StarMan (2 page)

We have both been used and discarded by these damn SunSoar men, Faraday thought. "Well," she said, "as far as Tare, you say? How long will it take you to pack?"

To her surprise Embeth actually laughed. "As long as it takes me to saddle a horse. I have no wish to go back inside the palace. I already wear a serviceable dress and good boots, and should I require anything else then I have gold pieces in my purse. We shall not want for food along the way."

Faraday smiled. "We would not have wanted for food in any case." She patted one of the saddlebags.

Embeth frowned in puzzlement at the empty saddlebag, but Faraday only reached out her hand.

"Come, let us both walk away from these SunSoar men. Let us find meaning for our lives elsewhere."

As Faraday and Embeth left the palace of Carlon, far to the north Timozel sat brooding on the dreary shores of Murkle Bay. To his right rose the cheerless Murkle Mountains that spread north for some fifty leagues along the western border of Aldeni.

Relentless cold, dry winds blew off the Andeis Sea, making life all but impossible within the mountain range.

The darkness of the waters before Timozel reflected the blackness of his mind. If, far to the south, Embeth worried about her lost son, Timozel spared no thought for his mother -Gorgrael dominated his mind awake and asleep.

Over the past nine days Timozel had ridden as hard as he dared for the north. With each league further away from Carlon and Faraday he could feel Gorgrael's grip clench tighter about his soul.

The horror Timozel had felt when Faraday dropped the pot and shattered the ties that bound him to her had dimmed, but had not completely left him. In those odd hours when he snatched some sleep, nightmares invariably claimed him and he always woke screaming. Three times this day he had dropped off in the saddle, only to find Gorgrael waiting for him in his dreams, his claws digging into TimozePs neck, his repulsive face bending close to Timozel's own. "Mine," the dream-Gorgrael would hiss. "Mine!

You are
minel"

And with his every step further north the more potent became the nightmares. If only he could turn his back on Gorgrael and ride for Carlon. Beg forgiveness from Faraday, find some way to reconstitute his vows of Championship. But Gorgrael's claws had sunk too deep.

Despair overwhelmed Timozel, and he wept, grieving for the boy he had once been, grieving for the pact he had been forced to make with Gorgrael, grieving for the loss of Faraday's friendship.

Beside him lay the cooling carcass of the latest horse he'd killed. The animal had staggered to a halt, stood a moment, and then sunk wearily to the sandy beach. This was the sixth horse he had literally ridden into the ground in recent days - and Timozel had slid his feet quickly from the stirrups and swung his leg over the horse's wither as it slumped to the ground, standing himself in one graceful movement.

As Timozel sat on the gritty beach, watching the grey waves, he wondered what to do next. How was he going to keep moving north now this damned horse had died on him?

And what had driven him to the shores of Murkle Bay in the first instance? It was many leagues to the west of where he should have been heading - Jervois Landing, then north into the Skraeling-controlled Ichtar through Gorken Pass and then north, north, north to Gorgrael's Ice Fortress. It would be a hard journey, perhaps months long, and only Timozel's determination and his bond to Gorgrael would see him through.

As each horse fell Timozel had stolen another one - not a difficult proposition in the well-populated regions of Avonsdale. But he was unlikely to find a horse in the desolate regions surrounding Murkle Bay or in the mountains themselves.

He squared his shoulders. Well then, he would walk and Gorgrael - if he truly wanted Timozel -

would no doubt provide.

But not today. Even his fear of Gorgrael-sent nightmares would not keep Timozel from sleep tonight.

He shivered and pulled his cloak closer, shifting uncomfortably on the cold, damp sand. Somehow he would have to find enough fuel for a fire to keep him warm through the night. A rumble in his belly reminded him that he had not eaten in over two days, and he wondered if he could snatch a fish from Murkle Bay's depths.

His eyes narrowed as he gazed across the bay. What was that out to sea? Perhaps a hundred paces distant from the beach Timozel could see a small, dark hump bobbing in the waves. He'd heard stories of the whales that lived in the Andeis Sea and wondered if perhaps this dark shape was the back of one of the mammoth ocean fish that had strayed into Murkle Bay.

Timozel stared, blinking in the salty breeze. As the dark shape came closer Timozel leapt to his feet.

