Sinner Read online

  “I find it not strange that I have discovered you atop Sigholt,” WolfStar said, and she whirled around, her heart pounding.

  He stood relaxed and easy, his wings drooping behind him in the traditional Icarii gesture of goodwill. “For so once StarDrifter found Rivkah, and loved her, and so Axis once found Azhure, and loved her, too. No, do not lift off. Stay and talk to me, Zenith. You have nothing to fear.”

  Then why does my heart race so, Zenith thought, and my breast heave with such fright? She steadied herself, although her eyes flickered about, seeking the reassurance of another person close by.

  There was no-one save her and WolfStar.

  A movement above her, against the Dome.

  Zenith gasped, her eyes involuntarily jerking upwards. There was nothing there save the swirling stars. Nothing.

  “Do you remember, sweet Zenith,” WolfStar said very softly, “when last you saw me? Do you remember that night so long ago?”

  A shadow spiralling down from the roof of the Dome.

  “No,” Zenith whispered, grabbing at the parapets for support. “No! We have never met before this morning!”

  Something was happening. The night air of Sigholt was swirling about her, and every few heartbeats it seemed to solidify until she felt as if she were inside…inside an empty building…a dome.

  “No!”

  “Zenith, do not fear. You are only remembering. Accept.”

  WolfStar walked slowly towards her, and as he did so he lifted his hand in the demanding gesture of seduction that male Enchanters used to will women to their bed.

  “No!” She could not move, and her mind voice seemed to have vanished. She was trapped, trapped…he was too powerful…

  “Yes! Zenith…here…let me remind you.”

  He was close now, gathering her stiff body in his arms, and Zenith struggled uselessly, wondering if he was intent on rape.

  She felt his arms about her, and it was good.

  No, no it wasn’t good! Yet something seemed to have taken possession of her, some part of her mind willed her to cease resisting and let WolfStar slide her to the floor, some part of her was saying…you have bedded with him previously.

  No! She twisted her head away but WolfStar was too powerful for her, both his body and his power were too strong, and she felt his mouth close over hers…

  And something happened. Something broke free, something struggled free within her. Memories, voices, scents, laughter not her own crowded her mind. Faces, experiences, songs she’d never seen or heard before leaped out of hiding. A desire she’d never felt flooded her body. She…

  felt him enter her body, move within her, and she had never believed it could feel this good, had never believed that such intimacy could engender such feeling, and…

  No! No, what was wrong with her? His mouth was on hers, that was all. All? She could not escape it, she could not escape him, she…

  twisted under him, encouraging him with body and voice, willing him on to even greater effort, willing him to merge so completely with her body and soul that they would indeed become one and not just two bodies briefly conjoined in an act designed only for child engendering.

  Zenith tore her mouth from his. “No!” Broke away from him, yet even as she stumbled five or six paces away from him she felt…

  the fire that he had seeded in her womb explode into new life and…

  She screamed and fell to the floor, doubling over, clutching at her belly. Her wings beat futilely behind her, and almost knocked WolfStar over as he leaned down and grabbed her, holding her tightly against him, trying to stifle her sobs.

  “Zenith, your mother was wrong not to tell you this before –”

  “Tell me what?”

  “That you were born to be my lover, Zenith. Meant for no-one else. Why else are you still a virgin at your age? Here I am, Zenith. Accept me. Zenith, you love me…accept me.”

  And the dreadful thing was Zenith could feel that love, could remember the nights she had lain in her lonely bed, wishing he would return to her, crying as the night lightened to dawn and he had not appeared. She could remember years spent loving him, and she could remember months spent watching her belly swell with his child.

  “No!” she shouted once more, and lunged from his arms, using both limbs and wings. Her hip struck the sharp edge of the parapet over the courtyard, and she cried out, her arms flailing. WolfStar lunged for her, but he was too late, and Zenith tumbled over the edge of the roof, gaining control of her wings only within feet of the ground and landing roughly enough to scrape hands and knees.

  Help me! Help me!

  And suddenly, Drago was there.

  “Oh, Stars!” he cried, and fell to his knees, gathering her in his arms. Two guards from the gate had started to run towards them, but Drago waved them back. “A slip! Nothing more!”

  Then, her sobbing face pressed into his chest, he held her tight, rocking her back and forth. “Zenith, what is it? What is it?”

  Zenith clung to her brother, sobbing, letting his closeness and warmth and touch drive away her memories and the feel of WolfStar.

  In the rectangle of light behind Drago another figure appeared. “Zenith!”

  Caelum.

  “Zenith! Drago, what have you done to her? Let her go!”

  “Caelum,” Zenith sobbed, trying to say it was alright, that Drago was helping, not hurting, but the words would not come, and Caelum reached down and literally tore her from Drago’s arms.

  “Get you gone from here!” Caelum snarled at Drago, who had backed away, his eyes swinging between Caelum’s face and Zenith, now clinging to her eldest brother.

  “I was only helping –” he began, but Caelum reached out with his power and cut off Drago’s words.

  “I do not want to hear your excuses! Get you gone from here!”

  Drago’s face twisted, trying to form words, but Caelum would not let them come, and with a gesture of half rage, half frustration, he disappeared inside the kitchen door.

