Battleaxe (21 page)

F
rom the Ancient Barrows Axis led his Axe-Wielders hard and fast towards Arcen. There the Axe-Wielders reprovisioned and Axis explained to Earl Burdel’s family, waiting for the Ladies Merlion and Faraday, what had happened to them. It was not an easy task, and Axis had left the Burdel townhouse feeling embarrassed and inadequate. He kept the Axe-Wielders in Arcen a day and two nights, during which he composed detailed reports of the incident at the Ancient Barrows to Jayme, Earl Isend and Borneheld to supplement the hurried messages he had sent from the Barrows. Axis, still grieving, dreaded explaining to Borneheld in person.

It was a relief to finally leave the city and ride north towards the narrow passes in the Bracken Ranges. From there it would be a straight run north-east to Smyrton. The first night out of Arcen, Axis halted his command a league south of the first of the passes. They had covered good ground that day and he did not want to negotiate the passes during the night hours.

Since leaving the Ancient Barrows Axis had taken no risks. He insisted that the Axe-Wielders ride lightly armoured with mailshirts under their cloaks to give them the best chance against further ice-spears. At night, in camp, men slept fully clothed, weapons to hand,
double sentries posted in case Gorgrael struck again. Ogden and Veremund might hope that Gorgrael had exhausted himself with his effort at the Ancient Barrows, but Axis wasn’t prepared to risk it.

Axis felt in a reasonable mood as he sat before the campfire that night, his cohort commanders and Belial laughing and joking about some tavern brawl they had witnessed in Arcen, Ogden and Veremund sitting quietly to one side. Axis had virtually ignored the two old men since they had left the Barrows; everything had gone wrong since he had read the Prophecy. And though they had argued they would be useful to answer questions Axis might have, both gave such indistinct answers or such disturbing ones that Axis sometimes found himself wondering whether or not he should leave them behind.

However, over the past week the Brothers had proved surprisingly pleasant company about the campfire at night. They had respected Axis’ wish to be left alone, and had proved to have such a repertoire of bawdy ballads that even Axis sometimes forgot his cares and dissolved into embarrassed laughter at their contributions to the campfire ballads.

But they were far more than they appeared. Axis leaned back into the shadows and narrowed his eyes as he stared at them. Perhaps what they said to him about not knowing the identity of his father was the truth, but Axis also had the distinct feeling that they did not tell him all they knew—and how had Ogden known the basic melody of that ward? Axis remembered how they had faltered over the Service for the Dead at the mass burial site at the Barrows. Was thirty-nine years long enough to completely forget the words (and yet still remember ancient enchantments)? It had been embarrassing and disrespectful towards the dead and Axis had fought hard to restrain his anger at them.

As the Axe-Wielders moved through Arcness and into Arcen itself, Ogden and Veremund avoided contact with any of the local Plough-Keepers, as the brothers who lived among and ministered to the people were known. Many among the Axe-Wielders had noted and commented on their peculiar behaviour. Some of this could simply be the result of spending so long isolated in the Silent Woman Keep,
perhaps combined with the onset of old-age senility, but Axis wasn’t sure and he knew that Arne watched them closely as well.

But tonight everyone seemed in a relaxed mood. Belial had produced a harp and was laughingly trying to play the tune of a ballad he had heard in Arcen. Axis smiled. He liked Belial very much and respected him as a fighting man, but his attempts at the harp were appalling.

“My friend,” Axis leaned back into the light and held out his hand. “That harp needs tuning. Let me see.”

Belial grinned and handed the harp over. Axis’ diplomatic remark had not fooled Belial who had deliberately mishandled the strings to prompt Axis into asking for the instrument. Axis had been too quiet since losing so many men at the Barrows, and Belial tried whenever he could to lift the man out of his dark moods.

Axis sat back with the harp, making a pretence of tightening the strings, then he looked around the campfire. “And what shall we sing tonight, my friends?” he asked softly.

“Belle my Wife!” one of his commanders called and the others laughed and clapped. It was a favourite ballad among the Acharites, yet one only a skilled musician could do justice.

