Battleaxe (30 page)

Azhure was still trying to absorb the fact that both the women were married to Grindle. “Grindle has two wives?”

Pease frowned. “Is that not the practice among your people as well?”

GoldFeather smiled and spoke before Azhure could answer and possibly insult Pease with some ill-considered words. “No, Pease. As with the Icarii, among the Plains Dwellers it is the custom to take only one wife or one husband at a time.” She turned to Azhure. “Among the Avar, children are valued above all else. If a woman is not honoured to become a man’s first wife, then she will gladly become a second wife. Grindle is as honoured that Pease consented to join his Clan as she was to be asked.”

The baby started to whimper and Pease bared a breast and began to feed it. For a moment she fussed with the baby before she looked back at Azhure curiously. “How many children do you have, Azhure?”

“Why, none—I am not married.”

Now it was Pease’s turn to look aghast. “At your age?” Azhure promptly felt like a grey-haired old crone. “Why, Fleat had borne all her children before she had reached her twenty-third year. I am only nineteen.”

A cry suddenly rang out from the tent where Barsarbe worked on Raum’s leg. All three women about the fire paled as they heard bone crunch. GoldFeather reached over and patted Azhure on the knee. “Barsarbe is skilled at healing, Azhure. If anyone can save Raum’s life, she will do it.”

Azhure nodded tightly.

A
xis staggered out of the Forbidden Valley, his face expressionless, his sword still dangling naked in his hand, words and images jumbling chaotically through his mind. The Avar man had said he had the soul of an Enchanter…an
Icarii
Enchanter. The woman had said that all Icarii sang, that music coursed through their blood. He had sung and played music that no-one had ever taught him. Now more music, strange songs, were surging to the surface of his mind from long-hidden traps within his soul. He had sung an ancient ward against evil to protect himself against the apparition of Gorgrael. He had sung again yesterday to the Avar child, and had done something to her that had shocked Raum. His instant reaction to the sight of the trapped Avar had been sympathy, not hatred.

Who was his father?

Axis did not want to make the connection,
could
not make the obvious connection, lest he drive himself mad. All he wanted to do was put one foot in front of the other and somehow get himself back to the Axe-Wielders, back to a world that he understood and that understood him.

How could he be the son of one of the Forbidden when he had dedicated his life to serving the Seneschal—whose foremost
enemies were the Forbidden? How could he have Forbidden blood coursing through his veins when all his life he had hated and feared the Forbidden?

Had his sympathy for the Forbidden been prompted by the fact that he was Forbidden too?

“
No
!” he whispered, “it cannot be!”

And Raum had said that Faraday lived. How could that be? How could Raum have known that? If he let himself hope it were true, and it were not, then he would truly be damned.

“No,” he whispered, “it cannot be.”

“BattleAxe!”

Axis raised his head with a conscious effort. Arne was spurring his big roan gelding towards him, relief written across his face. Several Axe-Wielders followed close behind. Axis slowly straightened.

“BattleAxe! We found Belial hurt and Hagen murdered and the Avar missing. Are you all right?”

Axis grimaced. “The Avar escaped. With the help of Azhure.” He sheathed his sword.

Arne’s face twisted into a snarl. “That Artor-cursed bitch! She murdered her father and dealt Belial a grievous blow.”

Axis wiped a tired hand across his eyes, almost staggering with the effort. “How is Belial?”

Arne looked down at his BattleAxe with concern. “Belial will live. Ogden and Veremund are with him now. They say they can help him.”

“Ogden and Veremund.” Axis’ eyes gleamed. “Yes. I must speak to them,” he said to himself, very quietly.

“And the Avar and Azhure?”

Axis sighed and looked over his shoulder into the Forbidden Valley. “They had too great a start on me. They disappeared into the Shadowsward.”

“Cursed misbegotten animals!” Arne growled, and Axis flinched, losing even more colour. He wavered slightly, and Arne lent down his hand. “Swing up behind me, commander.”

The good people of Smyrton were standing about in the main street and square. Word had spread quickly about the murder of their Plough-Keeper and the escape of the Avar man and the child. None of them were unwilling to believe that it had been Azhure who had murdered her father, attacked the Axe-Wielder (and the lieutenant to the BattleAxe at that!), and then fled with the Avar man and child. No-one doubted Azhure’s part in the crime. No-one had liked her, they all agreed, shaking their heads in a great public show of sorrow, she had never really fitted in, and wasn’t this just like her mother? Except worse? Far, far worse. Never trust a Nors woman, they all clucked to each other. Hagen’s infatuation with that woman had been his only fault, and, in the end, the death of him.