  “Sweetheart,” Caelum whispered, gathering Zenith more tightly into his arms, and then the music of a Song of Movement rippled about them, and they disappeared from the courtyard.

  She came to her senses, still wrapped in Caelum’s arms, but now sitting on one of the commodious couches in the inner private chamber of his apartments.

  “Where’s Drago?” she said, sniffing and wiping her nose with a cloth Caelum handed her.

  “He fled. Did he push you?”

  “No! No, I stumbled from the rooftop. WolfStar…WolfStar was there.”

  “Ah! WolfStar! He is truly the bane of our lives. Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” Zenith said, but she spoke so hesitatingly that Caelum took her shoulders and pushed her back a little so he could see her face.

  “He did,” he said slowly. “He did hurt you. How?”

  Zenith probably would have confessed to the first person who showed her kindness, be it Caelum or unknown dairy maid. Words came tumbling out of her mouth.

  “WolfStar…on the roof…kissed me…thoughts, images, not mine…crowded me…frightened me.”

  Caelum pulled her close again, stroking her hair. “Go on.” His eyes were distant.

  Zenith gripped her hands together in an effort to stop them shaking. “He appeared suddenly, and that surprised me, but then I felt as if I was in a…chamber of some kind. The Dome of the Moon. It was very dark. I felt there was something there, clinging to the roof. It frightened me, terrified me, I was there, I saw that place – and yet I have never been inside it in my life!”

  She raised her head, enough to look Caelum in the eyes. “I felt as though I was someone else. Memories crowded my mind. Memories that were not mine! Oh, Caelum…!”

  And in another flood she told him of the lost hours and the nightmares and the fears. Who was this who crowded her mind, and who sometimes took such possession of her that she could not remember what she had done? Who?

  “Caelum, I do not know what to thin
k, what to do!”

  “Hush,” Caelum said, holding her tight, stroking her hair, her back, kissing the crown of her head. “Hush.”

  Thoughts and memories crowded his own mind, but they were not of someone else’s making. He remembered the time, nine years ago, when Axis and Azhure had handed control of Tencendor over to him. True, there had been a glittering ceremony on the shores of Grail Lake, but there had been a far more private afternoon, when his parents had handed into his keeping some of the most precious items of their lives.

  The Rainbow Sceptre, now carefully secreted within Sigholt.

  The Wolven Bow, for Azhure had said she no longer needed to ride to the hunt.

  The enchanted quiver of arrows, which never ran out.

  A Moonwildflower.

  And a letter. A letter addressed to Azhure, and written by her long dead mother, Niah.

  No-one save Azhure could remember Niah, for she had died when Azhure was only about six. Niah had been the First Priestess on the Island of Mist and Memory when one night WolfStar had appeared to her, lain with her, and got Azhure upon her.

  Within seven years Niah was dead, burned alive at the hands of her Plough-Keeper husband, Hagen, in the cursed village of Smyrton. But she had left Azhure a letter, and when Azhure had given it to Caelum she’d told him that one day he must hand it to Zenith.

  “You will know when, Caelum. You will know the moment.”

  And this was the moment. Trembling, for he had never read the letter, and did not know what was in it, Caelum gently disengaged himself, and left the room.

  Zenith sat up straight, dried her eyes, and shook her hair out, grateful for the support and love Caelum had shown her, but wishing she could have explained about Drago.

  Caelum was back within a few minutes, holding an envelope in his hands.

  “Caelum. Drago was only –”

  “Hush. Let us not speak of him, Zenith. Read this. Maybe it will help you understand.”

  Puzzled, Zenith took the letter. Across the envelope there was a word scratched in bold ink. Azhure.

  Even more bewildered, Zenith looked at Caelum. The writing was in Zenith’s own hand. “Who wrote this?”

  “Niah, Azhure’s mother.”

  Niah?

  “Read it, Zenith.”

  Zenith dropped her eyes to the letter. Quashing the sudden wave of apprehension that almost engulfed her, she opened the envelope and took the letter out. Hands trembling, she unfolded it and began to read, her eyes skipping over the irrelevant passages.

  My dearest daughter Azhure, may long life and joy be yours forever…

  Five nights ago you were conceived and tonight, after I put down my pen and seal this letter, I will leave this blessed isle. I will not return – but one day I hope you will come back.

  Five nights ago your father came to me.

  It was the fullness of the moon, and it was my privilege, as First Priestess, to sit and let its light and life wash over me in the Dome of the Moon. I heard his voice before I saw him.

  “Niah,” a voice resonant with power whispered through the Dome, and I started, because it was many years since I had heard my birth name.

  “Niah,” the voice whispered again, and I trembled in fear. Were the gods displeased with me? Had I not honoured them correctly during my years on this sacred isle and in this sacred Temple?

  “Niah,” the voice whispered yet again, and my trembling increased, for despite my lifetime of chastity I recognised the timbre of barely controlled desire…and I was afraid.

  I stood…my eyes frantically searched the roof overhead and for long moments I could see nothing, then a faint movement caught my eye.

