She shook her head slowly, her eyes not leaving the group before them. “No. I…I knew that they were here—they arrived unseen several hours ago and disappeared into the stone circle—but I did not realise…”
Axis swallowed and looked back at the Sentinels. Their eyes glittered strangely in the darkness. Golden from Ogden and Veremund, sapphire from Yr, ruby from Zeherah. Glittered with jewel-bright colours.
“Power has corrupted the bright eyes’ hearts,” Axis whispered to himself, understanding at last.
Then Jack emerged. He walked more upright than the others had, but then he had the staff to support him. Otherwise, Axis was sure, he would have crawled like Zeherah. He struggled forward, stopping to catch his breath where the other four Sentinels rested, then he came forward a few more steps.
“Hail, StarMan,” he rasped, and Axis inclined his head, unable to answer.
“We have come a long way,” Jack said, and then, unaccountably, he laughed.
It was a horrible sound, feverish and cackling, and Axis could not stop himself from wincing. “What has happened to you?”
“Happened?” Jack’s laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun. “Happened? Why, StarMan, we but follow the Prophecy. Do you not need your Rainbow Sceptre?”
“The Prophecy tells me so, yes.”
“Yes, the Prophecy tells you that you must wield it against the Destroyer. Well, this is Fire-Night, and this Fire-Night will see the construction of your Sceptre.”
“I have been told that you will use the power of the ancient Star Gods who crashed and burned the first Fire-Night,” Axis said. “Is that what has corrupted you?”
“Yes.” Jack paused, his head drooping, obviously debating within himself whether to tell Axis anything else. “StarMan, perhaps I should not tell you this, but I will. I do not want the knowledge to die with us.”
To one side Faraday wiped her eyes. She did not want the Sentinels’ last view of her to be of tears. She remembered how they had once told her on the Ancient Barrows that no-one would have to sacrifice more than they. Well, here stood their sacrifice revealed for all to see…and yet Faraday wondered if they were as all-seeing as they sometimes had pretended, or if there was yet a greater sacrifice to be made.
“StarMan.” Jack gripped his staff still harder and tottered another step forwards. “Be wary of what lies in the depths of the Sacred Lakes. The ancient gods had power that we can only dimly comprehend, which you—yes, even you—should be wary of. Treat the Lakes with respect, Axis, and never think to go exploring.”
If what stood before him was the inevitable result of such explorations, then Axis had no wish to go exploring at all. He nodded.
“Good. Now, Axis, you must not interfere with what we do. This will be our ultimate gift to you…and we give it willingly and with love. After…after we have finished, then it will be the Avar’s task to finish crafting the Sceptre for you.”
Jack looked at Faraday. “Lovely lady, we wish you well in all that you do. You…” his voice broke, and Jack had to struggle to master it. “You have done so well, and we are so proud of you. Yours has been the most difficult and the most lonely task of all. Remember all that the Mother has taught you, lovely lady, and may you one day find the love and the peace that you deserve.”
Faraday could hold herself no longer, and she broke down into great sobs. Axis put his arm about her, and Faraday leaned against him, but she stretched out a trembling hand towards the Sentinels. “I am sorry for all that I said to you in Carlon,” she sobbed. “Forgive me. I did not understand.”
Now Jack appeared close to tears, and his emerald eyes dimmed. “We have always loved you,” he said, then he turned away. “And we always will.”
Faraday almost collapsed, and Axis had to wrap both his arms about her to keep her from falling. Shra whispered something in Faraday’s ear, and she nodded, took a deep breath, and stood upright again.
“I’m all right,” she muttered and, reluctantly, Axis let her go.
Jack had reached the other Sentinels, and now they sat down in a circle. Jack took his staff and, with the last of his strength, struck it into the ground so that it stood upright in the centre of their circle.
Then they took each other’s hands, bowed their heads, and…
“No!” Faraday screamed, and Axis seized her again, terrified she would dash to their side. “No!”
But the Sentinels did not hear her. As one they chanted, soft and sad, their voices infused with the music of wind and wave.
