Douglass,Sara - Redemption 1 - Sinner

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Book Information:

Genre: High/Epic Fantasy

Author: Sara Douglass

Name: Sinner

Series: Book One of

The Wayfarer Redemption

Extra Scan Info: This is book one of the sequel trilogy to

The Axis Trilogy

.

=======================================================================

Sinner

by Sara Douglass

Book One of

The Wayfarer Redemption

Fire-Night

The four craft crashed through the barriers between the outer universe and the

planet, exploding in raging flames, creating the portal that later races would call

the Star Gate.

The creatures inside fought for control of the craft, fought even knowing it

was a lost cause - the craft had ceased to listen to them hundreds of years

previously. But even when death was only moments away, their hands clung to

navigation mechanisms, hoping to somehow save their cargo… and maybe even

save the world to which they plummeted from their cargo.

It was useless. Most of them were drifting ashes by the time their flaming

craft smashed deep into the surface of the planet.

Most of them. One, like the four craft, survived.

Within days the craft had shifted comfortably into the pits created by their

violent arrival, accepting the waters that closed over their surface. For three

thousand years they dreamed. Then they woke and began to grow, spreading

their tentacles deep beneath the land, reaching out, each to the other. Their

metalled surfaces and walkways and panels and compartments hummed with the

music they had learned in the millennia they'd travelled the universe. But this

music the craft kept to themselves, not letting it mix with the sound of the Star

Dance that filtered through the Star Gate.

The Survivor occasionally woke from his own deep sleep, wandering the

corridors of the craft and those hallways that extended between each craft,

looking, looking, looking, but never finding.

"Katie!" he would cry, "Katie! I don't know where it is!"

His searching always left him physically and emotionally exhausted, and

within days of waking he would wander disconsolately back to his chamber, and

there lie down to sleep yet again.

His dreams were disturbed, wondering why he'd survived, and yet not his

comrades.

Wondering what the craft needed him to do.

Wondering whether the cargo was safe.

Wondering whether it would ever be claimed.

Wondering.

Aeons passed.

Enchanter-Talon WolfStar SunSoar wrapped his wings tighter about his body

and slipped deeper into the madness that consumed him. He stood at the very

lip of the Star Gate itself, his body swaying gently to the sounds of the Star

Dance that pounded through the Gate.

Come to me, come to me, join me, dance with me! Come!

Oh! How WolfStar wanted to! How he wanted to fling himself through the

Gate, discover the mysteries and adventures of the universe, immerse himself

completely in the loveliness of the Star Dance.

Yet WolfStar also wanted the pleasures of this life. The power he wielded as

Talon over all Tencendor, the awe of the masses of Icarü, Avar and Acharite,

and the firmness of StarLaughter's body in his bed at night. He was not yet

ready to give all that up. He had come young to the Talon throne, and wanted to

enjoy it for as long as he could. But how the Star Gate tempted him…

Come! join me! Be my lover! I have all the power you crave!

WolfStar could feel the indecision tearing him apart. Stars! What sorcery

could be his if he managed to discover the full power of the Star Dance

and

ruled this mortal realm of Tencendor!

I want it

all,

he thought,

all!

But how?

If he surrendered to the almost irresistible lure of the Star Gate and threw

himself in, then WolfStar also wanted to know he could come back. Return and

flaunt his new-found power and knowledge.

Revel

in it. Use it. Of what use was

power if it could not be used in life?

WolfStar was destined for legendary greatness. He knew it.

He shifted on the lip of the Star Gate and his mouth twisted in anger and

frustration. What

more

could he do?

Over the past weeks he had selected the most powerful of the young

Enchanters among the Icarü and had thrown them through the Star Gate. Come

back, he had ordered, with the secrets of the universe in your hand. Share them

with me. Tell me how / can step through the Star Gate and yet come back.

They were young, and their lives could be wasted, if waste it was.

But none had returned, and WolfStar was consumed with rage. How was he

to learn the secrets and mysteries of the Star Gate, of the very universe itself, if

they did not come back? Why did they refuse to come back?