Axis smiled with his men and strummed the opening chords.

This winter’s weather, it waxeth cold

and frost it freezeth on every hill,

And Artor blows his blasts so bold

that all our cattle are like to spill.

Belle my Wife, she loves no strife

she said unto me quietly,

Rise up and save Cow Crumbocke’s life!

man! put thy cloak about thee!

His voice was clear and strong, and the others let him sing the first four verses before they joined in. Soon the night rang with good-humoured voices and when the ballad was finally sung to a close, after the fifth repetition of the final chorus, Axis joined his men in laughter and loud applause.

He played several more ballads, then, as the mood shifted, strummed soft tunes on the harp as his commanders talked about the ride north and about the danger they would shortly face. What
were
these creatures that had attacked Gorkenfort? Where did they come from? Who drove them?

“BattleAxe?” asked Baldwin, one of Axis’ commanders. “What do you think about this Prophecy? Are the creatures that attack Gorkenfort the Ghostmen the Prophecy speaks of? Before we left Carlon we thought it was the Forbidden who were responsible. But now…” His voice drifted off.

There was silence as everyone waited for their BattleAxe to answer. Ogden and Veremund watched him carefully.

“Do
you
think that Gorgrael’s Ghostmen attack Gorkenfort, Baldwin?” said Axis, turning the question back.

Baldwin hesitated. The Prophecy Timozel and Arne had brought out of the Silent Woman Woods had spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Axe-Wielders. Once heard, it was impossible to forget.

“I cannot get the Prophecy out of my mind,” Baldwin admitted, and to one side Ogden nodded. It was enchanted. Once heard, few would be able to forget it—except the third verse, of course. Only one man could remember that. He restrained a smile as he thought of the enchantments that the Prophet had woven into his Prophecy. No doubt the Seneschal would find over the next few months that many Acharites were not so deeply committed to Artor as they thought.

“It seems to make sense,” Baldwin continued softly, “that if Gorgrael is responsible for the attacks in the north, then perhaps he was also responsible for the storm that hit the Ancient Barrows.”

Axis frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but another commander, Methuen, broke in.

“If it
is
Gorgrael in the north, then we need to find this StarMan to save us.”

Axis, angry now, opened his mouth again, but was again forestalled.

“Axis,” Belial asked gently. “What is that you play?”

Stunned by the question and by the circle of eyes gazing at him,
Axis closed his mouth. What
was
it he played? Axis hadn’t been paying any attention to what he actually strummed on the harp. Now he realised that he was playing a haunting melody he had never heard before. But it was more than that, for the style of music, its phrasing and beat, were completely alien to his ears.

“A silly tune, Belial, nothing more.” He dropped the harp at his feet and hurriedly rose. “I have to check the sentries,” he said, tersely, “to make sure they have the perimeter adequately covered.”

Then he was gone.

Arne rose to follow him but Belial grabbed his arm. “No. Wait. Give him some time alone.”

Axis inspected the sentries, then wandered a little distance from the camp, needing time to sort out his thoughts. What was happening to him?

The only good thing which could be said for his experiences since the Ancient Barrows was that his nightmares had finally completely disappeared. But if the lies of his nightmares no longer troubled Axis, thinking on the continuing enigma of his father made him deeply uncomfortable. What sort of man was this that could teach a growing foetus how to sing an enchanted ward to protect himself against evil later in life? Enchantments of any sort were evil, the Seneschal had taught him that. Even the herbal remedies that many country women used were frowned upon by the Brotherhood of the Seneschal, especially if the women used words or songs to aid the herbs in their healing powers, and Axis himself had been involved in several cases where he had to bring these women to the Tower of the Seneschal for trial and justice. Axis shuddered at the memory of what happened to those women who had been found guilty; death by the purification of fire had always been the sentence imposed by the Seneschal. Never would he forget the screams of the simple country women as the flames engulfed them; at least it had not been his role to light the fire.

