Battleaxe (13 page)

Faraday wondered fleetingly how Jack knew her name. She had never mentioned it. What did she want to ask the tree? Oh yes, Borneheld.

Tell me of my husband, she asked the tree, asking with her heart, not words.

For an instant the song faltered, then it started up again and an image so vivid filled Faraday’s mind that the night and the forest disappeared entirely from her sight.

But the vision was not beautiful, and Faraday’s face crumpled in despair. She was in the Chamber of the Moons in the palace in Carlon, but now the tables that had been there the night of Priam’s nameday banquet had disappeared. The Chamber was bare, save for several hundred people who stood in a circle around its edges. Their faces were blurry, indistinct, their presence unimportant except as witnesses to the tragedy about to unfold. She felt herself held by the strong arms of Jorge, Earl of Avonsdale; although she strained against his arms to be free, reaching with her arms and hands into
the centre of the Chamber, Jorge was too strong for her. She was crying, terrified by what she saw.

The Tree Song altered, became harsher, and images began to flicker rapidly before her eyes.

She saw Borneheld, stepping down from the throne. Two men circling, swords drawn, faces twisted into snarling masks of rage fed by long-held hatreds. Borneheld and Axis. Both bleeding, both stumbling with weariness. Red. Everything was red. Even the silent watchers were clothed in a red veil. A bloodied sun hanging over a golden field. The heat. The heat! Faraday flinched as a gigantic fireball consumed her. Two men circling, trading blows, bleeding. A feather. Many of them, floating about her. The two men fighting. A mother weeping. A scream, as if of an angered bird of prey. Swords, notched with use. A heart, beating uselessly. A golden ring, flying through the air. A scream—hers. “
No
!” Borneheld lunging at Axis, forcing him to a knee. Music, strange music, as if stone were being dragged over stone. Blood. Blood, everywhere. Dark Man watching, crying with laughter. Axis, on his knees, his sword flying out of his hand and sliding uselessly across the floor. A feather, she felt as if she were choking on a feather. A woman, beating at prison bars, pleading for release. A darker woman at a table, keeping tally, watching. Blood—why was there so much blood? Axis?
Where was Axis?
Faraday twisted away, gagging in horror. He was
covered
in blood—it dripped from his body, it hung in congealing strings through his hair and beard. He reached out a hand, then a great gout of blood erupted that covered her as well. She could feel it trickling down between her breasts, and when she looked for Axis all she could see was a body lying before her, hacked apart, and a golden and white form, as if a spirit, slowly rising behind it.

The chamber rang with shouted accusations of murder and treachery.

And all the time, the blood.

She could feel it, smell it,
taste
it.

Driven to madness by the feel of the warm blood running down her body, Faraday began to scream.

She ripped her hands from the tree and screamed and screamed her horror, almost falling in her distress. Jack grabbed her before she could run away and held her as tightly as he could, muffling her screams against his chest.

“Naughty tree!” he said angrily, glaring at the tree. “Naughty,
naughty
tree! You made the lovely lady cry.”

Now Faraday was sobbing uncontrollably, twisting feebly to free herself from Jack’s arms. Jack tried ineffectually to pat her back. “Please, pretty lady, sometimes the trees play tricks, yes they do. They show us only snatches of the truth, not all of it. Sometimes they warp what is truth, yes they do. Yes they
do!
” he said, giving the tree another angry glare.

Faraday finally managed to tear herself free. “It was horrible, Jack. Horrible! I don’t want that to happen ever.
Ever!
” She started to back away from the trees, tears staining her cheeks, then stumbled. “I wish you had never brought me here, Jack. Go away!”

Then she was gone, flying through the night, her cloak whipping back from her slim form, her white nightgown flapping about her legs. Yr gave Jack a reproachful look and then bounded after her.

Jack watched them disappear into the night, then turned back to the trees. “Well, my friends, I don’t know what you showed her, but you scared her almost to death. Perhaps it was for the best. She needs to be awoken. She needs to have reason to fight. But I hope you haven’t frightened her too much…she is your only hope.”

A
xis woke feeling more refreshed than he could remember. For a long while he lay in his sleeping roll, too warm and relaxed to move. Then finally he sat up, slipped quietly out of his blankets and dressed; Gilbert and the two Axemen were still sound asleep. Stepping out of the chamber, Axis peered at the rusted iron staircase twisting far above his head into the upper reaches of the Keep. Eventually he lowered his eyes and walked down the staircase to the ground floor.

Ogden and Veremund were at the table, arguing quietly but heatedly over a pile of books. Stuffed saddlebags lay on either side of the table. “Good morning, Brothers,” Axis called.

The two Brothers looked startled, for they had not heard him come down the stairwell. For one instant Axis thought they were going to bow, but the moment passed and both merely inclined their heads his way.

“Good morning, BattleAxe,” they said simultaneously.

“What are you doing?” Axis asked, puzzled by their preparations for a journey.

“We’ve decided that we must come with you,” Ogden said calmly.