Their weakness, their lack of courage, and their consummate failure meant

that the mysteries of the stars were denied WolfStar until after his death. No, no,

no… he could not countenance that. He

couldn't!

"WolfStar?"

WolfStar's body stiffened and he barely restrained himself from letting his

power bolt in anger about the chamber. "My title is Talon, CloudBurst. I

command that you use it."

"Brother, you must stop this madness. Nothing gives you the right to murder

so many.”

"Murder?" WolfStar leaped down from the lip of the Gate and grasped his

brother's hair, wrenching CloudBurst's head back. "Murder? They are

adventurers, CloudBurst, and they have a duty to their Talon. And they are doing

that duty

badly't"

"WolfStar-"

"My title is Talon!"

WolfStar screamed and twisted CloudBurst's head until the

birdman's neck creaked and his face contorted in agony.

"Talon," CloudBurst whispered, and WolfStar's grip loosened. "Talon, you are

throwing these children to their deaths. How many lives have been wasted now?

Two hundred? More, Talon, more!"

"They would not die if they crawled back through the Star Gate. They have

wasted themselves, not I.

They

have failed.

Their

blame, not mine."

"No-one has ever come back through the -"

"That is not to say no-one can, CloudBurst." WolfStar finally let CloudBurst go

and stood back. "Perhaps they are not strong enough. I need young Enchanters

of powerful blood. Very powerful." His eyes locked with CloudBurst's.

"No!" CloudBurst sank to his knees, quivering hands outstretched in appeal.

"No! I beg you. Not -"

"Bring me your daughter, CloudBurst. StarGrace has SunSoar power. Part of

her shares my blood. Perhaps she will succeed where others have failed."

"No! WolfStar, I cannot -"

"I am

Talon,"

WolfStar hissed. "I am WolfStar SunSoar, and I

command

you!

Obey me!"

But StarGrace did not return, either. WolfStar muttered instructions and

orders to the terrified, sobbing sixteen-year-old girl as he seized her by her

wings and hurled her into the Star Gate. But like all the others, she only

cartwheeled into the pit of the universe to vanish completely. WolfStar stood at

the lip of the Star Gate for two full days, watching and waiting, taking neither

food nor drink, before he cursed StarGrace for all eternity for her weakness and

failure and stepped back.

He jumped, startled.

"You are tired, my husband. Will you not take some rest?"

StarLaughter stepped forward from the shadows of the arches. "Come with

me, my love, and let me warm and soothe you to sleep."

WolfStar reached out and smoothed his wife's dark hair back from her face.

She was his first cousin, close SunSoar blood, and second only to him in

Enchanter power. So powerful.

Perhaps too powerful. For months now WolfStar had good reason to suspect

StarLaughter plotted against him, plotted to take the title of Talon for herself.

WolfStar almost laughed. She must be mad to think she could wrest power

from him.

He caressed her cheek, his fingers gentle, and StarLaughter forced herself to

smile, even though her love for her husband was long dead.

WolfStar leaned forward and kissed her softly, allowing his hand to slide

down over her body until he felt the energy throbbing through her swollen belly.

His son, and so powerful, so powerful… did his unborn son conspire with Star

Laughter? Was their son the reason she thought she could best him?

WolfStar's hand stilled. His son. Even unborn he wielded more power than

any other Enchanter he'd sent through the Star Gate. His son.

Perhaps

he

could succeed… his

son.

And it would certainly solve the more

immediate problem of StarLaughter's treachery.

. .

StarLaughter's hands closed over his and wrenched it away from her body.

No.' she screamed through his mind.

"I need to know, beloved," WolfStar whispered. "I need to know if I can

come back. I need someone to show me the way. Who better than our son?"

"You would throw a newborn infant through?

You would murder our son?"

StarLaughter took a step back. The birth was only weeks away - how far

could she get in that time? Far enough to save her son's life? Far enough to save

her

own

life? What did WolfStar know? How much

could

he know?

