And then Gorgrael thought of a target.
56
DRAGO
The moonlight flared and Adamon cried out, turning his head away in pain.
“Azhure?” Slowly he blinked as the radiance faded. “Azhure?”
She knelt in the centre of the roof, her son cradled against her body, rocking him back and forth, crooning wordlessly.
Adamon rose and hesitantly walked over to her, running his eyes over her body as he did so. She appeared unhurt. But this was more than he could say for her son. Adamon drew in a sharp breath of horror as he saw the lacerations and bruises that covered the boy.
He rested a warm hand on Azhure’s shoulder and squatted down besides her. “Azhure?”
She raised her head and stared at him. Her eyes were hard and bright. “Look what he has done to my son,” she said.
“Will he…?” Adamon was almost too afraid to ask.
“Live?” Azhure dropped her eyes and nodded. “Yes. None of his wounds are mortal, and with care and rest and love he will mend. His body, that is. Who can say how such an experience has touched his soul?”
The baby stirred and both Azhure and Adamon held their breath.
“Mama,” he whispered, and he slowly reached up and grasped a tendril of Azhure’s hair where it drifted over her breast. “Mama. You came.”
Now Adamon let his own breath out in relief. “He trusted you, Azhure, and you came. That is all that matters to him.”
Azhure hugged her son to her as tightly as she dared, her cheeks wet with tears. “Thank you, Adamon.”
“I but gave you added strength, Azhure. The power and the courage to effect this rescue was of your doing.”
“You told me what I should do.”
The god smiled and tenderly stroked Azhure’s hair back from her face. He leaned forward and kissed her damp cheek. “And did Gorgrael fall for it, my darling? Did his desire for his dream lover bury his suspicion?”
She laughed. “Fall for it? More than you can imagine, Adamon! It is more than the Destroyer’s pride that is bent out of shape this night, I think!”
When Rivkah entered the Great Hall for her breakfast she halted in astonishment.
Azhure was seated before the fire, dressed in a pale grey gown, and asleep in her lap was Caelum.
Rivkah blinked, sure she was mistaken, sure that Azhure held one of her other children, but as she stepped forwards Azhure turned her head and smiled. Her smile was of such beauty, such peace and contentment, that Rivkah indeed knew it was Caelum she held. She stopped several paces away, her heart thumping. “How…?”
Azhure’s smile widened. “Did you dream last night?”
Rivkah’s cheeks coloured slightly. Indeed she had dreamed, but she could not quite remember exactly of what. But she did remember the sensations the dream had caused her—what had she been thinking, and in her condition?
Azhure’s smile broadened. “Your cheeks stain as prettily as those of the pageboy who served my breakfast, Rivkah. I cannot think what came over you all.”
Rivkah gathered her composure and sat down at a side-table. The pageboy, his cheeks still rosy, laid a platter of fruit and bread before her, then almost stumbled in his rush to retreat to the shadows by the door.
“Caelum?” Rivkah asked softly, ignoring the food and staring at Caelum. He was scratched and bruised, but he slept peacefully enough, and his flesh did not have the flush of fever.
Azhure stroked her son’s cheek gently. “He is well, Rivkah. Better than I could have hoped. His fear and his memories will fade over time.”
The boy shifted slightly, and roused from his slumber. I will never forget you standing there in the moonlight, Mama, smiling and reaching for me.
“But how?” Rivkah asked.
Azhure shook her head. “A dream, Rivkah. Nothing more. The Moon was powerful last night, and she invaded many people’s dreams.”
Rivkah stifled her cross words, for she knew the tone. She had lived among the Icarii for thirty years and could not fail to recognise their cursed retreat into euphemisms and mysticisims whenever they did not want to explain something.
And whatever Azhure had done, she had bested Gorgrael.
She took a deep breath. “I am glad, Azhure,” she said, and Azhure raised her eyes from her son.
“I know, Rivkah. Thank you.”
“And now?”
