Enchanter: Book Two of the Axis Trilogy

Raum sat with Azhure, talking quietly on a tier several rows below those the Strike Force would take. Azhure had hardly seen the Avar Bane in recent months; he had been so busy with his study in the Icarii library and his teaching of the Icarii children.

“What do you think will happen tonight?” Azhure whispered, her eyes on the fidgeting Icarii population squeezed into the benches of the Chamber. She wore a vivid crimson gown, draped low over her shoulders and sashed with deep emerald, her hair loose down her back, making her normally exotic appearance even more striking than usual. Many Icarii eyes had followed her entrance into the Chamber.

Raum smiled at her, his liquid brown eyes gentle. “Who knows, Azhure. Tonight Axis must either win the Icarii or lose them. He will have no other chance.”

“Raum!” Azhure exclaimed. “They cannot refuse him! Can they?”

Raum squeezed her hand reassuringly. “No-one can ever tell what the Icarii will do in Assembly, Azhure. They are a flighty lot and can stampede in entirely the wrong direction.”

“But Raum, in the Assembly after Yuletide, didn’t the Icarii vote to accept Axis as the one to lead them through the battles ahead?”

Raum smiled wryly. “That’s not the exact thing they voted on, Azhure. That was discussed, yes, and many agreed to it, but the actual vote was taken on whether or not to open negotiations with Axis in Gorkenfort. The Icarii love to meet and argue, but they are very bad at actually making decisions.”

Azhure muttered something about the Icarii under her breath as Raum continued. “But it helps that Axis has already gained control of the Strike Force, Azhure. The Icarii will respect that. At the least he will address them as Strike-Leader.” Raum’s eyes flickered up to the empty benches of the Strike Force. He smoothed down his dark-green robe. Where were they? Were they not going to support Axis?

As if in answer to his thought there was a rustle of movement, and the various Wings of the Strike Force began to emerge from each of the archways, filing their way silently into their places.

Their appearance stunned the Icarii who crammed the benches below. As necks craned, mouths dropped open.

“What?” Raum gasped. “What is that they wear?”

Azhure’s eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

Not only had the entire Strike Force dyed their wings in the ebony of war, but now all wore ebony uniforms of slim-fitting wool as well.

“Axis said he wanted to turn the Strike Force from birds of paradise into hawks,” Azhure said, her eyes fixed on the Strike Force. “At least now they look the part.”

But it was not their dark and imposing presence, stunning as it was, that made the real impact. Every member of the Strike Force wore a blazing blood-red sun embroidered into the chest of his or her uniform. Wing-Leaders were distinguished by a tracery of gold outlining the blazing sun, Crest-Leaders by a smaller circle of golden stars.

“The blazing sun is the symbol of the House of SunSoar,” Azhure explained, “and the blood-red sun is Axis’ own.”

“You devised it for him?”

Azhure nodded. “And he accepted it, although he does not yet know that the Strike Force now wear it. I approached FarSight with the idea.”

And he obviously agreed, thought Raum. If nothing else this will indicate to the Icarii population that the Strike Force stands totally united behind Axis. Again he looked at the woman beside him, her face serene as she gazed at the Strike Force. Did the Prophecy place her in Smyrton for a purpose? Raum wondered. Was it simple coincidence that in Smyrton I should find a woman who would save myself and Shra from death, a woman who would later show the way to save many of the Icarii and Avar from slaughter at Yuletide, a woman who could master the Wolven when in four thousand years only one of the Icarii could, a woman who could plan this stunning show of support for Axis? Coincidence? Hardly. There were so many small things about Azhure that didn’t add up. He remembered how, during the last Assembly, Azhure had understood the ancient Icarii tongue that StarDrifter had sung in, a language that Raum had mastered only after many years of hard study.

Who are you, Azhure? Raum wondered. What are you?

Five rows below him sat the two Sentinels, Ogden and Veremund. Both had discarded their dirty habits and were dressed in slightly more becoming robes, and both were looking at Azhure with exactly the same amount of speculation as Raum. The sense of deep familiarity they experienced whenever they met the woman puzzled them. It was as if they had known her most of their lives. And the Sentinels had lived very, very long lives. This was no simple peasant girl from Smyrton, caught up in events that were spinning her out of control. No, they thought not. Who was this woman who walked so effortlessly through prophecy?

Contemplations were cut short by the entrance of the Elders and Enchanters who took their seats on the lower tiers.

The Assembly held its collective breath, all eyes on the small door that led to the robing room. No-one spoke, not a feather was ruffled to destroy the silence.

The SunSoar women came out finally and took their seats; BrightFeather first, as befitted the wife of the Talon, then MorningStar, Rivkah and EvenSong who, through virtue of her connection with the royal House of SunSoar, sat with them tonight rather than the Strike Force. All the women wore various combinations of the royal violet, intertwined with gold and ivory. The colour combination looked particularly striking on EvenSong with her violet eyes and golden underwings.

There was a movement in the doorway and seventy thousand eyes shifted as one towards the figure who now entered.

It was StarDrifter, looking his magnificent and powerful best in a crimson toga with a pale gold sun across his chest. He did not sit on the benches but moved to stand in the centre of the golden floor that was the heart of the Chamber. There he dropped his eyes and watched the door.

RavenCrest entered – slowly, proudly, his violet toga edged with gold, the jewelled golden tore about his neck proclaiming his position as Talon, leader of all Icarii. He walked to stand with StarDrifter, pausing as he joined him. Then, as one, they saluted the Assembly, bowing low in the traditional Icarii greeting, their arms and wings swept low in a gesture both of respect and of abasement, both swinging in a slow full circle so that all were included in their greeting.