"Too much!" WolfStar cried, and leaped forward and grabbed her. "Consider

yourself a fit sacrifice for your son, StarLaughter. Your body will protect him from

the ravages of passage through the Gate, my lovely. Will you not do this for our

son?

He

will come back, I am sure of it."

And once he does, WolfStar thought, I shall divest him of his knowledge and

then of his life.

Now so terrified she could not even speak with the mind voice, StarLaughter

shook her head in denial, her eyes huge and round, her hands clasped

protectively over her belly.

"WolfStar, not your

wife!

Not StarLaughter!" CloudBurst stepped into the

chamber, accompanied by several Crest-Leaders from the Icarü Strike Force.

WolfStar growled in fury and lashed out with his power, pinning them to the

floor. "Anyone I choose…

anyone!"

He dragged StarLaughter across to the Star Gate. In her extremity of fear she

found her voice and screamed as she felt her legs touch the low wall surrounding

the Star Gate. "No! WolfStar! No! No! No,'"

It was the last thing anyone heard from StarLaughter for a very, very long

time.

Five days later CloudBurst's remorse and grief gave him the courage to

plunge the twin-bladed knife into WolfStar's back in the centre of the Icarü

Assembly on the Island of Mist and Memory.

He gave one sobbing, hiccuping sigh as WolfStar sank to the mosaic floor,

and then he relaxed. It was over. The horror was finally over.

There was no grief among the peoples of Tencendor when WolfStar

SunSoar's body was laid to rest in his hastily constructed Barrow above the

Chamber of the Star Gate. With WolfStar dead, entombed, and on his own way

through the Star Gate, Tencendor was at last safe from his madness.

Four thousand years passed. Tencendor was riven apart by the Seneschal

and then restored by the StarMan, Axis SunSoar. The Icarü and the Avar

returned to the southern lands, and the Star Gods, Axis and Azhure among

them, were free to roam as they willed. Even though WolfStar had managed to

come back through the Star Gate, he vanished once Axis had won his struggle

with Gorgrael. Control of Tencendor, and the Throne of the Stars itself, passed

from Axis to his son and heir, Caelum. Tencendor waxed bright and strong under

the House of the Stars. All was well.

West and North His wing-span as wide as a man was tall,

the speckled blue eagle floated high in the sky above the silvery waters of Grail

Lake. The day was calm and warm, the thermals inviting, but for the moment

the eagle resisted climbing any higher. He tilted his head slightly, his predatory

gaze undimmed by his vast age, taking in the pink and cream stone walls and

the gold- and silver-plated roofs of the city of Carlon. The eagle's gaze was only

casual, for it was almost noon, and the streets so busy that all rodents would

have secreted themselves deep in their lairs many hours previously. The eagle

was not particularly concerned. He had feasted well on fish earlier, and now he

tilted his wings, sweeping over the white-walled seven-sided tower of Spiredore.

The power emanating from the tower vibrated the eagle's wings pleasantly,

and made the old bird reflect momentarily on the changes in this land over his

lifetime. When he had been newly feathered and only just able to stay aloft, he'd

flown over this same lake and tower with the eagle who had fathered him. Then

the tower had been still and silent, and the land treeless. Men had scurried

below, axes in their hands and the Plough God Artor in their hearts. Ice had

invaded from the north and Gryphon - creatures whom even eagles feared - had

darkened the skies. But all that had changed. A great battle had been fought in

the icy tundra far to the north, the ice had retreated and the Gryphon had

disappeared from the thermals. In the west, enchanted forests had reached for

the sky, and the white tower below had reverberated with power and song. The

armies that had crawled about the land in destructive, serpentine trails

disbanded, and now the peoples of this enchanted land - those who called

themselves human, Icarü and Avar - shared their lives shoulder to shoulder in

apparent harmony.

Contented, knowing that the score of chicks he had raised over his lifetime

would have nothing more to fear than the anger of a sudden storm, the eagle

tipped his wings and spiralled higher and higher until he was no more than a

distant speck in the sky.

