In Gorgrael.
He was a child of the Avar almost more than a child of the Icarii. It was his Avar blood that had nurtured so much of his hate, and it was his Avar blood that had created the Destroyer. His Icarii blood may have given him the means to access the power to achieve his ends, but it was his Avar blood that had created the need to destroy in the first instance.
Brode moaned and grabbed at the smooth ice wall for support. But his hand slipped down its surface, and he found himself on his knees in the corridor, Axis and Arne already almost out of sight.
A hand grabbed his hair from behind, and Brode felt the prick of a blade in his back.
“Axis,” he whispered and, amazingly, Axis heard.
He spun about, his cloak swirling, his sword gleaming in his hand. The light from the ice caught at its blade, and it glittered cheerily, scenting its prey.
Behind him, Axis saw Brode on his knees in the corridor, an expression of utter despair on his face, and Timozel holding him by the hair and by the point of his blade.
Timozel had changed. No longer the carefree boy or the handsome man, his face was grey, and almost as shrunken as Brode’s. All trace of good looks had gone. His hair was plastered to his skull by a thin layer of ice. His eyes, once deep blue, were now only rimmed with blue—the rest of his irises were stark white. His teeth were bared in what Axis first thought was a grimace of pain, then realised was a smile.
Axis heard Arne move behind him. “Stay,” he ordered. “Timozel is mine,” and the sword trembled in his hand.
“Give me your cloak,” Arne said, and Axis spared a moment to loosen the ties at his throat and let Arne draw the cloak off his shoulders. Underneath the golden tunic glowed as bright as the first day Axis had unfolded it before Azhure in Talon Spike.
As he felt the cloak lift off his shoulders there was nothing for Axis but he and Timozel. Even Brode, poor Brode, dying on the point of Timozel’s sword, was almost irrelevant.
Axis had waited a long time for this.
So had Timozel.
“I couldn’t have planned it better,” the Traitor snarled, “than to come across you sneaking into my master’s house in your gilded finery. He thinks to dispose of you himself, but I have planned this all my life, and I am not to be denied now.”
Axis stepped slowly towards him, Jorge’s sword weaving gently before him. “Why, Timozel?”
Timozel leaned his head back and roared with laughter, but the moment that Axis took a quick step forward Timozel closed his mouth with a snap and took a firmer grip on Brode’s hair.
The Avar man cried out as he felt the point of Timozel’s sword slide a finger-width into his flesh.
“Why, Axis? Because even as a toddler I could feel my mother’s adoring eyes on you, feel her hot breath as she watched you at swordplay in the courtyard.”
“Embeth loved your father.”
“Liar! Embeth loved no-one but you! She betrayed my father with you! When, Axis? When was the first time? When you were eleven and newly arrived in her house? Or did you manage to leave her unsullied until you were thirteen? Fourteen?”
“I never cuckolded Ganelon, Timozel. If your mother and I were lovers, then it was only after your father’s death. I respected and loved your father.”
But nothing Axis said made a difference to Timozel. All his life he had bottled up his resentment of Axis, of his ability, of his leadership. If only Axis hadn’t been there then Timozel would have been the one to shine. Timozel would have been BattleAxe.
“You never gave me the recognition and responsibility I deserved, Axis. I would have died a lowly horse soldier had I remained under your command.”
Axis laughed, and his laughter was every bit as harsh as Timozel’s had been. “As it is, Timozel, you will die a reviled Traitor under the command of a piece of corruption that should never have been birthed.”
Timozel’s mouth curled back in a snarl, although no sound left his lips. Brode shifted slightly in his grasp, and Timozel blinked and looked down, as if he had forgotten the Avar man was there.
Axis took advantage of Timozel’s momentary distraction to leap.
Timozel reacted instantly, instinctively. He thrust his sword at Axis…straight through Brode’s body.
