But as his mind was full of confusion, so his physical reactions were similarly befuddled, and Axis nimbly side-stepped. A sword suddenly gleamed in his hand, and as the SkraeBold blundered past he struck him underneath the SkraeBold’s right arm, sliding it deep into the soft flesh of his armpit. The SkraeBold screamed and wrenched himself off the blade, twisting away from Axis.
“It bleeds,” Axis observed, “as red a blood as do the Skraelings.”
The SkraeBold, agonised by the wound underneath his arm and by the useless flapping of his broken wing, finally started to think a little more clearly. He pretended mortal hurt, gave a single sobbing sigh, and, hugging his arm to himself, crouched down as if he were preparing to die.
Axis was not fooled, but he let the creature think he had been. He stepped close, over-confidently, his whole body apparently relaxed and off guard.
The instant he was close enough the SkraeBold leapt to his feet and swung out with his injured arm.
But Axis was quicker and far more agile than the heavily muscled SkraeBold. He ducked underneath the arm and sank his sword deep into the creature’s belly. The SkraeBold caught him with his uninjured arm, hurt too deep this time to cry out, but Axis was prepared for that as well and, as the SkraeBold clutched him to his chest, punctured the creature’s left eye with a knife.
The SkraeBold convulsed, and Axis felt his claws tear through the black wool of his tunic and into his back. He grunted and grabbed at the hilt of his sword, still buried deep in the SkraeBold’s belly. As he stepped back Axis placed his booted foot to one side of the SkraeBold’s belly, using it as a lever to pull his sword free, twisting it as viciously as he could as it started to slide free.
The SkraeBold collapsed on the ground, his remaining eye staring at Axis in horror. “You tricked me,” he hiccupped softly, then he died.
Axis stood there, wondering at the ease of his kill, when he heard a horseman behind him.
“Axis.”
He turned. Belial rode up on his stallion, leading Belaguez. Both horses laid back their ears and tossed their heads at the sight and smell of the dead SkraeBold.
“Look!” cried Belial, and Axis turned back to the SkraeBold. It was slowly fading from view.
“Returning to its master,” Axis said tiredly, “for him to do with as he will.” Exhaustion threatened to overcome him, and he swung into Belaguez’s saddle before he slipped to the ground.
Belial gazed worriedly at him. He could see the reddened tears in the back of Axis’ tunic, but Axis’ exhaustion concerned him more.
By morning the majority of the Skraelings had disappeared from the WildDog Plains. They drifted back through the Icescarp Barren and down towards southern Ichtar, where they could hear their comrades whispering and crying softly to each other. Their orders had been clear. If, for whatever reason, they were forced to abandon the push south through WildDog Plains, they were to rejoin their companions at Jervois Landing.
Gorgrael himself, faced with another pile of grey sludge on the cold floor of his chamber, was not overly distressed. He had not expected any of his SkraeBolds to do well against Axis. Not with what Axis had undoubtedly learned. And this SkraeBold’s death had provided Gorgrael with what he needed most. Building material. Already his first pack of Gryphon were approaching maturity and once they had whelped Gorgrael would throw them against Jervois Landing. Now he had the materials to make more.
Axis pulled his troops out of the WildDog Plains, leaving but one unlucky unit to patrol (with the assurance that they would be relieved soon) the wind-swept and increasingly snow-bound plains. A Wing of the Strike Force was also left in the northern Urqhart Hills to provide an early warning if Gorgrael sent his Skraelings through the WildDog Plains again. Somehow, Axis did not think he would.
The Strike Force already winging its way over the Urqhart Hills towards Sigholt, Axis led the mounted section of his command south towards the entrance to HoldHard Pass. Nosing ahead ran the four couples of Alaunt which had proved as valuable as Azhure’s mounted archers. Well, now both archers and Alaunt were heading back to their mistress.
As am I, thought Axis. As am I.
At the mouth to HoldHard Pass, Axis’ command found a small group of refugees from Skarabost just about to enter. They were a ragged bunch, having spent some weeks fleeing northwards into the worsening weather. Their trust must have been great, thought Axis, as he rode forward to meet them, to keep on moving northwards even though the weather worsened with each step north they took.