  A shadow was spiralling down from the roof of the Dome…The shadow laughed and spoke my name again as he alighted before me.

  “I have chosen you to bear my daughter,” he said, and he held out his hand, his fingers flaring. “Her name will be Azhure.”

  At that moment my fear vanished as if it had never existed. Azhure…Azhure…I had never seen such a man as your father and I know I will not again during this life…His wings shone gold, even in the dark night of the Dome, and his hair glowed with copper fire. His eyes were violet, and they were hungry with magic.

  Azhure, as Priestesses of the Stars we are taught to accede to every desire of the gods, even if we are bewildered by their wishes, but I went to him with willingness, not with duty. I wore but a simple shift, and as his eyes and fingers flared wider I stepped out of it and walked to meet his hand.

  As his hand grasped mine it was as if I was surrounded by Song, and as his mouth captured mine it was as if I was enveloped by the surge of the Stars in their Dance. His power was so all-consuming that I knew he could have snuffed out my life with only a thought. Perhaps I should have been terrified, but he was gentle for a god – not what I might have expected – and if he caused me any pain that night I do not remember it. But what I do remember…ah, Azhure, perhaps you have had your own lover by now, but do you know what it feels like to lie with one who can wield the power of the Stars through his body? At times I know he took me perilously close to death as he wove his enchantments through me and made you within my womb, but I trusted him and let him do what he wanted and lay back in his wings as he wrapped them about me and yielded with delight and garnered delight five-fold in return.

  Zenith blinked, for it was as if she were there, feeling this, not reading about it. She…she could remember writing these words, remember sitting there for almost an hour at this point, her mouth curling softly in memory of that night of passion and loving. She had not known his name then, but that had not mattered very much, not when she had his body to grasp to her, not when both she and he burned with such virulent desire.

  Zenith shuddered. Gods! What was happening to her?

  Even as he withdrew from my body I could feel the fire that he had seeded in my womb erupt into new life. He laughed gently at the cry that escaped my lips and at the expression in my eyes, but I could see his own eyes widen to mirror the wonder that filled mine. For a long time we lay still, his body heavy on mine, our eyes staring into each other’s depths, as we felt you spring to life within my womb.

  Zenith’s mouth formed the word “No”, but she did not voice it. She was no longer in her mother’s chamber in Sigholt, but lying on the cold floor of the Dome of the Moon, staring into WolfStar’s eyes as he lay atop her.

  After a moment she managed to regain enough control so she could resume reading the letter. Niah wrote of how the “god” – WolfStar – had told her she would have to travel to Smyrton, wed the local Plough-Keeper, Hagen, and bear her child. There the child, Azhure, would eventually meet the StarMan.

  I know that I will die in Smyrton, and I know that the man your father sends me to meet and to marry will also be my murderer. I know that my days will be numbered from the hour that I give you birth. It is a harsh thing that your father makes me do, for how will I be able to submit to this Plough-Keeper Hagen, knowing I will die at his hands, and keep a smile light on my face and my body willing? How can I submit to any man, having known the god who fathered you? How can I submit to a life dominated by the hated Brotherhood of the Seneschal, when I have been First Priestess of the Order of the Stars?

  Your father saw my doubts and saw my future pain, and he told me that one day I will be reborn to be his lover forever.

  “No, no, no, no.” Zenith shook as the implications of what she was reading began to sink in. “No!”

  He said that he had died and yet lived again, and that I would follow a similar path.

  He said that he loved me.

  Perhaps he lied, but I choose not to think so. To do otherwise would be to submit to despair. His promise, as your life, will keep me through and past my death into my next existence.

  “I do not believe it,” Zenith said with all the calmness she could muster. She carefully folded the letter in half and handed it back to Caelum. “Read it. But do not believe it. It is a mistak
e. A lie.”

  Caelum walked slowly over to the fire, standing with his back to the flames as he read through the letter once, then once more, far more slowly.

  “I knew some of this,” he said, finally looking up. “I knew that WolfStar came to Niah in the Dome of the Moon. I knew how Niah died. But this…this promise that WolfStar made to Niah…that she would live again…that I did not know.”

  “But Mother did know. She knew…all these years! Knew and never told me! Why?”

  Is that why Mother did not give me a Star name? Zenith wondered. Because she knew I was Niah reborn?

  “Why?” Caelum shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands out. “Zenith, I don’t know. Maybe she felt there was no point telling you until…until WolfStar reappeared. Gods! I don’t know!”

  “So she let me find out this way?”

  “Zenith.” Caelum came back to sit by her side, his voice gentle. “If there is one thing I have learned from my parents’ lives, and from my own, it is that we are all born with a destiny. My parents were into their third decades before their destinies became clear to them, and –”

  “No!” Zenith took the letter from Caelum’s hand and began to turn it over and over in her own. “I will not accept it!”

  “– and I have had to accept that my destiny is as StarSon, and my burden is Tencendor.”

  “I am Zenith! No-one else!”

  “Yes, my dear, yes. But…but it is apparent that you also have Niah’s soul and many of her memories, and –”

  “No!” How many times had she shouted that negative tonight, Zenith numbly wondered in a dark recess of her mind, and how many more times would she have to shout it?