"What?" he hissed.

The hump had resolved itself into the silhouette of a heavily cloaked man rowing a tiny boat. He was making directly for Timozel.

Timozel's dull headache abruptly flared into white heat and he cried out, doubling over in agony. But the pain died as quickly as it had erupted and after catching his breath Timozel slowly straightened out.

When he looked up again he saw that the man and his boat were almost to shore.

He shivered. The man was so tightly cloaked and hooded Timozel could not see his face, yet he knew that this was no ordinary fisherman. But what disturbed him most was that although the man made every appearance of rowing vigorously, the oars that dipped into the water never made a splash and the boat itself sailed as smoothly and as calmly as if it were pushed by some powerful underwater hand.

Magic! Timozel took a step back as the boat slipped smoothly ashore.

The man shipped his oars and stood up, wrapping his cloak about him. Timozel could
feel
but not
see
a smile on the man's face.

"Ah, Timozel," he said in a deeply musical voice, stepping smoothly out of the boat and striding across the sand that separated them. "How fortunate you should be waiting for me."

Sweat beaded in the palms of Timozel's hands and he had to force himself not to wipe them along his cloak. For the first time in nine days thoughts of Gorgrael slipped completely from his mind. He stared at the dark man who had halted some three or four paces in front of him.

"Timozel," the man said, and despite his fears Timozel relaxed slightly. How could a man with such a gentle voice harbour foul intent?

"Timozel. It is late and I would appreciate a place beside the warmth of your campfire for the night."

Startled, Timozel looked over his shoulder at where the man pointed. A bright fire leaped cheerfully into the darkness; a large rabbit sizzled on a spit and a pot steamed gently to one side of the coals.

"How...?" Tlmozel began, doubt and fear resurfacing in his mind.

"Timozel," the man said, his voice slipping into an even deeper timbre. "You must have lit the fire earlier and, in your exhaustion, forgotten the deed."

"Yes." Timozel's shoulders slumped in relief. "Yes, that must be it. Yes, my mind is so hazy."

Beneath his hood the Dark Man's smile broadened. Poor, troubled Timozel. His mind had been shadowed for so long that it was now an easy task to manipulate it.

"The rabbit smells good," he said, taking Timozel's arm. Surprisingly, all traces of Timozel's headache faded completely at the man's touch. "Shall we eat?"

An hour later Timozel sat before the fire, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. He no longer minded that his companion chose not to reveal his features. In these past months he had seen stranger creatures, like those feathered abominations that now crawled over the fouled palace of Carlon. His lip curled.

"You do not like what you have seen in Carlon, Timozel."

"Disgusting," Timozel said.

"Oh, absolutely."

Timozel shifted, his loathing of the Icarii rippling through his body. "Borneheld tried to stop them, but he failed."

The Dark Man shrugged. "Unfortunate."

"Treachery undid him."

"Of course."

"He
should
have won!" Timozel clenched his fists and stared across the fire at the cloaked man. "He
should
have. I had a vision -"

He stopped. Why had he mentioned that vision? Would this strange man laugh at him?

"Really?" The Dark Man's voice held no trace of derision; indeed, it held traces of awe. "You must be beloved of the immortals, Timozel, if you have been granted visions."

"But I fear the vision misled me."

"Well," the cloaked man said slowly, as if reluctant to speak, "I have travelled widely, Timozel, and I have seen many bizarre sights and heard even stranger stories. One of the things I have learned is that visions can sometimes be misunderstood, misinterpreted. Would you," his hands twisted nervously before him, "would you share your vision with me?"

Timozel considered the man through narrowed eyes. He had never shared the details of the vision with anyone - not even Borneheld, although Borneheld knew Artor had enabled Timozel to foresee his victory over Axis.

But Borneheld
hadn't
won, had he? And Artor seemed powerless in the face of the Forbidden invasion; even the Brother-Leader had gibbered impotently before Axis. Timozel dropped his gaze and rubbed his eyes. Perhaps the vision was worthless. A phantasm, nothing more.

"Tell me of the vision," the Dark Man whispered.
Share.

Timozel hesitated.

"I want to hear of it."
Share.