“Oh, for Artor’s sake!” Axis swore, annoyed. Not only women but doddery aged brothers as well? This was too much. “There’s really
nothing you can do and we’re moving too fast and hard for you to keep up. All I need is the information you have about the Forbidden and this so-called Destroyer.”

Veremund drew himself up to his full height, a good handspan taller than Axis himself, looking both deeply offended and utterly smug at the same time. “If we were to tell you all we know, BattleAxe, we would keep you here a lifetime. And a lifetime you do not have. No, far better that we bring ourselves, our knowledge, and a few,” he turned to glare at Ogden, “of our most important books so that we can respond to your queries as we go. What you need to know now may not be what you need to know once you reach Gorkenfort.”

Ogden beamed at Axis, folding his hands across his ample belly. His habit looked filthy in the morning light; mould grew in some of the deeper creases. “The time has come for us to leave the Keep, BattleAxe. I’m sure that Jayme would agree with our decision if he were advised of it.”

“I don’t have spare horses for you to ride out of these Woods.”

“Oh, we have our own mounts stabled here, BattleAxe. Now, the more speed the better.” Ogden rubbed his hands together briskly and turned to his companion. “Veremund, we simply must take this volume. It contains vital information about the origins of the Avar people and their religious beliefs…”

Axis hesitated, annoyed by the two Brothers’ casual assumption that they would ride with him. Then he shook his head. Perhaps Veremund was right. Who knew what new questions he might have in six weeks’ time? And if they could not keep up, he could leave them in Arcen with Faraday and her mother.

Leaving them to argue over what books to take, Axis strolled outside. It was still cloudy, but it looked as though the rain would hold off for a while. He lowered his gaze to the golden lake. Not even a ripple marred its surface. Frowning, he squatted down at the water’s edge and dipped his hand in. He felt no sensation of wetness, and when he pulled his hand out again it was still completely dry. He quickly stepped back from the lake, making the sign of the Plough in the air to ward off enchantments. He would be glad to be gone from this place.

Inside the Keep, Timozel, Arne and Gilbert had joined the two elderly Brothers. Gilbert was standing defiantly in front of the fire with Ogden and Veremund facing him, both obviously furious. Arne stood slightly to the side and between the three men. Timozel stood well back from them, not wanting to have anything to do with whatever the argument was about.

Veremund turned as he heard Axis close the door. His face was white with fury. “This…this
snake
was trying to burn down the Keep, BattleAxe!”

Gilbert lifted his chin and stared at Axis defiantly.

Arne stepped forward. “I’m afraid it is true, BattleAxe. I found Gilbert in one of the upper-level rooms, one choked with musty old books. He had a tinderbox with him and was trying to lay a fire with some old pages.”

“He had torn up one of the most exquisite volumes we have in the Keep for that very nefarious purpose!” Ogden cried, almost apoplectic with rage. He stepped forward as if to seize Gilbert, but Axis quickly laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Is that true, Gilbert?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“BattleAxe. We both serve the Seneschal. How can you let this cursed Keep and its contents stand?” Gilbert cried. “These volumes are wicked—look how they have corrupted our two poor Brothers,” Veremund snorted, “to the point where they actually admire the Forbidden! Their minds are soft with age, they mumble about prophecies. Jayme would be horrified if he knew what was going on here. If he knew what this Keep really contained.”

“Gilbert,” Axis’ voice trembled with rage, “it is not up to you to single-handedly determine to destroy what the Seneschal has maintained for a thousand years.”

Veremund and Ogden glanced at each other. Best that Axis continue to believe that for the time being.

“If you go back to Jayme and give him your opinion that the lot should go up in flames, and if he should agree with you, then fine. I will light the pyre myself.” Ogden winced, but kept still under Axis’ hand as the BattleAxe continued. “But you have no right to destroy
this building and its contents by your own judgement, Brother Gilbert. Do you understand me?”

Gilbert stared at him defiantly. “You are wrong, BattleAxe, but I must comply with your orders. My weak body is no match against your sword, and that of your two henchmen.” His eyes swept over Arne and Timozel, then returned to Axis. “But I will inform the Brother-Leader of your unreasonable and, might I say, somewhat disturbing championship of these two old Brothers and their books. Perhaps their behaviour can be excused by their weak minds, but you appear too ready to listen to words of the Forbidden, Axis, before those of the Seneschal.”

“I keep an open mind,” Axis snarled, “and I am willing to listen to all who are willing to talk to me. And if you want to run squealing to Jayme I cannot stop you. But, by Artor, the moment you are out of these woods you are on a fresh horse and heading back to the Tower of the Seneschal. And,” Axis let go of Ogden’s shoulder and stepped forward to seize the front of Gilbert’s habit, “you’ll take a copy of that Prophecy back to Jayme as well, if I have to brand it on your forehead. Do you understand me?”

Gilbert sneered into Axis’ eyes. “You may be sure that I will report
everything
that I have heard and observed when I get back to the Brother-Leader, BattleAxe. Everything.”

Axis stared at him a moment longer, then let go of his habit, pushing the Brother back half a step as he did so. He turned to Arne. “And what were you doing in the upper levels, Arne?” he asked, his tone still low and dangerous.