Hagen’s corpse had been removed to Goodman Hordley’s house, where several of the village Goodwives were weeping and wailing as they washed it (and stitched the evil wound in his belly) and dressed the Plough-Keeper in his best habit. Later the entire village would file past to view the body. In Hagen’s home the floor had been mopped and scrubbed and the bed prepared for the grievously struck Axe-Wielder.

Still, if denied a burning, the villagers at least had a burial to entertain themselves with. How fortunate that the two other brothers were in the village to conduct the Service for the Dead.

Axis slipped off Arne’s horse at the house of the Plough-Keeper. “Arne,” he said, steadying himself against the horse’s flank. “Who is inside?”

“Only Ogden, Veremund and Belial were in there when I left them, sir.”

Axis nodded to himself. “Very well. Arne, stand guard here for me. Let no-one else in. I do not want to be disturbed for a while.”

Arne nodded. One word from Axis was worth an entire edict from King Priam as far as he was concerned.

Axis headed for the door. Would Arne still believe in him if he knew who,
what
, he really was? He took a deep breath. Now was the time for some direct questions for Ogden and Veremund. Axis
was tired of vague answers. Now was the time for these two…brothers…to tell him all they knew.

For a moment he leaned against the door, trying to find the courage to enter, then he slipped the door catch, shutting it very quietly behind him.

Ogden and Veremund did not notice his entrance. They stood across the far side of the room, leaning over Belial who was stretched out straight and still on the bed. Ogden had his hand splayed over Belial’s face and faint golden light emanated from his fingertips. Veremund stood close beside him, his hand on Ogden’s shoulder, muttering very quietly to himself.

Axis leaned against the closed door and looked at them. Belial wasn’t in any danger, otherwise he would have rushed to his aid. Suddenly he felt a surge of anger. Ogden and Veremund were very much
not
what they pretended to be. Well, the time for playing games was over.

It was Veremund who noticed him first. He leaned over to a side table to reach for a damp cloth to wipe Belial’s face when he spied Axis from the corner of one of his faintly glowing golden eyes. Instantly the golden light died. “Axis!” he breathed, and Ogden lifted his hand from Belial’s face. They both turned from Belial to stare at Axis, both uncertain what to say and do. They had wanted to wait longer yet before they revealed themselves.

Axis pushed himself off the door and strolled lazily across the room, his stare holding both Ogden and Veremund’s gaze until he pushed past them to Belial’s side. He dropped his eyes. Belial lay quiet on the bed, breathing easily, a cool compress over his forehead and across the back of his neck. As Axis watched, Belial opened his eyes and grimaced in self-reproach.

“BattleAxe. My apologies. I should never have turned my back on her.”

A corner of Axis’ mouth lifted at Belial’s apology. “You were lucky she did not knife you. She has a steady hand, it seems, when it comes to murder.”

“I did not expect it of her,” Belial said quietly, gently touching the back of his head with a trembling hand.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, she was distraught at the thought that she might have killed you—she sent her apologies. Your smile must have charmed her just enough to stop the killer blow.”

“Always had a way with the women,” Belial whispered, then closed his eyes again, a spasm of pain crossing his face.

“You spoke to them?” Ogden whispered anxiously at Axis’ side.

Axis turned and moved so swiftly that Ogden was unprepared for his action. All he knew was that suddenly Axis had one hand buried in his hair, holding his head tilted back in a tight grip, while the other hand was at his throat with a short but lethal blade.

“And was she in your pay, old man?” Axis whispered fiercely, his own face not a handspan from Ogden’s. “This has your smell all over it.”

“Axis!” Belial whispered weakly from the bed. “Do not harm them! They have done my head good.”

“As well they should, Belial,” Axis said tightly, his eyes still staring into Ogden’s. “I am not so sure they did not plan the whole escape.”

“Axis!” Veremund fluttered helplessly at Ogden’s side, unsure what to do, frightened that whatever he did might cause Axis to slide the blade a little too far into Ogden’s neck.

“Will you answer my questions, old men?”

“Yes! Yes!” Veremund said, his hands flapping impotently. “Just let Brother Ogden go.”

Axis let Ogden go so abruptly that the man slid to the floor, then sat down at the foot of the bed and sheathed the knife back into his boot. Belial, who had struggled into a half-sitting position, sank back upon the pillows again.

Ogden glanced at Belial anxiously. “Perhaps this would not be the best place, BattleAxe.”

Axis took a deep breath and looked at his lieutenant momentarily. “No, old man, this is very much the right place. I would rather that Belial heard this. I will value his advice.”

“Very well. Veremund, would you mind assisting me to a chair?”

The tall old man helped his plumper companion to sit in a chair facing the bed, then pulled up a chair beside him. Veremund turned to Axis. “What do you want to know, dear one?”