The staff burst into fire. It flared so bright that Axis had to shut his eyes and turn away. The next instant he felt a terrible heat sear his body and he dragged Faraday back eight or nine steps, shouting at Shra to shelter behind him.
When he found the courage to look back, the five Sentinels were pillars of fire surrounding the burning staff, and he looked away again; not because of the heat, but because he could not bear to watch their deaths.
It was only when he felt the heat die down that Axis turned around. Staff and Sentinels had disappeared, and in their place bright coals were heaped in a glowing pyramid. Occasional spurts of flame shot out, sometimes golden, sometimes ruby, sometimes sapphire or emerald.
The coals hummed, not with music but with power, and Axis stared, unable to look away. Gradually his arms loosened about Faraday and she stood upright, her tears gone now, her face ravaged with grief.
The coals popped and hummed, and very, very gradually their heat dissipated, and the flames lessened. The sense of power about them faded.
Eventually Axis walked over to the coals. The pyramid had crumbled into a heap of blackened ash, still glowing here and there, but cooling rapidly in the night air.
Without knowing why he did it Axis sifted about the ash with a booted foot.
He turned over a pile of ash in the centre of the heap and then stilled.
Glowing in what had been the very centre of the pyramid was the head of Jack’s staff. Previously it had been tarnished, now it glowed bright silver. It was decorated with patterns of swirling lines, and into its body were set five gems—two golden, one sapphire, one ruby and one emerald.
Axis bent down and picked it up. It was cool to his fingers, and about the size of a man’s clenched fist, but far heavier.
It was the head of the Rainbow Sceptre.
He shifted it in his hands, and its gems sent multicoloured rays of light flaring about the grove. The rays hummed with strange power. And in his mind Axis could hear the Sentinels laughing; low and pleasant, as if they had heard some particularly fine jest.
Axis folded his hands about the head of the Sceptre and the light died. He took a deep breath and looked up. Every eye in the grove was fixed on him. What now?
“Now,” Shra said matter-of-factly, “we will give you a rod with which to wield the gaudy toy you hold in your hands.”
She walked past Faraday, past Axis, and into the circle of stone. Beyond the arches she paused. “Father, will you come with me? I shall need your height. And you too, Axis.” She considered a moment. “Faraday, come, for you shall sing to the Earth Tree.”
Grindle joined Axis and Faraday and they stepped into the circle of stone. Shra had walked over to the trunk of the Earth Tree, and they joined her there.
“Faraday,” Shra said, “will you sing to the Earth Tree?”
Sing what? Faraday thought distractedly. She had only ever sung to the Earth Tree once, and then she’d had StarDrifter to guide her. Sing what? She opened her mouth—and saw that the other three were staring at her, and so she sang the first thing that came into her head, the cradle song that Goodwife Renkin had sung to the seedlings. At first she only hummed the tune, but then she introduced words that suddenly came to her, and she sang of the sacrifice of the Sentinels and of the creation of the head of the Sceptre. She sang of the need for a rod with which to wield it and then, inspired, she sang of the need for the power of the ancient gods—represented in the head of the Sceptre—to be weld
ed with the power of the earth and the trees. Artor had been crippled and defeated using a similar alliance; so too would Gorgrael’s dark power be overcome.
The tune changed, and the lullaby became a song of victory. The Earth Tree hummed in harmony, and Faraday could hear the other trees of the forests—both Avarinheim and Minstrelsea—join in as well.
The sound vibrated up through the soles of her feet and she lifted her arms and face to the Earth Tree, understanding that even in sacrifice there was sometimes life, and that wherever the Sentinels were now, they were joyous and…
“Unfettered,” she said, and stopped singing.
She blinked and looked at Axis. He was staring at her, his hands still wrapped about the silver head of the Sceptre.
“Unfettered,” she repeated, and laughed.
Shra smiled at her, then pulled at her father’s arm. “Father, will you lift me up?”