Arne cleared his throat. “I heard a noise, commander, and I thought I’d investigate. I knew Brother Ogden and Brother Veremund were down here.”

The two elderly Brothers regarded him benignly. He would do well.

Axis wasn’t satisfied with Arne’s explanation, but he wasn’t prepared to push him in front of Gilbert. He shifted his hard stare to Timozel to search for any guilty expression, then turned back to Ogden and Veremund. “How long before you’re ready?”

“We’re all but ready now, BattleAxe. Give us a moment to pack some food and saddle our mounts and we will be ready.”

“Make sure you are,” Axis barked and turned to Arne and Timozel. “As you can see, Ogden and Veremund will be coming with us to render assistance as they may.” Neither Arne and Timozel dared say anything in Axis’ present mood. “I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to get out of these Woods, so breakfast as quickly as you can and then saddle the horses.”

Both Arne and Timozel understood the order as “forget breakfast and saddle the horses now!” and were quickly out the door. Axis then pulled out a bench with his foot and sat down. “Now, Gilbert. Shall we sit down and wait together?” He broke a piece of fresh bread and covered it with some bacon from a dish. “You’d better eat something, Gilbert,” he said around a mouthful of bread and bacon. “You’ll have a hard ride back to the Tower of the Seneschal if you want to get there as quickly as I think you do.”

Gilbert merely stared at him and remained standing. Ogden and Veremund packed one remaining book into their already bulging saddlebags, stuffed a holdall with some of the food that remained on the table, and hurried outside as well.

They were ready in under half an hour. Axis took pity on Arne and Timozel and gave each of them some food after they’d finished saddling the horses. Leaving a sulking Gilbert with the two Axemen he then helped Ogden to close the Keep down; Veremund was behind the Keep saddling their horses.

“You must be sad to leave this Keep after so long,” Axis remarked softly as Ogden poured water over the fire and spread the damp ashes out.

Ogden straightened up and looked at Axis. “Yes,” he said. “Both Veremund and I have spent most of our lives here. We will be sad to leave,” he waved his hand vaguely around him and looked towards the upper levels of the Keep, “all our books and records, for they have become friends to us.”

Axis moved closer. “You can understand that I share some of Gilbert’s sentiments, old man, can you not?” he said softly. Ogden
nodded, for once speechless. “I am the BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders,” Axis continued so quietly that Ogden could barely hear him. “My duty is to protect the Seneschal and Achar itself from whatever threatens it. I find it…uncomfortable, to say the least, to hear you and Veremund talking of the Forbidden as though they are old friends. You would not let your rather dubious loyalties compromise any advice that you might give me in the future—would you, old man?”

It was not a question and Ogden fully realised it. How strange that this man should appear in the guise of the BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders, he thought to himself.

“My lord,” he said, and this time he did bow. Axis’ eyes narrowed at both title and action. “I understand your loyalties to your land and to your people and I swear on all that I hold dear that I will never compromise those loyalties.”

It was an ambiguous answer, but Axis believed that Ogden meant well.

“Don’t call me ‘my lord’,” he said shortly, and stalked out the door. Ogden paused briefly in the room. Both he and Veremund, as others, had waited eons for this moment and this man. They had sacrificed their lives for it. It was up to them to guide the future. Ogden made a quick gesture with his hands, his eyes glowing golden for an instant, then he turned and walked through the door without a backward glance.

He almost ran straight into Axis who had stopped dead in amazement at the scene before him. Gilbert, Arne and Timozel all sat on their horses, Timozel holding Belaguez’s reins ready for him. Gilbert looked openly disdainful, while Arne and Timozel were looking everywhere but at Axis’ face.

Veremund stood by the group of horsemen, holding the reins of two fat, long-eared, thoroughly amiable white donkeys. Both wore oversized saddles and had large crammed saddlebags, tied on to the backs of their saddles.

“You can’t seriously expect to keep up riding those two donkeys,” Axis said incredulously.

Ogden stalked past him and took the reins of his donkey from Veremund. “They will keep up, BattleAxe. They have impeccable breeding.” He looked at his companion. “If you would be so kind, Veremund.”

As Ogden put his foot into the stirrup and grasped the saddle with both hands, Veremund, his face completely expressionless, placed his hands underneath Ogden’s ample posterior, and gave a single heave that almost sent his friend tumbling over the other side of the donkey.

After an anxious moment Ogden settled safely onto the donkey’s back. His hair stuck out wildly and his habit had rucked up beneath his legs, but he seemed unperturbed. “See,” he said triumphantly, gazing about the group. “As agile as any youth. No trouble at all.”

Axis groaned and covered his face with his hands, and Timozel gave up trying not to smile and roared with laughter. Even Arne, normally not given to humour, twisted his mouth in wry amusement. Only Gilbert’s face remained totally unamused.

“No trouble at all?” Axis repeated wearily. “No doubt that’s why you were assigned this isolated post in the first place, Brother Ogden. For thirty-nine years you
have
been no trouble at all.” He swung into Belaguez’s saddle, checked that Veremund was safely mounted, then waved the small group out.