“Axis is often uncertain,” Azhure said.
“Perhaps it is something bequeathed them by their father.” WolfStar could not resist the barb, but he continued before StarDrifter could respond. “Azhure, it will be your task to teach Axis both certainty and joy in himself.”
She smiled and nodded, her eyes reflective. She was about to turn the conversation back to her power, but StarDrifter was not yet done.
“And MorningStar? What excuse do you have for the murder of my mother?”
“I do what I must for the Prophecy, StarDrifter.”
StarDrifter literally growled. “You use the Prophecy as an excuse, renegade!”
“She saw me in my daily disguise, StarDrifter. I could not risk her revealing me at that point. I do what I must,” he repeated evenly.
“As the children you murdered,” StarDrifter whispered hoarsely.
For the first time WolfStar had the grace to look uncomfortable, and Azhure wondered if he would again use the excuse he’d offered her—the Enchantress’ ring made him do it. But WolfStar startled both Azhure and StarDrifter.
“For that I offer my apology, StarDrifter. I offer it to you, and through you, I extend it to the entire Icarii nation.”
Thrown off balance, StarDrifter stared at him. Eventually he opened his mouth to say something, but now WolfStar was looking out the window and he waved StarDrifter into silence.
“Azhure,” he said urgently, “time grows short, and there is something I must say before…well, there is something I must say. Azhure, Gorgrael has bested me.” He laughed shortly. “How I hate to admit that, but admit it I must. Gorgrael has recreated the Gryphon, you know that, but you do not know their dreadful secret.” And WolfStar explained that the Gryphon was created pregnant, and that each generation was bearing more and more. “Within months,
Gorgrael will have sixty-five thousand Gryphon to throw at Tencendor, and then they will breed…”
He let them think about the implications for a moment. “Azhure. It almost destroyed Axis to deal with nine hundred. He will never be able to deal with any more. That must be your task.”
“But how can I—”
“After tonight most of your doubts will be eased. I promised that when you were finally alone many of your questions would be answered and you would be taught how to use your powers. Azhure, are you ready to confront your heritage?”
Suddenly she felt very calm. “Yes.”
WolfStar bent down, pulled the coverlets back from Azhure and picked her up in his arms—he was dismayed at how light she was, and how she cried out in agony the moment he lifted her.
“Stop!” StarDrifter shouted, leaping to his feet yet again. “What are you going to do with her?”
“I have had enough of you!” WolfStar snarled, and StarDrifter felt the Enchanter-Talon’s power reach out to him, wrap him tight, and hurl him back against the wall.
He blacked out the instant his head hit the stone.
30
THE SEPULCHRE OF THE MOON
“Shush, Azhure,” WolfStar soothed as he hurried her silently out of the Priestesses’ dormitory. “Your suffering will soon end.”
“I don’t have the strength for whatever you plan,” Azhure began, weeping with her pain.
“You must, darling. You must find the strength from somewhere. Here, wrap your arms tighter about my neck. I will carry you a while.”
Azhure whistled for Sicarius as they passed him in an outer chamber, but WolfStar growled at the hound and he sunk back to his belly. “No,” he said. “This must be just you and me, Azhure, and then just you. Alone.”
The pre-dawn air was cold and Azhure shivered as WolfStar walked swiftly down the Avenue.
“Where are we going?”
“To the Sepulchre of the Moon, Azhure. Be strong for me this night. Be strong for Axis.”
Her shivering increased and WolfStar held her as closely as he dared, cursing those babies as he went. They had held everything up, and had then almost destroyed their mother. Their beautiful mother.
“Be strong!” he snapped. “This is no time to succumb to womanly weakness.”
That was too much, and Azhure’s temper flared as her arms tightened. “You are like all men, WolfStar. You seduce and implant, and then leave the woman to endure the agony! Don’t sneer at what you can’t know!”
WolfStar smiled to himself, but he did not say anything more until he neared the southern cliffs of the island.
The waves crashed below them.
Azhure?
Azhure? Azhure? Is that you?
Does she wear the Circle? Is it her?
