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?”
Faraday knew what he was asking. More than anything else she wanted to run to him and ease the pain in his eyes, reassure him that she still wanted him more than life itself. But that she could not do. “I came here because I wanted nothing more than to be Borneheld’s wife as quickly as possible, BattleAxe. I had…I had no thought that you might be worried for me.” And please Mother let him see the lie in my eyes, she pleaded silently. Please Mother make him realise that what I did, I did for him.
Axis stared at her for a long moment, his wretchedness and misery plain for all to see. He watched Faraday, watched her held within the circle of Borneheld’s arms, watched the knowing smirk stretch across Borneheld’s face and the apparently contented smile on Faraday’s own, and finally he could take no more. He turned on his heel and, pushing past Timozel, walked towards the far doorway, every movement of his body stiff with anguish.
Borneheld’s triumphant laughter followed him out the doorway.
43
THE SKRAEBOLD SPEAKS
Axis wheeled Belaguez around in a tight circle, his eyes scanning the snowfields about them. They had ridden out into the blessedly clear morning some two hours ago and now they were almost two leagues deep into the flat snow plains that stretched north from Gorkenfort. One league further to the north-west lay the River Andakilsa, now so dangerous it was impassable to shipping; Gorkenfort was cut off from the sea. To the north-east rose the Icescarp Alps, much, much closer now than at Sigholt, most of their black peaks lost in the clouds. Axis stared at them, narrowing his eyes to cut out as much of the glare from the flat snowfields as he could. The Alps rose abruptly from the flat plains, the massive mountains scarred with towering cliffs and deep crevices of black rock and ice.
“It is said that life is so barren within the Icescarp Alps that even the rivers are of ice. When I was first assigned to Gorkenfort an old shepherd told me that once he had driven his flocks so close to the base of the mountains that he could hear the rivers groaning and splintering their way through the passes,” Magariz said quietly from behind Axis.
Axis turned around. Magariz had insisted on riding out with him, saying only when both Borneheld and Axis had tried to stop him that it was foolish to send out a Patrol Leader inexperienced in the ways of the snowfields and the wraiths without an experienced backup. His injuries did not hinder him on horseback, although Axis noticed that occasionally he raised a gloved hand to the scar on his cheek.
Behind Magariz rode Belial, Arne and the rest of the patrol, some fifteen men composed of Axe-Wielders and regular mounted soldiers. Axis had been coldly angry with Belial, arguing that his second-in-command had no right to be risking himself too. But Belial merely listened passively to Axis’ arguments, then mounted his horse. Belial had seen Axis’ reaction to Faraday the night before, had known that Axis had spent a sleepless night wrapped in his cloak on top of the battlements gazing silently towards the Icescarp Alps. He’d known Axis felt something more for Faraday than simple attraction, but he hadn’t realised that emotions ran so deep. He was not going to stay behind and eat his heart out with worry wondering if his possibly suicidal BattleAxe would return from his patrol.
Arne had similarly ignored Axis’ protests and his usually dour expression was now frozen even more firmly into place by the cold. For many weeks now, ever since they had ridden out of the Silent Woman Woods, Arne had been driven to protect Axis, to watch his back, to scan the faces of those about him for subtle signs of treachery. He was beginning to suspect many people about Axis, and sometimes his face broke out in a sweat of frantic anxiety if he saw Axis surrounded by too many unknown people.
Borneheld had been deeply satisfied when both Belial and Arne mounted their horses despite Axis’ protests; the BattleAxe’s authority seemed to be splintering about him. Borneheld did not realise that both Belial and Arne disregarded Axis’ anger, and even his orders, simply because they would prefer to die for him than see him die before them. Borneheld would have been hardpressed to expect similar devotion from Gautier.
All the patrol were dressed in shades of white and light grey; even Axis had discarded his usual black uniform for the grey and white of the Axe-Wielders. No-one wanted to make themselves any more conspicuous than possible. All were armoured under their cloaks, even though armour was not always effective against the wraiths. Despite the cold, cloaks were kept well clear of sword hilts and axe hafts. Fingers were constantly flexed within gloves to keep them as warm and as limber as possible. All were tense and alert.