The man gave a great shudder, but his lips smiled as he died, and Axis, even caught in his desperate struggle with Timozel, saw shaded forest paths reflected momentarily in Brode’s eyes. It distracted him long enough for Timozel to pull his sword free and throw the corpse to one side.
Timozel screamed in pure exultation, flattening himself against the wall to avoid Axis’ sword thrust, lunging himself the moment the danger had whistled past. This was his chance to show who was the better, who should have had command in the first instance.
Axis spun gracefully on one foot and parried Timozel’s thrust. “I remember once,” he whispered, his face close to Timozel’s for an instant, “as I lay in bed with your mother…”
Timozel howled in fury, and came at Axis with a flurry of blows and strokes that would have decapitated a lesser opponent.
“…her body entwined as one with mine…so warm…”
Timozel grunted, his face enraged, his eyes bulging.
“…how we talked of you…”
“Liar!” Timozel raged, and turned his head just before Axis’ sword would have sliced off his ear.
“…and I thought, ‘how would I ever tell Embeth’…”
Something snapped inside Timozel’s mind. He threw all caution and cunning and training to the wind and gave in to his hatred of the man who now stood so close to him…
…almost as close as your mother once lay with me…
…and let his sword clatter to the floor, reaching with both hands for Axis’ throat.
“I thought,” Axis grunted, leaning to one side and letting Timozel step forward, “‘how would I ever tell Embeth if her son was skewered on the wrong end of five handspans of sharpened steel?’”
And he ran Jorge’s sword through Timozel’s belly.
As soon as he felt the blade break the skin of Timozel’s back he released his grip and stepped back.
Timozel let out a great explosive breath of surprise and sank to his knees, his hands clutched about the hilt of the sword rammed into his body.
“Of course,” Axis said, his face and voice expressionless, “the question was purely rhetorical, because as far as I am concerned you are now skewered on precisely the right end of five handspans of sharpened steel. Do you recognise it, Timozel?” Now his face twisted. “Do you? It is Jorge’s sword, Timozel, and I swore as I drew it from his body that I would find it a more fitting resting place.”
Timozel slowly tipped over onto his side, steaming blood pooling in widening circles about him.
How could it end like this?
How could it end…?
How…?
Axis stood, breathing heavily, looking at Timozel’s body. He had loved and nurtured this man from a baby; had treasured him because he was Embeth and Ganelon’s son; had taken as much pride in his achievements as his parents had.
He tried to feel some sorrow for Timozel’s death, but could feel none.
Timozel had betrayed him…and he had undoubtedly betrayed Faraday.
Axis looked down the corridor to where Arne stood holding his cloak.
“Faraday.”
72
THE MUSIC OF THE STARS
He lifted the Rainbow Sceptre from his weapon belt and strode towards Arne.
Nothing mattered now but that he find Gorgrael—and Faraday.
He brushed past Arne, who fell silently into step behind his StarMan.
The maze of ice corridors no longer confused or disorientated Axis. The Sceptre felt warm in his hands, and he thought he could feel a slight pulse grow in its rod. His feet echoed through the Ice Fortress, and somewhere in its depths Axis felt, if not heard, a scream.
It was his brother, calling to him.
The length of hi
s stride increased. Nothing existed except for the need to reach Gorgrael. It was as if Prophecy pulled him through the Ice Fortress, and when he turned a corner and entered a long ice corridor with a massive wooden door at its end he could feel Prophecy reach ice-hot talons into his entrails and tug, pull, haul him along the corridor’s length.
Only when he stood at the very door itself did Axis remember Arne at his back. He turned so swiftly, so suddenly, that Arne found himself pinned against an ice wall, Axis’ hand to his throat, before he could draw breath.
“Stay here!” Axis snarled, his face twisted in rage.
Arne knew the rage was not directed at him, but rather at whatever waited beyond that door.
He nodded.
“Stay here,” Axis repeated, his voice calmer now. “The Prophecy does not require your presence in that chamber. The Prophecy does not require your death!”