WolfStar, WolfStar, do you bring her?
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I bring her. Be patient.”
The waves moaned and Azhure cried out, terrified by their wail and by the echoes she could feel in her own blood. She tried to twist out of WolfStar’s arms, but he was too powerful. “No!” she cried.
“Yes,” he whispered again, and Azhure dared a look at his face…and instantly understood why Niah had used the phrase “hungry with magic” to describe his eyes.
Now they stood at the very lip of the cliff, and Azhure clung to WolfStar’s arms, afraid he would drop her. The moon was dark, but in the starlight she could dimly see the narrow steps cut into the cliff face that the First Priestess had pointed out so many weeks previously.
The waves shrieked. Azhure! Azhure!
She moaned and hid her face against her father’s chest, trying to stop her ears with her fists. The wind tore at her inky hair, unravelling it from its knot.
“Azhure,” WolfStar said. “I am going to set you down now. Be strong.”
“No!” she screamed, clinging desperately to his arms as he stood her on her feet. The lip of the cliff crumbled, and her left foot slipped out into nothingness.
Azhure!
She flattened herself against WolfStar’s body, her fingers digging into his flesh, sobbing in terror. Any moment now the wind would tear her from his grip and fling her to her death!
“Azhure,” he said. “Survive this night, and death is nothing you will have to fret about.”
“WolfStar!”
“Come now, Azhure,” and WolfStar’s voice was as gentle as a lover’s. “You shall have to go on by yourself now. I will wait here for you.”
Too shocked and terrified to say anything, Azhure stared at him. His fingers loosened and she tightened her own grip defensively. “I can’t…”
Go down those steps? In her condition? Those steps in this wind would kill the most sure-footed man, let alone her. No. No!
“Yes!” WolfStar screamed and, tearing her hands from his arms, hurled her headlong down the steps.
For several terrifying heartbeats Azhure tumbled down a dozen of the steps, breaking the skin on her hands and feet as she scrabbled frantically for purchase, battling to stay alive. She ended up face down against the rough stone, panting with terror, and when she looked back up WolfStar stood calmly at their head.
“Go on,” he mouthed, but his words were lost in the wind. Go on. You cannot turn back now.
Azhure! Come on! Come!
She pressed her face against the rock, fighting to keep from fainting from pain and fear. Something had torn within her as she tumbled down the steps, and now she realised she was haemorrhaging again.
Azhure! Quick!
Death if you linger!
Death if I rush, she thought, furious now with both WolfStar and whatever cried out to her from the waves. Slowly she turned about so she was sitting on the steps, then eased herself down, first her feet, then her buttocks, letting go with her hands only when absolutely necessary, and then grabbing for the next handhold.
She stayed pressed as close to the cliff as she could, but even so there was only a finger-breadth of stone on her outer side before the void beckoned.
Gradually she eased herself lower.
Now the loss of blood was serious, and Azhure felt her head swimming.
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I am dead, she thought, for I will never be able to climb these steps again.
Azhure!
Be quiet. I am coming.
Then she slipped again, and slid several paces down the stone steps, ending her slide only by grasping at a protruding stone in the cliff face.
Her legs dangled into a void from the thighs down.
She pulled them back in, her heart beating so violently she could feel it leaping in her throat.
There were no more steps, only the hungry, beckoning waves.
“What’s going on?” she sobbed, clinging to the cliff face. “What’s going on?”
“Azhure,” a voice full of loveliness said in her ear, and she started so violently she would have fallen from the steps had not a velvety hand grasped her firmly by the arm. “Azhure. Here is a Door. See? Your hand already grasps its handle.”
Slowly, slowly, she turned her head towards the voice. A man was emerging from the very stone itself, and the skin of his face and shoulders were pale and fine and his eyes glowed with complete serenity.
“Who are you?” she whispered, knowing that his hand on her arm was her only hold on life.
“My name is Adamon.”
Her head reeled crazily. No…no…she could not have heard right.
“Come into the Sepulchre of the Moon,” the God of the Firmament said, and Azhure felt him draw her through the rock as if it were but inconsequential vapour.