Leagh stood at the open windows of her apartments in the north wing of the

Prince of the West's palace in Carlon, watching the eagle fade from sight.

Sighing, for watching the bird had calmed the ache in her heart, she dropped her

gaze slightly to the ancient Icarü palace that loomed above the entire city. It

seemed to Leagh that the palace looked lonely and sad in the bright sunshine.

And so it should, she thought, for StarSon Caelum so rarely leaves Sigholt now

that he only uses his palace in Carlon every three or four years.

Leagh did not covet the magnificent Icarü palace. Her older brother Askam's

palace was spacious and elegant, and grand enough for Leagh, who was a

woman of conservative tastes and temperate habits. She dropped her eyes yet

further, down to the gently lapping waters of the lake. A gentle easterly breeze

blew across the waves, lifting the glossy nut-brown hair from her brow and

sweeping it back over her shoulders in tumbling waves. Leagh had the dark blue

eyes of her mother, Cazna, but had inherited her hair, good looks and calm

temperament from her father, Belial. She had loved her father dearly, and still

missed him, even though he'd been dead a decade. He'd been her best friend

when she was growing up, and to lose him when she'd been sixteen had been a

cruel blow.

"Stop it!" she murmured to herself. "Why heap yet more sadness and

loneliness on your heart?"

Gods, why could she not have been born a simple peasant girl rather than a

princess? Surely peasant women had more luck in following their hearts! Here

she was at twenty-six, all but locked into her brother's palace, when most

women her age were married with toddlers clinging to their skirts.

Leagh turned back into the chamber, and sat at her work table. It was

littered with scraps of silk and pieces of embroidery that she had convinced

herself she would one day sew into a waistcoat for the man she loved - but when

everyone around her apparently conspired to keep them as far apart as possible,

what was the point? Would she ever have the chance to give it to him? Her

fingers wandered aimlessly among several scraps, turning them over and about

as if in an attempt to form a pattern, but Leagh's thoughts were now so far

distant that she did not even see what her fingers were doing.

Leagh's only wish in life was to marry the man she loved - Zared, Prince of

the North, son of Rivkah and Magariz. Yet it would have been easier for me, she

thought wryly, if I'd fallen in love with a common carter.

The problem was not that Zared did not love her, for he did, and with a quiet

passion that sometimes left her trembling when she caught his eyes across a

banquet table. Yet how long was it since they'd had the chance to share even a

glance? A year? More like two, she thought miserably, and had to struggle to

contain her tears. More like two.

Nay, the problem was not only that Zared and she loved too well, but that a

marriage between them was fraught with so many potential political problems

that her brother, Askam, had yet to agree to it. (Though doubtless he would

have let her marry a carter long ago!) Leagh loved her brother dearly, but he

tried her patience - and gave her long, sleepless nights - with his continued

reluctance to grant approval of the marriage.

Leagh's eyes slowly cleared, and she picked up a star-shaped piece of golden

silk and turned it slowly over and over in her hands. Power in the western and

northern territories of Tencendor was delicately balanced between their two

respective princes, Askam and Zared. Should she marry Zared, then the grave

potential was there that one day West and North would be united under one

prince. Askam had married eight years ago, but his wife Bethiam had yet to

produce an heir. For the moment Leagh's womb carried within it the entire

inheritance of the West.

And, with its burden of responsibility and inheritance, thus did her womb

entrap her.

If I

were

a peasant woman, Leagh suddenly thought, I would only have to

bed the man of my choice and get with his child for all familial objections to our

marriage to be dropped. She crushed the golden silk star into a tight ball, and

tears of anger and heartache filled her eyes. Askam would not let her get within

speaking distance of Zared, let alone bedding distance!