The leader of about forty-five men, women and children, was a middle-aged, plump and grey-haired trader called Dru-Beorh. He was beside himself with pleasure to learn that the golden-haired man who sat the magnificent grey stallion before him was Axis himself.
“Great Lord,” he breathed, abasing himself in the dirt before Belaguez. “To meet you like this is an added boon. I have travelled from Nor to join your cause.” Axis, as Belial and Magariz behind him, raised his eyebrows in some surprise. News of the Prophecy had spread as far as Nor? “And I have brought you a gift for you to do with as you will. Behold!” he cried, waving his hand towards the back of his small column.
Axis drew in a quick breath of surprise as he saw what Dru-Beorh indicated. He knew exactly what he was going to do with it.
40
“WOE! WOE!”
“A zhure.”
Azhure turned at the sound of Axis’ voice, wiping the sweat out of her eyes. She had resumed training two weeks ago, and had spent the morning at archery practice in a small field just outside the Keep.
“What is it?” she asked, wondering if something was wrong with Caelum, only four weeks old. She had left him in their apartment with his grandmother and Sicarius watching over him.
“Relax. Nothing is wrong, Azhure. I simply came out to watch my archery commander at weapon practice. So, tell me, Azhure, are you fully fit now? Ready for any action your StarMan might demand of you?”
“I would be fully fit if I had a decent horse to ride,” Azhure said tartly. “As it is I have to trail behind the slowest of my command on a nag that should have been retired five years ago. I might as well ride one of Veremund or Ogden’s donkeys.”
Axis couldn’t believe she’d given him such a perfect opening.
“I expect you think I should give you Belaguez back,” he said, making his voice as terse as hers.
Azhure’s back tensed as she sighted down the shaft of an arrow, then loosed the arrow and swung round to Axis in one fluid movement. “Are you going to tax me about exercising your horse after all this time? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Oh, I’m not upset, Azhure. You did well with Belaguez. Even now when he greets me in the stable I do not know if he welcomes me with his soft nose, or searches for scent of you. No,” Axis waved to one of the guards standing in the shadows under Sigholt’s main gates, “I’m not upset at all. Impressed, rather. So impressed, in fact,” he paused, “that I have decided to give you your own war-horse.”
A plump grey-haired man, whom Azhure recognised as one of the refugees Axis had returned with from the WildDog Plains, stepped out from the shadows of the gateway. He led a finely boned chestnut Corolean stallion, fully outfitted with saddle and bridle. Dru-Beorh hesitated as the stallion skittered in the sudden light, then led the horse across the bridge towards Azhure.
Axis took the Wolven and the quiver from Azhure and laid them carefully to one side. “Do you like him, Azhure? He is fully trained, but young, and so he will take to a new rider well. He has not been exercised for some time though, so he will be a bumpy ride for the next few days.”
The sheer delight on Azhure’s face was enough thanks for Axis. He took her arm and led her to meet Dru-Beorh and the horse. “He is an inadequate gift to thank you for Caelum, Azhure. Inadequate, because nothing I could do in this life could be thanks enough. Here, stroke him. Do you like him?”
Azhure reached out a hand and touched the horse’s silken coat. It gleame
d a dark bronzed red in the sunlight and twitched under her fingers. “He is a wonderful gift, Axis,” she said, her eyes bright with tears.
Dru-Beorh shuffled a little in embarrassment. He did not mind in the least that the Great Lord had elected to pass on his gift to this beautiful lady, for Dru had heard of her exploits and her courage. “His name is Venator, my Lady,” Dru muttered. “In the language of the Coroleans the name means ‘One Who Hunts’.”
“Venator,” Azhure repeated. “What a beautiful name. And you gave him to Axis?”
Dru nodded and explained briefly how he’d seized Venator as recompense for a bad debt from a Nors nobleman who had only just purchased him from a Corolean unit passing through Nor.
“A Corolean unit was passing through Nor?” Axis asked sharply. “How many, and where to?”