Five of the men carried burning brands. Magariz gave them terse instructions as they rode across the frozen snow, while Axis make sure they were as compact a group as possible. “Fire will sometimes make the wraiths think twice about attacking, but if there are large numbers of them it won’t stop them” said Magariz. “If it comes to a fight, remember this. The wraiths have little flesh and blood, but they are vulnerable through their Artor-cursed silver eyes. Strike them cleanly through those orbs and you will kill them. As pale as they are, when you burst those orbs they bleed red blood as profusely as any man stuck through the gut.”
He paused to let the men absorb this then continued, “And remember, they go for your face and throat, or sometimes your hands and wrists. Those are the parts of you that are most exposed. They smell flesh, and they hunger for it. They have the sharpest teeth, as long and as pointed as the man-eating fish that follow the ships in the Andeis Sea. Once they have fastened themselves into your flesh nothing will save you.”
Magariz watched the unease, particularly among the Axe-Wielders, none of whom had yet experienced attack by these wraiths. “But they also feed on fear, gentlemen. If you can remain calm when under attack then you will have a chance. Do not let yourselves be overwhelmed by panic. Panic, unreasoned fear, will kill you quicker than a spreading fire will consume a swaddled infant left by the hearth.” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Stay calm? A tall order, comrades, when you are attacked by such nightmarish creatures.”
“They seem to be becoming more substantial,” Magariz continued, “as if, having fed on so much flesh and blood, they are recreating their own bodies from those they have slaughtered.” Axis glanced sharply at the man: his words stirred some dim thought at the back of his mind, but it evaded his attempts to catch it. Magariz’s own gloved hand now fingered the hilt of his sword. “Over the past weeks more and more of our patrols have been attacked.”
Magariz was silent for a moment before he spoke again, reluctantly. “But the wraiths are not the worst you will face, my friends. Increasingly bands of the wraiths are led by the creatures that attacked Gorkenfort and the Retreat in Gorkentown.”
They rode silently for another half an hour, each man wrapped in his own thoughts. Artor help those Ravensbundmen still left alive in these frozen wastes, Axis thought to himself. I would not want to venture more than a half day’s gallop any further north from Gorkenfort. He pulled his cloak a little closer, careful to leave his sword hilt free. A soft mist was drifting dow
n from the north, and the wind was now damp as well as cold.
“BattleAxe! Beware!” Magariz hissed suddenly, and Axis glanced at him sharply. The man was rigid on his horse and had drawn his sword; “Remember, they attack from mists such as this!”
Swords rattled out of scabbards and the five men holding the burning brands hoisted them a little higher. The horses skittered across the snow, their riders’ increased nervousness communicating itself to them. Axis tightened his rein on Belaguez.
Something whispered along the wind and Axis felt the fine hair down the back of his neck stand on end.
“Skraelings!” Magariz hissed.
“Tighten your formation.” Axis called calmly. “Back your horses into a circle.”
But both men and horses were now fighting to keep their panic down and the horses were not easy to control now that each rider had either a sword or flaming brand in one hand.
“Magariz, advise me,” Axis said conversationally, as Belaguez jostled against the lord’s own stallion. “Do we attempt to flee, or is it better to stand and fight?”
“Fight,” Magariz said tersely. “The Skraeling wretches want us to flee. If we flee we give in to panic and fear. And then we are dead.”
Axis nodded briefly. “Then we fight.” He suddenly felt very calm. He badly wanted to strike out at something in order to release his own pent up anger and frustration at Faraday’s betrayal in the thrill of the sword thrust and the kill.
Whispers surrounded them, words distorted by the damp mist so that they lay just outside the boundaries of comprehension. Whispers, running along the edge of the wind and into their very souls.
“BattleAxe!” one of his Axe-Wielders cried, fear drifting through his voice despite his attempts to quell it. “They are everywhere!”
The mist thickened about them, enveloping the men and their horses in a grey fog of despair, and concealing the creatures that wanted to kill them.
Battleaxe Page 40