her grief needs an outlet."

Axis knew his sister resented him for many other reasons besides his inability to prevent FreeFall's death. She had not begun to come to terms with having an older brother, and one who had inherited their father's powers in full.

Where once StarDrifter had lavished attention on EvenSong, now she found herself virtually ignored by her father as he spent almost every waking moment with his son. EvenSoiig found her father's obsession with Axis difficult to accept.

It was fortunate, Axis mused, that Azhure was here to offer EvenSong companionship. He too appreciated the friendship and understanding she gave him as he fought to adjust to his new life and his new powers. Rivkah spent a good deal of time talking to her as well. If not for Azhure, StarDrifter's entire household might well have self-destructed by now.

"The SunSoars are difficult people to live with," he said, resting his chin in his hand.

"The Icarii people as a whole are," replied Azhure, her eyes distant. "They are very good at passions and very bad at friendships."

Axis studied her closely. This woman from Smyrton displayed more insight than many who had spent years in

scholarly or diplomatic training. Where had she got it from? Not from her father, surely; Hagen had demonstrated as much insight as a sack of barley. Her mother? From what Axis knew of Nors women, they thought mainly of the pleasures of the flesh and very little else. And surely the woeful society of her village had contributed little to the inner depths she increasingly revealed.

Azhure shifted under his gaze — those pale-blue eyes seemed to reach to the core of her soul. Unthinking, she said the first thing that sprang to mind.

"Do you worry about her, Axis? Do you wonder if she is all right?" she asked, and then wished desperately she could snatch her words back.

Axis tensed at her side and Azhure could sense his withdrawal. He rarely spoke of Faraday and yet Azhure knew she was always in his thoughts.

Azhure stumbled on, trying to relieve the sudden tension. "I saw her, you know, at Yuletide. She is a woman who combines great beauty with great compassion and selflessness. It is no wonder you love her as you do."

"You saw her?" Axis frowned. "How?"

"Did StarDrifter not tell you how he and Faraday woke the Earth Tree at Yuletide as the Skraelings attacked the Earth Tree Grove?"

Axis nodded, still frowning, and Azhure hurried on. "I don't know what enchantment StarDrifter used, but Faraday appeared as if in a vision above the Earth Tree. No-one else saw her. StarDrifter and Raum were concentrating so hard on the Tree that they did not look up. I don't know if she saw me, but she looked down and smiled." Azhure gave a litde shrug. "At least, I like to think she smiled at me."

Axis relaxed a little. "She would like you, and you her. It is a pity you are both caught in the web of this Prophecy."

"If / were married to Borneheld he would not have survived his wedding night," Azhure said tightly. Over the past few weeks she had learned much of Faraday's circumstances. "Why did she not escape with you to Talon Spike?"

"Because she honours the vows that she took when she became Borneheld's wife, Azhure. Even her love for me will not make her desert her honour." He sounded bitter. "Do I wonder about her? Do I worry if she is all right? With every breath that I draw, Azhure. I live for her."

"Axis."

They both swivelled towards the voice. StarDrifter stood on the ledge by the archway that led back into the mountain, his white wings a litde outstretched to aid his balance.

. Axis stood in one fluid motion, feeling his father's intrusion keenly.

StarDrifter held his gaze briefly, then dropped his eyes to Azhure and smiled warmly at her, his face breathtaking in its beauty. "You should not bring Azhure out here, Axis. She does not have our balance." He stepped forward and helped Azhure to her feet, clasping her hand as he led her back into the safety of the mountain.

As they stepped through the archway and down into the wide corridor, Azhure pulled her hand awkwardly from StarDrifter s grasp. "I followed Axis out there, StarDrifter. It was not his fault. And neither the height of the cliff nor the narrowness of the ledge bother me. Truly."

StarDrifter looked back at her. He wished- she would abandon the Avar tunic and leggings and wear the loose flowing robes favoured by the Icarii women; she would look superb in their jewelled colours and she had the grace to do their elegance justice.

Axis stepped down into the corridor behind them and StarDrifter glanced at his son. The tensions of their morning argument remained, and this afternoon's training session would not be easy. No doubt they would end this afternoon with angry words as well. Axis was so desperate to learn, but hated being the student.

Yet he learned so well, and so quickly. That was part of the problem, for Axis wanted to learn faster than StarDrifter was willing to teach. While StarDrifter took pride in the knowledge that the Prophecy had chosen him among all Icarii to breed this son, he also found it hard not to resent Axis' power. As EvenSong resented losing her only and most favoured child status, so StarDrifter was battling to come to terms with the fact that very soon Axis' power would surpass his own — and StarDrifter had long revelled in being the most powerful Icarii Enchanter alive.

StarDrifter looked back to Azhure with studied casualness. "Will you join us this afternoon, Azhure?" he asked. With her present, both Enchanters kept a tighter rein on their tempers. Neither MorningStar — who often helped with Axis'

training - nor Axis had so far raised any objections to Azhure s occasional presence in the training chamber.

"I thank you for the invitation, StarDrifter, but I will refuse. I promised EvenSong I would spend the afternoon with her. If you will excuse me."

She nodded at both men, then walked down the corridor, disappearing around the first corner.

"Imagine the Enchanters she would bear," StarDrifter said, so quietly that Axis could not believe he was hearing cor-recdy. "I am nothing if not a good judge of blood."

Then he turned his powerful gaze on his son. "Over the past thousand years the Icarii blood has thinned. Before the Wars of the Axe that severed our races many Icarii birdmen chose to get their sons on human women. It was said that human blood added vitality to the Icarii. You are proof enough of that."

Axis felt his anger simmering. Was StarDrifter planning another seduction?

"I love Rivkah," StarDrifter said slowly. "I demonstrated my love through marriage - even though I believed she had lost our son. In ages past Icarii birdmen simply took the babies of human—Icarii unions and never spared a thought for the women they had bedded who had struggled to birth their children."

Appalled at such evidence of Icarii insensitivity, Axis suddenly understood the depth of hate and loathing that had led the Acharites to finally drive the Icarii from Tencendor.

The Icarii had a lot to learn about compassion.

The Wolven

Azhure walked through the confusing maze of cor-f-\ ridors in the Talon Spike complex, hoping she had remembered EvenSong's instructions correctly. Over at least a thousand years the Icarii had tunnelled and excavated the mountain into myriad chambers, connecting corridors and shafts. The Icarii not only used horizontal corridors, but also vertical shafts - foot travellers needed to be wary of wells opening abruptly at their feet.

Azhure paused at one of the main connecting shafts of Talon Spike, which not only extended up to the very peak of the mountain, but also fell into its dizzying depths. She grasped the waist-high guard rail and peered down. Two Icarii, already several levels below her, slowly spiralled down through the shaft side by side. Both had gorgeously dyed emerald and blue wings, and the soft enchanted light of the shaft shimmered across their jewel-bright feathers. Azhure had to blink back tears at their loveliness. Nothing in her previous life in Smyrton had prepared her for the beauty and passion of life among the Icarii of Talon Spike.

On her arrival six weeks ago Azhure had wondered at the height and width of the corridors - but their spaciousness was explained the moment she saw several Icarii wing their graceful way along the corridor, several paces above her head. Fortunately for her, the complex also had stairs that wound about the walls of the vertical shafts. Icarii children did not develop wings until they were four or five years of age, and did not learn to fly well until they were eight or nine. And occasionally an Icarii who injured a wing might have to walk the corridors or climb the stairs. MorningStar, StarDrifter's mother, was such a one.

She had been unable to attend the Yuletide rites in the Earth Tree Grove after snapping a tendon in her left wing, and was still grumbling about the indignity of having to use the stairs.

Leaving the shaft, Azhure passed the doors to the massive Talon Spike Library. The Avar Bane Raum spent most of his days here, teaching the wingless youngsters about the Avar and their forest home. Azhure's thoughts drifted to Rivkah as she walked. Over the many years that Azhure had known Rivkah - or GoldFeather as she had been called until recently — she had never known her so at peace with herself as she had been since Axis' arrival. Rivkah might yet have her unhappinesses with StarDrifter, but the reunion with the son she had long thought dead had healed a festering wound in Rivkah's heart. She spent many hours each day guiding Azhure through the intricacies of Icarii society, teasing the young woman mercilessly when she gaped open-mouthed at some of the more permissive practices of the Icarii.

"You are already a much sought-after prize, Azhure Groundwalker, with your raven-black hair and mysterious smoke-filled eyes," Rivkah had said only this morning. "Will you survive the Beltide festivities without being cradled within some lovers wings?"

Azhure had blushed and turned away, thinking uncomfortably of the way StarDrifter had begun to watch her recently. The last thing she wanted to do was come between StarDrifter and Rivkah, who was rapidly filling the void caused by the loss of Azhure's mother so early in life. Azhure couldn't remember a time when she hadn't woken several nights a week, her cheeks wet with tears of loss; but now she slept soundly, and the unsettling dreams that had troubled her for more than twenty years had vanished entirely.

Azhure abruptly realised that for the past five or six weeks she had been constantly happy. Never had she been accepted before, and the Icarii not only seemed to accept her for who she was, but they actually liked her.

She nodded to an Icarii passing overhead, her thoughts returning to EvenSong. Azhure had so far resisted the urge to join the Strike Force in weapons training for fear of giving in to the violent streak the Avar claimed she possessed. She shuddered, remembering how after she had seized the arrow and killed her first Skraeling, she had been consumed with the desire to kill.

Perhaps the Avar were right to regard her with some degree of apprehension.

But Azhure had made up her mind. Axis was right; she should seek her own path. If her path lay in violence, then perhaps she should simply accept that.

Accept the blood and turn it into a mark of respect, not of reproach.

She turned down a corridor to her left, then ran lightly down several levels of stairs, her grace causing the Icarii birdman who soared past her to turn his head and watch for long moments until the Groundwalker woman disappeared into a corridor far below.

EvenSong had a leather thong tied about her pale-skinned forehead to keep the sweat out of her eyes. She had turned twenty-five on the day after Yuletide, and had immediately joined the Strike Force for her five years of compulsory military service.

She grunted as she parried a blow from her sparring partner. She did not like to sweat and thought longingly of the relaxing hot waters of the Chamber of Steaming Water. Once she had looked forward to her years in the Strike Force, but that was only because she had believed she would spend those years with her cousin FreeFall. Born only two monthsapart, she and FreeFall had grown up together, planned their lives together, and mused over what it would be like when he became Talon. It was not unusual for Icarii to marry or form sexual relationships with close relatives, and FreeFall and EvenSong had become lovers at thirteen.

Of course, neither EvenSong nor FreeFall had considered the possibility that he would be so cruelly murdered at such a young age. EvenSong daily bewailed not only the loss of her friend and lover, but also the prospect of spending the rest of her long life alone.

Her sparring partner and Wing-Leader, SpikeFeather TrueSong, slipped his stave under EvenSong's guard and dealt her a heavy blow to the ribs. She dropped her staff and fell to her knees, badly winded.

"Pay attention," SpikeFeather hissed viciously. "In battle -even in a tavern brawl — you would be dead now! We cannot afford to lose any more SunSoars."

EvenSong glared at him, her hand clutched to her ribs. "Like you lost FreeFall?" SpikeFeather had flown with Free-Fail and HoverEye BlackWing to meet Axis atop Gorken-fort's roof. But their mission had ended in tragedy when Borneheld murdered FreeFall.

SpikeFeather swore and seized EvenSong by her short curls, hauling her to her feet. She winced and tried to twist free, but SpikeFeather's grip was too strong.

"FreeFall had the courage to face life, EvenSong, even when it led him to death. Think how he would frown to see you use his death to give up on life itself!"

The ten other members of the Wing had stopped sparring and watched SpikeFeather and EvenSong soberly. Ever since the disaster of Yuletide, training had taken on a much more serious aspect. Where once good humour and enjoyment had pervaded weapons practice, now the expectation of an eventual conflict with Gorgrael's forces dominated everyone's thoughts.

SpikeFeather let EvenSong's hair go, then stepped back and glared at the rest of his command. He was an experienced Wing-Leader, but in these difficult times his responsibilities weighed heavily on him. And despite what EvenSong apparently thought, SpikeFeather agonised daily over his inability to act quickly enough to save FreeFall. EvenSong seemed to have no heart since FreeFall's murder, and SpikeFeather knew that the inattention of a single member could bring ruin to his entire. Wing in battle.

To add to SpikeFeather's woes, all of the Strike Force were on edge, and not simply because of the battle at Earth Tree Grove or the inevitable battle to come with Gorgrael's forces. From the most senior Crest-Leader, FarSight CutSpur, to the lowliest recruit, the Strike Force was keenly aware of the presence of Axis SunSoar in Talon Spike. The Icarii Assembly had agreed to StarDrifter's request to help his son in Gorken-fbrt partly because after a thousand years of relative peace they needed a true war leader. Someone who actually had experience of battle.

Yet Axis SunSoar, one-time BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders, the force that had been largely responsible for the thousand-year exile of the Icarii in Talon Spike, had shown not an iota of interest in the Strike Force in the month since he'd been in Talon Spike. As much as SpikeFeather, or any other member of the Strike Force, might tell himself that Axis was preoccupied with learning the skills of Enchanter from his father, his lack of interest had stung. When would Axis visit the training chambers? When would he deign to visit the Strike Force? And what would he say when he saw them train? What would he think? Would he praise, or deride?

SpikeFeather was about to call a halt to their afternoon training when a movement at the edge of his vision stopped him. Azhure stood leaning over the balcony rail of the observation gallery, watching them gravely.

"Azhure!" EvenSong exclaimed, and SpikeFeather hoped she felt just a little ashamed that her friend might have witnessed her poor behaviour.

"I do not want to interrupt, SpikeFeather TrueSong," Azhure said courteously, "and if I have broken your concentration then I apologise to you and to your command." One of the first things Azhure had learned in Talon Spike was that the Icarii valued politeness and correct etiquette extremely highly. Two Icarii could get themselves into a murderous argument and never raise their voices or transgress the bounds of civilised language. The scene she had just witnessed between SpikeFeather and EvenSong was extraordinary, and bespoke the tension within the Strike Force.

"I have decided to accept your offer to teach me the use of the bow and arrow, SpikeFeather."

SpikeFeather swept his wings behind him in the traditional Icarii gesture of welcome and goodwill. "You are welcomed, Azhure. And I regret that my command is not at its best this afternoon."

EvenSong reddened.

SpikeFeather ignored her. "Both myself and my Wing would be pleased if you joined us, Azhure. We are all beholden to you for your bravery atYuletide, the SunSoar family perhaps mpre than most." Another barb for EvenSong.

SpikeFeather was truly exasperated with her. , Azhure stepped down from the ladder, took oft" her boots, and walked across the floor of the spacious training chamber towards the Wing. Soft mats covered every part of the floor, while from the high roof hung several brighdy coloured orbs that served as archery targets.

Weapon racks and cupboards lined the lower walls.