Azhure remembered how incredibly beautiful and graceful she had thought StarDrifter when he had bowed in greeting to the Assembly the last time it met, but the effect of both brothers saluting the Assembly in this manner was staggering in its exquisite beauty and simplicity.

It was very unusual for both to open the Assembly as equals. Normally, either one or the other did it – StarDrifter, in his capacity as the most powerful Enchanter, or RavenCrest in his capacity as Talon.

Azhure turned to Raum with the question in her eyes.

“It indicates, I think, that who is to follow is even more powerful than either of them,” he whispered in Azhure’s ear. “This entrance and gesture by RavenCrest and StarDrifter is also intended to show the Icarii that they stand together in their support of who is to follow. It will make opposition to Axis very hard. Especially as the Strike Force so obviously stand united behind Axis.”

RavenCrest stepped forward to speak, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the Strike Force. “There is one more to enter the Chamber, my people. I need not tell you who he is. He is the StarMan. Axis SunSoar, son of the Princess Rivkah of Achar and of my brother, StarDrifter SunSoar, Enchanter. And he is the one whom I name heir to the Talon throne,” he said into the utter silence of the Chamber.

“A very formal introduction,” Raum explained, “and one that clearly tells the Icarii that this man demands respect, not only through his identity as StarMan, and not only through his breeding and relationship to two royal families, but also as the one named heir to the Talon throne.”

“He is my son,” said StarDrifter directly, “and he is our saviour.” Both he and RavenCrest now turned to the doorway.

Axis walked out from the dark of the hallway into the golden light of the Assembly Chamber, feeling the immense solemnity and magnitude of the moment.

As one, the Strike Force stood and saluted their Strike-Leader with fists clenched over their hearts.

Their movement and the rustling of their wings as they stood far above him caught Axis’ attention. For a heartbeat he hesitated as his eyes drank in their ebony uniforms with the blood-red blazing suns and their gesture of support and respect. In that instant Axis realised the full power of his destiny. Confidence and pride surged through him.

He walked into the centre of the golden floor, his uncle and father stepping back to make way for him.

As RavenCrest and StarDrifter had saluted the Assembly, so too did Axis, bowing with his hand clenched over the blazing sun, circling the Chamber to include all in his salute. As he rose from his bow his eyes caught Azhure’s, and she felt a strong sense of the emotion that Axis was experiencing at this moment. You do me honour again, Azhure, and I slip yet further into your debt, his voice whispered in her head. Her hand clenched the material of her gown as she felt his Enchanter powers wrap around her. For an instant they lingered, caressing, then Axis withdrew them and stood straight and proud to address the Assembly.

Unlike his father and uncle, who wore the togas that Icarii wore on all formal occasions, Axis was dressed as a man of war in the tunic Azhure had made for him over fawn breeches and leather riding boots.

“You are my people,” he said, his eyes shining, “and I have escaped the lies that bound me to lead you back into Tencendor.”

The Chamber erupted. Many thousands of Icarii leapt to their feet. Some shouted, others shrilled warcries, others yet burst into spontaneous song. Feathers flew, fists punched the air, and cushions were ripped apart in excitement. If any of the Elders still harboured doubts that the younger generation would leave the comforts of Talon Spike for the rigours of reclaiming Tencendor, then those doubts were now lost.

Axis simply stood and watched the ruckus. Again his eyes met Azhure’s, and again she felt the soft touch of his power as he shared with her the emotions surging through him. It was at that moment Azhure admitted to herself that she loved him. All her life she had dreamed of a hero. Was there any greater than this man who now stood before this Assembly? She smiled dreamily, a crimson island of stillness in the excitement about her.

As Axis withdrew his power from Azhure he turned his eyes to survey the emotion which swept the Assembly. He had thought long and hard about what to say to them and had finally fallen back on a maxim that Jayme, Brother-Leader of the Seneschal, of all people, had once taught him. “Learn to seize the hearts of your audience with your first words, for those hearts will always remain the most loyal. If someone needs to be persuaded with hours of arguments, then he will forever remain a potential traitor in your camp.”

Finally Axis held up a hand for quiet. The Icarii only very gradually subsided into their seats and into silence. When he had the complete attention of the Assembly Axis spoke again.

“I will lead you back into Tencendor, but it will not be easy, nor will it be all that you expect. It may be years before you can reclaim what you lost.” This was the dangerous moment, Axis knew – when the Icarii would have to realise that their dreams would not be accomplished overnight. “You know that the Prophecy walks and that I am the StarMan. Even as I speak two of the Sentinels sit among you.”

Heads craned and Ogden and Veremund gave small embarrassed waves.

“Whatever I do, wherever I lead you, it must be as the Prophecy dictates, my people. If Tencendor will rise again to defeat Gorgrael, then we must all heal the rift within. Icarii, Avar and Acharite must reunite into one nation. If we cannot find the bridge to understanding, then will Gorgrael earn his name and bring destruction hither,” Axis said, quoting the Prophecy to them. “My first task and, I think, my hardest, will be to unite the three races and recreate Tencendor. I face deadly opposition in doing this.”

“The Acharites,” a voice hissed.

“No, not the people of Achar.” Axis paused and stared at the Icarii for a moment. “Not the people of Achar, whom I think will accept both you and the concept of Tencendor again, but it will be the Brotherhood of the Seneschal and the Duke of Ichtar who will oppose me … us. Was it not the Seneschal who persuaded the Acharites to drive you from Tencendor during the Wars of the Axe? The Seneschal will oppose us and they will use Borneheld and his army to do it.”