"Perhaps I
will
tell you," Timozel said. "It came time and time again. Always the same. I rode a great and noble beast - it cried with such a voice that all before it quailed." As Timozel spoke he fell under the spell of the vision again, and his voice sped up, the words tumbling from his mouth. "I fought for a Great Lord, and in his name I commanded an army that undulated for leagues in every direction."

"Goodness," the Dark Man said. "A truly great vision."

"Hundreds of thousands screamed my name." Now Timozel leaned forward, his voice earnest. "They hurried to fulfil my every wish. The enemy quivered in terror; they could do nothing. Remarkable victories were mine for the taking...in the name of my Lord / was going to clear the filth that invaded Achar!"

"If you did that then your name would live in legend forever," the Dark Man said, and Timozel could hear the admiration in his voice.

"Yes! Yes, it would. Millions would thank me. I saw more —"

"Tell me!"

"I saw myself seated before a fire with my Lord, and Faraday at our side. The battles were over. All was well. I...I had found my destiny. I had found my light."

He dropped his face into his hands momentarily, and when he raised his eyes again the Dark Man could see they were reddened and lost. "But it was all a lie."

"How so?"

"Borneheld lies dead - I saw Axis tear his heart out myself. His armies are dead or have betrayed his name and fled to Axis. In any case, Borneheld would never give me command."

"He did not trust your vision. Perhaps that is why he lost," the stranger said, and Timozel nodded slowly.

"Now Faraday lies with Axis and becomes his wife, and we are all lost. Lost. And now . . . now ..."

"Now?" the Dark Man asked. "Do you experience other visions? Dreams, perhaps?"

Timozel's eyes flared, his suspicions aroused. "How did you know?"

"Oh," the Dark Man soothed. "You have the look about you. The look of a man troubled by visions."

"It is not visions that wrap my thoughts now, but dark nightmares that ensorcel my soul!"

"Perhaps you have misinterpreted -"

"How can I misinterpret the fact that Gorgrael has his talons locked into my soul! It is over!
finished^

He stopped, appalled. He had never,
never,
mentioned Gorgrael to another person before. How would Gorgrael punish him, now he had shared the secret?

The stranger did not seem overly perturbed by Timozel's mention of Gorgrael. "Ah yes, Gorgrael is a good and dear friend of mine."

Timozel recoiled in horror, almost falling backwards in his haste to put more distance between himself and the cloaked man.

"Your friend?"

"Ah," the Dark Man said. "I fear you have fallen under the spell of the evil rumours about Gorgrael that sweep this.land."

Timozel stared at him.

"Timozel, my friend, how can Gorgrael be evil and dark when he fights the same things that you do?"

"What do you mean?" How could that appalling creature
not
be evil and dark?

"Consider this, Timozel. Gorgrael and Borneheld fight -fought - for the same thing."

"What?"Perhaps he should slice this stranger's head off and be done with it, Timozel thought.

"Listen to me," the Dark Man said, his voice soothing, calming. "Gorgrael hates the Forbidden - the Icarii and the Avar - as Borneheld did. Gorgrael wants to see them destroyed as much as Borneheld did.

Both shared the same purpose."

Timozel struggled with the stranger's words. Yes, it was true that Borneheld hated the Forbidden and ached for their destruction. And Gorgrael wants the same thing?

"He surely does," the Dark Man whispered. "He surely does."

"But the Prophecy says ..." Timozel tried to remember exactly
what
it was that the Prophecy said.

"Bah!" The Dark Man grinned to himself under his hood. "The Prophecy is nothing but a tool of the Forbidden to cloud men's minds and blind them to their true saviour - Gorgrael."

"Yes...yes." Timozel thought it through. "That makes sense."

"And Gorgrael aches to kill Axis as much as Borneheld did."

"Axis." Now Timozel's voice was edged with unreasoning hatred.

"Who has brought the Forbidden back to crawl over Achar's lands, Timozel ?"

"Axis!" Timozel hissed.

The Dark Man spoke very slowly, emphasising every word. "Gorgrael is committed to killing Axis and ridding this fair land of the Forbidden. Is that not what
you
want?"

"Yes. Yes, that
is
what I want!"

"Gorgrael will help rescue Faraday from the foul clutches of Axis and the Forbidden."