Frustrated with herself for allowing her emotions to so carry her away, Leagh

smoothed out the silken patch and laid it with the others. The political problems

were only the start of Askam's objections, for Askam not only disliked Zared

personally, but resented and felt threatened by Zared's success in the North. The

West encompassed much of the old Achar - the provinces of Romsdale,

Avonsdale and Aldeni. Each year the lands produced rich harvests, and for

decades Carlon had grown fat on the trade with the rest of Tencendor and the

Corolean Empire to the far south. But despite its natural abundance, the West

was riven with huge economic problems. As Prince of the West, Askam had

managed to mire himself deep in debt over the past seven years. For three years

he had entertained the entire eight-score strong retinue of the Corolean

Ambassador while, on Caelum's behalf, he had thrashed out an agreement for

Tencendorian fishing rights in the Sea of Tyrre. When the agreement had finally

been concluded, and the Ambassador and his well-fattened train once more in

Coroleas, Askam had personally funded the outfit of a massive fishing fleet, only

to have three-quarters of the boats lost in a devastating storm in their first

season. Thinking to recoup his losses, Askam had loaned the King of Escator, a

small kingdom across the Widowmaker Sea, a vast sum to refurbish the

Escatorian gloam mines in return for half the profit from the sale of gloam, only

to have the mines flooded in a disaster of epic proportions, and the new king -

the previous having drowned in the mine itself - completely repudiate any

monies his predecessor had borrowed.

These were only two of the investment disasters Askam had made over the

past few years. There were a score of others, if not so large. Smaller projects

had failed, other deals had fallen through after considerable cash outlay. Askam

had been forced to raise taxes within the West over the past two years which,

though they made but a small dent into the amount he owed, had caused

hardship among farmers and traders alike. Yet who could blame Askam for the

economic misfortune of the West? Sheer bad luck seemed to dog his best

endeavours.

In total contrast, Zared's North - the old province of Ichtar - had blossomed

in unrivalled prosperity. In the days before Axis had reunited Tencendor, the old

Ichtar had been rich, true, but it had relied mainly on its gem mines for wealth.

The gem mines still produced - and a dozen more had opened in the past ten

years - but Zared had also opened up vast amounts of previous wasteland for

cropping and grazing. Zared had enticed the most skilled engineers to his capital

of Severin, in the elbow of the Ichtar and Azle Rivers, with high wages and the

promise of roomy housing and good schooling for their children. These engineers

had designed, and then caused to be built, massive irrigation systems in the

western and northern parts of the realm. Zared had then attracted settlers from

all over Tencendor to these vast and newly watered lands by offering them

generous land leases and the promise of minimal - and in some cases no -

taxation for the first twenty-five years of their lease. Unlike the West, all farmers,

traders and craftsmen in the North were free to dispose of their surplus as they

chose. As a result, a brisk trade in furs had grown with the Ravensbundmen in

the extreme north, which were then re-traded to the southern regions of

Tencendor. And add to that the trade in beef, lamb, gems and grain…

The mood of the North was buoyant and optimistic. The income of families

grew each year, and men and women knew their futures were strong and

certain. Trade, working and taxation restrictions were so slight as to be

negligible, and success waited for all who wished to avail themselves of it.

The picture could not have contrasted more with the West, where it seemed

that month after month Askam was forced to increase taxes to meet debt

repayments.

It was

not

his fault, Leagh told herself, willing herself to believe it. Who could

have foreseen that a storm would virtually destroy Askam's entire fishing fleet, or

that the gloam mines of Escator would be flooded? But Askam's misfortunes did

not help her situation. Especially not when Askam was aware that each week

saw more skilled craftsmen and independent farmers of the West slip across the

border to avail themselves of the opportunities created by Zared's policies.

"Leagh?"

She jumped, startled from her thoughts. Askam had entered her chamber,

and now walked towards her.

"You wanted to see me, sister?"

"Yes." Leagh stood up and smiled. "I trust I have not disturbed you from

important council?"

Askam waved a hand for her to sit back down, and took a seat across the

table. "Nothing that cannot wait, Leagh."

His tone turned brisk, belying his words. "What is it I can do for you?"