His voice had risen again, and Arne nodded.
“I want someone to survive this,” Axis said, then let Arne go.
Axis took a deep breath, his eyes still locked into Arne’s, and Arne glimpsed some of the emotion that roiled within the man.
“I will watch the door,” he said. “And hold your cloak.”
For some reason Axis’ eyes filled with tears at Arne’s words. “And pray for me and the Lady Faraday. Will you do that also?”
Arne nodded yet again, and tears glinted in his own eyes. “Yes.”
Axis stood before the door, the Rainbow Sceptre in one hand, the other on the door handle. He breathed deeply, slowly, calming his thoughts, concentrating. He knew the third verse of the Prophecy. He knew it contained both the key to his destruction and the key to his survival. He had the means to destroy Gorgrael, but only if he maintained his concentration.
And Gorgrael knew it too. The Destroyer would do everything in his power to destroy that concentration.
Axis concentrated on the Star Dance, on its beautiful music, and let it ripple through him. He thought of Azhure and Caelum, and of their love, and let it support him.
Then he turned the handle, opened the door, and entered the chamber to meet his brother.
The door swung softly shut behind him.
Gorgrael stood ten or twelve paces away, perhaps standing before a fire, for Axis had a dim impression of some light glowing and leaping behind him.
He was as disgusting as Axis remembered from the cloud in the skies above the Ancient Barrows, and his presence was as evil and as putrid as Axis remembered from the nightmares his brother had tormented him with most of his life.
Gorgrael’s face was twisted into a snarl, his lips pulled back from his canine teeth, his tongue lolling over his chin. Behind him, his wings were outstretched, their talons glinting.
Strangely, the overriding emotion that Axis felt seep towards him was envy.
Axis did not understand how he looked from Gorgrael’s perspective—how confident, how golden, how princely. He was everything that Gorgrael had ever desired to be, and now he stood before the Destroyer, his faded blue eyes calm, his body relaxed and assured.
Axis did not realise how Gorgrael felt because all Axis could see from behind the mask of his concentration was Faraday.
Faraday—held fast by Gorgrael’s clawed hands, one sunk deep into the flesh of her throat, the other clasped tight about her belly.
Faraday—her once-beautiful gown hanging from her in tatters, her flesh marked and bruised.
Faraday—her face towards him, her eyes at first dull with pain and fear and then—to Axis’ horror—brightening with hope and pleading and love.
Axis breathed deep, keeping his face calm, maintaining his concentration.
“I greet you well, brother,” Gorgrael hissed.
Axis inclined his head, and took a step towards Gorgrael—no further, because he saw Gorgrael’s claws dig deeper at even that one step. “And I you, Gorgrael.”
“Finally,” Gorgrael said, and his body wriggled a bit. “Finally we meet here, you and I. As the Prophecy said we would.”
Axis ignored him, his eyes travelling curiously about the chamber, although he saw nothing. “Is he not here to help you?”
“He?” Gorgrael tilted his head to one side. “He?”
“Your friend,” Axis said. “WolfStar.”
Gorgrael shuffled in his confusion, and he wondered what sort of trick this was. “WolfStar?”
“The man who taught you, Gorgrael.”
“The Dark Man?”
Suitable, thought Axis, very suitable indeed. “The man who taught me also.”
“No!” Gorgrael hissed, and Faraday moaned involuntarily as his claws tightened. “No!”
“Yes, indeed, brother. I walked ready trained into this Prophecy, and it was not my…our…father who trained me.”
Gorgrael thought of all the times the Dark Man had gone, disappeared, sometimes for many months. Had he spent that time training Axis? He thought of all the times the Dark Man had appeared, knowing exactly what Axis was thinking, what he was doing. Had he known because he had just left Axis, perhaps after an amusing dinner and light-hearted chat?
And WolfStar?
