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.
17
THE ANCIENT BARROWS
They rode out of the Woods at mid-afternoon to be met at the tree line by a profoundly relieved Belial and a small group of Axemen. Belial raised his eyebrows at the two brothers jogging along serenely on their white donkeys, but Axis, feeling exhilarated by the wide open spaces of the Tarantaise plains, kicked Belaguez into a gallop without a word. Arne slapped the rump of Gilbert’s horse and, with loud whoops, he and Timozel herded Gilbert back to camp at a similar speed. Belial and his Axemen sped after the party, while the two Brothers trotted their donkeys along behind, preferring to keep to a more sedate pace.
On their way to the Axe-Wielders’ camp Ogden and Veremund paused briefly to share greetings and words with a genial pig boy, driving his pigs in an easterly direction around the rim of the Silent Woman Woods.
Faraday was so overwhelmed by the sight of Axis returning that she almost burst into tears, turning away quickly as he rode by her and not acknowledging his nod and smile. She had managed to return to her bed-roll undetected the previous night, and had lain awake until dawn, Yr curled in her arms, reliving again and again the nightmarish vision the trees had shown her, feeling the heat consume her, hearing the ring of steel against steel, watching Axis, covered in blood, stretch out his hand towards her, experiencing over and over again the warm ticklish sensation of blood trickling down between her breasts.
When she arose she spent a full forty minutes scrubbing her body red with icy cold water, evading her mother’s stares and questions. She was very quiet all day, and the cat stayed close to her.
After Axis’ return, preparations began for breaking camp and moving out. Gilbert had been given no time to rest; Axis wanted him gone as soon as possible. He detailed five men to escort him back to the Tower of the Seneschal, giving their leader firm instructions to make sure that he got there. The packet of documents that Ogden and Veremund had made up for him was handed over with instructions that it be given straight to the Brother-Leader.
The next day the entire company moved out well before dawn. Ogden and Veremund had placed themselves at the head of the column, their donkeys surprisingly spritely and well able to keep up with the horses. But Axis was so frustrated with the two old men’s continual arguing over trivialities that he sent Veremund back to ride with the women and kept Ogden with him to discuss the meaning of the prophecy.
Veremund joined the ladies happily enough, and both Merlion and Faraday thought him delightful company. Over the next two days Timozel often joined them, and, between Timozel and Veremund, Faraday sometimes found the heart to smile. But the ghastly vision that the Silent Woman Woods had sung for her refused to fade, and Faraday became deeply upset whenever Axis rode by or stopped to chat with them. She knew Axis was puzzled by her behaviour, but every time she looked at him she could watch his sword spin uselessly across the stone floor of the Chamber of the Moons, could only see him as he stood before her, blood clotting through his hair and down his body, his hand extended in appeal towards her.
On the morning of the third day Timozel, in an effort to distract Faraday from whatever was depressing her, began to tell her about the prophecy, which had imprinted itself so vividly on his mind that he could recite it word for word. Well, all except for the final verse, which was a little hazy. Faraday was so fascinated that the hateful vision receded to the back of her mind for the first time in days. She asked many questions of Timozel and Veremund, wanting to know all Veremund could tell her about the Forbidden and the ancient land of Tencendor.
She pulled the collar of her cloak a little tighter in the cold wind and edged her horse closer to the elderly Brother jogging along on his white donkey. “Do you mean that the Forbidden and our people lived in harmony in Achar?”
“Tencend
or, it was called then,” Veremund corrected her. “Yes, dear one, for many thousands of years.”
Faraday frowned. “But how could we live in peace with them when they are so terrible, so frightening?”
“The Seneschal teaches that the Icarii and the Avar are frightening. ‘Twas only after the Seneschal gained influence in Tencendor, teaching the way of the Plough, that the rift between the races started.”
Faraday did not like the implications of what Veremund was saying. “Do you mean that…” she paused, “that the…Icarii and the Avar were not at fault in the war between the followers of the Plough and themselves? That the Seneschal started it?”