Leagh kept her own voice light, not wanting to antagonise her brother any

more than she had to. "Askam, it is many weeks since you have made any

mention of my marriage -"

Askam's face tightened and he looked away.

"- to Zared." Leagh shifted slightly, impatiently. "Askam, time passes, and

neither Zared nor myself grow any younger! I long to be by his side, and -"

"Leagh, be still. You are noble born and raised, and you understand the

negotiations that must be endured for such a marriage to be agreed to."

"Negotiations that have been going on for five

years!"

Askam looked back at his sister, his eyes narrowed and unreadable. "And for

that you can only thank yourself for choosing such a marriage partner. Dammit,

Leagh, could you not have chosen another man? Three nobles from the West

have asked for your hand. Why not choose one of them? They cannot

all

be

covered with warts and possessed of foul breath!"

"I love Zared," Leagh said quietly. "I choose

Zared."

Askam's face, so like his father's with its mop of fine brown hair and hazel

eyes, closed over at the mention of love. "Love has no place in the choosing of a

noble marriage partner, Leagh. Forget love. Think instead of a marriage with a

man which would keep the West intact

and

independent."

He paused, let vent an exasperated sigh, then smiled, trying to take the

tension out of their conversation. "Leagh, listen to me, and listen to

reason,

for

the gods' sakes. I wish you only happiness in life, but I must temper that wish

with knowing that I, as

you,"

his tone hardened slightly, "must always do what is

best for our people, not what is best for our hearts."

Leagh did not reply, but held her brother's gaze with determined eyes.

Askam let another minute slide by before he resumed speaking. "Leagh, it is

time you knew that the yea or nay to this marriage has been taken from my

hands."

"What? By

whom?'"

But even as she asked, Leagh knew.

"Caelum. He is as disturbed as I by the implications of a union between you

and Zared. Last week I received word from him to delay a decision until he could

meet with me personally to -"

"And yet he does not wish to speak to

me,

or to

Zaredr

"Caelum sits the

Throne of the Stars, Leagh. He has heavier responsibilities than you can

imagine."

Leagh bridled at her brother's school-masterish tone, but held her tongue.

"Caelum knows well that the continued well-being of Tencendor matters

before the wishes of any single person. Leagh, you are a Princess of Tencendor.

As such you enjoy rights and privileges beyond those enjoyed by other

Tencendorians. But these rights and privileges mean you also carry more

responsibility. You simply can

not

live your life to the dictates of your heart, only

to the dictates of Tencendor. I have tried these past five years to discourage you

from choosing Zared, but you have not listened. Now, perhaps, you will listen to

Caelum."

Both his words and his tone told Leagh everything she needed to know.

Caelum would not assent to the marriage either.

As Askam rose and left the room, Leagh finally gave in to her heartache and

let tears slide down her cheeks. The very worst thing to bear was that she

understood everything that stood in the way of her marriage. Why

couldn't

she

have accepted the hand of a nobleman from the West? It would be so much

easier, so much more acceptable for the current balance of power. But what she

understood intellectually didn't matter when she'd totally given her heart to

Zared. All she wanted in life was the man she loved.

Far to the north Zared straightened his back, refusing to let weariness slump

his shoulders. He'd spent an entire week clambering over the ruins of Hsingard

with several of his engineers to see if there was any point in trying to rebuild the

town, only to come to the conclusion that the Skraelings had so destroyed the

buildings that all Hsingard could be used for was as a stone quarry. Now he'd

spent ten days riding hard for Severin, and even though he was lean and fit, the

week at Hsingard and the arduous ride home had exhausted him.

But now Severin rose before Zared and, in spite of his tiredness, a small smile

tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was a beautiful town, built not only with

sandstone and red brick to withstand the harsh winters of the north, but also

with skill and imagination, so that the structural strength of each building was

perfectly married with grace of line and beauty of feature. Severin was a town

built to satisfy the spirits as much as it was to harbour the bodies of those who

Douglass, Sara - Redemption 1 - Sinner

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