Battleaxe (37 page)

“We have all placed ourselves and our men under Borneheld’s command,” he said jovially to no-one in particular. “Through all of us the WarLord controls an entire army but does not waste his time on the daily mundane activities of keeping thousands of men fed, watered and exercised. We are all grateful for his foresight in insisting we act as the conduits through which his commands pass to our own men. And to think of it,” he turned and beamed at Borneheld, “the Duke Ichtar will be the first WarLord to command the Axe-Wielders.”

Borneheld closed his mouth and thought about it. Yes, Jorge and Roland made sense. He didn’t want to waste time worrying about which dullard groomed the horses. Better that lesser men, men like Axis, do that. Besides, as Roland had said, he
would
be the first man outside the Seneschal to command the Axe-Wielders.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I accept the surrender of your command, BattleAxe. You may remain in daily control of the Axe-Wielders and I shall use you to relay my wishes to them.”

Don’t fight it, Axis, Belial thought desperately, keeping a pleasant
expression on his face. Don’t fight it. Be grateful to these two old men that you’ve retained as much control as you have.

To tell the truth, Axis was mildly amused by the way Jorge and Roland had flattered and manipulated Borneheld. “As you please, WarLord,” he said neutrally, bowing slightly in Borneheld’s general direction. “I accede to your wishes.”

Borneheld smiled in complete satisfaction. For the first time since Jayme had appointed Axis BattleAxe, Borneheld felt as though he had firmly established his own superiority. “Well, BattleAxe. What have you learned at the Silent Woman Keep to help us drive back these wraiths and icemen that nibble at our flanks?” He sat down in a high-backed wooden chair and waved at the other men in the room to pull stools up to the table. Borneheld was feeling generous.

Ogden and Veremund, until now quiet and unobtrusive, stood forward. Axis glanced at them as he stretched his legs out underneath the table. “I have brought with me two Brothers who have studied long and hard the records of the Silent Woman Keep. Ogden, Veremund, perhaps you would like to inform the WarLord what you feel opposes Gorkenfort?”

All eyes swivelled towards Ogden and Veremund, who played the part of Brothers of the Seneschal to perfection.

“Artor save you and keep you always in His care,” they said in unison, bowing to Borneheld.

“And you,” Borneheld muttered impatiently, running a hand over the short stubble of his auburn hair. “On with it.”

“My Lord Duke,” Ogden began, “we believe that many of the answers you seek lie in an ancient Prophecy that dates from a time long before the Acharites forced the Forbidden behind the Fortress Ranges.”

For the next half an hour the pair spoke, reciting the first two verses of the Prophecy of the Destroyer and explaining what they knew about Gorgrael and his Ghostmen. Listening to them, Axis found it hard to believe that the rest of Achar as yet had no idea of the revelations he had encountered in recent months. As far as Borneheld and his command in Gorkenfort were concerned, the
strange wraiths they encountered could
only
be the Forbidden. They had no other explanation for them. Yet now Ogden and Veremund were providing Borneheld with an alternative. In the end, Borneheld reacted exactly as Axis suspected he might.

“Foolishness,” Borneheld finally spat. “It is the Forbidden we face. The Seneschal teaches they are our enemies, not these creatures that some worm-ridden prophecy speaks of.”

Magariz leaned forward, frowning at Borneheld’s words. In the firelight the livid scar on his cheek glowed with an almost maniacal fury. “My Lord, I beg to differ. The ice creatures the Prophecy describes sound all too much like the creatures which attacked our patrols and the Retreat in Gorkentown. And some of the Ravensbundmen who have been fleeing south have mentioned this name—Gorgrael. They say they have heard it whispered on the wind by the wraiths which attacked their homes and families.”

Borneheld continued to look sceptical, but Jorge and Roland nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me, Brothers, if you can. If these are Gorgrael’s creatures that push down from the north then how can we keep them back?” Jorge asked.

Ogden and Veremund looked at each other, both careful not to look at Axis. “If we listen to the Prophecy, Earl Jorge, then the three races of Tencendor must unite under the StarMan to defeat the Destroyer. Nothing else will stop him.”