The trader felt the shift in mood. “Over the past several months Corolean troops have been moving through Nor and catching river transports for Jervois Landing, Great Lord. Many of them. How many?” He shrugged. “I do not know. Several dozen units, at the least.”
Axis’ eyes caught Azhure’s and she turned to Dru. “I thank you for bringing us the horse, Dru-Beorh.”
Dru bowed, recognising the dismissal, and led the horse back into the Keep.
Azhure turned to Axis. “Borneheld has Coroleans fighting for him?”
Axis watched the horse disappear back into Sigholt, but his thoughts were far away. “Apparently so. Has he concluded a treaty with them? A military alliance?” He did not have to go on. If Borneheld had the weight of the Corolean military behind him, Axis would find it all but impossible to defeat Borneheld.
Beside him, Azhure started. “Axis!”
Alarmed by her tone, Axis snapped out of his reverie and looked to where she pointed. Walking slowly up the road that led to HoldHard Pass was a group of several hundred women and children, but the oddest women and children Azhure had ever seen. All of their faces were so heavily tattooed that they seemed dark blue from this distance, and their black hair was oiled and plaited into tiny braids. Many of them rode ugly and stunted yellow-haired small horses, almost ponies. The sound of myriad soft bells and chimes drifted to meet them.
“They are Ravensbund!” Axis cried, and Azhure wondered at the gladness in his voice.
The next day, after Sa’Kuya had sufficiently rested, Axis invited her to attend the daily conference he held with his commanders in the map-room.
Sa’Kuya had taken almost three weeks to lead her party northwards to Sigholt. They had evaded discovery leaving Jervois Landing, and had met none of Borneheld’s patrols south of the Nordra.
“We crossed the Nordra at Gundealga Ford,” she said to Axis, “where you met with my husband, Ho’Demi.”
Axis inclined his head.
“Then we travelled the southern Urqhart Hills, joining HoldHard Pass just before its final bend towards Sigholt.” She shook her head a little, the beads and bells jingling merrily, and looked to Magariz and FarSight. “We passed two of your mounted patrols,” she said, “and sighted five of your winged people in the skies. But we remained silent and unseen.”
“Then I am glad you came as friends and not to cut our throats in the night,” Axis said, with a sharp glance at his commanders.
“If we had come to cut your throats in the night, you would already be dead,” said Sa’Kuya tartly.
“Your husband said he would be here with the first winter snows,” Axis said, changing the topic. He waved out the window, “Though the Lake of Life keeps Sigholt and its surrounding hills free of snow, the rest of northern Achar is thigh-deep in it. Where is Ho’Demi?”
And why can he speak to me with the mind voice? Axis thought. What is he?
Sa’Kuya explained Ho’Demi’s dilemma. “He wants with his heart and soul to join you, but he knows that to do so would leave Jervois Landing so stripped of soldiers that Gorgrael would almost certainly win through. No-one wants to see that happen.”
Belial spoke up. “Sa’Kuya, my intelligence told me that your husband brought some eleven thousand men into Jervois Landing. Is that correct?”
Sa’Kuya nodded. “Eleven thousand, save those already dead at Skraeling hands. Plus a further nine or ten thousand women and children. All will join you as soon as possible.”
Axis caught Belial’s glance. Twenty thousand? Where would they put them all?
“Azhure,” he said finally, “have you seen to the Ravensbund already arrived?”
She nodded, knowing what Axis was thinking. Eleven thousand fighters would be welcome indeed, but with many thousands of refugees already, how would they feed them and their families?
Axis sighed, and turned back to Sa’Kuya. “I hear that Corolean forces join Borneheld at Jervois Landing. What can you tell me of them? Has Borneheld forged an alliance with the Corolean Empire?”
“No, he has not managed to forge an alliance with them, although he would like to do so. He hires mercenaries from the Coroleans. He has perhaps some three or four thousand with him at the moment, and more are on the way.”
Axis’ shoulders slumped with relief.
“Corolean mercenaries are expensive,” noted Magariz. “For that many Borneheld must be draining his treasury.”
Axis nodded, then spoke to Sa’Kuya again. “Tell me about the Skraeling attacks on Jervois Landing, and of the defences Borneheld has constructed there.”