“Now? Now I find out how Gorgrael managed to penetrate Sigholt’s defences.” She stood up and held Caelum out to Rivkah. “Come, Caelum, sit with Rivkah for a few—”
She stopped mid-sentence, appalled by the shriek that flew from the boy’s mouth. He clung to her desperately and she held him tight against her body, crooning again, her eyes locked with Rivkah’s.
“I don’t think he wants you to leave him again,” Rivkah said gently.
Azhure nodded and, clutching the crying baby closely, she left the hall.
“He is home!” the bridge cried, gladness investing her voice with a boom that echoed about Sigholt.
Well, thought Azhure, now everyone knows. “Yes, bridge, he is home.”
“Is he well?”
Azhure frowned at the tone of the bridge’s voice—she sounded nervous. “Well enough, bridge, well enough.”
Caelum had quietened now and clung to his mother, half asleep again.
“I am glad,” the bridge whispered, “for I bear the guilt of his abduction.”
Azhure was silent. Waiting. She had come to the bridge for this purpose—how was it that Gorgrael had managed to penetrate its defences without the entire garrison being alerted?
“I should have challenged the invader, the snatcher.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My fault,” moaned the bridge. “My fault.”
Azhure stifled her impatience. “Caelum is home, bridge, and he will eventually grow out of his terror. But he, and I, want to be sure that this will never happen again. Why didn’t you challenge Gorgrael?”
“Gorgrael!” The bridge almost rocked in her distress. “The snatcher was Gorgrael?”
“Surely, bridge.”
“Oh! Oh, woe is me! I have failed you, Enchantress, and I have failed the boy who rests so trustingly in your arms!”
“Why didn’t you challenge him?”
The bridge was silent for a full minute. “Because I trusted him,” she whispered eventually.
“You trusted Gorgrael?”
“No, no, no,” the bridge moaned, “please do not make me tell you, Enchantress!”
“Tell me of your own free will or I will tear the memory from you, bridge!”
“I felt him descending, Enchantress, and I did begin to challenge him. But…but…”
“But?”
“But your son told me the visitor was true. A friend. And I trusted him. I trusted his judgement.”
Azhure frowned. “Caelum told you the invader was true?” “No, Enchantress. Your other son. DragonStar.”
Cazna jumped as the door to her apartments flew open. Azhure strode in, Caelum…Caelum!…in her arms. Behind her hurried Rivkah, slightly out of breath with the rush, Reinald, the ancient and years-retired cook of Sigholt, and Sol Baldwin, the captain of the Keep’s garrison.
“Where is he?” Azhure asked, her voice dangerously quiet. In her arms Caelum, fully awake, stared at Cazna, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
“You’ve got him back!” Cazna cried, genuine relief in her voice, and some of the hardness in Azhure’s eyes faded. She had not been sure about Cazna’s involvement, but now she understood the girl had been an unwitting dupe of DragonStar’s manipulations.
“Yes,” Azhure said, “I have him back. Now, where is my other son?”
Cazna smiled. So Azhure wasn’t so hard of heart towards Drago as she pretended in Axis’ presence. Well.
“I will fetch him for you,” she said, and hurried into one of the lesser chambers. She bent down over Drago’s crib—and almost recoiled at the expression on the baby’
s face.
“Drago! What’s wrong?”
She reached down for him, horrified at the tension in his little body. Was he ailing for something?
The baby almost growled as Cazna lifted him out, and he extended his arms and legs so stiffly that Cazna had to carry him some distance away from her body as she rejoined the others.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said, her eyes concerned.
“I do,” Azhure said. “Cazna, what I am going to do will not be very pleasant, and I do not want to befoul your apartments with the memory of it. But I need you as a witness, as I need Rivkah and Reinald and Sol. Come, we will go to the roof. This will need to be done in the open air.”
Caelum cried softly at the mention of the roof.
Either you come with me to the roof, my love, or I will leave you in the care of one of the nurses. Which will it be?
Caelum shuddered, but he feared being left alone more than he feared the memories of the roof. The roof, Mama.