Borneheld looked at them incredulously for a moment, then he leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. “You bring me news that would entertain old women and young girls. You tell me nothing that will keep Gorkenfort and Ichtar secure from the creatures that swarm out there in the snow.” He leaned forward again, his voice growing angry, his grey eyes glittering dangerously. “Your talk of this demon saviour is nothing but the ramblings of old men in their dotage, while your talk of uniting Acharites with the Forbidden is heretical and I will have none of it! Artor-fearing men will drive back these invaders, not the ensorcelled souls of the Forbidden! You’re lucky I don’t have you summarily executed for subversive rumourmongering!” He was shouting by the time he’d finished.

Both Ogden and Veremund stepped back, hands flapping anxiously among the skirts of their habits, their alarmed eyes flying to Axis for help. But Borneheld was not yet finished.

“I will have none of this talk of prophecy in Gorkenfort or the town, do you hear me?”

Axis waved the two old men back a few paces out of the way while Belial pondered the fact that even now over three thousand Axe-Wielders were undoubtedly sharing news of the Prophecy around the campfires of Borneheld’s army. Borneheld would not be very pleased if news of the Prophecy and of the StarMan gained acceptance as quickly among his own men as it had among the Axe-Wielders. Jorge, Roland and Magariz all studied their hands and fingernails with deep fascination. They all believed that the Prophecy needed further discussion. But perhaps this was not the time to say so in front of Borneheld.

Borneheld finally dismissed Ogden and Veremund with a curt wave. They barely managed to keep their gait to a walk as they fled the Hall.

“Axis,” Magariz said. “We have only one or two pieces of information ourselves. The wraiths, led by these ice creatures, have staged more numerous and more daring raids over the past few weeks as the weather has deteriorated, but they have not seriously threatened Gorkenfort or Gorkentown since the night they staged their extraordinary raids into the fort and Retreat themselves.”

“Do you have any idea how they managed to break through your defences on that occasion, Magariz?” Axis asked.

Magariz’s handsome face suddenly looked grey and haggard. “I had been on patrol all day, BattleAxe, and I had gone to sleep here in front of the fire. I awoke late in the night, cold and stiff, the fire burned down to embers, to find the creatures about to strike. When I cried out the sentries rushed in and tried to defend me—but they were cut to shreds while I barely escaped with my life. The nightmare creatures left me unconscious and bleeding. How did they get in? I do not know, BattleAxe. Perhaps they used dark enchantments to pass the guards and breach the defences.” Magariz shuddered for a
moment, remembering. “They had wings, Axis. They must have attacked from the sky.” He smiled a little at the expression on Axis’ face. “Yes. Wings. Since that night the sentries watch the sky as assiduously as they watch the ground.”

“Our patrols have seen them from time to time, leading bands of the wraiths,” Borneheld said quietly, his anger at the two Brothers forgotten as he recalled those times he had led the patrols outside the walls of Gorkenfort. “I have seen them myself when I have led patrols. They are…solidifying. Since the attacks began both the wraiths and their ice creature leaders are becoming more flesh than ghostly apparition. We are losing many men and have yet to make a significant impression on the wraiths.”

Jorge considered his WarLord for a moment. Borneheld might have his moments of ill-considered anger, and his jealousy of Axis might sometimes mar his judgement, but no-one could call his bravery into question. He had done a superb task in organising Gorkenfort’s defences. For that alone he commanded their respect, while his position as WarLord demanded their loyalty. Borneheld was a hard commander, demanding instant obedience and respect from his men. But he was, as yet, a largely untried combat commander and had gained his position as WarLord principally through his position as heir to the throne. Did he have the level head and the skills to see them through this crisis? Could he rally men the way the BattleAxe had already proved he could? Jorge’s eyes flickered to Axis.

“Have the Ravensbundmen brought any more news from the north over the past few weeks?” Belial asked, impressed that Borneheld had risked his life with that of his men.

Magariz slowly tapped the table with his fingers. “They have told us these Skraelings—their word for the wraiths—continue to flood south, keeping close to the Alps. They dislike the Andakilsa; the Ravensbundmen saw some of the wraiths become trapped and dissolve in the water.”

To one side Borneheld frowned but did not speak. The wraiths did not like running water. For days his mind had worried at that, wondering if a moat could protect Gorkenfort. He sighed inwardly;

it was a shame the river was too far distant to try and divert any of its waters.

“But unfortunately the Ravensbundmen can no longer provide us with information,” Magariz continued.

“Why?” Axis asked.

