Читать книгу Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy - Sara Douglass - Страница 15

Priam had requested that Jayme and Axis meet him in his Privy Chamber mid-morning, and Moryson accompanied them, to advise the Brother-Leader and swell the numbers of the Seneschal.

The Privy Chamber was one of the largest chambers in the royal palace, smaller only than the Chamber of the Moons. It was lit by narrow windows high in walls which sported as their only decoration the nine standards of the major provinces of Achar. At the centre of the chamber sat a massive round table that, according to legend, was made from a single section of an immense oak tree which had stood on the site of the palace many hundreds of years before.

The moment they stepped into the stone chamber the three men sensed the tension among those present. There were five men sitting at the table, Priam, Borneheld, Earl Isend of Skarabost, Duke Roland of Aldeni and Earl Jorge of Avonsdale. Behind Borneheld stood his lieutenant, Gautier, while Duke Roland’s lieutenant, Nevelon, stood behind his lord’s chair. There were no servants in the Council chamber – unusual, because normally Priam had at least one clerk present to record the discussions and decisions of the King’s Privy Council. Nor was this a full meeting of the Privy Council, which normally contained the nine lords of the provinces and their advisers. The significance of those who were present was not lost on either Jayme or Axis. Borneheld, Duke of Ichtar and WarLord of Achar; the darkly handsome but foppish Earl Isend and the bulky Duke Roland, the lords of the two provinces that lay directly below Ichtar; and the wiry and grey-headed Earl Jorge, a cunning and experienced campaigner with a lifetime of advice to give. This was nothing less than a war council consisting of the most senior commanders in Achar as well as those lords whose provinces would be most affected by any incursions into Ichtar.

Isend and Roland looked visibly relieved to see them enter, as though the previous few minutes had been spent in uncomfortable silence. Borneheld looked darkly resentful at Axis’ presence, Jorge looked impatient, and Priam looked so haggard that Axis wondered if night-demons were invading his sleep as well.

Priam nodded at Jayme and Axis and waved them towards two chairs. Moryson stood a few feet behind his Brother-Leader’s chair, waiting to be called upon if needed.

Jayme inclined his head towards Priam. “My apologies if we have kept you waiting, Priam.” As spiritual leader of Achar, Jayme felt he was the King’s equal and rarely accorded him his tide, something that grated with Priam.

Borneheld broke in before Priam could speak. “Is it necessary for the Brother-Leader’s lackies to attend this Council, sire?”

“Borneheld, the BattleAxe is here at my invitation, and I have no objection if Moryson stays,” Priam said, passing a hand over his reddened eyes. Now that Axis was closer he could swear that Priam had hardly slept the previous night. His face had deep lines carved from nose to mouth, his auburn curls hung loose and unattended, and his clothes had the look of garments hastily thrown on simply to avoid nakedness. Not the fastidious Priam’s normal appearance. Axis grew more apprehensive.

Priam took a deep breath and sat up in his high-backed chair, his hands splayed out on the table before him, his eyes studiously avoiding those of the other men about the table.

“Let us begin, and let us not waste words,” he said quietly. “We all know of the troubles in the northernmost regions of Ichtar, and the reported sightings of the Forbidden by the villagers of Smyrton near the Forbidden Valley. Lord Magariz lost close to ninety good men while on patrol from Gorkenfort this past winter. Whatever attacked them has also devastated the Ravensbundmen. Over the past six months many thousands of them have been moving into northern Ichtar through Gorken Pass. Whatever we may think of the Ravensbundmen –”

“Carrion-eating barbarians,” Eari Jorge muttered.

“– we know they are not cowards,” Priam finished, as though he had not been interrupted. “Attacks on patrols have eased over the past months, have they not, Borneheld?”

Borneheld nodded. “I heard from Magariz last week. Over summer, such as it was, he lost only three men. But over the past two weeks the number of Ravensbundmen moving down from the north has increased dramatically. At the same time the weather is deteriorating badly in the north. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps not.”

“And now winter stands before us again,” Axis said quietly. He looked up from the table where his fingers had been idly tracing the ancient whorls in the wood.

Borneheld stared at him as Priam spoke again, his voice stronger. “Borneheld, you are the only one of us who has been to Gorkenfort. We would appreciate your understanding of what is going on there.”

Borneheld shifted in his chair and deliberately addressed his answer to every man at the table but Axis. “No man has seen anything like this before. A foe who lives and breathes the winter, who has no form or substance, who advertises his presence only with a whisper on the wind. A foe who laughs at naked steel and who has no respect for the bravery of soldiers. A foe who apparently despises a clean kill and who prefers to inflict as much pain as possible; harrying his victim over hours, watching him bleed to death by degrees rather than killing with a clean stroke. The Ravensbundmen say that it feeds as much off its victims’ fear as it does off their flesh. What is it we face? I do not know. All I know is that, no matter the skill, bravery and determination of those who have faced it, no-one has ever killed one of them. If they ever come in force, Artor help us.”

Earl Isend shifted in his seat. “You’ve been sending more soldiers to Gorkenfort over the past weeks, Borneheld.”

“Yes. I have to anticipate that they’ll come back with the winter snows.”

Priam slowly rested his face in his hands on the table, and Axis glanced worriedly at him, but Priam looked up after a moment. His eyes looked even worse. “Do you think these creatures are the Forbidden?” he asked Jayme. “Is this what we face?”

Axis had never seen Jayme look lost for words, but he did so now. “I am embarrassed to say that I do not know, Priam. It has been so long, a thousand years, since they were penned behind the Fortress Ranges and in the Icescarp Alps. Most of the ancient lore regarding them has been lost or is hidden in riddles. But if you want an answer, then, yes, I am afraid to the very depths of my being that these are the Forbidden. What else could they be?”