What I will do there will be…unpleasant…but I think you will benefit from the witnessing.
Yes, Mama.
Azhure had already sent a servant to the roof, and when the group arrived they saw that a table had been set out, a snowy cloth laid over it.
The servant had disappeared, but two Icarii Enchanters, visiting from the south, were waiting there.
They nodded silently at Azhure. She had spoken in their minds to call them to the roof, and they had some inkling of what was about to occur.
“Azhure?” Cazna asked, growing more disturbed by the moment. “What’s going on?”
She looked at Rivkah, but the woman seemed as ignorant as she. But something bad was about to happen, Cazna was suddenly sure of that, because Azhure’s face was set into hard lines and even Rivkah was stiff and uncomfortable. Reinald and Sol, also uneasy, stood behind Rivkah, their hands folded before them, their eyes downcast.
“Cazna,” Azhure said, “lay DragonStar on the table and divest him of his wraps and clothes.”
“Azhure—” Cazna began.
“Do it!” Azhure snapped, and Cazna jumped.
She walked to the table and laid Drago down, but he screamed the moment she laid a hand to his wraps.
“Azhure!” Cazna pleaded.
“Do it!”
Trembling, Cazna pulled the blankets from around Drago’s vulnerable body, dropping them to the paving, then she unbuttoned his soft suit and pulled it over his shoulders and down his body. When she removed the swaddling linens he lay fully exposed to the morning sun and the eyes of the watchers.
“Now collect the blankets and clothes, Cazna, and stand back with the others.”
Cazna looked frantically about the roof. Was no-one going to help the baby? Her eyes shifted to Azhure. What was the woman going to do? There was death in her eyes.
“Azhure,” she said, her voice edged with dread, “do you mean to harm your son? He’s but a—”
“Do not even think to counsel me, Cazna!” Azhure hissed, taking a step forward. “Your over-soft mind has proved fertile ground indeed for someone with such strength of ill-will as DragonStar. Now, stand back!”
Without any further protest, Cazna joined Rivkah, and the older woman took her hand.
Azhure took a deep breath, calming herself. She cradled Caelum gently in her arms; the boy’s eyes never left DragonStar. “For what I will do here today I need witnesses,” she said, “and for you to understand you will need to hear all that is being said.”
She exchanged glances with the Enchanters and they nodded slightly, knowing what it was she wanted them to do.
“All Icarii babies are born with minds as sharp as an adult’s,” she explained for the benefit of the three humans present who, save Rivkah, did not understand these things. “DragonStar’s mind is even more acute, because he carries the powers of an Enchanter. He can not only think, but communicate with the mind voice.” She paused. “But I want you all to hear what it is he is saying, so that any misunderstandings can be cleared away. My friends,” she spoke to the Enchanters, “Axis once told me there was a Song for making the mind voice audible to human ears.”
“Yes, Enchantress,” one replied, his face grave. “My companion and I can make all that is thought spoken.”
“Good. You may commence,” she said, and soft music filtered through the air. Within an instant it had disappeared again, but those with Icarii blood could feel the power that drifted about.
“Whore!” DragonStar’s voice roared around the roof, “continually offering your body to the man who so abused you!”
Everyone flinched, but Cazna was stunned by the words and voice. Surely the Enchanters were making this up? No baby could be filled with this much bitterness…surely?
“I would take that as a compliment,” Azhure said calmly, “if I thought that concern for me lay behind its rough language.”
“You do not deserve such a son as me!”
“And with that I could not agree more.”
“I should be the heir, not he!”
Azhure remained silent, letting DragonStar damn himself.
“I am the more powerful, the more deserving! I should have the glory and the accolades of heir!” He paused, his hatred and envy rippling across the roof. “Caelum was planted in sweet virgin flesh. I? I was seeded in a body tarnished by frequent use.”
Utterly repelled by her son’s words, Azhure shifted her eyes back to Cazna. “Can you understand why Axis and I did not want DragonStar near Caelum?”
Cazna nodded dumbly, her eyes shocked.
