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 – he 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 were 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 do fight Gorgrael. But if you want to fight with me then you will place yourself and your people under my 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, I will prevail.”
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