"I am not dressed for combat, SpikeFeather. Please do not aim any arrows my way." She grinned at the Wing commander, her hand indicating her Avar clothing and bare feet. All the Icarii present, both female and male, wore light leather training armour over brief loin cloths - although the armour did not protect against serious blows. They were sweating after their exertions, and Azhure noticed that several had abrasions and dark bruises on their unprotected arms and legs. Feathers lay scattered across the floor mats.

"I would be hounded from Talon Spike should I land an arrow in a guest, and such an admired guest at that," SpikeFeather said gravely, then turned to one of the members of his Wing. "TrueFlight, would you lift the Wolven from the rack and select a quiver of arrows?" He paused dramatically, ignoring the collective gasp of the Wing.

Azhure watched curiously as TrueFlight retrieved a beautiful bow and a quiver of arrows and handed them to SpikeFeather, who slung the quiver over his shoulder.

"As creatures of the air ourselves we have a special affinity with weapons of flight," SpikeFeather explained as he notched an arrow into the bow. "See."

In one liquid movement, so fast Azhure found it difficult to follow, SpikeFeather lifted the bow, aimed, and loosed the arrow. It soared towards the ceiling and lodged in a small scarlet target ball suspended sixty paces above their heads.

"The stories of your ability don't do you justice, Spike-Feather," Azhure said.

"Can I try that bow?" The bow SpikeFeather held was a weapon of elegance as well as of skill, and Azhure found its lure almost irresistible.

SpikeFeather studied her. Since the Wolven's creator had died four thousand years ago, only he had been able to master it. The Icarii had extraordinarily powerful flight muscles in their chests and backs, and SpikeFeather doubted whether Azhure, despite her height and obvious fitness, would even have the strength to draw a notched arrow back in a normal Icarii bow, let alone the Wolven.

He finally shrugged. What would it hurt? He picked another arrow from his quiver and handed the bow to Azhure. Tall, but made of surprisingly light ivory wood, it was patterned with golden tracery and strung and tasselled in vivid blues and scarlets. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.

"Here," SpikeFeather said, showing Azhure how to place her hands, then notching the arrow. Standing behind her, he curled her fingers around the arrow.

"Let me help you to ..."

"No," Azhure said, stepping away from him slightly. "Let me try first, SpikeFeather. What should I aim for?"

SpikeFeather smiled indulgently. "Aim high, Azhure, at any of the targets suspended from the ceiling. If you hit one I will make you a gift of the Wolven itself as a mark of Icarii admiration and fashion you a quiver with my own hands."

Azhure looked at the targets hanging from the ceiling. Then, without lowering her eyes, she raised the bow and started to draw the arrow back.

SpikeFeather saw the exact moment when Azhure found that the Wolven required extraordinary strength. Her shoulders, back, and arms suddenly tensed, and her hands quavered so badly that SpikeFeather was sure she would drop the bow or let the arrow tumble to the floor. He started as if to step forward and help her, but EvenSong caught his elbow. "Let her try for herself," she whispered, and SpikeFeather subsided, although a frown of worry creased his face. What if she couldn't control the flight of the arrow, and skewered one of his command? None of them wore armour that could withstand a loose Icarii arrow.

But Azhure managed to retain control, although Spike-Feather could see what a supreme effort it cost her. Gradually her hands steadied and her back straightened. Then she took a deep breath and pulled the arrow all the way back, raising the bow to her face and sighting along the shaft of the arrow.

SpikeFeather's eyes widened in amazement. Where did she find the strength to control the bow? A human woman?

Azhure, as taut and tense as the Wolven itself, finally let fly the arrow in as good an imitation of SpikeFeather's action as she could manage.

As one the Icarii watched the flight of the arrow.

It flew straight and true, striking a golden target the size of a man's head.

But Azhure, for all her effort in drawing, aiming and releasing the arrow, could not give the arrow the same power as SpikeFeather had, and the arrow head only penetrated the target superficially. It hung there for a long moment, then slowly slipped from the target and tumbled to the floor.

"I hit it!" Azhure cried triumphantly, lowering the bow and turning to SpikeFeather, who stood with an expression.of absolute amazement on his face.

"It stuck for a moment. It didl" She laughed with joy. "Is the bow mine, SpikeFeather?"

She spun around in an excited circle until she faced SpikeFeather again.

"Well?"

SpikeFeather lowered his eyes to the woman before him. If he hadn't witnessed it himself he would never have believed it. It wasn't simply Azhure's strength in drawing the bow and loosing the arrow, it was also the fact that she had actually hit the target she'd aimed at. It usually took a novice Icarii archer several weeks of practice before they even got an arrow within spitting distance of a ceiling target - and the Icarii were flight intuitive. Was it simply luck?

SpikeFeather looked at the magnificent bow that Azhure clutched possessively to her side. It was one of the most valuable and treasured items in the Strike Force's arsenal. What had he done*

Azhure s smile died and her eyes narrowed as she watched the welter of emotions play across SpikeFeather's face; emotions mirrored on the faces of the eleven Icarii who stood at his back. EvenSong looked as though she had swallowed the arrow instead of simply watching it hit the target.

Azhure stepped over and lifted another arrow from the quiver on SpikeFeather's back. He flinched a little as her hand brushed the downy red feathers on the back of his neck.

"No fluke," she said, her eyes unexpectedly dark as she stared into SpikeFeather's face. "If I miss this time then I will return the bow. But if I hit the target, then you will not only fashion me the quiver to sling across my back, but fletch the arrows to go in it with your own flight feathers, SpikeFeather TrueSong. Dyed the same blue as my eyes, I think."

Then, in a movement almost as elegant as SpikeFeather's, Azhure notched the arrow, raised the bow, sighted, and loosed the arrow. This time it struck the target true, the solid thunk as it penetrated deep into the golden orb audible around the chamber.

"The Wolven is mine," Azhure said into the utter silence. "I think it likes me.

It felt easier the second time."

SpikeFeather dropped his eyes to Azhure, then bowed deep before her, his wings sweeping a wide arc on the floor behind him. When he straightened, his eyes were solemn. "The Wolven is yours, Azhure. I will fashion you a quiver to hold arrows fletched with feathers from my own wings. You are an archer-born, Azhure, and I will welcome you whenever you wish to train with my Wing."

"Yes," Azhure said to the handsome birdman. "I would like to return and train with your command, SpikeFeather TrueSong."

"Then make sure that when the time arrives, you deal death with the Wolven, Azhure. That is why it was crafted."

Later, the muscles in her back, arms and chest burning with the effort required to use the bow, Azhure mounted the ladder, the bow slung across her back. SpikeFeather caught her arm. "Azhure, you speak to Axis SunSoar more than most. When will he visit the Strike Force? When?"

Azhure stepped down from the ladder and turned to face him. "I do not know, SpikeFeather. He is consumed by his need for his father now, and by his need to discover what lies beneath his surface. Wait. He will come."

Learning the Star Dance

MorningStar took a deep breath to calm herself and turned back to StarDrifter.

He had been a late child, born when MorningStar was already close to four hundred years old. Because he was so unexpected — and had inherited his mother's Enchanter powers at that — both MorningStar and her husband, RushCloud, had spoiled him abominably. And whereas her eldest son, RavenCrest, had been groomed from birth to inherit the mantle of Talon, leader of all the Icarii, the much younger StarDrifter had been indulged. At least, MorningStar sighed, StarDrifter's lack of discipline had got him a son who might well prove the last hope of the SunSoars, if not the Icarii race as a whole.

She glanced over at Axis, sitting calmly on a stool in the small, unadorned chamber, StarDrifter pacing irritably about him. He had learned well since arriving in Talon Spike - far better than either MorningStar or StarDrifter had thought possible. Who could have imagined that an Enchanter, left without training for thirty years, could grasp the intricacies of the Star Dance so quickly and easily?

As Axis' father, StarDrifter had borne the major burden of his son's training, but MorningStar helped, and that was at the heart of their current troubles.

Although an Enchanter was usually trained by his or her parent — the one who had bequeathed the Enchanter blood - another Enchanter of the same House, or family, could also act as an instructor. The closer the blood link, the easier the teaching. MorningStar was only one generation removed from Axis, so the blood link was strong, and she wanted to help.

But StarDrifter, having been separated from his son for so long, found it hard to share him with anyone, even his mother. MorningStar could understand that, but there were some things that MorningStar knew she could teach Axis better than StarDrifter.

And that is what they were fighting about now.

"StarDrifter," MorningStar said reasonably, "you are so good using the power of the Star Dance in conjunction with the elements of fire, earth and air. In those areas you are by far the most powerful we have seen in generations, and you pass your skills to your son well. But if you have a weakness, it is with the element of water. Since have skill in that area, it only makes sense that I take charge of Axis' training when it comes to the water music."

StarDrifter stopped his pacing. "I have more power," he snapped.

"Yes, you have more power," she agreed. "But the element of water does not need power so much as subtlety, and you are often too impatient for such subtlety."

StarDrifter glared at her, then suddenly backed down. "Then teach!" he snarled.

Axis felt MorningStar's hand rest lightly on his shoulder. "Good," she said quietly and moved around to face him. Their relationship was still awkward, and neither knew quite what to think of the other. Axis was aware that his grandmother vaguely disapproved of him. He knew she'd have preferred the StarMan to be of full Icarii blood, and he suspected that she, like StarDrifter, was just a little resentful of the extent of his power.

MorningStar was a determined and forceful woman who wielded enormous power within Talon Spike — not only as a senior Enchanter, but also as the widow of the previous Talon. Axis still found it difficult to come to terms with MorningStar's age. She approached the limit of her life, five hundred years, but she looked no older than himself. She had the same colouring as StarDrifter, short curly golden hair, pale blue eyes, and luminous white feathered wings.

Only the vast experience evident in her eyes and the assurance of her manner gave some indication of her age.

MorningStar closed her eyes as the ran a prayer to Flulia, the Goddess of Water, through her mind. Then she took Axis' head between her hands and closed his eyes with her thumbs. "Hear the Star Dance," she said softly.

The first thing StarDrifter had taught Axis was to hear the Star Dance — the music that the Stars made as they whirled through the universe, and the source of power for all Icarii Enchanters. The music of the Star Dance was of astounding beauty, and when Axis first heard it, he had burst into tears at its unexpected splendour. Although the music was not particularly loud it pervaded every aspect of life. Now its faint melodies surrounded Axis through every moment, in the beat of his heart, in the conversations about him, in the sound of feathers rustling in the wind, in the shadows of his dreams.

Icarii Enchanters harnessed the power of the Stars by manipulating the music of the Star Dance. From the Dance they wove a melody that served as a conduit for the power of the Stars. For each purpose, a melody. Enchanters spent their developing years learning all the different melodies, or Songs, and the purpose of each. Once they had learned a Song - no mean feat - to use it they ran its melody through their minds, sometimes physically giving voice to the music they manipulated. The more powerful the Enchanter, the more complex the Song they could manipulate. For thousands of years Icarii Enchanters had debated the possibility that one day an Enchanter might learn to use the entire Star Dance, rather than lifting more manageable fragments of melody. The debate had finally been solved seventeen hundred years previously when one Enchanter had tried to grapple with the power of the entire Star Dance - he had died so horribly, warped out of existence, that no-one had been tempted to try it again.

Axis had learned so quickly because he had the remarkable gift of remembering a melody after only one hearing. Usually Icarii Enchanters had to have a Song repeated to them scores of times before they could use it effectively. It was one of the many ways in which the depth and extent of Axis'

ability constantly astounded MorningStar and Star-Drifter.

"Listen," MorningStar said, and began to sing for her grandson the Songs which were particularly effective for manipulating the element of water and of all matter associated with water. Before she sang each Song, MorningStar whispered its purpose.

StarDrifter watched Axis carefully. Axis had already learned virtually all there was to know about the other groups of Songs and had displayed equal (and remarkable) talent in each. Would he now display a similar talent for water music?

Within an hour StarDrifter had his answer. There was not one Song MorningStar sang for him that Axis could not instantly repeat, even strengthen.

He must be beloved of all the Star Gods, StarDrifter mused, to be so favoured.

In training, Enchanters usually only learned the melodies of the Songs, they did not yet attempt to manipulate the power of the Stars. It would be disastrous for an Enchanter only beginning to develop his skills to manipulate power at the same time as he sang a Song for the first time. Yet Axis never made a mistake, and on those rare occasions when StarDrifter and MorningStar had let him actually reach for the power of the Stars, Axis had demonstrated his ability to control the power that flowed through the melody.

Finally MorningStar stepped back, exhausted.

"Enough," she said, letting Axis' head go. "You have learned enough for today. We will resume tomorrow."

"How many more?" Axis asked, opening his eyes.

"Thirty-eight Songs."

"And you have shown me fourteen this afternoon." Axis stood up and stretched. "Fifty-two. It is not many."

For each Song there was only one purpose, and there were only a finite number of Songs that the Icarii Enchanters had discovered in ten thousand years of searching. The restrictions of his powers frustrated Axis as much as they excited him. What was the use of such ability if there was no Song for the purpose you had in mind? And as yet nothing that StarDrifter or MorningStar had taught him seemed powerful enough to combat Gorgrael or his mass of Skraelings.

He turned to his father in frustration. "Do the Icarii Enchanters have no Songs that will aid in war, StarDrifter?"

"Perhaps once the Icarii had Songs of War, Axis." StarDrifter s earlier ire had faded and now he clasped his son's shoulder affectionately. "But if they ever existed they have been lost for thousands of years. Perhaps they were too dangerous. Too potent. Once the Icarii were more warlike, and could fashion weapons that themselves wielded Star Power."

"Such a weapon is the Wolven," RavenCrest said from the doorway. Anger laced his words. He was furious with SpikeFeather for promising the bow to Azhure if she could hit a target with it. Stupidl No matter that he, too, would have thought Azhure could not possibly loose an arrow from it, let alone hit a ceiling target. In the week since Azhure had gained possession of the Wolven, it had not once left her side, and she had practised with it every day, spending long hours afterwards in the Chamber of Steaming Water, easing her aching chest and back muscles.

"The Wolven is an enchanted weapon?" Axis frowned at his uncle, although he smiled inwardly at RavenCrest's anger.

Azhure had won her gift fairly, displaying remarkable skill indoing so.

"Yes, enchanted," StarDrifter cut in, "but we have lost the key to use it.

Whatever Song it requires has been lost. It died with," he hesitated, "WolfStar SunSoar, the Enchanter-Talon who originally crafted the weapon."

MorningStar s mouth thinned at the mention of WolfStar, but Axis did not notice. "Is there is no way of remembering the Song of the Worven?" he asked.

"Or of any other of theSongs of War?"