All the anger had drained from Axis’ face. Now he simply looked tired. “Do you remember when we spoke the night of the attack at the Barrows?”

Ogden and Veremund nodded.

“I said then that reading the Prophecy had opened a dark dungeon that had previously been locked tight all my life. I said that I did not like what I saw in that dungeon. Well, old men, too many things have crawled out of that once dark hole for me to ignore, and unless I get some explanations from you I am going…to…go…insane.”

His stress was so clear that Belial reached out a hand to him. Axis grasped it tight. His eyes, however, did not waver from Ogden and Veremund. “Old men, whatever you might be, I no longer believe this fiction that you are simple Brothers of the Seneschal, devoted to learning and driven halfway to dementia by your isolation of the last thirty-nine years. What are you?”

Again Ogden and Veremund exchanged glances, and they grasped hands too, unsure what to do. “Dear one,” whispered Ogden, “is the time upon us?”

“You have no cursed choice!” Axis almost shouted from the bed. “Because if you do not tell me I will break free this knife again!”

Both Ogden and Veremund lifted their chins, their decision made. Their eyes, one set tight grey and the other as dark as the night, suddenly glowed as golden as the setting sun. “We are the Sentinels,” they said in unison, then Ogden spoke alone. “We are creatures of…”

“And serve…” Veremund broke in.

“The Prophecy of the Destroyer,” both finished, again in perfect unison.

For a moment there was utter silence. The golden light in the Sentinels’ eyes died as abruptly as it had flared, and again two old men sat across from Axis and Belial, looking unsure as to how their news had been received.

“Ah,” Axis finally said. He had known that they were not whom they pretended to be…but he had expected nothing like this.

Belial laughed suddenly, the sound a little shocking in the absolute quiet of the room. “No wonder you couldn’t remember a
damn word from the Service for the Dead,” he said. Sentinels? He gazed at the two men with vastly increased respect.

“So,” Axis said very quietly, “we know that Gorgrael has arisen in the north. And now the Sentinels walk abroad.” He dropped his eyes to the floor and was silent for a while, then he came to some decision and raised his eyes again. “Well, Sentinels, shall I tell you what I am?”

Both Ogden and Veremund held their breath.

Axis watched their expressions, then laughed bitterly. “I am the son of Rivkah,” he said slowly, finding it hard to say the words. “The son of Rivkah, Princess of Achar, and…and an Icarii Enchanter.” Axis felt a great relief at finally saying it aloud, and his shoulders slumped as if freed of a great weight. Belial stared at him in amazement.

Finally Veremund nodded slowly. “Yes. That is what we think, too. But that is all we know about your parentage, Axis. We do not know who your father is beyond that he is probably an Icarii Enchanter.”

“How did you realise, BattleAxe?” Ogden asked quietly.

Axis took another deep breath, his shoulders trembling. He turned to Belial for a moment, ignoring Ogden. “Well, Belial. What do you think of that? Here we are, Axemen committed to hunt down every Forbidden that we see, yet now you hear that your BattleAxe is of their blood. What do you say to that?”

Belial gripped Axis’ hand, using its support to pull himself upright. The last few minutes had been confounding, confusing, and his mind swirled with what he had just seen and heard. Yet while Belial had been raised to fear the Forbidden, he had found the Avar man more worthy of his respect than of his hatred. And he did not see a hated Forbidden sitting beside him, but a friend who needed his support now as he had never needed it before.

“I say that you are my BattleAxe,” Belial said, his eyes burning fiercely, daring Axis not to believe him. “I say that you are the best commander that I have ever served under, and I say that you are my friend, and that in choosing my friends I have never asked who their fathers were.”

Axis’ eyes gleamed with tears and he leaned forward and embraced Belial. Veremund almost fainted with relief; Belial had
probably just accomplished what it might have taken Ogden and himself months to do.

“How did you realise?” Ogden asked again, very quietly.

Axis turned back to him, his mouth twisting. “The music that I remembered. The song I sang before Gorgrael, the song…the song I sang to the Avar girl.” Axis paused and stared at the rafters for a moment, recalling. “The Avar man, Raum, said I had the soul of an Icarii Enchanter.” He laughed shortly. “He asked me what I was doing wearing the black and these axes,” Axis absently tapped the crossed axes on the breast of his tunic with his fingers, “when all the Icarii hated them as much as the Avar did. And when we were before the Shadowsward, when I had Raum at the point of my sword, a woman stepped forth from the trees.”

Ogden and Veremund leaned forward. They still did not know what had happened earlier this morning. “What happened? What woman?” Veremund asked.