The Bronze Axe

by Jeffrey Lord

  "You will marry Princess Taleen, if you like, because I think it fitting. Her father, King Voth, will be easier swayed thus. This is important, for Voth is important, and I wish his sanction. He respects Drus now, but he does not fear them. He must be made to fear them, and that will be part of your work in the months and years to come. For all this will not be done easily, nor quickly, and so you must understand. But it will be done!"

  Always, on these last words, her voice rose in pitch and firmness. Blade, watching that lovely face, saw the scarlet mouth tighten over the perfect little bones of her teeth, and sometimes he could see the golden sword flashing down. And cared not. For when she reached this point it was almost time.

  On this last day something new was added. "The seas grow calm," she said, "and the fleet is reassembling. In a day or two you will be much better, and we will come to the port of Bourne, where we will land and march overland to Voth. When that happens I shall leave you and travel alone to Voth, with my own people. But I will meet you there, in Voth's place, and it shall be as I have spoken these past days. With this difference and this you must not forget that our meetings will be clandestine and our speech covert. Though you are a Dru believer, and do my bidding, we must not be named together in these matters. All this you will remember, and you will act upon, and you will never speak of them."

  The medallion swayed back and forth, back and forth. Blade closed his eyes, knowing she would not open them again. For now it was time.

  Silence. Silence broken only by the creaking and travail of the ship's timbers as it labored easily in the lessening seas. Then, as always before, he heard her breathing change. The breath rasped in her throat, as though she could scarcely inhale, and he knew without seeing that her mouth was open.

  She took one of his hands and put it between her thighs, pressing gently on it so he felt the easy tremor of long femoral muscles. She was slim legged, yet with a fullness of soft flesh that lay warm beneath the robe. She pressed her knees together harder, leaning forward, and he heard her breathing roughen as she bent close to him.

  It was at such times that her words varied from the routine he had come to expect.

  One day she had said: "Drus are also women!"

  On another day: "How like a god you are!"

  This day she muttered, so low he could barely hear, as she went to her knees beside the cot.

  "Ah, Blade, if babes could be gotten so I would as lief conceive from your seed in my mouth."

  Blade swam on a misty sea of pleasure. To the drug already flowing in him was added the opiate of her mouth. He could not keep from writhing and his excitement spurred her own. This was sensual witchcraft beyond his experience, and while in the throes he did not know if she were human or not. That she was the mother of all fellatrices he did not doubt, and when he could think at all it was to wonder if it had something to do with the Dru religion. For she would submit to nothing else, even had he possessed the strength.

  She had been plain about it: "We Drus do only this to men. What we do among ourselves you may not know, or any man. Lie still, Lord Blade, and empty yourself of all dark spirits. They cannot harm me, for I am Drusilla!"

  On this tenth day Blade, already drifting into dark limbo, had one last glimpse of her. Of Canace, called Drusilla. He knew her evil and he cared not. She had saved his life that she might use it, for her own vicious ends, and he cared not.

  She smiled up at him, still on her knees, her velvety red mouth moist with his essence, and repeated what she had said once before.

  "How like a god you are!"

  She left, as she always did, without a backward glance.

  Blade, tumbling into sleep, fought his torpid mind so that he might grasp two things she hated being a woman and would be a man. And a growing, though very faint spark of rebellion she held him in thrall as much with her mouth as with her drug. If he could combat one he could could

  The effort was too much. Blade slept.

  Topside a large square sail slatted and boomed as it was hoisted up the single mast in the brisk wind. They had been running before the wind for days, under bare poles, and a great halloa went up from the sea raiders as the cloth firmed and slewed about and the rudder took firm hold. If this new wind held steady a week would see them in Bourne. Already the men spoke eagerly of new loot to come.

  Jarl, though ruling them with an iron hand cunningly concealed, had been noncommital. He did not know of Blade's plans. First they would have to see if the new ruler lived or died.

  At first there had been very little grumbling, thanks to the terrible storm which had menaced them all. It took all their efforts to stay afloat and it was one of Thunor's miracles that only five ships had been lost out of twenty. There having been no treasure on the lost ships, the concern for them was not great except in the case of relatives.

