in Rivkah’s heart. She spent many hours each day guiding Azhure through the intricacies of Icarii society, teasing the young woman mercilessly when she gaped open-mouthed at some of the more permissive practices of the Icarii.
“You are already a much sought-after prize, Azhure Groundwalker, with your raven-black hair and mysterious smoke-filled eyes,” Rivkah had said only this morning. “Will you survive the Beltide festivities without being cradled within some lover’s wings?”
Azhure had blushed and turned away, thinking uncomfortably of the way StarDrifter had begun to watch her recently. The last thing she wanted to do was come between StarDrifter and Rivkah, who was rapidly filling the void caused by the loss of Azhure’s mother so early in life. Azhure couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t woken several nights a week, her cheeks wet with tears of loss; but now she slept soundly, and the unsettling dreams that had troubled her for more than twenty years had vanished entirely.
Azhure abruptly realised that for the past five or six weeks she had been constantly happy. Never had she been accepted before, and the Icarii not only seemed to accept her for who she was, but they actually liked her.
She nodded to an Icarii passing overhead, her thoughts returning to EvenSong. Azhure had so far resisted the urge to join the Strike Force in weapons training for fear of giving in to the violent streak the Avar claimed she possessed. She shuddered, remembering how after she had seized the arrow and killed her first Skraeling, she had been consumed with the desire to kill. Perhaps the Avar were right to regard her with some degree of apprehension.
But Azhure had made up her mind. Axis was right; she should seek her own path. If her path lay in violence, then perhaps she should simply accept that. Accept the blood and turn it into a mark of respect, not of reproach.
She turned down a corridor to her left, then ran lightly down several levels of stairs, her grace causing the Icarii birdman who soared past her to turn his head and watch for long moments until the Groundwalker woman disappeared into a corridor far below.
EvenSong had a leather thong tied about her pale-skinned forehead to keep the sweat out of her eyes. She had turned twenty-five on the day after Yuletide, and had immediately joined the Strike Force for her five years of compulsory military service.
She grunted as she parried a blow from her sparring partner. She did not like to sweat and thought longingly of the relaxing hot waters of the Chamber of Steaming Water. Once she had looked forward to her years in the Strike Force, but that was only because she had believed she would spend those years with her cousin FreeFall. Born only two months apart, she and FreeFall had grown up together, planned their lives together, and mused over what it would be like when he became Talon. It was not unusual for Icarii to marry or form sexual relationships with close relatives, and FreeFall and EvenSong had become lovers at thirteen.
Of course, neither EvenSong nor FreeFall had considered the possibility that he would be so cruelly murdered at such a young age. EvenSong daily bewailed not only the loss of her friend and lover, but also the prospect of spending the rest of her long life alone.
Her sparring partner and Wing-Leader, SpikeFeather TrueSong, slipped his stave under EvenSong’s guard and dealt her a heavy blow to the ribs. She dropped her staff and fell to her knees, badly winded.
“Pay attention,” SpikeFeather hissed viciously. “In battle – even in a tavern brawl – you would be dead now! We cannot afford to lose any more SunSoars.”
EvenSong glared at him, her hand clutched to her ribs. “Like you lost FreeFall?” SpikeFeather had flown with FreeFall and HoverEye BlackWing to meet Axis atop Gorkenfort’s roof. But their mission had ended in tragedy when Borneheld murdered FreeFall.
SpikeFeather swore and seized EvenSong by her short curls, hauling her to her feet. She winced and tried to twist free, but SpikeFeather’s grip was too strong.
“FreeFall had the courage to face life, EvenSong, even when it led him to death. Think how he would frown to see you use his death to give up on life itself!”
The ten other members of the Wing had stopped sparring and watched SpikeFeather and EvenSong soberly. Ever since the disaster of Yuletide, training had taken on a much more serious aspect. Where once good humour and enjoyment had pervaded weapons practice, now the expectation of an eventual conflict with Gorgrael’s forces dominated everyone’s thoughts.
SpikeFeather let EvenSong’s hair go, then stepped back and glared at the rest of his command. He was an experienced Wing-Leader, but in these difficult times his responsibilities weighed heavily on him. And despite what EvenSong apparently thought, SpikeFeather agonised daily over his inability to act quickly enough to save FreeFall. EvenSong seemed to have no heart since FreeFall’s murder, and SpikeFeather knew that the inattention of a single member could bring ruin to his entire Wing in battle.
To add to SpikeFeather’s woes, all of the Strike Force were on edge, and not simply because of the battle at Earth Tree Grove or the inevitable battle to come with Gorgrael’s forces. From the most senior Crest-Leader, FarSight CutSpur, to the lowliest recruit, the Strike Force was keenly aware of the presence of Axis SunSoar in Talon Spike. The Icarii Assembly had agreed to StarDrifter’s request to help his son in Gorkenfort partly because after a thousand years of relative peace they needed a true war leader. Someone who actually had experience of battle.
Yet Axis SunSoar, one-time BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders, the force that had been largely responsible for the thousand-year exile of the Icarii in Talon Spike, had shown not an iota of interest in the Strike Force in the month since he’d been in Talon Spike. As much as SpikeFeather, or any other member of the Strike Force, might tell himself that Axis was preoccupied with learning the skills of Enchanter from his father, his lack of interest had stung. When would Axis visit the training chambers? When would he deign to visit the Strike Force? And what would he say when he saw them train? What would he think? Would he praise, or deride?
SpikeFeather was about to call a halt to their afternoon training when a movement at the edge of his vision stopped him. Azhure stood leaning over the balcony rail of the observation gallery, watching them gravely.
“Azhure!” EvenSong exclaimed, and SpikeFeather hoped she felt just a little ashamed that her friend might have witnessed her poor behaviour.
“I do not want to interrupt, SpikeFeather TrueSong,” Azhure said courteously, “and if I have broken your concentration then I apologise to you and to your command.” One of the first things Azhure had learned in Talon Spike was that the Icarii valued politeness and correct etiquette extremely highly. Two Icarii could get themselves into a murderous argument and never raise their voices or transgress the bounds of civilised language. The scene she had just witnessed between SpikeFeather and EvenSong was extraordinary, and bespoke the tension within the Strike Force.
“I have decided to accept your offer to teach me the use of the bow and arrow, SpikeFeather.”
SpikeFeather swept his wings behind him in the traditional Icarii gesture of welcome and goodwill. “You are welcomed, Azhure. And I regret that my command is not at its best this afternoon.”
EvenSong reddened.
SpikeFeather ignored her. “Both myself and my Wing would be pleased if you joined us, Azhure. We are all beholden to you for your bravery at Yuletide, the SunSoar family perhaps more than most.” Another barb for EvenSong. SpikeFeather was truly exasperated with her.
Azhure stepped down from the ladder, took off her boots, and walked across the floor of the spacious training chamber towards the Wing. Soft mats covered every part of the floor,
