Douglass, Sara - The Axis Trilogy 2 - Enchanter

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Book Information:

Genre: High/Epic Fantasy

Author: Sara Douglass

Name: Enchanter

Series: Book Two of The Axis Trilogy

Extra Series Info: The series has 3 books in total; There is another sequel trilogy,

called the Wayfarer Redemption.

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

Enchanter

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.

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 -

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

fight Gorgrael. But if

you want to fight with me then you will place yourself and your people under

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

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