each Song there was only one purpose, and there were only a finite number of Songs that the Icarii Enchanters had discovered in ten thousand years of searching. The restrictions of his powers frustrated Axis as much as they excited him. What was the use of such ability if there was no Song for the purpose you had in mind? And as yet nothing that StarDrifter or MorningStar had taught him seemed powerful enough to combat Gorgrael or his mass of Skraelings.
He turned to his father in frustration. “Do the Icarii Enchanters have no Songs that will aid in war, StarDrifter?”
“Perhaps once the Icarii had Songs of War, Axis.” StarDrifter’s earlier ire had faded and now he clasped his son’s shoulder affectionately. “But if they ever existed they have been lost for thousands of years. Perhaps they were too dangerous. Too potent. Once the Icarii were more warlike, and could fashion weapons that themselves wielded Star Power.”
“Such a weapon is the Wolven,” RavenCrest said from the doorway. Anger laced his words. He was furious with SpikeFeather for promising the bow to Azhure if she could hit a target with it. Stupid! No matter that he, too, would have thought Azhure could not possibly loose an arrow from it, let alone hit a ceiling target. In the week since Azhure had gained possession of the Wolven, it had not once left her side, and she had practised with it every day, spending long hours afterwards in the Chamber of Steaming Water, easing her aching chest and back muscles.
“The Wolven is an enchanted weapon?” Axis frowned at his uncle, although he smiled inwardly at RavenCrest’s anger. Azhure had won her gift fairly, displaying remarkable skill in doing so.
“Yes, enchanted,” StarDrifter cut in, “but we have lost the key to use it. Whatever Song it requires has been lost. It died with,” he hesitated, “WolfStar SunSoar, the Enchanter-Talon who originally crafted the weapon.”
MorningStar’s mouth thinned at the mention of WolfStar, but Axis did not notice. “Is there is no way of remembering the Song of the Wolven?” he asked. “Or of any other of the Songs of War?”
“We rely on you to save us!” RavenCrest hissed, his anger fully apparent as he strode across the room. He was vividly coloured, far more so than his mother or brother, with violet eyes, raven-black hair and wingbacks, and gorgeous speckled blue underwings. Yet his vivid anger made him menacing, and Axis had to fight from taking a pace back as RavenCrest stepped up to him. “Seek not legends from our past to lead us to victory, Axis! Rely on what skills you have inside you!” He paused, then dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “And remember, Axis SunSoar, that you will have to win the loyalty and trust of the Icarii nation if you are to succeed against Gorgrael, and enchanted weapons will not win for you our trust.”
Axis fully understood RavenCrest’s anger. With the death of FreeFall SunSoar, RavenCrest had lost his only son and heir. Not only did RavenCrest daily have to live with the grief of losing his beloved son, he also had to battle with the fact that the heir to the Talon throne would be Axis – StarDrifter might be a powerful Enchanter, but he would be a hopeless leader of the Icarii nation. Axis knew that RavenCrest was also deeply resentful that his heir was not only of Icarii–human parentage, but also a former BattleAxe of the loathed Seneschal.
Nothing had been said, but everyone knew the situation – and Axis intended to fight for his right to be named RavenCrest’s heir. He knew he had to weld the Icarii, Acharite and Avar races together in order to fight Gorgrael, and if he could control the thrones of both Icarii and Acharite nations then he’d have a much better chance of success. Through his mother, Rivkah, once Princess of Achar, Axis was second in line to the Acharite throne behind Borneheld. And Axis did not intend to let Borneheld live.
He turned his mind away from his half-brother and considered the implications of what RavenCrest had said. Axis would have to win the trust of the Icarii nation if he wanted to not only be accepted as heir, but also use the Icarii Strike Force in his battle against Gorgrael. Axis knew the Icarii trust would be hard to win, and as yet he had not even made a start. In the five weeks he’d been in Talon Spike he hadn’t met any Icarii beyond his immediate family.
“RavenCrest,” he said. “It is time I met with your Crest-Leaders. It is time I took control of the Strike Force.” Axis assumed a great deal with that statement. As the Icarii Talon, RavenCrest was in overall command of the Strike Force. Now Axis demanded that he assume overall control.
RavenCrest may have been angry and resentful of this man who stood so calmly before him asking for control of the Strike Force, but he was no fool. He knew that Axis alone had the skills and the experience to transform the Strike Force into an effective command – and he would need total leadership to do so.
He nodded. “I’ll arrange a meeting for three days’ time,” he said, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
StarDrifter and Axis made their excuses and left MorningStar alone in the small training chamber. She waited until the door closed behind them, then sat down heavily and rested her head in her hands.
Training Axis was physically demanding work and MorningStar was tired. But she was also sorely troubled. Axis learned well. Too well. That point had been driven home forcibly this afternoon. Many of his other skills could be waved off with the explanation that he had absorbed them from StarDrifter when he had sung to his son in Rivkah’s womb as they sat on the sunny rooftop of Sigholt.
But StarDrifter just could not have taught Axis the skills associated with the water music – his own abilities in that area were too poor.
Natural ability, then, on Axis’ part? Perhaps. But MorningStar did not think that natural ability explained everything. She shook herself and stood up. She did not want to think just yet about why Axis was so good at learning the Songs when other Icarii Enchanters had so much difficulty.
Perhaps he was not learning them for the first time.
“Stars, woman!” MorningStar muttered to herself. “Don’t even think it!”
Belial’s hazel eyes restlessly scanned the leaden-grey sky. Either side of him reared the barren walls of Hold-Hard Pass, their starkness relieved only by the occasional stunted bush or tree. It was eleven days since they had entered the eastern end of the Pass, and five since Belial had ordered they set up camp and sent Arne, the most experienced unit commander Belial still had with him, and a small number of men to scout Sigholt and its environs.
Belial hardly dared hope Sigholt would provide them with a base. He desperately wished that he’d some of those Icarii farflight scouts with him. Instead he had been forced to send men on what might well be a dangerous and fruitless mission.
That any of them were alive at all was due principally to Magariz – and the foresight of Borneheld, of all people. Beside him Lord Magariz sat a fidgeting Belaguez. The two men took turns to exercise Axis’ war horse. Belaguez had already thrown Magariz twice today, and Belial had his own fair share of bruises from the cursed grey stallion. We should just let the horse run wild, Belial thought, before he kills one of us. I can ill afford to lose Magariz.
Lord Magariz had been Duke Borneheld’s most senior and trusted commander, responsible during the past twelve years for commanding the garrison at Gorkenfort. Yet Magariz had deserted Borneheld to follow Axis, even though his disloyalty