“The flood of refugees from Ravensbund has suddenly dried up,” Roland explained. He had found it difficult to balance his massive bulk on a small stool and was now standing by the fire, his body throwing gigantic shifting shadows onto the far wall as he eased his weight from leg to leg. “We think it is not because all the Ravensbundmen have fled their icy home, but because they have been cut off from their southerly escape route.”

“That, or they’ve all been eaten,” Jorge remarked. “Axis, we’ve discovered one slight defence against these creatures. In small groups they can sometimes be repelled with fire, although if they attack in force they can overwhelm burning brands. Now we equip all our patrols with burning torches—it provides some protection.”

“That is all you’ve discovered?” Axis asked, realising as soon as the words were out of his mouth that his question sounded insulting.

“Do you think you could learn more, BattleAxe? Do you think you can do better than those dozens of my soldiers who have died over the past months?” Borneheld snarled, enraged.

Axis began to apologise but Borneheld was not done. “Will you lead the morning patrol, BattleAxe? Then perhaps you can discover what it is that we have so dismally failed to perceive. After all, a man who could lose so many of his men to a sudden rain squall, not to mention the Lady Faraday and the youth Timozel to an earthfall, should have no trouble dealing with a few dozen wraiths in the snow!”

Axis leapt to his feet. Belial rose beside him and grabbed his arm, trying to restrain him, but Axis threw him off. “No-one calls my courage into question, brother! You have your patrol leader!”

“This is hardly necessary, Axis,” Roland started, but was interrupted by a voice from the back of the Hall.

“Borneheld,” Faraday said clearly and sweetly, “how mischievous of you to infer that Timozel and I were dead.” She slowly started to
walk towards the group at the other end of the Hall, her entire will bent to keeping her eyes on Borneheld and not letting them drift towards Axis.

“Faraday!” Axis whispered, stunned by the sight of her. She
was
alive! What was she doing here? He turned slightly to see the look on Borneheld’s face. Oh, dear Artor, no! She wouldn’t,
couldn’t,
have done this to him!

“Ah,” Borneheld said, more than pleased by Axis’ reaction. “Perhaps you remember my wife, BattleAxe. You lost her some weeks past.” Faraday joined Borneheld at his side and the Duke placed a proprietorial arm about her waist. Faraday smiled at him, and then, finally, looked at Axis. Only with an extraordinary effort did she keep her expression impassive as she ran her eyes over his shocked face.

Axis’ distress at seeing Borneheld’s arm resting around Faraday found release in anger at her. “How
dare
you!” Axis suddenly shouted, making everyone in the Hall jump. “How dare you wander off without letting anyone know that you were alive! Do you have any idea how much grief you have caused? Do you?” His fist thumped on the table between them, papers and maps scattering across the wood and drifting down to the floor. Faraday paled and Borneheld’s arm tightened about her waist.

“BattleAxe!” Borneheld began, but Axis completely ignored him. “I suppose that young idiot Timozel is here with you,” he seethed, turning around from glaring at Faraday and looking down the Hall. Timozel was already halfway up the Hall, drawn to the defence of his Lady by Axis’ anger.

“And do you have any idea how much pain you have given your mother, Timozel?” Axis hissed. “Have you thought to contact her since you so wondrously rose from the dead? No? Why am I not surprised? You may return to your unit, Timozel. I will finish with you tomorrow when I am returned from patrol. Until then you are confined to sentry duty within your unit.”

Timozel calmly looked him in the eye. “No.”

Belial thought for one moment that Axis was going to strike
Timozel. The youth’s arrogance was appalling. He stepped forward, ready to intervene if he had to.

“Axis,” Faraday said urgently, “when Timozel saved me from the earthfall he pledged to become my Champion. His oath breaks all others that went before.”

“And now he has pledged himself to my service,” Borneheld said smoothly, revelling in his triumph.

All the tension went out of Axis’ body and he suddenly laughed mirthlessly, his shoulders sagging. “Champion,” he chortled, the sound so dreadful that Faraday flinched inwardly although she managed to keep the pleasant smile on her face. “Champion. Now I have heard everything. Well, at least this new Champion has managed to cut his hair and grow a beard since I saw him last. Just tell me, Faraday,” he said, turning back to her and dropping the dreadful smile from his face. “Why did you not let us know that you were all right? Why…why come here?”