“The Forbidden were evil creatures and that is why the Seneschal helped the armies of Achar drive them from this land and clear their filthy nests and forests,” Merlion snapped.
Her words silenced the others for a moment, but Faraday turned back to Veremund. “Brother, what sort of creatures were the Icarii and the Avar?”
Veremund thought for a moment. “We have their songs and their histories and their records, but in actuality they tell us relatively little about what they looked like or how they lived. The Icarii preferred high places and studied the movements of the stars and of the sun and the moon. Perhaps that is why they were called the people of the Wing. They tended to live in the hills and mountains of Tencendor. The Avar, why, they were people of the forest and had a special relationship with the land. Some of the passages that Brother Ogden and I have read suggest that they could talk to the trees.”
Faraday gasped and reined her horse back a pace or two from Veremund’s donkey. “Mother was right,” she said tightly, “they were evil creatures and it is right that the Seneschal drove them from this land.”
That afternoon the long column of Axe-Wielders approached a series of massive mounds, each about one hundred paces high and two hundred long. Their sides were steep and covered with low bushes and turf, each with a flattened top that was covered in bright yellow and red flowers. There were almost thirty of them stretching in a crescent for over half a league. Axis called the column to a halt and turned to Belial who was riding beside him.
“Do you know what these are, Belial?”
Belial started to say something, but it was Ogden who answered from his position behind Axis. “It is said that these are the burial mounds of some of the ancient kings of Tencendor, BattleAxe.”
Ogden kicked his donkey up beside the BattleAxe, and Axis stared flatly at him for a moment, dislike for the man simmering just below the surface. Over the past three days Ogden had talked about the ancient land of Tencendor, and each additional piece of information he gave made Axis feel increasingly uncomfortable. He had always vaguely assumed that the land he had lived in, the Seneschal and the way of the Plough had always been, but now he was discovering that Achar as he knew it had once not existed, the Seneschal had once never existed, and that his own race and those of the Forbidden had lived side by side in an ancient land called Tencendor. It was unsettling.
“So,” he said smoothly after a moment, “men once ruled over the Forbidden, did they?”
Ogden smiled. “By no means, BattleAxe. The royal family of Tencendor came from the Icarii line. The House of SunSoar supplied the Talon, the King, for well over five thousand years. They were a prolific house.”
Both Belial and Axis stared unbelievingly at Ogden. The Forbidden had ruled over mankind? It was unthinkable!
“Yes,” Ogden said quietly, lost in thought as he gazed at the Barrows. “It was mankind, under the influence of the emerging Seneschal, who usurped the Icarii rule and drove both them and the Avar beyond the Fortress Ranges during the Wars of the Axe.”
Axis turned back to stare at the Barrows, his face set like stone. “Well,” he said grimly, “tonight the Icarii graves will provide shelter for mankind. They should be high enough to keep us from this Artor-cursed wind.”
They camped in the sheltered crescent of the Barrows, grateful for the relief they gave them from the bitterly cruel northern wind. By now word of the prophecy had spread among most of the Axemen, and there were low discussions around most campfires that night about the meaning of the ancient riddle. More than one set of eyes was turned northwards towards the origins of the cruel wind and upwards towards the thick black clouds blanketing the sky. The rain and hail that had troubled them across the plains of Tare had mercifully abated, but the clouds had thickened, as if they bore within them a surfeit of ice and hatred, waiting for the moment when it could be unleashed upon the column of Axemen.
That evening Faraday picked at her meal at the campfire she and Merlion shared with Axis, Belial, and the two Brothers, then she excused herself and wandered off to sit alone in the night. Axis watched her. She had been acting very strangely since he had returned from the Silent Woman Woods.
Axis hoped it had been nothing of his doing. Faraday had earned his grudging respect over the past three weeks or so. Both she and her mother had kept up with the pace with no complaints or petty requests for consideration because of their womanhood. They had caused his Axe-Wielders virtually no trouble at all; indeed, Axis smiled to himself, the Lady Merlion had kept a firm eye over their remaining two maids as well, to the disappointment of not a few of the Axe-Wielders who’d hoped to have some extra warmth in their bedrolls at night.