"We rely on you to save us!" RavenCrest hissed, his anger fully apparent as he strode across the room. He was vividly coloured, far more so than his mother or brother, with violet eyes, raven-black hair and wingbacks, and gorgeous speckled blue underwings. Yet his vivid anger made him menacing, and Axis had to fight from taking a pace back as RavenCrest stepped up to him. "Seek not legends from our past to lead us to victory, Axis! Rely on what skills you have inside you!" He paused, then dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. "And remember, Axis SunSoar, that you will have to win the loyalty and trust of the Icarii nation if you are to succeed against Gorgrael, and enchanted weapons will not win for you our trust."

Axis fully understood RavenCrest's anger. With the death of FreeFall SunSoar, RavenCrest had lost his only son and heir. Not only did RavenCrest daily have to live with the grief of losing his beloved son, he also had to battle with the fact that the heir to the Talon throne would be Axis — StarDrifter might be a powerful Enchanter, but he would be a hopeless leader of the Icarii nation.

Axis knew that RavenCrest was also deeply resentful that his heir was not only of Icarii—human parentage, but also a former BatdeAxe of the loathed Seneschal.

Nothing had been said, but everyone knew the situation — and Axis intended to fight for his right to be named RavenCrest's heir. He knew he had to weld the Icarii, Acharite and Avar races together in order to fight Gorgrael, and if he could control the thrones of both Icarii and Acharite nations then he'd have a much better chance of success. Through his mother, Rivkah, once Princess of Achar, Axis was second in line to the Acharite throne behind Borneheld. And Axis did not intend to let Borneheld live.

He turned his mind away from his half-brother and considered the implications of what RavenCrest had said. Axis would have to win the trust of the Icarii nation if he wanted to not only be accepted as heir, but also use the Icarii Strike Force in his battle against Gorgrael. Axis knew the Icarii trust would be hard to win, and as yet he had not even made a start. In the five weeks he'd been in Talon Spike he hadn't met any Icarii beyond his immediate family.

"RavenCrest," he said. "It is time I met with your Crest-Leaders. It is time I took control of the Strikejorce." Axis assumed a great deal with that statement.

As die Icarii Talon, RavenCrest was in overall command of the Strike Force. Now Axis demanded that he assume overall control.

RavenCrest may have been angry, and resentful of this man who stood so calmly before him asking for control of the Strike Force, but he was no fool. He knew that Axis alone had the skills and the experience to transform the Strike Force into an effective command — and he would need total leadership to do so.

He nodded. "I'll arrange a meeting for three days' time," he said, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

StarDrifter and Axis made their excuses and left MomingStar alone in the small training chamber. She waited until the door closed behind them, then sat down heavily and rested her head in her hands.

Training Axis was physically demanding work and MomingStar was tired. But she was also sorely troubled. Axis learned well. Too well. That point had been driven home forcibly this afternoon. Many of his other skills could be waved off with the explanation that he had absorbed them from StarDrifter when he had sung to his son in Rivkah s womb as they sat on die sunny rooftop of Sigholt.

But StarDrifter just could not have taught Axis the skills associated with the water music — his own abilities in that area were too poor.

Natural ability, then, on Axis' part? Perhaps. But MorningStar did not think that natural ability explained everydiing. She shook herself and stood up. She did not want to think just yet about why Axis was so good at learning the Songs when other Icarii Enchanters had so much difficulty.

Perhaps he was not learning them for die first time.

"Stars, woman!" MorningStar muttered to herself. "Don't even think it!"

The Rebel Army

Belial's hazel eyes restlessly scanned the leaden-grey sky. Either side of him reared the barren walls of Hold-Hard Pass, their starkness relieved only by the occasional stunted bush or tree. It was eleven days since they had entered the eastern end of the Pass, and five since Belial had ordered they set up camp and sent Arne, the most experienced unit commander Belial still had with him, and a small number of men to scout Sigholt and its environs.

Belial hardly dared hope Sigholt would provide them with a base. He desperately wished that he'd some of those Icarii farflight scouts with him.

Instead he had been forced to send men on what might well be a dangerous and fruitless mission.

That any of them were alive at all was due principally to Magariz — and the foresight of Borneheld, of all people. Beside him Lord Magariz sat a fidgeting Belaguez. The two men took turns to exercise Axis' war horse. Belaguez had already thrown Magariz twice today, and Belial had his own fair share of bruises from the cursed grey stallion. We should just let the horse run wild, Belial thought, before he kills one of us. I can ill afford to lose Magariz.

Lord Magariz had been Duke Borneheld's most senior and trusted commander, responsible during the past twelve years for commanding the garrison at Gorkenfort. Yet Magariz had deserted Borneheld to follow Axis, even though his disloyalty would almost certainly result in his death should the Duke ever catch him. Magariz's choice had undoubtedly saved the lives of fielial and those of the three thousand men he led. After they'd watched the Icarii claim Axis at the foot of the Icescarp Alps, they had ridden into the dreadful territories of die Icescarp Barren and the northern WildDog Plains. Only Magariz's familiarity with the area, and his knowledge of the reserves of food, fuel and hay that lay secreted across northern Ichtar, had saved them from starvation during the five weeks it took diem to reach die southern Plains.

In the months leading up to the siege of Gorkenfort, Borneheld and Magariz had planned for every eventuality. Among die less palatable had been a retreat from Gorkenfort. But neidier had been sure of which direction diey'd be able to retreat in — south through central Ichtar to Jervois Landing or east across die Icescarp Barren and through the WildDog Plains to Skarabost? In the end, Borneheld had ordered that supplies be secreted across both lines of retreat. And while Borneheld and his command had undoubtedly made effective use of the reserves in central Ichtar, so Belial and his command had benefited from the supply route across the Icescarp Barren and the WildDog Plains.

Borneheld would be horrified to realise that his planning had saved die lives of men openly allied with the Forbidden.

Surprisingly, the Skraelings had hardly bothered Belial's force as they moved east and then south. Belial wished he knew what die Skraelings were up to. Had they hurt them so badly in the ice fields above Gorkenfort they'd gone to ground to lick their wounds? Or were they even now massing for a devastating assault on Achar through Ichtar? Belial irritably brushed his sandy hair off his forehead, the green thread Faraday had given him to tie about his biceps catching his eye.

Perhaps the Mother's magic still protects us, he thought. Whatever the reason, there had been a few halfhearted attacks on stragglers and nothing else.

While they were still close to the Icescarp Alps the Icarii farflight scouts had kept in contact, occasionally sweeping down to share a meal in the evenings. Only Belial and Magariz had ever seen the Icarii at close range previously -during the tragic meeting atop Gorkenfort's Keep - and the first evening two of the farflight scouts had alighted in the camp had caused a sensation. Scores of men suddenly found pressing need to consult with either Belial or Magariz.

The Icarii had taken the curiosity of the men in good humour — indeed, they had been almost as curious themselves. They were fascinated with the type and composition of the armour the Acharite soldiers wore, and Belial had to restrain them from stroking the soldiers in much the same fashion as they had the strange and wondrous horses.

Whenever they'd visited, the Icarii gave Belial what news of Axis they had, although he spent so much time with his father that few of the Icarii had yet seen him. They did have news of Azhure, however, and Belial fully intended to wring an apology from her for clubbing him unconscious in her bid to free an Avar man and child from their cell in Smyrton.

The Icarii had disappeared as Belial led his force into the central WildDog Plains some two and a half weeks ago. They were as yet reluctant to fly too far from the relative safety of the Alps, and Belial missed their company as much as he missed dieir mobility.

Belial was looking for a suitable site to base Axis' rebel army. On farewelling Axis at the Icescarp Alps he had thought to move down to Smyrton with its extensive grain fields. But Sigholt was far more defensible and had better facilities for training and barracking troops. And the daily company of the stolid villagers of Smyrton held little appeal for Belial — not to mention that his army now supported a cause which their beloved Seneschal found heretical.

Had Sigholt been destroyed by the advancing Skraelings who even now lurked in its cellars? Was there a contingent of Borneheld's command there who would resist their arrival? Too many unknowns - and Belial did not like unknowns. He chewed his cold-chapped lip and cursed when it cracked and split in the bitter wind.

So now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the return of Arne and his men, the bulk of his army lying half a league behind, as anxious as Belial was. All wanted to find somewhere to dig in for the inevitable attack from the Skraelings and to shelter from this cursed weather that roiled down from the north. If nothing else, the worsening weather conditions - not as bad as they had endured in Gorkenfort, but still abnormal for this part of Ichtar - told Belial that Gorgrael's influence was finally spreading south after the fall of Gorkenfort.

And with the wind and ice would come the Skraelings.

Belial shifted in his saddle. Five days was plenty of time for Arne to ride to Sigholt, scout the garrison from a safe distance, and return. If they weren't back by this evening then Belial would be forced to admit that something was wrong.

He hunkered down a little further in his saddle, pulling the hood of his cloak far over his face in an effort to keep the freezing wind out.

They waited.

At dusk Belial finally stirred and turned to Magariz, the man only a dark shape in the deepening twilight.

"My friend," he croaked, his voice hoarse from the cold. "We have waited long enough. Tomorrow we will break camp, turn for Smyrton, and take our chances with homespun village life."

Magariz kneed Belaguez closer. "Yes. Only adversity could have kept Arne from returning by now."

"Only adversity or a good meal," a dour voice interrupted from behind them.

Belial and Magariz both swore in surprise and swung their horses about. Only a few paces behind them stood Arne, his face no more cheerful or less austere than it normally was. He was alone, but looked fit and uninjured.

"Arne, how did you -" Belial began. "Your men?" Magariz barked. "Where are they?" Arne chewed on a piece of dry grass, then abruptly spat it out. "At Sigholt, my Lord." "Prisoners?"

Arne actually laughed. "In a manner of speaking. They are trapped before a roaring fire, hearing tales of adventure from an arthritic old cook and a genial pig-herder as they sip good dark ale. They were too comfortable to move, so I returned on my own."

As Magariz took a deep breath and fought to keep from swearing at the man's misplaced sense of humour, Belial slid from his horse and stepped closer to Arne. "What did you find, Arne? What?"

"Sigholt is ours once we overcome the resident force," Arne said. "An old retired cook and a pig-herder. There is no-one else. None of Borneheld s men.

Not even a Skrael-ing. They reached Hsingard and destroyed it, but according to the pig-herder, they have not approached Sigholt."

"Why?" Belial asked Arne. "Why has Sigholt been left untouched? Surely it is too important for Gorgrael to leave it alone?" After the events of the past few months, Belial no longer believed much in good news or good luck.

"The pig-herder said the Skraelings did not like Sigholt." Arne paused, debating whether to continue. "Speak up, man!" Belial snapped.

"I have seen this pig-herder before," Arne said finally. "Outside the Silent Woman Woods. He had his pigs there."

Belial frowned. This pig-herder had been outside the Silent Woman Woods -

two hundred leagues to the south? It seemed a lifetime ago since they'd camped at the Silent Woman Woods. Then Axis had simply been the BattleAxe of the Seneschal and Belial his second-in-command. No-one knew then what they were riding into. "What is his involvement in this, Arne? Do you know?"

"He is involved, Commander. I know not how." Again Arne paused. "But I trust him. And he seems eager that you move this rag-tag army to Sigholt. He says he has a job for some strong backs."

Belial frowned. These were strange words for a pig-herder. He looked at Magariz. "My friend. What do you think?"

"I am surprised," said Magariz, "that Sigholt should be sitting there waiting for us as eager and as open as an Ysbadd whore — and I wonder if it has as many traps. I say we should approach...carefully. Why has Gorgrael not attacked?"

"Jack said he could answer that when you arrived," Arne replied, giving Belial and Magariz the pig-herder's name. "He said to remind you that Sigholt was where Axis was conceived, and," Arne hesitated, "that Sigholt was an Icarii stronghold long before the Acharites and the pox-cursed Dukes of Ichtar made it their home. He said Sigholt has some secrets that you could make good use of."

"A most unusual pig-herder, Belial," Magariz murmured. "Either a friend or a cunningly laid trap for us."

Belial considered a moment. "Then we will break camp in the morning and ride west to Sigholt. But we ride carefully."

Arne spat on the ground. "If you had been an enemy, the first you would have known of my approach was the feel of my blade in your neck. Perhaps it is as well you only have a cook and a pig-herder to battle with at Sigholt."

Belial grimaced and swung onto his horse. Arne was right. He should have been more careful.

Three days later Belial sat Belaguez a half-league from Sigholt. Approaching him was an open- and genial-faced middle-aged man in peasant garb. Dark blond hair flopped untidily over his forehead and he carried a heavy staff with a curiously worked metal head. At his heels trotted a number of well-fed pigs, grunting and rolling cheerfully as they picked their way across the stony ground.

Belial had ridden out alone, leaving Magariz and the three thousand some one hundred paces behind him.

He risked taking his eyes off the approach of the pig-herder to glance at Sigholt itself, standing stark but peaceful in the cold morning air. If there were troops waiting to surprise him, then they were hidden well.

"Peace, Belial," said the pig-herder and stopped a few paces from him.

"Sigholt is yours. Use it."

"Jack," Belial said by way of brief greeting. "I hope you mean that. Why should I trust you?"

Jack smiled. "You have known my friends well, Belial. Through them, I know you."

"Your friends?"

"Ogden and Veremund. My friends and my companions."

Belial's mouth dropped open. "You're one of the...?"

"My task is to serve the Prophecy, Belial TrueHeart, as yours is to serve Axis." His eyes suddenly glowed a vivid emerald.

"You're a Sentinel!" Belial gasped, his shock making Belaguez sidestep nervously.

"Then trust me," Jack said, as the light died in his eyes.

Belial still hesitated. "Jack. I come from Gorkenfort. I have had enough of sieges at the mercy of the Skraelings. What chance is there that once I have this army settled into Sigholt the Skraelings will lay siege to us? I have no wish to endure another Gorkenfort."

"I understand your concern," Jack replied. "But there are good reasons why the Skraelings would hesitate to come within leagues of Sigholt. They have destroyed Hsingard, which is not a great distance from here. Do you not think that if they destroyed Hsingard they would have destroyed Sigholt if not for very good reasons?"

"Such as?"

"Come inside, Belial, and bring your army. It is a long story."

New Responsibilities, Old Friends

Axis stood at the open window and watched two Wings of the Strike Force wheel and somersault through the sky in a dazzling but utterly useless display of grace and fluidity.

He sighed and turned into the spacious meeting chamber. Soft light shone from concealed ceiling lamps on a massive round table of highly polished dark-green stone that dominated the room. The mottoes of the various Crests were carved in elegant gilded Icarii script into the walls above pennants and standards.

Around the stone table sat the twelve Crest-Leaders of the Icarii Strike Force, their wings draped across the gleaming floor behind their stools. Each Crest-Leader commanded twelve Wings of twelve members; the total Strike Force composed over seventeen hundred Icarii. Not overly large, Axis mused, but their flight abilities should give them the advantage over any ground force.

But Axis had severe doubts about the capabilities of the Strike Force. Currently they were more gorgeously decorative than practically potent.