Sa’Kuya described the viciousness of the Skraeling attacks, how they were deflected only by the system of canals Borneheld had built. “The Skraelings, hating open water as they do, are herded like cattle in a run. Wherever the Skraelings attack along the line between the Azle and the Nordra, they meet these canals, and their attack is splintered and fragmented by the twists and turns they are forced to make. Gorgrael throws hundreds of thousands of Skraelings at the defences, but at the moment they hold.”
“No IceWorms yet?”
“No. Only Skraelings.”
Axis looked at Belial and Magariz. If the IceWorms arrived, when they arrived, would they be able to bypass the traps by vomiting their repulsive cargo completely over the canals? He turned his gaze back to Sa’Kuya. “When will Ho’Demi join me, Sa’Kuya?”
“By spring at the latest, Great Lord.” She had picked up the title from Dru-Beorh last night. “Borneheld will not have the use of the Ravensbund people if he moves against you.”
“Thank the Stars for that,” Axis began, but the next instant everyone was on their feet as the bridge screamed.
“To the roof! To the roof! Woe! Woe!”
“Stay still!” Axis yelled, as everyone headed for the door. “Belial, FarSight, you come with me. Azhure, send for your archers. Magariz, Arne, prepare Sigholt for attack as we planned. SpearWing, get the Strike Force in the air. Sa’Kuya, stay here.”
SpearWing went straight out the window, while the others let Axis and the three he had named through the door first, then hurried to their tasks. Axis had long planned the defence of Sigholt—now it appeared that they were going to stand in good need of the countless drills they had practised.
“Woe! Woe!” the bridge wailed. “To the roof! To the roof!”
“It can hardly be an attack,” Azhure said as she scurried up the stairs after Axis, the Wolven already unslung and an arrow notched, “if the bridge is screaming for us to go to the roof.”
“Nevertheless,” Axis grunted, “the bridge is hardly screaming for us to come and look at the view. Something is wrong, very wrong.”
SpikeFeather TrueSong spiralled out of the sky towards the roof of Sigholt, only barely managing to hold on to life. By his side flew EvenSong, calling out encouragement even as she wept. Beside them, almost wingtip to wingtip with EvenSong, flew the snow eagle.
The rest of their Wing was dead.
The group watching from the roof of Sigholt realised how badly SpikeFeather was injured the instant his blood spattered down in great drops about them.
Hurriedly, FarSight launched into the air.<
br />
“SpikeFeather,” Azhure whispered as she lowered the Wolven, “EvenSong.” They were her closest friends among the Icarii.
A group of archers clattered out of the doorway to the stairwell, closely followed by StarDrifter and the three Sentinels.
SpikeFeather lost consciousness some five wingspans from the roof, and FarSight and EvenSong could not contain his fall. He landed with a sickening crunch, his form apparently lifeless, dreadful injuries marking his wings and torso. Blood pooled about him.
Azhure took one look and almost vomited with shock. His belly had been ripped open, and ropes of bowel glistened in the sun; his left arm had been torn almost completely off, and now hung only by tendons and blood vessels.
Axis dropped to his knees by SpikeFeather. The Wing-Leader was a close friend.
Then EvenSong landed, and Azhure rushed to her side. She had obviously also been attacked by whatever had all but killed SpikeFeather; one cheek lay open, and both arms and hands were cut horribly. But she was not dying.
Axis was determined not to lose SpikeFeather like he had FreeFall. This time he would not fail. He gathered the birdman into his arms, spreading his wings to either side.
StarDrifter started to step forward, but Veremund held him back. “Behold your son, StarDrifter.”
All three Sentinels were very calm amid the cries of horror about them. They moved about the roof quickly, pulling everyone save EvenSong and Axis back from SpikeFeather.
Ogden put an arm about Azhure. “Watch, pretty mother,” he whispered in her ear. “Believe in Axis.”
Of all present, it was StarDrifter who appreciated the power of the Song of Recreation that Axis sang most of all. This was a Song so powerful, so extraordinarily hard to sing, so difficult to control the power of the Star Dance as it flooded through the music, that few Enchanters had ever been able to wield it properly.
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