Grindle hoisted his daughter onto his shoulder and she reached up the trunk of the tree. Axis dragged his eyes away from Faraday and watched her. He could have sworn that the trunk of the Earth Tree ran smoothly upwards at least sixty paces before it branched out, but now he could see that there was a small branch about four paces up.
Grindle lifted Shra as high as he could, and she reached upwards with plump arms. For a moment Axis thought that she would still not be able to reach the branch, but just as her finger waved below it, the branch dipped, and Shra grasped it tightly, her laughter tinkling down around them.
The branch came away smoothly in her hands.
Grindle lowered her to the ground and Shra held out the branch to Axis—except now it was not a branch at all, but a slender rod of glossy wood. “Take this with the goodwill of the Earth Tree and the Avar people, StarMan,” she said. “It is our gift to you, and it will enable you to wield the Sceptre with the power of the Mother behind you. With this rod comes the power of the trees.”
Axis took a deep breath and accepted the rod. The power of the ancient gods combined with the power of the trees would create an awesome weapon indeed. He fitted it into the base of the silver head, and he was not surprised to find that it fitted perfectly. When he tried to turn it, he found he could not dislodge the rod.
Rod and head had become one.
“The Rainbow Sceptre,” Faraday said softly, and Axis, unthinking, lifted it above his head and swung it in a great arc.
Great bolts of light shot into the night sky, and their energy crackled and roared through the grove. Somewhere, unheard, the Sentinels laughed again.
Hastily Axis tucked the Sceptre under his arm, slightly shamefaced, and covered its head with his hands. “What can I do with it?” he asked, “for I cannot stand about with my hands wrapped around it until Gorgrael steps my way.”
Faraday laughed. “Here,” she said and, bending down, ripped a length of cloth from her shifting-coloured robe. Poor robe, she thought, for I am always tearing strips from you.
She wrapped the cloth about the head of the Sceptre and stood back. “Don’t take it off until you face Gorgrael,” she said.
Axis nodded, and was about to speak when Grindle took his elbow.
“StarMan, the Avar have something more for you.”
Puzzled, Axis let Grindle lead him under the stone archways into the grove. Several of the Clan-Leaders stood there and one of them, Brode, now stepped forward.
“StarMan,” he said, “I remember that we refused to help you once before when you stood before us in this grove. We were wrong. Perhaps we should have helped sooner. But we will help now.”
Axis smiled, grateful for the words and the sentiment, but not sure what they could do. He had the Rainbow Sceptre, and now all he had to do was face Gorgrael.
“We cannot fight,” Brode continued, “but we can do one thing for you.”
He paused. “We can find Gorgrael for you.”
Axis’ breathing almost stopped. “Find Gorgrael?”
“Axis.” Brode smiled. “Did you think to walk to the edge of the Avarinheim and there Gorgrael shall be, waiting for you? No, Gorgrael lingers far to the north in his Ice Fortress.”
“How can you find it? Have you seen it?”
“No. But Gorgrael’s mother was Avar. Whatever else he is, he is also of Avar blood. We can feel him, we can track him. Five of us,” he waved to the men who stood behind him, “will travel north with you. We will bring you to Gorgrael’s fortress.”
“No. This is too dangerous, far too dangerous.”
“We are not afraid of death, StarMan, and we can find him. His blood will always call to us, and his enchantments will not be able to fool us with shadows.”
Axis was determined to make them see reason. “I am of his blood, too. I can find him.”
“Can you feel him, Axis? Can you find him? The Avar blood is stronger at that than the Icarii. And we will be company for you.”
“I have company.” Axis nodded to where Arne waited shadowed among the trees.
“Yes, we see him and we acknowledge him. Axis, if for no other reason, let us do this for Avar pride.”
“You will almost certainly die,” Axis said.
Brode inclined his head, but he did not say anything.
Axis let them wait another moment, let them think that he still considered, although he fooled no-one. “Very well,” he said, his tone gentler. “Come with me, and be welcome.”
Faraday stepped to his side and placed one hand lightly on his arm. “I will be coming, too,” she said.
“No!”
68
ICE FORTRESS
“You said that Artor would stop her from planting out the last of the trees—and you were wrong! My army is gone! Gone! Gone!”