Axis gazed at the Crest-Leaders, all with their wings dyed in the black of war, all staring back at him flintily. He, too,

had dressed entirely in black; it was the colour he'd worn as BatdeAxe.

Except now the twin crossed axes were gone from his chest. He felt naked without a badge of office.

RavenCrest SunSoar, sitting with the jewelled tore of his office glowing about his neck and his black brows meeting at an acute angle above sharp eyes, had called the Crest-Leaders together to meet Axis. FarSight CutSpur, the senior among the Crest-Leaders, had made a gracious speech of welcome. Axis had made, he hoped, an equally gracious reply. And now no-one quite knew what to say next.

Finally Axis broke the uncomfortable silence. "You have the makings of a good Strike Force. But I need to take command and shape it to make it more effective."

Backs stiffened noticeably about the table and wings rustled in agitation.

Looking each Crest-Leader in the eye as he slowly circled the table Axis continued, his voice low but intense. "Do you really think the Strike Force can harm Gorgrael in its current state?"

There were low murmurs of protest, but Axis ignored them. "You have a Strike Force, but what are its accomplishments? What its experience? Where its battle honours?" he asked. "Where its successes?"

Crest-Leader SharpEye BlueFeather suddenly pushed his stool back and stood. "Do you accuse us of failure, BatdeAxe?" he hissed, his neck feathers rising aggressively.

SharpEye's use of this tide was an indication of the depth of ill will that some in the room bore him. For a thousand years die person and die office of BatdeAxe had been reviled and loathed among both Icarii and Avar.

Axis held die birdman's eyes in a fierce stare. "I am Axis SunSoar," he retorted. "And, yes, it is true, I have the experience of a successful BatdeAxe behind me. But I am BatdeAxe no longer, SharpEye. I am SunSoar born and it is with that right and heritage that I stand here today." SharpEye dropped his eyes a fraction, and Axis shifted his gaze about the table. "Should I accuse you of failure? If not, dien inform me of your successes."

There was a telling silence about the table. "WasYuletide a success?" Axis asked, anger creeping into his voice. "How many died, FarSight?"

"We lost several hundred, the Avar lost more." FarSight looked steadily at Axis. "I am not proud of that, Axis Sun-Soar. But we rallied after the surprise of the initial attack."

"You rallied after Azhure showed you how to kill!" Axis snapped. "Did not Azhure kill most of the wraiths until the Earth Tree struck? And would you have triumphed over the Skraelings if StarDrifter had not roused the Earth Tree?"

"What would you have done diflerendy, Axis?" FarSight challenged, his fists clenching.

"You gave diem a feast, Crest-Leader, with the Icarii and Avar herded tight into that grove," Axis said. "The Strike Force should have remained in the air, FarSight, where the Skraelings could not have reached them — and where they might have actually seen the wraiths approach. What would I have done differendy? I would have had the Strike Force ready to strike, FarSight, and I would not have allowed the Yuletide rites to go ahead with so many people packed into one place waiting to be killed!"

"We could not have known the Skraelings were going to attack!" RavenCrest shouted, self-reproach raising his voice. "What?" Axis said, turning to his uncle, who subsided back onto his stool at the expression on his nephew's face. "

What? You knew they were massing to the north of the Avarinheim. You knew that die Prophecy walked, that Gorgrael was ready to drive his Ghostmen south.

What do you mean you did not know they were going to attack?"

Again there was silence for a full minute. Axis slowly shifted his gaze from face to face, knowing he had struck home. He walked back to die window and watched die Icarii manoeuvre in the sky.

"How did you lose the Wars of the Axe?" he asked finally. "How did you let yourself be driven from the southern lands? How could you let Tencendor be destroyed?"

"The Acharites - the Axe-Wielders - were too fierce," FarSight replied grudgingly. "They hated too much. We could not withstand them."

"I have spent years with the Axe-Wielders," Axis said. "I was their leader for five of them. I know what they are capable of. And I know that no ground force, no matter how motivated by hatred, could do so well against an airborne force unless that force was pitifully weak to start with. You should have won the Wars of the Axe." He paused, then repeated his words to drive his message home.

"You should have won. Why didn't you? Why?"

"We lacked the determination," said FarSight CutSpur, almost whispering.

"We were so horrified that the Acharites had actually attacked that we fled instead of fighting. We lacked the resolve. We lacked — lack — the instinct to attack and defend the instant it is needed."

Axis nodded. "Good. Shall I tell you your other major flaw?"

FarSight, as die others in the room, stared at him levelly.

"Your Icarii pride constandy leads you to underestimate your opponents. You underestimated the ill will die Acharites bore you, which fed their desire to drive you from Tencendor. You underestimated their fierceness and their determination in doing just that. You underestimated Gorgrael's ability to drive his Skraelings through the Avarinheim to attack the Earth Tree Grove. And most recently SpikeFeather underestimated Azhure's ability to use die Wolven, leading to the loss of one of your most prized weapons. Have I made my point?"

FarSight CutSpur nodded once, jerkily.

"What do you use the Strike Force for, FarSight?" Just one more humiliation, Axis thought, then he would begin to rebuild dieir hopes.

"To scout, to observe and to defend." "Then why call it a Strike Force?" Axis commented dryly. "At the moment you have a force that is incapable of defence, let alone a strike." He paused to let it sink in, then his face and voice softened.

"My friends, you have the makings of an elite force, one that could defeat any other in these lands. But at the moment you have neither the means nor the knowledge to create that elite force from the inefFective one you now have."

Axis pulled out the spare stool and sat down among the Crest-Leaders. "You need a war leader," he said finally. "You need me. You know that. It is why you are all here. Give me the Strike Force. Let me realise its fabulous potential. Let me turn you from birds of paradise into hawks. Killers. Don't you want to regain your pride? To avenge Yuletide?"

FarSight glanced at RavenCrest. The Talon looked furious, but he jerked his head in assent. FarSight looked about the table at the other Crest-Leaders, seeking their decision. Slowly, one by one, they inclined their heads.

FarSight finally turned back to Axis. "You have command, Axis SunSoar."

Stars, he thought, what would my ancestors think now that I hand over command of the Icarii Strike Force to a former BatdeAxe?

Axis nodded. "Thank you. You honour me with your trust and with the command of the Strike Force.' I will not fail you, nor will I betray you or your traditions."

Gradually the other faces about the table relaxed. "What are your plans?"

one of the younger Crest-Leaders asked.

"I need to watch the Strike Force train," Axis replied, a small knot of excitement in his belly at the tide. "I need you to tell me what you are capable of, and we all need to talk about what it is we face. Then we can decide what to do."

"How will we fight Gorgrael?" Another of the Crest-Leaders leaned forward.

"How?" The mood among the Crest-Leaders was quickly turning from shame to eagerness.

Axis looked about the room. "Eventually we must unite with the Avar and the Acharites. That is the only way we can defeat Gorgrael." That last they did not particularly like but they realised the need for it. "I have a force of some three thousand men in eastern Achar. Eventually I want the Strike Force to join them. A combined air and ground force will give us our best chance to drive Gorgrael back."

FarSight leaned forward. "Yes. Our farflight scouts kept in contact with Belial. The last they saw of him he was leading your three thousand into the southern WildDog Plains."

"Why is this the first I have heard of it?" Axis snapped.

"You have hardly been accessible," FarSight bit back, then subsided and went on more mildly. "Our Strike Force does have its uses, Axis SunSoar."

Axis smiled a little guiltily at the birdman. "I think we both have a good deal to learn about each other, FarSight."

FarSight inclined his head. "Then let us tell you about your Strike Force."

Azhure hurried along the corridor clutching the Wolven. She was late for archery practice with SpikeFeather's Wing, delayed by an errand Rivkah had sent her on, and was anxious to get there. Her skill had improved to the extent that she could now match SpikeFeather arrow for arrow, surprising even herself with her aptitude. And next week SpikeFeather had promised to show her some of the skills required to hit a target while both she and it were moving. Azhure could not wait for the new challenge.

"My dear girl," a cheerful voice said behind her. "Do you by chance know your way about this rabbit warren?"

Azhure whirled around, almost dropping the Wolven in shock. Two Brothers of the Seneschal advanced up the corridor towards her, one tall and skinny, the other short and fat. Both had kindly creased faces and haloes of untidy white hair above tattered and stained habits.

Azhure took a cautious step back and one hand tightened about the Wolven.

Her other hand crept towards the quiver of arrows slung about her back.

"Don't you recognise us?" the tall Brother asked. "Don't you remember who we are?"

Azhure stared at them, then finally relaxed a little. "You're the two Brothers who were with Axis in Smyrton. Sentinels." Axis had told her that these Brothers were two of the Sentinels mentioned in the Prophecy.

"Yes. My name is Veremund," the tall one said, then turned to indicate his corpulent companion. "And this is Ogden." Both made courtly bows.

Azhure shook their hands. "My name is Azhure. I'm sure Axis will be delighted to find you here in Talon Spike. Do you want to see him? He is usually with StarDrifter and MorningStar during the afternoons." Her archery practice would have to wait for today.

"My dear, we would be very grateful if you could direct us to him,"

Veremund said, and Azhure turned and led them up one of the shafts.

Axis had spent all morning and the early part of the afternoon with the Crest-Leaders, and he was now feeling exhausted, both physically and emotionally. But he knew he would be so busy with the Strike Force over the coming weeks that he should take this chance to learn the remaining Songs MorningStar had to teach him.

StarDrifter was once again relegated to a stool in a corner of the training chamber as MorningStar stood before a seated Axis. This afternoon she and StarDrifter would have taught Axis all they could - then it would be up to him to develop his own powers on the foundation they had given him.

Axis relaxed. The music came to him easily this afternoon and he felt as if he might drift off to sleep as MorningStar cradled his head between her hands. Her voice was very soothing, her fingers so sure that Axis let the entire weight of his head sink into their hold. His mind started to wander.

"And this one," MorningStar said, "is the Song of Harmony. It will soothe emotions, calm tempers, turn thoughts to peace rather than violence." She smiled a little. "It is as useful to a military commander as weapons of war, Axis.

Listen well and learn."

She opened her mouth to sing, but halted in amazement as her grandson began to hum it himself. She looked wide-eyed over Axis' head towards StarDrifter.

Axis now began to sing rather than hum. It was the Song of Harmony.

MorningStar gently let his head go and took a step backwards, her heart beating wildly. He should not be able to do this.

"When have you sung this for him before, mother?" StarDrifter whispered hoarsely, walking slowly over.

MorningStar shook her head from side to side. "Never. I left it until last. You have not...?"

"You know I have little proficiency with this Song, mother. I have not taught him."

MorningStar's face hardened. So. It was what she had feared. "Wait until he has finished his Song," she whispered. "Then we will have some questions for him."

Oblivious to their reaction, Axis sang the Song to a close. For a moment silence hung in the air, then he opened his eyes. "That was a beautiful Song, MorningStar. Thank you."

Before MorningStar could say anything there was a gentle knock at the door and Azhure and — by the Stars! — two Brothers of the Seneschal walked in.

Azhure saw MorningStar's shocked face and smiled reassuringly. "They are the Sentinels Axis has told us about, MorningStar. Ogden andVeremund."

"Ogden! Veremund!" Axis leapt to his feet and clasped each Sentinel by the hand warmly. "It is good to see you! But what are you doing here? Faraday?

Was she well when you left her?"

Ogden laughed. "Axis, m'boy, so many questions! Please, will you introduce us to these two delightful people?"

Axis introduced Ogden andVeremund to his father and grandmother and the two Sentinels fussed over them.

Azhure smiled at Axis' obvious pleasure at seeing the two old men again. "I found them in the corridors of Talon Spike, Axis. I do not know from where they came or how they entered the complex."

Axis gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Azhure. You have brought me a gift to lighten my day." He stood back and looked fondly at the two old men. "Though there was a time when I found them so irritating that I would have cheerfully pushed them from the peak of Talon Spike itself. You were lucky to survive my temper, gentlemen!"

Ogden andVeremund both beamed. "We are so glad you have found your father, Axis," Veremund said, "and embraced your heritage so completely."

"We did not stay with Borneheld for long, Axis," Ogden broke in. "But they made good their escape from Gorkenfort and, the last we saw them, were riding hard for Jervois Landing. Faraday was as well as could be expected under the circumstances. Yr stays with her."

Axis' eyes shadowed a little. "Thank you, my friend. I was not sure if they'd taken their chance when we drew the Skraelings away from Gorkenfort. To know that Faraday managed to escape eases my heart."

Ogden nodded, then noticed the strained expression on MorningStar's and StarDrifter's faces. "Ah, forgive us, but we have interrupted your training,"

"Such as it is," MorningStar muttered.

"We should excuse ourselves and retire," Ogden continued. "Axis, perhaps we can meet soon to talk. I'm sure there's a lot we must —"

MorningSttr broke in. "There's a great deal that must be said, and most of it needs to be said now. No." She held up her hand as Ogden andVeremund bowed and turned for the door. "I think it would be good to have the advice of the Sentinels. Please, stay. Axis, would you sit, please?"

Axis frowned, perplexed, but he took his stool in the centre of the room.

Unnoticed, Azhure sat down on the floor by the door.

MorningStar paused and collected her thoughts.

"Axis," she said finally. "Your training has gone so well. You display an extraordinary ability to master a Song the moment you hear it and to control the power that flows through the melody. You hear the Star Dance more clearly, it seems, than anyone eke. You are a remarkable Enchanter."

Axis' eyes narrowed at MorningStar's rare praise.

"He is the StarMan," Veremund murmured to one side. "One would expect that —"

"I am not a fool!" MorningStar snarled abruptly. "I understand that Axis wields remarkable powers. I understand that because of who he is it's no wonder he's had little difficulty with a training that normally taxes the most gifted Enchanter for years. I understand that!"

She took a deep breath, righting to keep her temper under control and to keep her face from showing the sheer dread that fed her anger.

"Axis." Her face was now a mask of serenity, its bland lines hiding her fears.

"How did you know the Song of Harmony?"

Axis frowned, even more perplexed. "You sang it for me, MorningStar."

"No!" she whispered, her fingers twisting among the golden beads at her throat. "I told you its name, and what it could be used for, but as I took the breath to sing it, you started to sing it yourself. You already knew it."

"I ..." Axis' voice drifted off as he tried to remember.

"It was not a Song that StarDrifter would have sung for you while you lay cradled in Rivkah's womb. He could not have done it. / have not sung it for you before. Yet you already knew it. How, when it takes a SunSoar to instruct a SunSoar, do you know this Song when neither of the two living SunSoar Enchanters has taught it to you?" She glanced briefly at the two Sentinels. "No Enchanter, no matter how powerful, instinctively knows the Songs. He or she must be taught them, and by a member of their own blood.

"StarDrifter. When Axis was growing in Rivkah's womb, did you ever sing for him the Song of Recreation?"

"No." StarDrifter smiled a little at the memory. "I sang for him many things, but not that. It is no thing to sing to a developing baby."