“Stupid bitch,” DragonStar remarked casually, and Cazna burst into tears.
Azhure looked back to DragonStar. No wonder her pregnancy had been so troubled, with this much hatred seething inside her. “Do you know who we are, DragonStar?”
“Yes,” he replied instantly. “I know that you are Moon, Azhure, and Axis is Song.”
His words rocked the two Enchanters. Azhure glared at them, daring them to falter with their enchantment, and after a moment they recovered.
Rivkah stared, her lips parted in astonishment.
“And you are a fool, DragonStar,” Azhure said, shocked to find tears in her eyes. She took a breath and composed herself.
“Did you manipulate Cazna to bring you to the roof the day Caelum was snatched?”
“Yes.”
Azhure was appalled at his confidence. “And did you call Gorgrael through the mists, and lie to the bridge?”
“Yes.”
Far below the bridge stirred. “You were not true,” she called. “Why?”
“Why?” Azhure echoed.
“Because I know I must be first.” He paused, considering. “You are powerful, Mama, if you managed to rescue Caelum.”
Azhure closed her eyes. Never before had he called her Mama.
“DragonStar, I cannot let such a crime go unpunished.”
Shockingly, DragonStar laughed. “And what will you do to me, Mama? Throw me from the parapets? Smother me before these witnesses? Send me away? If you do that then one day I will return. Only death will stop me. Are you prepared to kill me, Mama?”
Cazna’s eyes flew to Azhure’s face, fully expecting an affirmative answer.
“No,” Azhure whispered. “I cannot do that, although if you were standing here in my place then it is what I would expect from you.”
DragonStar laughed again. “Then you will not halt me. You are too soft.” He had relied on this, it had given him the confidence to admit his wrongdoing. His heinous crime might well deserve heinous punishment, but no mother could visit such a punishment on the child of her body. And certainly not Azhure, who had suffered so much herself.
DragonStar had planned well.
“By the Stars,” Rivkah whispered, “how can a baby have so much ill-will festering inside him?”
Azhure wiped her face of all expression. “DragonStar, listen to me.”
He was silent. Confident. All could feel the amusement e
manating from him.
“I cannot let what you have done go unanswered. You manipulated Cazna, who only ever meant you well, and abused her hospitality and care. And you planned your brother’s kidnap—and murder, for all I know—aware of the hurt it would do Axis and myself. Listen to me, DragonStar.”
“Nothing you can do will touch me,” he sneered. “You don’t have the courage. The strength of will. You are my mother!”
“Then you underestimate me. DragonStar, listen to me and answer me true. From where do you derive your power?”
“From the Stars, from the Star Dance,” he said, and all could tell he was bewildered at the sudden change in topic.
“Yes, from the Stars. And from where did you inherit your ability?”
“From my parents. From you and Axis.” Now his voice was clearly puzzled.
“Yes. From me and Axis. DragonStar, let me be even more specific. You inherited your power from the Icarii blood we bequeathed you. I inherited mine from my father, WolfStar, and Axis from his father, StarDrifter.”
“Yes, yes.” Was she going to punish him by giving him endless lessons in bloodlines? Stupid cow.
“DragonStar,” Azhure said, “from the gift of your grandmothers—from Rivkah, here to witness today, and from Niah, whose death you witnessed yourself—you have inherited an equal amount of human blood.”
He was silent as his mind raced to try and work out what she meant, what she was going to do.
“You have equal amounts of Icarii and Acharite blood, DragonStar, and in every known case of mixed parentage, the Icarii blood has always proved the stronger.”
“No! You wouldn’t dare!”
“I wouldn’t if you hadn’t dared to betray, DragonStar. Listen, and hear me well. I will twist your blood order about. From the instant that I have finished speaking your human blood will prove the stronger, and your Icarii blood will lie in subjection to it. I disinherit you of your Icarii blood and I curse you to a human life, DragonStar.”
“No!” He twisted about the table, his fists stabbing into the air.
“Your wings shall lie dormant, DragonStar, and you shall never fly.”