  But the moment the storm began to fail the grumbling began. Men gave loud opinions without being asked, and certain brazen-tongued sea lawyers opined that it was stupid, as well as unprofitable, to march all the way to Voth when there was plenty of loot to be found nearer by. They could, for instance, go south to Alb and sack it after all. Not prime pickings, perhaps, but not bad and better than making the long and perilous voyage north to Bourne, a mere fishing village.

  Jarl handled the complainers in his own way. He had a dozen soundly whipped, keelhauled three, and at last had to hang a man from the yardarm when he struck an officer in an argument. The grumbling went underground.

  Jarl stood with the Princess Taleen on the tiny poop deck as the silver-haired Dru passed on the way to her cabin. She was cowled and did not speak or glance at them as she passed, carrying the ewer and flask she used in ministering to Blade.

  Both watched her out of sight down the aft hold where the tiny cabins, hardly larger or cleaner than pigstys, were situated.

  Taleen, dressed warmly for shipboard, her auburn tresses flying in the wind, looked at Jarl and frowned. They had become good friends during Blade's illness and Taleen, suspecting the truth about Jarl and women, did not mind at all and kept it to herself.

  Taleen said: "I would see Blade, Jarl. You must arrange it this very night."

  Jarl looked unhappy. "I think it not wise, Princess. You know the Dru's orders. No one to see Blade, and only she to minister to him. I dare not go against her."

  Taleen's brown eyes flashed angrily in the sun. "Ha! You are all afraid of her. And yet you call yourself men!"

  Jarl stroked his smooth chin and a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, Princess. We are. And you are not afraid of Drus?"

  She would not look at him and he thought that tears lurked not far below the surface. "Yes," she admitted. "I am. I am as great a coward as any of you."

  "Only when it comes to Drus," Jarl said stoutly. "You will not find us cowards else. But I, who do not even believe in the gods, confess that I find Drus terrifying. I do not understand it myself. Yet they are powerful, Princess. Very powerful. And Blade lives, does he not? Hate and fear the silver Dru as you will, she brought Blade back from death. Our physicians I will admit they are poor enough things had all given him up and could only pray to Thunor for him."

  "And I to Frigga," Taleen scowled. "So I admit that the silver Dru saved Blade and yet I hate and distrust her. She is much too beautiful for a Dru!"

  Jarl, wiser than he knew, smiled at that and said, "And too much alone with the man you mean to marry, eh, Princess?"

  Taleen gave him a scornful look. "That matters not. Drus are pledged celibate. Anyway Blade will not marry me I only said that when I thought to help him against Redbeard. I hoped Redbeard would hold my father in fear, and would not dare but that is over. Let us not prate of things past. I mean to see Blade, if only to tell him what I think of him for letting himself be stabbed!"

  Jarl settled his silver spiked helmet in place against the wind. "Be patient, Princess. And grateful. Blade lives she would not lie about that and soon we will be at Bourne and beginning the march
to Voth. If I can hold these surly dogs in leash that long!"

  The brown eyes glittered and Jarl, unaccountably, felt uneasy.

  "Patience is a thing the Drus preach," said Taleen. "When it serves their purpose. They say it to be a virtue but I have had enough of Dru virtues. But you need not be privy to it, Jarl. I will do it alone."

  She was staring at the hold where the silver Dru had vanished and Jarl did not like the look of speculation in her eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blade was waked by a blaze of sun through an open porthole. Drusilla never did this all their conversation had been by candle or smelly lamp and now the buttery sun and the fresh smell of salt sea invaded the stuffy cabin like a tonic. Blade felt better than he had in days. His head was clear, his will had returned, and though he was weak and had some pain from his wound there was none of the deathly lethargy he had been prey to.

  Sylvo, after opening another porthole, beamed at his master with that dreadful grimace Blade had come to recognize as a smile. The squint was there, as was the harelip, but Sylvo was gay in new clothing and had shaven the scraggy hairs from his chin.