MorningStar nodded. "And yet, Axis knew what to sing for the Avar girl.

Raum has told me of this."

"Yes," Ogden nodded slowly. "Veremund and I heard it too. He sang beautifully."

"Yes," MorningStar repeated woodenly, her face set into hard lines. "Axis.

You have learned well since your arrival in Talon Spike. Too well. Far too well. I have wondered why many times. When you sang the Song of Harmony it confirmed my worst fears. Axis, StarDrifter and I have not been training you at all. We have simply been reminding you. You have already been trained, probably as a very small child."

She paused, and when she resumed her words were chill stones in the absolute silence of the chamber. "Who trained you as a child, Axis? Who?"

Axis gaped at her. She looked fierce, almost ready to attack, and he stood slowly. "MorningStar, what do you mean? Trained? How? Who by? If I have been already trained then why haven't I been able to use my powers all my life? No.

No, you must be wrong."

MorningStar held his eyes steadily. If he was only pretending confusion, then he was doing a good job. "You must have been trained at a very young age and undoubtedly you do not remember it. Because you never used your powers they fell into disuse as you grew older. But over the past year, as the Prophecy and its Sentinels unlocked your past, as you discovered your true identity, the Songs have drifted back."

"But, MorningStar," Veremund began, "I thought that only another Enchanter of the same family could teach an Enchanter."

MorningStar gave a curt nod. "You are right." "Then who else is there in your family who could have had access to Axis? What other Enchanters?"

MorningStar lifted her chin. "StarDrifter and I are the only two SunSoar Enchanters - apart, of course, from Axis himself. I received my powers from my mother, DriftStar, also a SunSoar, but she died some three hundred years ago."

"Are you saying that there is another SunSoar Enchanter running about?"

Azhure asked. Everyone in the room jumped slightly; they had forgotten her presence. "Someone you aren't aware of? Someone who taught Axis as a baby?"

MorningStar stared at Azhure, who had risen slowly to her feet. She nodded.

"Yes. I was afraid to say the words, but yes. That is what I think."

"But who?" Axis said. "Why hide from me? And how did an Icarii Enchanter have access to me in the Seneschal? Howl I don't understand."

"My son," StarDrifter stepped up to Axis and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I fear there might be worse. If there is another SunSoar Enchanter about then...then ..." he hesitated, "then it might explain who taught Gorgrael as well."

MorningStar visibly rocked on her feet, and her hand drifted to her throat in horror. "Gorgrael?"

"After Yuletide FreeFall asked me how Gorgrael had learned his powers,"

StarDrifter said, dropping his hand from Axis' shoulder and moving to his mothers side. "I said then that he'd obtained his powers from the music of discord, the Dance of Death, rather than the Star Dance. But I evaded the real issue. Gorgrael had to be taught how to use that music as well, and he had to be taught by someone of the same blood. A family member. A SunSoar Enchanter."

"But who? And who would teach both? And teach them each such different music?" MorningStar turned to the Sentinels. "Ogden, Veremund, can you help us? Please?"

They shook their heads and Veremund spread his hands helplessly. "There are many riddles within the Prophecy we do not understand, but I do not think the Prophecy even alludes to this problem, MorningStar. All the Prophecy tells us is that the same man fathered both the Destroyer and the StarMan - StarDrifter, as we now know. It says nothing about who trained them. But a SunSoar presumably, as they are both of SunSoar blood."

"Axis." Now MorningStar addressed her grandson. "Do you know? Is there anything you should be telling us?"

Axis' temper boiled over. "I do not lie to you, Morning-Star, and I do not dissemble! If I knew anything I would tell you!"

Azhure moved to his side and rested a soothing hand against his back. "Axis, shush. Is there nothing you remember?"

Axis' eyes snapped at her but he did not attempt to pull away from the comforting touch of her hand. "No," he said finally. "All I know is that over the past few months, ever since Ogden and Veremund gave me the Prophecy written in Icarii script to read, memories and melodies have been bubbling to the surface. I did not think to ask myself who put them there in the first place."

"Veremund and I should have noticed," Ogden said. "We should have asked ourselves how Axis knew the Song of Recreation. Why he seemed to know so many melodies.

But," he shrugged his shoulders, "we were so thrilled to have finally found the StarMan after so many thousands of years, so thrilled that finally the Prophecy walked after such a long wait, that we did not think to ask ourselves these questions."

MorningStar let her eyes drift over the people before her, finally bringing them to rest on Axis. "So. You have been taught, as Gorgrael has been taught, by an unknown SunSoar Enchanter. Unknown, because where could he or she have come from? Only from the loins of myself or my mother, and I can assure you that is not the case. I have only borne two children, and I was my mother's only child — through complications sustained in birthing me she was never able to have another infant." She paused, and when she resumed her voice was so soft that the others could hardly hear it. "And this SunSoar Enchanter is not only unknown, but incredibly powerful. No-one has been able to use the Dark Music previously - its use has been only theorised until now — yet this SunSoar Enchanter was able to teach it to Gorgrael. I think we have a right to be afraid of him."

For a long time there was silence as everyone stood wrapped in their own thoughts. Ogden andVeremund took each other's hands. StarDrifter turned away to hide his face as he thought. Azhure leaned a little closer to Axis, slipping her arm about his waist and giving him a quick hug; Axis smiled at her gratefully.

She was a good friend.

"Again I think we might be evading the real questions here," StarDrifter finally said into the silence, turning back to the others. "And they are: Where is this SunSoar Enchanter now? What does he plan? What does he plot? Is he for Axis? Or is he for Gorgrael?"

Dark Man, Dear ManThe four SkraeBolds

grovelled at Gorgrael's feet. Even SkraeFear, senior and bravest of them, thrust himself against the stone flagging as a man might against the body of his lover.

His clawed hands clutched at Gorgrael's toes, and he begged for forgiveness, begged Gorgrael to love him again.

Gorgrael wallowed in their misery. TheYuletide attack on the Earth Tree Grove had been a miserable failure. Not only had the SkraeBolds failed to kill the Earth Tree - and she now sang so loud that the northern Avarinheim was denied to him - but SkraeFear had almost killed StarDrifter, and Gorgrael had expressly ordered that he be brought to him alive and in good working order. They deserved to be punished horribly for their failure.

"Get up!" he snarled. "But only as far as your knees. You are not yet fit to stand in my presence!"

He swaggered away from the SkraeBolds as they inched to their knees. This was the first time he'd managed to have them all in the same room since the fall of Gorkenfort, and he intended to drag out their fear as long as he could.

"Sssss!" he hissed in frustration, swinging his head from side to side, and the four SkraeBolds behind him whimpered as his tusks glinted in the dim light. They knew they had a right to fear the fury of his tusks.

Gorkenfort had started so well. The town had fallen quickly and thousands had died. Gorgrael, watching his forces from the safety of his ice fortress far to the north of the Avarinheim, had shrieked in delight as each man died.

But Axis had escaped. Escaped with a significant force of men. Escaped to the arms of his father whom Gorgrael had so desperately desired to have here with him. Escaped, and in escaping, had destroyed so many Skraelings.

Now Gorgrael would be forced to curtail his drive south, for it was all he could do to keep a tight grip on those territories in Ichtar that he held - from the Andeis Sea to the Urqhart Hills. It was now a dead land, peopled only by frozen corpses and the Skraelings who fed on them. He could take pleasure in that, at least.

But if Gorgrael was pushed into simply consolidating rather than pushing further south, then now was the time to instil some order among the Skraelings.

Bring them back under his control. Breed some more IceWorms. Fashion some new creations from the raw material surrounding him to breach the Acharite lines and break the force that Axis would inevitably throw at him. As Axis needed time to build his numbers, so Gorgrael needed time to rebuild his.

"You are failures!" he rasped venomously. The flickering light twisted his part-man, part-bird, part-beast form into an even more hideous shape.

"We tried our best!" "But so hard to remember orders amid such excitement!" "And those Skraelings, so unreliable!" "Nasty, nasty brights!" Their excuses littered the air.

"Your failure tells me that you do not love me!" Gorgrael screeched. The SkraeBolds cried out in denial. They loved Gorgrael, lived for him!

Gorgrael's face twisted in derision. "Let me show you the price of your failure."

He reached for SkraeFear, who had failed him the most. SkraeFear still had the arrow Azhure had plunged into his neck embedded in his flesh, the wound festering and black, oozing pus down his chest. Gorgrael grasped the arrow and twisted it viciously, and SkraeFear screamed in agony. Gorgrael waited until SkraeFear's screams had bubbled away into low sobs, then he twisted the arrow again, twice as hard, the arrow head tearing through SkraeFear's flesh with a sound like wet cloth ripping.

"Will you fail me again?" Gorgrael hissed in SkraeFear's ear. "Will you?"

"No, no, no," SkraeFear moaned. "Never again, never again!"

Suddenly Gorgrael let the arrow go and SkraeFear sagged to the floor.

Gorgrael grimaced in disgust. He needed a more intelligent and reliable lieutenant.

Timozel. Gorgrael's lip curled. But Timozel was bound to Faraday, and until those bonds were broken Timozel could continue to escape Gorgrael's need for him.

Well, for the moment the SkraeBolds would have to do. He patted SkraeFear on the head comfortingly.

"I still love you, SkraeFear, you and your brothers here."

SkraeFear whined in adoration and clung to one of Gorgrael's legs. "I will be good," he whispered. "Good, good, good!"

"Yes, yes," Gorgrael said absently, gently prising SkraeFear loose. "Be gone for the moment. I will speak to you soon. Give new orders. Impart a new mission. But for now, be gone."

SkraeFear gave one last grateful whimper, then scurried out of the room on his hands and knees, his brothers hurrying after him, gladdened beyond measure that their beloved master had not seen fit to chastise them as well.

Gorgrael prowled among the massive pieces of dark wooden furniture of his chamber; twisted and ensorcelled into strange and tormented shapes, they flung shadows into every corner.

He loved the room's gloom and clutter, its darkness and malformed purpose.

It was where he did his best work.

One corner of the chamber was dominated by a massive plate-iron fireplace.

Though Gorgrael constructed many of his creatures from mist and ice, he was warm-blooded himself and needed the heat and comfort of fire from time to time. He wandered over to the cold grate and snapped his fingers. Flames licked their way about the misshapen pieces of wood piled at the back of the grate, and Gorgrael murmured to himself. Sometimes he saw strange shapes in the flames, and it bothered him.

He turned to a sideboard, its undulating planes and angles polished smooth so that the wood shone, and lifted a crystal decanter from its depths. Gorgrael smiled. This decanter and its delicate matching glasses he had brought home from Gorkenfort, and the fact that Borneheld and Faraday had been forced to leave them behind when they fled pleased Gorgrael. He hummed a broken and grating tune as he lifted a glass with one scaled, clawed hand and filled it with good wine from the decanter.

He was civilised. He was as good as anyone else. Certainly as good as Axis.

Perhaps Faraday would enjoy the time she spent with him. Perhaps she would think him polite company. Perhaps he might not kill her after all.

Gorgrael sipped the wine, clinking the crystal against a tusk and dribbling a little of the wine down his chin as his cumbersome mouth and tongue tried to cope with the delicacy of the glass. He reached into the depths of the sideboard again and lifted out a large parcel. Crystal was not the only item Gorgrael had brought home from Gorkenfort.

He grunted in satisfaction and wandered over to his favourite chair, scraping it towards the fire. It was a good chair, throne-like, with a high carved back and wings that reached even higher towards the ceiling. He sat down and ripped open the parcel with his free hand. For a long time he sat there, looking at the parcel's contents, stroking it gently, careful to keep his claws retracted. Then he drained his wine in a gulp and irritably threw the crystal into the fire where it shattered among the flames.

In his lap, tumbled and crushed, lay the emerald and ivory silk of Faraday's wedding gown. Looking at it, absorbing the smell and the feel of the woman who had worn it, Gorgrael felt strange, painful emotions well up inside him. They made him feel merciful — and Gorgrael did not want to feel merciful. Worse, they made him feel lost - and that feeling Gorgrael did not like very much at all.

There was a movement in the air, swirling about the room, and the flames leapt and spat in the turbulence.

"She is a very beautiful woman, Gorgrael," the loved voice said gently behind him, "and it is no wonder you sit there with her silks to comfort you."

"Dear Man," Gorgrael breathed. It had been months since the Dark Man had visited him.

A heavily shrouded figure brushed past his chair and stood for a moment in front of the fire, his back to Gorgrael. The hood of his black cloak was pulled close about his face.

"Have you met her?" Gorgrael asked, desperate for closer knowledge of Faraday. "Have you spoken with her?"

The shrouded figure turned and sat down on the hearth. "I know Faraday, yes. And we have passed the occasional word."

Gorgrael gripped the silk in his hands. "Have you desired her?"

The Dark Man laughed, genuinely amused. "Many desire her, Gorgrael, and perhaps I am one of them. It is of no account. If you want her then I will not stand in your way. You may enjoy her as you wish."

For a while they sat there in silence, Gorgrael fingering the silken dress, the Dark Man contemplating the flames.

Gorgrael had long given up trying to see the face of the Dear Man.

No matter how hard and how craftily he'd peered, always the Dark Man, the Dear Man, appeared as he was now, shrouded so heavily that no-one, not even Gorgrael with his dark talent, could understand or know what lay beneath the folds.

The Dark Man had been a part of Gorgrael's life since he was small.

The five Skraelings who had midwhred Gorgrael's terrible delivery had brought him back to their burrow in the northern tundra, had somehow managed to feed him until he was able to crawl out of the burrow and forage in the snow, catching first small insects, then the white mice of the northern wastes, then finally the small mammals, hot and juicy, that fed his growing flesh and provided the stiff furs that kept him warm at night. The Skraelings had sheltered him and loved him, but Gorgrael had led a miserable life among the silly wraiths until the day that, scampering across a small ice field, he had seen the cloaked figure striding towards him. At first the tiny Gorgrael had been afraid of this tall and mysterious man, but the Dark Man had picked him up and whispered to him of things which soon had him cooing in delight and squirming in the stranger's arms. The Dark Man had sung dreams to the child, had offered him hope.

No-one but Gorgrael knew about the Dark Man - the five Skraelings, later transformed by Gorgrael into Skrae-Bolds, had never known he existed. The Dark Man, the Dear Man, had come to Gorgrael almost every day when he was little. Singing strange songs of power and enchantment, teaching him about his heritage, teaching him about his path for the future. Gorgrael had learned well from the Dark Man, and had come to love and respect as well as fear this stranger who taught him. He had learned very early that it was not a good thing to cross the Dark Man.