And now he, the BattleAxe, was experiencing disturbing, long-buried memories out of that deep, dark place that the reading of the
Prophecy had unlocked. Not only memories, but talents. The ward against evil that he had sung to the apparition of Gorgrael had been the most powerful thus far, but the strange alien melody he had played for his men this evening had been another example.

Where had his talent for the harp and the music come from in the first place? Axis could never remember actually learning the harp. He had simply always played. Even as a small child he had been more skilful than the court bards. If the Seneschal learned of these strange tunes and words that bubbled out of long-hidden memories, Axis himself might face the purifying flames, or, at the very least, be subjected to rigorous inquisition. For the first time in his life he was glad for the distance separating him and the Tower of the Seneschal.

He wandered slowly through the pitch-black night, listening to the soft sounds of the camp settling down for the night. Despite his best efforts, Axis’ thoughts turned to Faraday and Timozel. Two such young and innocent people, both with such promise and zest for life. One the son of his closest female friend, the other a beautiful woman who had earned his respect and admiration. Axis had never been in love before, although he had never been slow to charm women into his bed, and had sometimes wondered if he was too cynical and bitter to ever open himself to the risks of love. But that night in the shadows of the Barrows, with the bones of the Icarii kings mouldering beneath his feet and Faraday weeping in his arms, Axis had realised that perhaps, just perhaps, her freshness, innocence and above all, honesty, might be enough to break through the barriers he had spent years building around his heart.

Axis bent down and pulled a strand of grass from the ground, absently chewing it as he thought. What had he meant when he’d told Faraday to think about risking spending her life with someone she could learn to love? Had he meant himself? Yes, Axis admitted. Yes he had. He laughed bitterly. Had he really been so brazen as to suggest to the daughter of an Earl that she would forget a life of ease at court, possibly a life as Queen, for his bed? Borneheld’s taunt in the palace courtyard had stung deep. Axis could never hope to win the hand of a noble heiress like Faraday. Was that why he had kissed
her? Was he attracted to her only because it would be a triumph to win her away from Borneheld?

Axis wasn’t sure. But he did know that he had never met another woman like her. Perhaps he had kissed her simply because she was Faraday and because she was close and warm and because he thought he might be falling in love with her.

Axis’ mouth twisted. Now she lay mouldering with the Icarii kings along with her mother and over three hundred of his Axe-Wielders. In any event, what was love if it made him so careless that he condemned so many to death while he was lost in dreams of his would-be lover? Despite the reassurances of Ogden and Veremund, Axis still burned with guilt at leading the Axe-Wielders out of the Barrows that day.

“You must not blame yourself, Axis.”

Axis spun around. Strolling out of the dark, Belial smiled and saluted casually, although the use of Axis’ name implied he came as a friend, not as Axis’ lieutenant. In front of their men Axis and Belial were always BattleAxe and Lieutenant; in private they were friends and companions.

Axis tried to be annoyed and angry at the interruption, but failed on both counts. “I
was
responsible,” Axis said, turning away to look at the clouds. “There is no-one else to blame.”

Belial stood by him, watching the clouds as well, offering the simple comfort of his presence. There was nothing else to say about what had happened at the Barrows. It was the worst—in fact, the first—serious military defeat Axis had ever suffered and Belial knew that it would take time for Axis to come to terms with himself. Especially since the loss involved the Lady Faraday. Belial had not failed to notice his commander’s attraction to the woman.

He turned his mind back to the storm. How could one call an altercation with a roiling storm a “military” defeat? Because Belial, like so many of the Axe-Wielders, had made the connection between the unnatural ice spears of the storm and the Gorgrael of the Prophecy. What else from the Prophecy would rise up and bark at their heels before this adventure was ended?

“Belial?”

Belial snapped out of his reverie and realised that Axis had called his name two or three times.

“Your introspection is catching, Axis,” he laughed. “What is it?”

“Belial, what did I play there tonight?”

Belial gazed steadily at his friend, then clapped Axis on the shoulder and grinned. “Who knows, Axis? To play something that beautiful you must have the soul of a bard, and all know that only bards and pregnant women need never explain their actions.”