  He handed Blade an enormous wooden bowl steaming with some fragrant substance, and gave him a pewter spoon after polishing it on his sleeve.

  "Brewed from the livers of wild hare, master. We went ashore for water yesterday the storm having broached most of our casks and I caught the creatures just that I might fashion a stew for you. Sup of it, master, and tell me what you think. Ar, I was a rare cook once on a time."

  Blade tasted the stew. It was delicious and he suddenly found himself ravenous. Now that his mind was clear he could not recall the Dru ever feeding him, other than ship's biscuit and water.

  Blade ladled the stew into his mouth, watching Sylvo as he did so. He had come to know the man well. Sylvo was excited, happy, and he was talking too much.

  "You look marvelous well, master, considering you were so near to seeing Thunor in person. Ar, you'll never come closer to death. That was powerful poison on the dagger Oleg put into you. He was one of Redbeard's bastards and must have loved the man, for he surely tried to murder you."

  Blade had a brief vision of a head floating in the wine tub, then dismissed it.

  He scraped the last bit of stew into his mouth and sighed. "You are a good cook, rascal. I give you that. Now no more of this dithering how come you here, and where is the silver-haired Dru?"

  Sylvo went to a corner and came back with the scarlet cloak Blade had won from Horsa. "See, master, how fine it is now. I have cleaned it, and furbished the gold work. Also the great bronze axe my hands ache from working on it though I could not bring it because my hands were full of the stew and your fresh clothing and "

  Blade pushed himself up in the cot, feeling already stronger as the food nourished him and the sun and air dissipated the last lingering effects of the drug. He scowled mightily at Sylvo.

  "I asked a question! Answer it or I am not too weak to climb from this bed and give you a blow you'll remember always. Where is the Dru who has been tending me?"

  Sylvo's squint increased. He fell back a few steps, still holding the scarlet cloak and a pair of clean under-breeches, and rubbed his newly shaven chin with a finger. Blade knew he was searching for a lie.

  Blade roared. "Well, man! Out with it and I want truth."

  Sylvo avoided his eye. "The truth, master, is that I do not know. No one knows. The silver Dru has disappeared. She was not in her cabin this morning and her servant, a Dru of low order, came squalling to Captain Jarl in panic that her mistress had fallen overboard in the night. She would have Captain Jarl put back and search the sea."

  Blade regarded him steadily. This time he could not be quite sure he thought Sylvo to be lying, but he could not be positive.

  "So? Did Jarl put back?"

  "Nay, master. He did not. He said it was useless a thing we all knew without being told and he ordered the ship to be well searched. We found nothing, master. The silver Dru is gone. Vanished. For which, and I am bold enough to say it now that she is gone and cannot hear me, we are all offering thanks to Thunor. I myself saw Captain Jarl smiling as he prayed and he does not even believe in Thunor. Ar, master, it is a fine thing that the Dru fell overboard. We are all happy about it."

  Blade regarded his servant stonily. He was his own man again, and knowing what he did, he privately considered it just as well that the silver Dru was gone. Canace. Called Drusilla, leader of all the Drus. High Priestess with the golden sword of sacrifice. Lovely phantom of dreams, expert succuba clothed in velvet human flesh, who had planned so far and so well. Now all the dreams, and the flesh, were fathoms deep in the cold green of the Western Sea. Yes. It was just as well.

  Yet Blade said: "She saved my life, Sylvo."

  "Ar, master. I know that. We all do. We had given you to Thunor when she came forward, from the place Redbeard kept her hidden, and took command of matters pertaining to you. She bade Jarl do this, and Jarl do that, and Jarl did as he was told. We all did, for that matter. Because we were all in terror of her and of Dru magic. But that is all over now, master, and you are well. And she is dead well, gone at least, because some say that Drus do not die like other people."

  Blade regarded him with a tolerant affection. He did like the man, thief and scrapegrace that he was, and he did not doubt his loyalty. That he had been afraid of the Dru was natural enough even Blade, in his drug haunted dreams, had been a little afraid of her. He thought for a moment of the things she had done to him, then put the thought away. He would not know that sweet sickness again. Just as well.