She held her breath, but there was no need, for in the next instant Adamon was helping her to her feet and she saw that they stood in a chamber lit by such a subtle radiance she could not see its source.
The walls were hidden in luminous ivory mist…was this a dream? Or death?
Am I back in my bed, so weak from loss of blood that I have dreamed this entire night? Or have I slipped out of life into the AfterLife? This was not how she had imagined it to be.
“None of those, dear Azhure,” Adamon said. “You have come to visit the Sepulchre of the Moon. See? She sleeps.”
It was the dark of the Moon, Azhure remembered, as she looked to see where Adamon pointed. There was a couch to one side of the chamber, and on it lay the form of a sleeping woman, her back to them.
She lay cushioned by thousands of tiny Moonwildflowers.
“She is a representation only, Azhure, of the real Moon who yet lingers in the dark shadows of the firmament, and of the Goddess of the Moon, who yet strides on two feet.”
“Enough, Adamon,” a musical voice laughed. “For you will confuse poor Azhure, and her questions will choke her!”
Azhure turned to the new voice, too quickly, for dizziness threatened to overwhelm her. When her vision cleared she saw an impossibly beautiful woman standing before her, clothed in a gossamer gown so fine it clung to her every curve.
She held out her hand. “I am Xanon, sweetheart.”
“I must be dead!” Azhure whispered. Adamon and Xanon were the two most mighty Star Gods, the God and Goddess of the Firmament, yet she could not doubt that these who stood before her were who they claimed.
“Not dead,” Adamon said, knowing her confusion. “Not dead, but come home.”
Other figures walked from the mist, all as beautiful, all as powerful as Adamon and Xanon. One by one they came to Azhure, took her face in their hands, and kissed her on the mouth.
Narcis, God of the Sun.
Flulia, Goddess of Water.
Pors, God of Air.
Zest, Goddess of Earth.
Silton, God of Fire.
With each touch, Azhure felt life and energy flow back into her. And with each kiss Azhure felt her joy in life renewed. As Silton stepped back, she laughed, revelling in the feeling of health and strength that suffused her.
Now Xanon stepped forward and greeted and kissed her and Azhure felt something deep within her respond to her kiss, to her touch. Xanon smiled secretively, knowingly, but she said nothing, and made room for her husband.
“Welcome home, Azhure,” Adamon said very softly, and Azhure turned to him. He took her face and cupped it between his hands. Through his skin Azhure could feel the potency of his power, but she was not afraid. Then he bent to kiss her, more deeply than any of the other six had, and Azhure inhaled his sweet breath, and sighed when he drew back.
She felt whole again, and when she looked down, she saw that her stained and sodden gown had vanished and that she wore a gauzy gown like those of Xanon, Flulia and Zest.
“You are only seven,” she said quietly, looking about her. “Yet there are Nine Priestesses of the Stars to match the nine gods. Where are your companions?”
Adamon’s face saddened. “We are not complete, Azhure. We are only seven. We wait for the Goddess of the Moon and the God of Song to join us. Then we will be Nine.”
Azhure frowned slightly at his words, trying to remember what she had heard StarDrifter and MorningStar tell Axis about the Star Gods on those afternoons she had attended his training sessions in Talon Spike. There were nine gods, but StarDrifter had said that while the Goddess of the Moon and the God of Song were of the Nine, their names had yet to be revealed. Her frown deepened. In their worship, the Icarii constantly called and prayed to the seven who stood here…but never to Moon or Song.
The Goddess of the Firmament held out her hand. “Azhure. Come, sit with us.” She led Azhure to a circle of low couches.
“We asked WolfStar to bring you to us,” Adamon began as soon as all had seated themselves, “because we have need to speak with you.”
Azhure hardly dared ask, but their smiles invited questions. “Is he one of you?” The God of Song, perhaps?
“He is of the lesser variety,” Pors answered, his voice as light as the element he commanded. “And of them there are many. But there are only nine of us.”