But through all these years he had never found out who the Dark Man was. Whenever he asked, whenever he tried to pry, the Dark Man would laugh and evade his questions and inquisitive eyes. There were some things he knew about him. The Dark Man knew Axis, for he had told Gorgrael about his hated half-brother very early in life and had taught Gorgrael the Prophecy of the Destroyer. Gorgrael knew also that the Dark Man lived a dark and crafty life, using his disguises to fool many who loved him. He knew that the Dark Man was a manipulator of considerable skill, and sometimes Gorgrael wondered just how much he had been manipulated as well.

Gorgrael knew that the Dark Man had a purpose, but he did not know exactly what that purpose was.

"It was her wedding gown," Gorgrael mumbled. "Timozel's sleeping mind told me that. Dear Man," he lifted his gaze to the still figure before him. "I need a trustier lieutenant than these SkraeBolds. I want Timozel, but he is tied to Faraday. What can you tell me?"

"You will have hiin eventually," the Dark Man assured him. "Many bonds that have been forged will tear apart. Many vows that have been spoken will become meaningless."

"Will I have Faraday?"

"You have read the Prophecy. You know it as well as any." The Dark Man's voice was a little harder now.

"Axis' Lover. The only one whose pain can break his concentration enough for me to kill him. Faraday."

"Axis' Lover. Yes," the Dark Man agreed. "Only love can provide the means to destroy him. You know the Prophecy well."

Faraday, Gorgrael thought, I must have her!

The Dark Man sat and watched Gorgrael's thoughts play across his face.

Gorgrael would do well - he had proved his worth already - but he would have to learn to curb his impatience.

"You moved too fast," the Dark Man said abruptly, his voice harsh.

"How much longer was I supposed to wait? My forces were massed, my magic was strong, and Axis knew little about his true identity, his true ability. It was a good time tomove."

"You should have waited another year. Waited until you had more Skraelings, more ice creatures who could work your will for you. Waited until you had more control over your creatures!" The Dark Man's voice was scathing now, and he leaned forward from the hearth, stabbing his finger at Gorgrael. "Now you have gained Ichtar, true, but you can go no further until next winter. And meantime the forces of opposition are forming against you. Six months ago Axis had no idea of his true nature. But your precipitate action has flushed out all the major actors in this little drama. Now Axis has cast aside the lies of the Seneschal and absorbs his lessons from StarDrifter as a sponge absorbs water.

You have woken the StarMan, Gorgrael, but you have weakened yourself so seriously in the process that you cannot yet move against him!"

Gorgrael twisted his head away from the Dear Man, sulking. "I will win." Did the Dark Man not believe in him?

"Oh, yes," the Dark Man said. "Undoubtedly. Trust me."

The Brother-Leader PlansThe silvery,

secretive waters of Grail Lake lapped against the foundations of the white-walled, seven-sided Tower of the Seneschal. Deep within, Jayme, Brother-Leader of the Seneschal and most senior mediator between the one god Artor the Ploughman and the hearts and souls of the Acharites, paced across his chamber.

"Is there no news?" he asked Gilbert for the fourth time that afternoon.

The fire blazing in the mottled-green marble fireplace behind the Brother-Leader's desk was stacked high and the light it threw off shimmered along the edge of the fine crystal and gold that stood atop the mantel. Before the fire lay an exquisite rug of hand-woven emerald and ivory silk from the strange hot lands to the south of Coroleas. The Brother-Leader's private chambers lacked no comforts.

"Brother-Leader." Gilbert, his junior adviser, bowed respectfully, his hands tucked away in the voluminous sleeves of his habit. "The only word from the north comes from Duke Borneheld s camp at Jervois Landing. And the last Borneheld saw of your BattleAxe, he was whooping and screaming as he led his depleted Axe-Wielders to the north in an attempt to draw the Skraelings away from Gorkenfort."

Jayme frowned at the referral to Axis as "your BattleAxe". Gilbert had never liked Axis, and felt justified in his dislike when news of Axis' appalling betrayal of the Seneschal's cause reached the Brotherhood. Yet Jayme was so sick at heart he said nothing to reprove Gilbert.

"An attempt that nevertheless succeeded, Brother Gilbert," murmured Moryson, Jayme's senior adviser and closest friend for over forty-five years. He sat close by the fire to warm his creaking joints. "Axis' self-sacrifice saved many lives, Borneheld's the most important."

Gilbert continued. "Since the forces of this Gorgrael have moved through Ichtar I have received no word from north of Jervois Landing. Who knows if Axis lives or moulders?" As Borneheld had, so too had Jayme and his advisers reluctantly accepted that the foe they faced, Gorgrael, was something even more terrible than the Forbidden.

Jayme paced about the centre of the chamber. "Artor curse it, I did not love Axis and raise him from a baby to lose him like this! How many hours did I nurse that parentless child, sing him cradle-songs to comfort him to sleep?"

"Better to have lost him in the service of Artor than to lose him to the service of the Forbidden," Gilbert intoned.

"How could Axis betray the Seneschal - and me - like this!" shouted Jayme.

"Blame it on Rivkah for bedding with one of those damn lizards!" spat Gilbert. Borneheld's report had been very detailed. "Women ever were the weaker vessel!"

"Gilbert! Enough!" Moryson stood up from his chair, wavered for a moment, then walked over to put a comforting arm about Jayme. "Recriminations will not help us at this point, Brother Gilbert. We need to plan for the future."

Gilbert's lip curled at the two old men. What the Seneschal needed was an infusion of blood strong enough to save the Brotherhood from the possibility that the Forbidden would one day re-enter Achar. Artor needs young men to save the Seneschal, Gilbert thought, his eyes expressionless, not old men afraid of fighting words and deeds.

"Thank you, my friend," Jayme muttered, patting Moryson's arm. "I am all right now. Just for a moment..."

Moryson nodded in understanding and let Jayme go. When word of Axis'

defection to the Forbidden had reached the Tower of the Seneschal it had almost caused Jayme a fatal apoplexy. That a man entrusted with such a position of responsibility within the Seneschal could defect to the Forbidden of all things —

the races he was committed to destroy - was almost beyond belief. But what cut even deeper was that Jayme had raised Axis from a new-born infant. Oared for him, loved him, taught him, indulged him. And for that care and love Axis had not only led the military wing of the Seneschal, the Axe-Wielders, to the service of the Forbidden, but he had betrayed both his god and everything Jayme believed in. Jayme's hurt was the pain of a father betrayed as much as that of a Brother-Leader deceived.

"I must assume he is still alive," Jayme said. "I must prepare for the worst scenario - that Axis survived, the command he led survived, and all are now in the employ of those," he paused, "flying lizards." His voice strengthened as he spoke, and by the time he was finished Jayme's back was straight and his eyes gleamed with renewed strength. The Seneschal needed him and he would serve.

If Axis had abandoned Jayme and the Seneschal, then Jayme and the Seneschal would abandon Axis.

"I am told that news of this cursed Prophecy spreads within Achar," he said with new resolve.

Gilbert nodded. "Yes. Those of Borneheld's soldiers who brought his report from the north, also - Artor damn them -brought this evil Prophecy. Once they had delivered Borneheld's report to King Priam they took their worthless and pox-infected bodies off to a tavern where they recited the Prophecy for the edification of the tavern patrons."

"Is it too late to stop word of the Prophecy spreading?" asked Jayme.

"Unfortunately so, Brother-Leader. Gossip will spread -and the Prophecy is so damnably ensorcelled that all who hear it remember it instantly."

"And curse those two Brothers Ogden andVeremund for finding and showing the Prophecy to Axis!" Jayme rasped. He still found it hard to believe that the Brotherhood's small outpost in the Silent Woman Keep had been so corrupted by the isolation and the records of the Forbidden they had found there.

Of course, none of the three in the room had yet heard news of the true identity of the two beings who wore the shapes of the long-dead Ogden andVeremund.

"Axis hardly needed those two fools to read him the Prophecy," Gilbert said.

"He could read the depraved script in the Forbidden's books as easily as you would read the word of Artor himself. I, for one, do not find it hard to believe that Axis is of such tainted and ungodly breeding. None else could have read those ghastly lines. He was betrayer-bred, Brother-Leader, and his blood would always lead him to forsake you and the one true god Artor."

Gilbert paused, watching the older men carefully. "Axis' capitulation to the forces of evil may not be our worst threat. There may be traitors closer to home."

Jayme narrowed his eyes. What did Gilbert know now? Over the past months Jayme had learned to respect Gilbert's sources of information. "Well?" he barked finally, his entire frame tense and wary.

"I have heard word of Priam's private deliberations," Gilbert said casually.

Artor, but the little turd-faced bastard must have spies at the keyhole to Priam's privy chamber, thought Jayme. No doubt he has word on how many times Priam mounts his wife at night. Jayme rarely let the language and imagery of his peasant youth intrude into his conscious mind. It was a measure of his unease that he did so now.

. "Priam has become obsessed with the Prophecy," Gilbert observed. "He believes its advice more than he believes the advice of the Brother-Leader. It is rumoured that Priam wavers towards supporting Axis and his cause. That he begins to think that alliance with the Forbidden might be a way to defeat Gorgrael."

Jayme cursed under his breath, staring into the fire in order to hide the expression on his face. Even Moryson looked mildly surprised at Gilbert's news.

"It is rumoured," Gilbert continued, staring at Jayme's back, "that Priam is...disappointed...with Borneheld. That he now wonders if Borneheld was such a good choice forWarLord. Priam believes Ichtar's loss underscores the need to pay close attention to the advice of the Prophecy."

The Brother-Leader's clenched fist slammed into the mantel above the fire, sending chills of music rattling around the room.

"I would rather see Priam dead\" Jayme seethed, staring first at Gilbert and then at Moryson. "Has he lost his mind to consider an alliance with the Forbidden?"

Moryson and Gilbert were stunned by Jayme's violent outburst. Moryson's eyes flickered to Gilbert then back to Jayme. He laid a soothing hand on Jayme's shoulder.

"Priam ever was a waverer," he said gently. '"Tis perhaps not unexpected that he should vacillate in this present crisis."

Jayme shook Moryson's hand off his shoulder and stalked into the centre of the chamber. "Priam leads the nation!" he snapped. "Should we let him lead it back into subjection under the yoke of the Forbidden?"

Gilbert's bright eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, Brother-Leader?"

"I mean that perhaps we - Achar - would be better off if we had a King whose loyalties were uncompromised."

There was utter silence for several heartbeats; even Jayme was a little surprised by what he had just said.

"Brother-Leader," Moryson said calmly. "It may be best if Borneheld knows of the situation. It might be best if Borneheld himself were here. To stop Priam from wavering, of course."

"Borneheld is an experienced leader and battle commander," Jayme said thoughtfully. "His hatred of the Forbidden and devotion to Artor is well known.

He is also heir to the throne. I'm sure that he, too, would be appalled to learn of Priam's treasonous thoughts."

"Treasonous to Achar," Moryson said.

Jayme gave him a hard look. "Treasonous to everything the Seneschal stands for. We cannot let the Forbidden back into Achar. Gilbert*."

Gilbert jumped to his feet.

"I think it were best that you left for the north on the next river transport."

Gilbert smiled and bowed. He could see nothing but advantages for himself in these developments.

"Borneheld needs to be advised of where Priam's mind is turning," Jayme continued. "We are vulnerable now that the majority of the Axe-Wielders either he dead or run with the traitor Axis. Only one cohort of Axe-Wie'ders remain to guard the interests and the persons of the Seneschal."

Not in a thousand years had the Seneschal been as vulnerable as it was now. That thought was uppermost in Jayme's mind. He would do whatever he had to do to ensure the Seneschal's survival. "What we do we must do for the good of the Seneschal."

"For the good of Artor and for the good of Achar," Moryson added mildly.

"Of course," Jayme said blandly, "that's what I meant. Furrow wide, Moryson, furrow deep."

The Blood-Red Sun£ £ ~*—"^ on't try to

overpower me through such direct means. You leave yourself open. I grab your -

—S wrist and elbow, twist, and you're crippled."

SpikeFeather gave a gasp of pain and dropped the iron-tipped stave he was carrying, his free hand flying to the arm that Axis held in a vice-like grip. Axis casually kicked one leg out from under the Wing-Leader and SpikeFeather collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap.

Each day for over two weeks Axis had worked with individual Wings of the Strike Force, getting to know the Wing commanders and the individual members of the Force. They were obstinate and thin-skinned, Axis had decided, but they had the makings of a fine force, despite having degenerated over the past thousand or more years into little more than a decorative appendage to Icarii society. Axis had transformed the Strike Force's exercises and training from displays of graceful acrobatics in the sky and on ground to difficult manoeuvres that would win them battles rather than parades, lives rather than hearts and cheers.

Axis leaned down and offered SpikeFeather his hand. SpikeFeather was one of the more skilful fighters among the Icarii and he had caused Axis a moment's worry during their demonstration. SpikeFeather hesitated an instant, then took Axis' hand, standing up in a flowing movement.

"You could have killed me, Spike Feather," said Axis, making sure he spoke loudly enough for the other Icarii standing about to hear, "if you had used your most potent weapon."

"What do you mean, Strike-Leader?" SpikeFeather frowned. "I could not hold the stave while you twisted my arm so."

"Your wings," Axis said, exasperated. "You could have knocked me with one or both of your wings, or so distracted me that I would have let you go. Don't forget your wings. They may save your life one day."

Axis was intent on making the Icarii realise that even defensive fighting should be aggressive, and that surprise and skill would always win over brawn and superior weaponry. But the Icarii needed experienced practice partners before they could develop the instinct necessary to survive the inevitable battles with Gorgrael's forces.

"All right, SpikeFeather, that's enough for today." Axis looked up to the gallery of the main training chamber where FarSight CutSpur and several of the other Crest-Leaders stood watching. Behind them were ranged some thirty or forty Icarii from other Wings who had asked if they could observe the training session. "Eventually when you join up with Belial's command you can train one-on-one with his soldiers. That will sharpen your combat skills."

"I don't see why you push us so, Axis," EvenSong remarked a little resentfully. "We are an archer force. What can possibly attack us in the air?"

EvenSong made a point of not calling her brother Strike-Leader. Axis suspected she wanted to provoke him into disciplining her in front of the other members of her Wing, but he ignored her jibes.

FarSight CutSpur leaned over the railing of the observation gallery. "She may be right, Strike-Leader. We are vulnerable only to arrows, yet with the tactics we have been working out over the past two weeks soon arrows from below will become only a minor consideration. What will grappling with Belial's Groundwalkers teach us?"

Axis smiled, but his eyes were cold. "Already Gorgrael's SkraeBolds can fly.

Once he knows I command your Strike Force he will plan counter-measures.

FarSight CutSpur, fellow Strike Force members, you will almost certainly have to fight for your lives at some point with creatures that will attack you in the air.

The battle for Tencendor will be a bloody affair on land and in the air. It will not always be fought at the safe distance of an arrow flight but hand to hand, wing to wing. Training with Belial's battle-hardened men will teach you instinctive aggression. Learn it...or die."

A number of the Icarii looked visibly shocked. Although their training under Axis had been hard, they had comforted themselves with the thought that they were almost impossible to attack while in the air. Now they had to think again.