Axis had been surprised when he heard of Borneheld’s betrothal to the youngest daughter of Earl Isend of Skarabost. Borneheld had evaded the ties of matrimony for the past ten years or so, preferring to keep a succession of blowzy mistresses either at Sigholt or Gorkenfort when he was in the north, or in the palace in Carlon when he was at court. Axis had thought that Borneheld would finally accept the offer of one of the richer lords—even with her grandfather’s estates Faraday was not the richest heiress in Achar. Surprised, that is, until the night Faraday had smiled across the campfire at him. Pretty now, she would be an extraordinary beauty one day, and was both graceful and perceptive.
Well, Axis thought as he put his empty mug down at his side, it was no concern of his. A shame, however, that Isend had picked Borneheld. Borneheld did not deserve a woman like Faraday—and certainly would not know how to treat her. Faraday was a lively and intelligent woman, and she would be miserable in the wilds of Ichtar; from what Axis had gleaned from palace whispers his mother had hated her life in the province. He hoped that life with Borneheld would not rob Faraday of her honesty and directness. Glancing about the fire he saw that while he’d been lost in thought the others had engaged themselves in an energetic debate about whether or not Baron Ysgryff of Nor had actually spent some of his youth as a pirate on Pirate’s Nest. Smiling to himself Axis stood up and left the campfire, walking in the same direction that Faraday had taken.
He found her sitting on a low boulder just beyond the perimeter of the camp, her back to him as he approached, staring at the silhouette of the Barrows against the dark night sky.
“Faraday,” he said quietly, and she jumped to her feet at the sound of his voice, turning to face him. She had been crying.
“Excuse me,” Faraday muttered, and tried to walk past him back into camp, but Axis caught her arm as she drew level with him.
“Faraday, what is it? What have I done to upset you?”
Faraday tilted her face up at him, her eyes gleaming with tears. “It’s nothing you’ve done, Axis,” she whispered. “Please, let me go.” A tear escaped her eyes and trickled slowly down her cheek.
“Faraday,” he said again. “Why do you cry?” With his free hand he gently reached up and wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of his fingers. Without thinking he let his fingertips trail down her cheek and underneath her chin.
Faraday tried to smile. “Because life plays such cruel tricks, and…” and oh, she should not say this, but Axis was so close and his fingers were so gentle on her skin that she could not help herself, “because I am betrothed to Borneheld when it is his brother that I want more than life itself.”
“Faraday!” What was this girl saying? She was too young, too dangerous, and the timing was all wrong. He slipped his hand from her arm and into the small of her back, pressing her against his body. “Faraday,” he whispered again, and then he leant down and kissed her.
His touch was so light, so gentle, that Faraday found herself straining on her toes to maintain the contact. Slowly the kiss deepened, and for long moments they held each other, then Faraday finally broke the embrace, pushing her hands against his chest and drawing back with a small shaky laugh. “Forgive me, BattleAxe,” she said a little unsteadily. “I’m not sure what came over me.”
Axis let her go reluctantly. He gazed down at her left hand, where Borneheld’s ring glinted in what little light there was. “Why?” he asked, softly.
Faraday followed his eyes and twisted the ruby out of sight, closing her fingers about it. “Because it is what my father wanted, and because the alliance will be good for my family. I freely gave my consent, Axis.”
“But it is not what you want.” Axis’ eyes caught her own, forcing her to tell the truth.
“No,” she said very softly, “it is not what I want, but in the needs of a nation one girl’s wants are a very small thing. I will go ahead with the marriage, Axis. I have to. My honour binds me.”
Axis’ temper broke. “It is not the needs of a nation that want this, but the greed of your father and the lust of Borneheld. And you are young and innocent if you think that honour has anything to do with this marriage. Faraday, there are long months ahead before the marriage has to take place. Think about whether you want to marry Borneheld, or whether you might be prepared to risk spending your life with someone you could learn to love instead.”
Then he turned on his heel and stalked back into camp, his shoulders stiff with anger and frustration.