“Your hounds are of the lesser, too,” Zest said, and laughed at the expression on Azhure’s face. “As is Orr and his hidden companions of the UnderWorld.”
“As myself,” a sharp voice said, and Azhure looked up at the tall and thin woman who stepped into the light. She had a cadaverous face and jet black hair that swayed to her hips. Azhure could not decide if she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, or the ugliest crone to walk the face of the world.
“The GateKeeper,” the woman said by way of introduction, and sat down on a small stool behind the row of couches, folding her hands awkwardly, as if to keep them still.
“Should you not be on duty, GateKeeper?” Adamon asked.
“It will be a good night, for the dark of the Moon,” the GateKeeper said, “and none will die. What will happen here tonight is important. And I would witness.”
“As you wish.” Adamon turned his gaze back to Azhure. “Azhure, events of great moment move throughout the land. This struggle goes far deeper than you realise. It is not only a struggle between Axis and his brother, Gorgrael, but between gods. Artor now walks the land—”
Azhure shivered, remembering the dreadful deeds committed in his name.
“—and seeks to prevent us from doing the same.”
“I thought all gods lived in sky kingdoms…” Azhure’s voice trailed off. Frankly, she had not thought overmuch about where any of the gods lived.
“We seven have been trapped for over a thousand years, Azhure, trapped in cold and dark spaces, unable to respond to the prayers of the Icarii.” Adamon replied. “Of course, we were not complete then—not a full Circle—and so could hardly fight back. But when the Icarii moved south, when they recovered the sacred sites and freed the land from Artor’s grasp our prison bars were loosened. And when—” Adamon broke off as his wife grew more excited.
“And when StarDrifter relit the Temple of the Stars we were freed completely!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands like a small child.
Adamon smiled lovingly at her. “Yes, when he relit the Temple of the Stars, we were finally freed from our prison. Of course, soon we will be Nine. That helped, too.”
“Although we are free now,”
Silton leaned forward, his eyes afire with emotion, “Artor seeks to imprison us again, and to kill the Mother, whom he has never before succeeded in touching. He seeks ultimate control.”
“Faraday!” Azhure breathed.
“Yes, Faraday is in danger, and soon you will have to move to help her…but not yet.” Adamon paused. “You must help Axis first. He cannot succeed without you, nor without Faraday.”
Azhure bent her head. “Axis almost died, and even now he lies crippled.”
“He could not die,” the GateKeeper said in her sharp voice. “Because he does not have to go through my Gate. He begged,” she said shortly, “and he wept, but I would not let him pass.”
“You have done well,” Xanon said, her eyes huge with relief. “We should all have been lost had he passed through.”
The GateKeeper shrugged. “I only did what he asked.” When the gods frowned in puzzlement, she explained further. “‘Forever’ he said, when he married the Enchantress, and so ‘forever’ it is.”
Azhure lifted her head, refusing to understand the implications of what she’d heard. “No.” She twisted the ring on her hand.
“Azhure,” Xanon shifted closer to her on the couch so she could wrap her arm about the woman. “You must accept who you are. And your task will be to make Axis accept who he is.”
“The StarMan,” Azhure said tightly.
There was complete silence.
“Yes, of course,” Adamon finally whispered. “Axis. The StarMan. The God of Song.”
Azhure stared. “No. It cannot be.”
“Accept,” Xanon murmured by her side, and turned the woman’s shoulders towards the representation of the Goddess of the Moon.
The figure slowly turned in her sleep, and Azhure could see that she had raven-blue hair, and when she had rolled completely over, Azhure saw that the representation wore her own face.
“No…”
“Accept,” the seven whispered.
“No,” Azhure cried, but she let the Goddess cradle her in her arms as she stared sightlessly ahead.
“We are still vulnerable,” Adamon said eventually, “and we can still be defeated. Artor is strong. And I spoke only in hope when I said Axis was the God of Song. There are two claimants to the last place among us—Axis and Gorgrael. If Gorgrael defeats Axis—and Gorgrael is the only one now who can kill Axis—then he will take the place among the Nine.”