  "When you speak of Jarl you will speak of him as Captain Jarl," he said sternly. "That is my wish. And now, rogue, pull up the stool yonder and tell me everything that has happened while I have been sick. Everything. Miss no detail. I would come up to date on matters."

  Sylvo took huge pleasure in the telling, embroidering matters until Blade cursed him and swore he had missed his calling instead of a mangy cutpurse he should have been a lying skald, setting his wild tales to music on a lute.

  "In detail," he groaned. "In detail, man, but not so much so! And stick to the proper time of things you leap ahead and dart back like a hare with hounds after it. Now begin again, from the time I fell unconscious until this moment."

  When Sylvo had finished Blade fell into a deep study and stared for a long time out the open port.

  Finally he said: "It has been ten days?"

  "More like to twelve now, master. You have been very ill."

  Blade started to speak, then only nodded. Yes. He had been very ill. Only he knew how ill. And only he would ever know of what transpired for he would never tell a living soul.

  He turned on Sylvo again, warily because the rib that Redbeard had cracked still hurt, and asked the question that he must ask.

  "The silver Dru fell overboard?"

  Sylvo shrugged and rolled his eyes. "What else, master? And none so strange it happens often enough at sea, or so I am told. I am no seaman myself, not of deep water anyway, and I was dreadful sick for two days. It is my thought the the Dru came on deck for air the cabins are not fit for slaves and was swept overboard. Simple enough. But why question it, master. Let us be grateful and "

  Blade silenced him with a hand. "You say the silver Dru had a servant? Another Dru of a lesser rank?"

  Sylvo looked puzzled and scratched himself. "Ar, master. That is the truth of it. Why?"

  "You have too many whys," Blade said curtly. "Leave off and go fetch me this other Dru, this servant. Unless, of course, you are afraid of her also?"

  "I am afraid of her," Sylvo admitted, "but not so much as of the silver Dru. Her glance gave me a gallows feeling, I swear. But the Dru servant will know nothing, master. No use to talk to her. She saw nothing, heard nothing, and anyway she is in a screaming fit such as ordinary women get. I doubt you can make sense of her."

  Blade stared at his man. Obviously Sylvo did not want him to talk to the servant.
<
br />   "Go fetch her to me," Blade snapped. "And no more of your clack or, by Thunor, I will regain my strength on you. No stay and help me dress."

  He decided on the instant. It was time to be up and doing. Sylvo put a fresh dressing on the wound, which was healing nicely, and helped Blade into clean clothes and a corselet, then combed his hair and beard. Blade badly wanted a bath, but there was no water to spare.

  Sylvo clasped the scarlet cloak about Blade's big shoulders and stood back in admiration. "There, master. You are your old self again. Lord Blade. King of the Sea Raiders!"

  "And shall be," Blade muttered, "until we come safe to Voth. Then no more. Now go fetch me that servant, Sylvo. And my bronze axe as well. I want it with me when I first appear on deck."

  Sylvo lingered. "Ar, master. It would be as well. They are a surly lot of brutes, these raiders, and Captain Jarl is hard set to keep them under hand. They know there is no loot in Bourne, and they cry that Voth is too far and King Voth too strong they would turn back and loot Alb. Which is all right with me, for I am all in favor of "

  "Blade, now steady on his feet, moved toward him and doubled up a great fist. "I gave you an order, man! Still you linger and defy me?" He raised his hand.

  "Nay, master. I go." Sylvo backed hastily out of the door. "But I wish you would not do this for you will rue it unless I am more fool than I think."

  Blade, left alone to ponder that enigmatic remark, had still no answer when Sylvo returned with the woman in question. He pushed her into the room and fled without a word.

  The woman stood quietly in the middle of the cabin, her work-worn hands clasped before her. She was thin and stoop shouldered, yet her eyes peered from the cowl at Blade with the bright alertness of a sparrow. Her robe was soiled. Blade guessed her to belong to the lowest, working order of the Drus.