“The most powerful of the Enchanter-Talons,” Axis said. “I think he had this planned from the beginning, don’t you? When, do you think, did he conceive this Prophecy for his own amusement? When did he begin to put the pieces in place? We are only pawns for his enjoyment, Gorgrael, nothing else. The Prophecy is nothing but idiot gabble for no reason other than babble and confusion.”
Gorgrael screeched, and Faraday screamed with him, but Axis let none of this penetrate his concentration.
“The puppets mouth their words, make their moves, all to his direction. Doubtless the old grey wolf watches now, from some safe distance, and claps and chortles.”
Axis took another step forwards, and this time Gorgrael was so wrapped in thoughts of the Dark Man’s treachery and manipulation that he did not notice.
“Who do you think he wants to win, Gorgrael? You…or me? What does the script say, do you think? Who has he backed?”
Another step, and Axis’ hand firmed about the Rainbow Sceptre.
“I do not care,” he continued, “because I intend to win—against you and against WolfStar, your Dark Man.”
Gorgrael’s head whipped up and he realised how close Axis had crept.
He hissed, low and sibilant.
Faraday screamed.
Axis’ concentration wavered, and for an instant a look of agony swept across his face.
Gorgrael hissed again, this time in triumph.
Axis battled with his emotions, fought with all his being, and rebuilt the wall of concentration about him.
It took all he had, and then some.
Slowly, lest his movements propel Gorgrael into action, his free hand slipped the cloth from the head of the Rainbow Sceptre.
Rainbow light swirled about the chamber, and Gorgrael screamed and wept.
He let everything loose then, everything that he could against his golden brother. Dark power, so malevolent that it hissed in its own right, writhed about the chamber, soaking up the rainbow light.
Chaotic music, the music of the Dance of Death, screeched and curled through the air, and both dark power and music coalesced about the form of Axis, masking him in a shadow thick with malice and evil.
Axis could feel it, feel it power towards him, feel all the horror and destruction of the universe thunder about him, seeking him, wanting him, and he closed his eyes and concentrated, concentrated so hard that all thought of Faraday and even of Gorgrael vanished from his mind, and he concentrated on the Star Dance.
He let its beauty and grace flood him, listening for the…
Beat
…reaching for its…
Beat
…and slowing his own heart so that it…
Beat
…in time with the…
Beat
…of the Star Dance. And in the…
Beat
&
nbsp; …of the Star Dance Axis could hear the…
Beat
…of Azhure’s heart, and Caelum’s heart, and of all those who loved him. And he took courage and he took heart and he opened his eyes and hefted the Rainbow Sceptre in his hands and let the entire power of the Star Dance flood through him and through the Rainbow Sceptre until he could feel it throb with the…
Beat
…of the Star Dance and the…
Beat
…of his own heart.
Axis stepped forward and raised the Sceptre above his head.
Gorgrael screamed with such pure fury and primeval fear that the ice walls of his fortress cracked. With all the energy and potency he could garner he flung the power of the Dance of Death at Axis.
It surrounded the StarMan, clashing with the music of the Star Dance, seeking and invading and penetrating, until the frenetic coupling of the Dances throbbed through the chamber and through the entire Ice Fortress until it thundered across the tundra beyond.
And through the cracked and demented beat of the Dance of Death, throbbed the crazed heartbeat of Gorgrael—itself enough to induce despair in any who heard it.
For a heart…
Beat
…the dark shadow surrounding Axis seemed inviolate, seemed as though it was indeed smothering him, as though it was indeed killing through despair, but then a ruby beam pierced the cloud, then a golden one, and another, and then sapphire and emerald broke through, and…
Beat
…the full rainbow power of the Sceptre flooded through the shadow and about the chamber, fed with the laughter of age-old Sentinels, and gradually, very, very gradually, the Rainbow Light and the laughter absorbed the power of the Dark Music, absorbed the power of the Dance of Death, and the cloud about Axis dissipated into useless fingers that trailed about the chamber until they, too, faded before the relentless…