Axis' eyes circled the assembled Icarii. "Each of you should arm yourself with a good blade. Knives can be carried easily, concealed even more easily, and will save you when another grapples you and restricts your movement, whether in the air or on the ground. Learn how to kill at close quarters. Azhure."

Azhure, who had been standing unobtrusively against the side wall of the chamber, narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Come." Axis beckoned impatiently, his eyes on the Icarii fighters.

Azhure walked over to Axis, doubt about his motives making her hesitant.

"Pick up that stave on the floor," he said as she stopped before him, "and see if you can find a way to knock me off" my feet."

Her every movement wary, Azhure leaned down to the stave.

At precisely the moment her eyes left him Axis moved as swiftly as a striking cat, his booted foot catching Azhure squarely in the small of her back. She grunted as she fell on top of the stave. Axis leaned down, wound his fingers into the thick twist of hair at the crown of Azhure's head, hauled her to her feet, and manoeuvred her head into the classic handhold needed to twist an enemy's head until the spine snapped.

But in the instant before his hands could fatally tighten on her head and jaw, Axis felt the blade of a knife lightly pierce the skin of his belly.

Azhure's eyes were furious as they stared into his.

Axis laughed softly. Azhure had reacted as quickly and as decisively as he'd hoped. He let her head go and stepped back, dropping one hand to gently clasp her wrist and pull the knife away from his belly.

"Azhure came closer to killing me with that knife than any member of the Strike Force has come to bruising me with a stave," he said finally, his eyes not leaving Azhure's face. "I hesitated with the kill and now / should be dead instead. Azhure, I am grateful you stayed that knife." He looked around at the Icarii. "Azhure has shown you two lessons. The deadliness of even a small knife in close combat, and the need to develop that instinct to attack without the slightest hesitation - even if your enemy has got a death grip on you."

Axis let Azhure's wrist go and then turned to face the Icarii. After a moment Axis heard a faint movement behind him as Azhure sheathed the knife.

"Enough for today," he said mildly. "But remember the lessons. Once you begin to train with Belial's men you will develop the killer instinct quickly or risk losing more than a few of your proud feathers. SpikeFeather, you may dismiss your command."

As the Icarii filed from the chamber, Axis climbed the ladder into the gallery and stood talking quietly with FarSight, organising a meeting of all the Strike Force commanders so he could discuss future training plans. Although he hadn't yet discussed it with FarSight or RavenCrest, Axis planned on leaving Talon Spike for some weeks after Beltide in early Flower-month. Axis needed to complete his training elsewhere - as well as fulfil a vow - and he wanted the Strike Force to continue training in his absence.

When he turned back into the chamber, Axis saw that only Azhure was left.

She stood in a far corner, lifting the Wolven from a hook on the wall and slinging its accompanying quiver over her shoulder.

Axis stood a moment, a soft smile playing about his mouth, then he leapt down to the floor of the chamber and silently walked towards her. Azhure gave a small jump of surprise when she saw him standing only a few paces away.

"I am sorry," he said, "that I used you so poorly. But if I had warned you, you would not have reacted so swiftly or so reflexively. Not only were you the only one I trusted to react so instinctively, you were the only one present I could trust to stay the knife. Even so," he fingered his belly gingerly, "you have added one more scar to my growing collection."

Azhure relaxed a little. "I had to stay the impulse to slide that knife all the way in, Axis, but I thought you should suffer a little for the ache you caused my scalp."

"Are you going to practise with the bow?"

"Yes." Azhure fingered the bow, and Axis wondered at her smile as she touched the weapon.

"I see you have a quiver full of new arrows. Should I blame SpikeFeather's tattered appearance on those blue-feathered arrows?"

Azhure laughed. "He did not think I could use the Wolven. He was willing to bet his own pride and feathers, on it."

"It was a lesson not only SpikeFeather, but most of the Icarii, will not readily forget. The Wolven is one of their greatest treasures."

Azhure's smile faded. "Should I give it back?"

"No. I think the Wolven chose you. It is an enchanted thing."

Azhure looked down at the beautiful bow she held in her hands. "But the Wolven let SpikeFeather use it."

Axis remembered a conversation he had overheard between SpikeFeather and EvenSong several days ago. "It took SpikeFeather nine years before he fully mastered the Wolven - and he is the only one who has been able to use it in some four thousand years. It was only late last year that he managed it." Axis paused. "It is as if the Wolven knew you were coming and finally let SpikeFeather use it so he would pick that bow to demonstrate for you. The Wolven tells you it wants you, Azhure. It is yours."

She ran her fingers gently through its blue and scarlet silken tassels. "Then it honours me, though I know not why." She raised her smoky eyes. "Enchanted, you say?"

Axis reached out and ran his fingers along the string of the bow. "WolfStar SunSoar made it, many thousands of years ago. WolfStar was the most powerful of the Enchanter-Talons - there has never been another like him." He stopped, considering. Due to his extraordinary power, WolfStar's name had cropped up many times during Axis' training, but curiously StarDrifter and MorningStar had evaded his occasional questions about the mysterious ninth Enchanter-Talon.

After a moment Axis continued. "He wove enchantments into the bow's making.

No-one really knew what. No-one has been able to see." He dropped his hand. "/

cannot see. It is as though a film of ice covers the bow's soul. I can see the shape of the enchantments, but they are hazy, out of focus. I can hear them, especially when you use the bow. But the music lingers at the extreme edge of my hearing, and I cannot quite catch the tune. WolfStar took his enchantments and the key to the Wolven to the grave with him."

"You will prevail even without the knowledge of the ancient Icarii Enchanter-Talons, Axis."

Axis' mouth quirked at the absolute certainty in her voice. "With the faith of such as you by my side then I am bound to," he said softly. Their eyes caught, then Axis turned away slightly. "I am thinking of using you in the Strike Force's aeriar training, Azhure, if you would consent."

She laughed, incredulous. "Will you build me wings, then, like StarDrifter offered to do for you?" Axis had vehemently refused StarDrifter's offers to coax his dormant wing buds into flowering. He had lived his life thus far without wings, and he would live the rest of his life without them.

Axis smiled. "No. With FarSight I have been putting the Strike Force through various evasive manoeuvres designed to lessen the risk of arrow strike. But now I want them to have some real arrows to out-manoeuvre. Will you shoot at them?"

Azhure's mouth dropped open. "You can't mean that!"

Axis' eyes twinkled. "Perhaps I still have a trace of Battle-Axe in me, Azhure."

"But I do not know how to fire an arrow to miss, Axis! It would be a betrayal to the Wolven to aim to miss."

"Then wrap the arrow heads in cloth or dip them in wax to blunt them. That way you will give them bruises, but not heart-piercing wounds."

Azhure did not want to risk the Icarii's acceptance now that she had finally won it. "They will not resent me?" she asked doubtfully.

"They will resent me. It will be my suggestion. My order," said Axis. "Will you do it? You could stand on that ledge that overlooks the Iskruel Ocean. The extent of the air field on the northern face of Talon Spike will give the Strike Force their maximum manoeuvring field."

Azhure thought for a moment. "They'll need it. Yes. I'll do it, so long as we can blunt the arrows sufficiently. And I will have to use less exotic arrows than these. SpikeFeather won't be pleased to see his feather-fledged arrows tumbling down the chasm at Talon Spike's feet."

Axis nodded. "Good. I'll discuss the plan with FarSight and the other Crest-Leaders tomorrow. I will go ahead with it only if they think there is little danger to the Strike Force. Well, I'll leave you to your target practice. Perhaps you will soon have something larger and more difficult to aim for."

Azhure's face darkened. "The sooner I have a Skraeling eye to aim for, the better." She ached to appease the agony she still felt at her friend Pease's terrible death in the Earth Tree Grove, chewed into bloody fragments by the Skraeling wraiths as Azhure stood by, horrified, unable to act through her own terror.

Axis' mood shifted abruptly. "Your first target in war may not be Skraelings, Azhure," he said a little sadly.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'D discuss it when the time comes. Azhure, I must go. I thank you again for your assistance here this afternoon, and again I apologise for my rude treatment of you. I am glad our friendship has survived this afternoon."

Axis turned to go.

"Wait!" Azhure cried, rummaging in the shoulder sack she carried about with her and withdrawing a bundle of dark golden silk.

She stood, gently fingering the material, her eyes downcast, then she looked up, and Axis felt his heart clench a little at the expression in her beautiful eyes.

"I've noticed you touching the tunic over your left breast, where once the twin crossed axes of your station rested. Now you are no longer BattleAxe, but rather Axis SunSoar, son of Princess Rivkah and StarDrifter, heir to the powers and gifts of the SunSoar Enchanters and to the Prophecy of the Destroyer. You need a new emblem, Axis, a new standard, a sign to mark you the StarMan."

She shook the material out. "Rivkah found the fabric for me, and over the past few weeks I have spent the occasional hour sewing this for you."

Axis took a sharp breath of amazement as the material unfolded in Azhure's hands. It was a finely crafted tunic of deep golden silk, its texture slightly roughened so that it caught the light. Around the bottom of the sleeves and the high neck Azhure had embroidered designs recalling the exotic writing of the ancient Icarii language. The design embroidered in silk on the centre of the golden tunic made him catch his breath anew. It was the SunSoar blazing sun, but in blood-red rather than its usual insipid pale gold.

Azhure relaxed at the expression on Axis' face. She hadn't known whether or not he would accept it. "I have almost finished a battle standard for you in the same design, Axis SunSoar."

"I will be proud to accept tunic and standard and to embrace this emblem as my own, Azhure," Axis whispered, cradling the silken tunic in his hand. It was light, so light. "You have done me honour."

IOPropositions and EndingsA zhure shot

off yet another arrow, hitting the scarlet f-\ target globe which already bristled with her previous -A- JLshots. She gazed at the beautiful bow. No-one knew what wood it had been made of. Perhaps WoHStar had altered it with his enchantments, she thought vaguely, running her fingers over its smooth ivory surface. Strange patterns in gold tracery spiralled about the length of the bow, like nothing else she had seen decorating Icarii walls or art works. She wondered what WolfStar had been like. No-one among the Icarii liked talking about him much. Would he have minded that his bow had been lost into the possession of an Acharite woman?

She reached for an arrow and finding her quiver empty, abruptly realised she had a problem. Always there had been an Icarii present to retrieve her arrows for her. But now the target ball swung sixty paces above her head. She could hardly leave the ball bristling with arrows - the next Icarii to use the chamber would be furious at her carelessness. She sighed and hung the Wolven on a wall hook. Either she'd have to climb up herself, a choice she quickly discarded as she glanced about the smooth walls, or she would have to find an Icarii willing to retrieve the arrows for her.

"I should be pleased to retrieve them for you, Azhure," a voice said from behind her, and Azhure whipped about.

StarDrifter stood at the rail of the observation gallery, smiling down at her, then launched himself into the air with his powerful wings. Watching him, Azhure envied the Icarii ability to fly. What would it be like, she thought, to be able to escape into the limitless freedom of the skies?

StarDrifter alighted before her, passing over her arrows.

"Thank you," Azhure said, dropping the arrows into the quiver across her back. "Next time I will make sure someone else is using the chamber whenever I practise."

StarDrifter smiled. She had such a lovely face. For weeks now his desire for her had been growing. Yet she tried to keep herself so distant, avoiding the times he used the Chamber of Steaming Water.

He gazed longingly at her hair. No Icarii woman had long hair, it stopped growing once it reached the level of their neck feathers, and StarDrifter loved the feel of long hair — it was one of the attractions human women had for him.

Unable to stop himself, he reached over and cradled the back of her head, feeling the weight of the coiled braid.

Azhure started in alarm. "StarDrifter!" she began, then StarDrifter's other arm was about her and he pressed her against his body, stopping her objections with a deep kiss.

For long minutes Azhure did not resist. She had never been kissed like this before. The few experiences she'd endured from the awkward boys of Smyrton had not pleased her, and their groping rumblings had repulsed her.

This was different. The feel of his chest under her hands, the warmth and taste of his mouth, curiosity at new sensations, the subtle but unmistakable touch of his Enchanter's power, all made her hesitate to break the embrace.

Encouraged by Azhure's initial reaction, StarDrifter's mouth left hers to caress her jaw and throat, gently biting, nibbling. He wrapped his wings about her, cradling her within them so his hands were free. He started to unfasten the buttons of her tunic.

Azhure finally found the resolve to push her hands more firmly against his chest. It was difficult, for part of her mind screamed at her to stay and let him do what he wanted, but another part recalled Rivkah's words about being cradled in a lover's wings during Beltide, and the thought of Rivkah gave Azhure the courage to speak.

"No," she mumbled. "No, StarDrifter. Stop."

He smiled and slipped his hand inside her tunic, cupping a breast. "You do not want me to stop, Azhure."

"If you do not stop then it will be rape, StarDrifter," Azhure insisted, her voice now firm. "I love and respect Rivkah too much to betray her like this. Let me go."

"Rape? But do you not enjoy this, my beautiful woman?" StarDrifter asked, his fingertips drifting over a nipple. "I can feel you tremble. You do not want me to stop."

Azhure freed an arm and struck him across the face. The effect was electric.

StarDrifter stumbled backwards, a hand clasped to his shocked face.

Azhure jerked her tunic closed, fumbling with the fastenings. "I do not welcome your advances, StarDrifter. Please do not lessen my respect for you by pursuing me like this," she said emphatically, then, picking up the Wolven, she turned and climbed the ladder into the observation gallery with as much dignity as she could muster.

Azhure was as furious with herself as she was with him. She had almost managed to put her scruples aside in order to indulge her curiosity and enjoy what StarDrifter was offering. She crossed the observation gallery, her steps quickening as she got closer to the door and escape. In her haste she did not notice the figure who had sought refuge in a shadowed corner just minutes before.

StarDrifter watched her go, only slowly dropping his hand from his cheek. He was appalled, not that Azhure had hit him, but that she been forced to hit him.

Rape — sexual force of any kind — was a concept almost totally alien to the Icariipeople. All of them loved the chase and the seduction, but no Icarii ever pursued one who was unsure or unwilling.

StarDrifter took a deep breath. He would apologise. But his desire for Azhure was driving him crazy. He had never felt like this about anyone, not even Rivkah during the height of their passion. Why? StarDrifter asked himself. There were more beautiful women than her about, and surely more willing than her. But he felt driven to possess her by a force so deep within him that he did not, could not, understand it.

He looked up to the gallery, hoping Azhure had not left. But the woman standing there was not Azhure.

Rivkah stood with her hands resting lightly on the gallery rail. She looked calm and cool, elegant in a sky-blue gown, her silver and golden-streaked hair left free to trail down her back. "We need to talk, StarDrifter," she said quietly.

"And I would appreciate it if you could join me up here."

Oh Stars! StarDrifter thought helplessly, his face, every entire muscle of his body, showing his tenseness.