“Now, now,” the Dark Man began, but Gorgrael would have none of it.
“Did you not hear the noise of their Song as it ripped my army apart?” he screeched.
The Dark Man flinched, but he held his ground. By the fire sat Timozel, his eyes hooded.
Gorgrael lowered himself into a crouch, his arms curved, his claws flexing. He growled and shook his head.
“It all comes down to—” the Dark Man tried again.
“And now he has the Rainbow Sceptre,” Gorgrael snarled, his voice low but infinitely more dangerous because of it. He had stilled now, and his eyes were slitted as they watched the Dark Man before him. Gorgrael did not trust him any more, no indeed he didn’t.
The Dark Man saw Gorgrael’s expression and prayed he still had some hold over the creature. Azhure was vulnerable, travelling through the Icescarp Alps with her son, and he wanted to keep Gorgrael distracted as long as he could…if he could.
“The Prophecy merely works its way through,” he said. “You should have expected this, Gorgrael.”
Gorgrael cocked his head to one side, his eyes still narrowed. “What do you mean, works its way through?”
“Dear boy,” the Dark Man said in as fatherly a way as he could manage. “The Prophecy is not just empty words. It must work its way through. I am as unhappy at the situation as you—but, truth told, I am not all that surprised. The Prophecy has set certain conditions to be met before you can destroy Axis once and for all. Now they have been met.”
Gorgrael cocked his head still further.
“The age-old souls, long in cribs, will sing o’er mortal land,” the Dark Man explained. “The trees. Obviously, the Prophecy felt they had to be planted out. As with the Rainbow Sceptre. The Prophecy will never work its way through until Axis grasps it.”
Gorgrael straightened, but the aura of danger about him did not diminish. “Do you mean that all I have done has been an utter waste?” he said. “That I may as well have sat here and warmed my toes while waiting for my bastard brother to show up?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” the Dark Man hastened. “Not at all. Why, the Prophecy has relied on your strength and your power to work its way through. It would have been nothing without your help, Gorgrael.”
Gorgrael straightened entirely, trying
to think.
“It wants you to win,” the Dark Man went on. “It likes you. That’s why it brings Axis’ destruction to your very doorstep.”
Finally the aura of danger about Gorgrael dimmed. “What do you mean?”
Behind his hood the Dark Man smiled. “The Prophecy must work its way through, Gorgrael. That is why, as Axis comes north through snow and ice, he brings his destruction with him. Faraday.”
“Oh!”
“You see? The Prophecy wants you to win, Gorgrael.”
The Dark Man was gone, and Gorgrael and Timozel sat before the fire. They had drunk several glasses of wine, and were now eyeing each other with somewhat drugged affection.
“I don’t entirely trust him,” Gorgrael said.
Timozel drained his glass. “He is very dark.”
For some reason Gorgrael thought that extremely witty and roared with laughter.
After a moment his laughter died away. “But, untrustworthy or not, I cannot deny the fact that Prophecy brings Faraday to me. She must be the Lover. She must be!”
Timozel thought about that. “Who else? This dark woman?”
Gorgrael snarled at Timozel, his good mood evaporating under the sun of his uncertainty. “Faraday must be, Timozel!”
“The dark woman was very powerful.”
Gorgrael growled, remembering the night she had appeared in this chamber.
“And certainly very beautiful. She might make a good Lover.”
Gorgrael’s claws scraped along the armrests of his chair. “She is nothing to the Prophecy! Where is she mentioned in it?”
Timozel frowned, reciting the Prophecy in his head. “I cannot think—”
“Quite!” Gorgrael cried. “She’s not at all! And yet Faraday is in there at every turn; the woman who planted out the age-old souls from their cribs, the wife who lay with the slayer of her husband. Obviously Axis’ Lover.”
“True. I saw them myself.”
“Yes. Timozel?”
“Yes?”
“Timozel, would she trust you?”
“Yes,” Timozel answered slowly, “if I gave her enough reason to, then, yes, I think she would.”