Rivkah waited until he joined her, then touched his face. "This must end,"

she said, her eyes inexpressibly sad.

"I do not know what came over me, I will not do it again," StarDrifter began, but Rivkah cut him off.

"No. Our marriage must end while we still respect each other. StarDrifter, it is time we talked plainly."

StarDrifter's face stilled, his pale-blue eyes narrowing. "Very well. Let us talk."

A slight tremor belied Rivkah's calm exterior.

"StarDrifter. We both know that in past years we have been slowly but inexorably drifting apart. We had a grand passion, we loved each other dearly, we both sacrificed dearly for that love and passion. But we must now face the reality that our marriage is no longer viable."

"Rivkah —" He reached out, but Rivkah stepped back.

"No. Let me finish. You are Icarii and I am human. You have, potentially, another four hundred years of life, StarDrifter. Already I grow old. I will not become an object of pity in your eyes. I must end this marriage while there is still respect - perhaps even a little love — left between us." She paused. "Now I know why the Ferryman thought that resuming the name Rivkah would be a high price for me to pay. GoldFeather may have belonged here, StarDrifter, but Rivkah does not. After Beltide I will return to Achar."

"Rivkah!" StarDrifter reached for her again, and this time she did not attempt to resist. For a long time they stood, holding each other, StarDrifter gently stroking the golden streak through her hair. Despite what she had implied, Rivkah still loved him deeply, but she wanted to walk away from their marriage while she knew that StarDrifter still enjoyed their intimate relationship.

Eventually she pulled back. "StarDrifter," she whispered, grateful for the unforced tears of regret in his eyes, "don't let your consuming need for Azhure destroy her life. Don't make her go through what I am now going through. She is human too, and in another twenty or thirty years I don't want her to be standing here ending her marriage to you because your eye has been caught by a woman younger and more vital than her. Let her go. Respect her enough for that. Find an Icarii woman who will be with you for the rest of your life."

"Azhure was not at fault for what just happened." StarDrifter knew how deep the friendship was between the two women.

"I know." Rivkah forced a smile. "I admire her resistance. If I remember correctly I conceded at a single smile from you. I do not blame her...nor you, really. I want us to go to RavenCrest and formally break the marriage." Soon, she thought bleakly, while I still have the strength for this.

"What will you do?" StarDrifter asked. "Where will you go?"

"I will return to my people, StarDrifter. I will find myself a home among them."

Are You True?

“Ask the Bridge," Jack said, pointing his hand. "Do you see?" Belial, Magariz and Arne stood at his shoulder at the western window of Sigholt's spacious map-room. Behind them Reinald sat comfortably by the fire, sipping some spiced wine.

"There was a lake there, once," Jack said, a little impatient with the three men. "A beautiful lake. Do you not see?"

"Yes, Jack," Belial finally responded, wondering what all this had to do with why the Skraelings seemed to be keeping their distance from Sigholt. "But why is it important?"

"If Jack's going to give us lessons in geological c.uriosities," Magariz grumbled, "then let us at least fortify ourselves with some of that wine before Reinald drinks it all."

Belial had led his command into Sigholt almost four weeks ago. He, like Magariz, had been stunned to find the garrison both undamaged and deserted, except for Jack and the retired cook. Reinald had grinned toothlessly at his amazement and explained that once word reached Sigholt that Gorkenfort had fallen, the majority of Borneheld's men stationed there had retreated south.

Once Hsingard fell, and it seemed that the Skraelings were only a day or two away from Sigholt, the rest had fled in the middle of the night in a mad and cowardly dash that had left three men trampled to death in the gateway of the garrison.

But the Skraelings had never attacked. The day after the last of the garrison fled, leaving only Jack and Reinald to inhabit the huge Keep ("And I would have fled too," Reinald confessed, "save that my arthritis was so bad that week I was bed-bound"), a band of hungry Skraelings had appeared at some distance from Sigholt, sniffing around the perimeters of the old lake bed. But they'd approached no closer, and Jack and Reinald had been bothered no more by the wraiths.

Jack had apparently never been concerned that the Skraelings would attack, and to Reinald's dismay he'd even refused to lock the garrison's gates at night.

After two or three weeks of peace, Reinald had relaxed as well, enjoying the company of this strange man who'd sought refuge at the gates of Sigholt during the first week of the new year.

So it was that Sigholt lay waiting for Belial and his three thousand men. They had settled in quickly. The garrison complex - the ancient Keep, its kitchens, orchards, barracks, stables, courtyards, cellars and sundry storage and outbuildings - held easily all the men and their horses. The garrison Borneheld had maintained here had been almost as large, and when his men fled they'd taken their horses but not much else, leaving enough supplies to keep Belial's men fed for some months.

As yet no-one had received an adequate explanation from Jack about why the Skraelings had left Sigholt alone after destroying Hsingard, which was a hundred times the size of Sigholt. In fact, two days after their arrival Jack had disappeared for over three weeks, returning only some four or five days ago.

Despite Sigholt's apparent safety, Belial had spent some sleepless nights, wondering if the Skraelings had left the garrison alone only to mass for a surprise attack. But Belial had gradually relaxed, supervising the daily training routines of his men while making sure they spent an equal amount of time in leisure. The horrors of Gorkenfort and the rigours of the march through eastern Ichtar to Sigholt were still evident in some haggard and prematurely lined faces, but generally the men were recovering well from the trials of the previous months.

A week ago Belial had sent a small detachment of men to make contact with the Axe-Wielders left in Smyrton, inquire further south about supply routes, garner what information they could about Priam and Borneheld's plans and, most importantly, to see if news of the Prophecy had spread any further south than the Nordra. "If no-one knows the Prophecy, then repeat it," Belial had instructed.

"It will only serve Axis that the Prophecy, and thus the news of his coming, precedes him."

A couple of days after their departure Jack had reappeared as suddenly as he'd disappeared and refused to answer Belial's questions. His stubborn silence sent Belial stamping from the room, but this morning Jack had appeared at the daily command conference in the map-room and announced he was prepared to answer all of Belial's questions as best he could.

"So," Belial said as he accepted a glass of wine from Magariz. "An ancient lake bed. How does that explain why the Skraelings haven't attacked?"

"The ancient lake bed explains both why L am here and why the Skraelings have not attacked - and probably won't attack unless Gorgrael pushes them very hard," Jack replied. "Please, Belial, may I have some of that spiced wine before we continue? Sigholt may be protected from the worst of Gorgrael's cold, but it is still chill enough."

Belial started to move towards the table, but Arne indicated he would fetch Jack a goblet. Since their arrival at Sigholt Arne had made himself Belial's general personal assistant, although Belial was sure that when Axis reappeared Arne would resume service with him.

Jack sipped the wine Arne handed him with pleasure. He had spent the past three weeks exploring the surrounding hills and cliff faces in detail, searching for what he knew must be there. Finally he put his wine down.

"Each of the Sentinels are associated with one of what were known as the sacred Lakes of Tencendor, Belial. There were four, now there remain only three.

You have seen one of them, Grail Lake — although Arne has seen two. The remaining two sacred Lakes are Cauldron Lake in the heart of the Silent Woman Woods, and Pembroke Lake in the highest valley of the Bracken Ranges. All are magical, and the Skraelings - who hate water of any sort — will stay far away from them. The Keep of Sigholt sat on the very edge of the most powerful of the four Lakes - the Lake of Life."

Jack chewed his lip, debating whether to tell them the rest, then made up his mind. The Lake's secrets would be revealed soon enough anyway.

"But the Lake of Life has been drained," he continued. "It has disappeared.

And with it has gone its Sentinel, Zeherah." Belial shifted impatiently. "Yes, I can understand the Sentinels' alliance with the Lakes. I'm aware that the Skraelings dislike water, and I suppose that they would dislike magical Lakes more than ordinary water. But since the water has now disappeared, why don't they attack?"

Jack shrugged. He had discarded his peasant garb and now stood clothed in a fine green woollen tunic and trousers edged with scarlet that would have done a minor noble proud. "Some of the magic lingers, Belial. Enough to discourage them from an attempt on the Keep itself." That the Keep was also magical Jack did not tell Belial and Magariz.

"But they might one day surmount their dislike enough to attack?" asked Magariz, limping over to the window again.

"Perhaps." Jack sighed, worry straining his face. "Especially if Gorgrael decides the garrison might be a worthwhile enough target."

"Gorgrael has spread himself thin," Belial said slowly. "We were hardly bothered in the journey south to Sigholt. My guess is that we damaged him so badly above Gorkenfort that he's concentrating on maintaining his hold, rather than extending it."

"I agree. We're probably safe for the moment, perhaps for the entire summer coming while Gorgrael reinvigorates his Ghostmen. But..." Jack paused.

"But?" Magariz prompted, one heavy eyebrow raised. "But I need your help.

I want to make Sigholt secure against the Skraelings, a strong base for Axis as he builds the forces necessary to beat the Destroyer back. And ..." he hesitated.

"And I want to see if I can find Zeherah. Belial, Magariz, if I cannot find her then we may as well turn our backs and let Gorgrael occupy the whole of Tencendor -

or Achar, as you still call it. We need the five - Axis needs the five — to defeat Gorgrael."

"So," said Reinald wearily from his comfortable chair by the fire. "I suppose you want to reflood the Lake."

Belial and Magariz looked at him in surprise, then turned back to Jack.

Jack nodded. "Yes. If the Lake is reflooded, then Sigholt will be all but impregnable except to Gorgrael himself - and even he would hesitate to ask for entry at the Keep's gates." If Gorgrael got as far as the gates. "And reflooding the Lake may bring Zeherah back."

"You're not sure," Magariz said.

Jack suddenly looked ashen and worn out. "No. I am not sure. She was tied to the Lake, but not completely. She could have left it, as all the other Sentinels have currently left their Lakes. If it was drained — by one of the criminal Dukes of Ichtar, I suspect — that would not of itself automatically have killed her. She could have continued to haunt the Lake site, grieving, but not mortally wounded.

But there is no sign of her at all."

For long moments there was silence, then Arne broke in with his customary bluntness. "How do you intend to reflood the Lake?"

Belial smiled. Trust Arne to ask the practical question.

"I have spent the past three weeks making sure that it can be done, Arne,"

Jack replied. "There's a narrow gully behind Sigholt that runs back into the Urqhart Hills about half a league. It is overgrown with shrubs and weeds now, but I think that once it was a waterway.

"The gully leads into a small cavern. Inside the cavern there is a blockage of rocks. It is too neat, too regular to be natural. I think it is a plug placed over the spring that fed the Lake. If we can remove it then the water will once more flow down to the Lake."

"Can we?" Belial asked. "Do you think we can unblock it?"

"You have three thousand men, Belial. If we can't do it with three thousand, then no-one will ever do it." Jack paused. "But it is not simply the blockage in the cavern itself. We will have to clear the gully of some of the obstructions that have fallen from the rocky walls since the water stopped flowing, and we will have to clear a path about Sigholt itself."

Belial frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jack came and stood before the fire. "There is a deep depression about Sigholt that has been filled with rubble and boulders. I think the water flowed down through the gully until it reached Sigholt, then divided in two to flow completely about the garrison, forming a natural moat before it flowed into the Lake. With the water surrounding Sigholt on all sides, this garrison will be virtually impregnable." And will be reinfused with the source of its magical power, Jack thought. Sigholt will live again.

"Well, tomorrow we'll take several of the engineers we have with us and go inspect this gully and cavern, Jack. Magariz, you can organise a detail to inspect this rubble-filled moat that surrounds the walls of the garrison. We will know by tomorrow eve if this feat is possible."

And whether or not we manage to unblock this spring, reflood the Lake and find this missing Zeherah, thought Belial, at least the attempt will keep the men fit and busy.

That it did. With only five hundred men left on garrison duty - not that, according to Jack, Belial even needed to keep five hundred assigned to that task

— two and a half thousand set to the unblockage of spring, gully and moat. For twelve days they laboured, fifteen hundred on the moat, and a thousand on the gully and inside the cavern where Jack claimed the spring was.

Eight days after they had started Belial and Magariz stood at the outer edge of the moat and peered inside. A deep, wide watercourse had been uncovered, its sides and floor paved with great slabs of greyish-green rock, fitted together in a patchwork of incredible subtlety and beauty. Even though the builders had not used any mortar, the joints between slabs were so tight that Belial could not even get the blade of his knife between them.

"No stone mason today could create such fine joinery and not use a single handful of mortar," Magariz said quietly.

"I wonder how much Jack knows about this Keep that he does not yet tell us, my friend," Belial said.

Magariz looked up. Today the wind was a little lighter, and he had discarded his heavy black cloak. "Belial, I worry less about what mysteries the Keep might hold than how we're going to get into it should the men currendy working in the cavern unblock the spring and allow the water to flow. At the moment we have no bridge worthy of the name."

As the moat had been uncovered, Belial had ordered that a rudimentary bridge be erected across the divide. But it was flimsy and only carried men on foot. The moment a surge of water rushed through it would be destroyed.

"I'd better start the men on building a more permanent replacement," Belial said wearily. "Although where we will find the timber needed for such a structure I do not know." The fifteen hundred working on the moat were close to exhaustion, and Belial had wanted to give them a few days' rest before he sent them to relieve those still labouring in the gully and cavern. But a bridge was vital.

"No need," said Jack behind them. Covered in grey rock dust, Jack looked as tired as Belial's men. His chest heaved as if he had been hurrying. "When the water flows, Sigholt will create her own bridge."

" What?" Magariz and Belial said together. Jack smiled. "Sigholt is a cunning lady. She was created by ancient Icarii Enchanters. Trust her."

"And when will the water flow, Jack? How is the work going in the cavern?"

Belial asked.

Jack wiped his forehead, smearing rock dust into the furrows as he did so.

"Your three engineers tell me that whoever filled in the spring simply tipped cartload after cartload of rocks into the fissure where the water bubbled out.

Although they finished off the outer layers with mortared masonry, once we cleared those layers all we found was rubble such as filled this moat. If they had taken the time to construct tightly mortared layers from the very base of the spring our task would be so much more difficult. But now we reach the lower layers of the rubble," he smiled, "and find that the rubble is wet. Over hundreds of years the force of the spring beneath the rubble has been slowly eroding the base of the fill. What we have started at the top, the spring itself is doing from the bottom. Perhaps, eventually, the spring would have broken free anyway."

"So how close are you to clearing the spring?" Magariz's excitement was clear in his voice. For some reason he could not wait to see the water surround this gracious garrison and fill the Lake again.

"Three days, Magariz. The men in the cavern work slowly now — they have to be careful. The engineers are planning their route through the rubble cautiously. If they have calculated correctly, then they only need remove about four paces more of rubble before the force of the underground spring will blast the rest free."

"And the gully?"

"Will be clear tomorrow morning." Jacks eyes glistened. "In four days at the most the Lake of Life will begin to refill and...and perhaps Zeherah will be freed."