“Achar, Ichtar, stands in dire peril and you sit there and weep and wail and say, very sorry, but it’s been too long! You can’t remember! Then tell me, Brother-Leader,” Borneheld snarled, half rising out of his seat as he leaned menacingly across the table, “of what use are you when it is my men dying out there in the snow? Do you think mumbled platitudes will stop the Forbidden? Have they forgotten exactly what it is they hunt?”

Jayme flinched, but waved Axis back as he started to rise from his chair. “I feel as frustrated as you do, Borneheld, and I can only assure you that I and the entire Seneschal will do everything in our power to assist you.”

Even Axis, much as he hated to admit it to himself, felt the inadequacy of Jayme’s reply. Moryson shifteds lightly behind his Brother-Leader as if he meant to step forward in Jayme’s defence, but thought better of it as Borneheld glared at him.

Priam held a hand in the air. “There is more I have to tell you, and I have found it hard to find the courage to speak of it.”

Every eye in the chamber fixed itself on the King.

Priam stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, his features looking even more ravaged. “In the early hours of this morning I received intelligence from Gorkenfort. A message, flown down by carrier bird.” Priam glanced at Borneheld, who looked surprised. “Yes, I know Borneheld, normally you would have received such a message, but the contents were so,” Priam paused and his face visibly paled, “terrible, that it was addressed to me personally.”

Roland and Jorge exchanged glances. Terrible news received almost nine hours ago? Why had Priam waited this long to call them together?

“My friends,” and now everyone in the room felt dread pierce their heart, for Priam had never addressed them so before, “four nights ago both Gorkenfort and the Retreat in Gorkentown suffered devastating attacks from creatures such as no-one has ever seen before.”

Both Borneheld and Jayme leaned forward as Priam continued. “Lord Magariz was attacked personally in his quarters. He escaped but was severely wounded and several of his guards were torn to shreds.”

“But how?” Borneheld’s face was a mask of confused anger. “Gorkenfort is impregnable. How could anyone have attacked Magariz in his quarters with no alarm sounding?”

“There is worse,” Priam whispered, and Axis felt a finger of ice trace through his bowels.

“It appears that the attack on Magariz was only a blind for the real attack – a ruse to keep the garrison’s attention focused inwards. A much stronger force overran the Seneschal’s Retreat in Gorkentown.”

Jayme groaned and gripped the top of the table. If these creatures had penetrated into the heart of the highly defended Gorkenfort, then what they could have done in the brothers’ Retreat horrified him.

Priam looked at Jayme. “Brother-Leader, I am most sorry, but most of the brothers were slaughtered as they sought to flee. Only two escaped with their lives. The carnage was … terrible.” He fell silent for a moment.

“But that’s not all.” Priam’s voice dropped to a whisper and his face blanched to a sickly yellow. “It appears that these creatures had two specific purposes in attacking the Retreat. They completely destroyed all the books and records of the Retreat, although that was not their first or main target.” Jayme’s head sank down to rest on the table and his shoulders shuddered once, heavily. “First … first,” Priam’s voice almost broke, and he had to clear his throat; Jayme pushed himself back upright and stared at Priam. “First, they broke into the crypt of the Retreat and … stole … my … sister’s … body. They stole Rivkah’s body. Then they desecrated her tomb with their excrement and the blood and entrails of those brothers they had slaughtered.”

Apart from Priam and Borneheld, all eyes in the room swivelled towards Axis then, an instant later, swivelled away again. Rivkah had been buried in the crypt of the Retreat after she had died giving birth to Axis.

Jayme and Moryson exchanged shocked, silent glances as Priam spoke, but Jayme recovered himself enough to turn to Axis and lay a warm hand on his arm. “My son, I am so sorry,” he said quietly.

So closely was Axis associated with his mother that for a moment no one remembered that Rivkah was Borneheld’s mother as well.

They were quickly reminded. As soon as the words were out of Priam’s mouth Borneheld leapt to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. His hand automatically reached for his sword, until halfway there he remembered that he had left it in the antechamber.

“They stole my mother!” he screamed, his eyes wild, his hand still half-raised.

Axis felt as though Priam’s news had driven a sword through his soul. He was stunned, and for an instant was propelled back into that black nothingness where the demon who claimed to be his father tormented him. He stared sightlessly ahead, oblivious to Borneheld’s reaction, but after a moment he half turned his head towards Jayme and gropingly placed his own hand on top of the Brother-Leader’s where it rested on his arm. “It’s all right,” he murmured.

Borneheld, still with one hand raised, took a step towards his half-brother. “It’s all right?” he whispered incredulously, his face slowly turning dark red. “Is that how you react to the news that some demon-spawned fiends have stolen my mother’s body? Is that all you can say?”

He kicked his chair away from his feet and took a step towards Axis. “Is that all you can say when it was you who killed her and put her in that stone tomb?” he screamed, and lunged around the table past Jayme, grabbing Axis by the throat and driving him to the floor of the chamber.

As the others leapt to their feet Jorge and Gautier dragged Borneheld away while Nevelon held Axis back. Both men had taken punishment, although Axis, at a disadvantage of weight and muscle, came out of it slightly worse. He managed to regain control of himself though and shrugged off Nevelon’s restraining hands, dusting down his tunic coat and wiping some blood from his mouth with the back of one hand. He looked across at Borneheld who had blood streaming from a cut above his eye.

“At least Rivkah loved and respected my father enough not to betray him,” Axis said quietly, his eyes blazing fiercely as they locked with Borneheld’s. “Would that your father had received such love and respect from our mother.”

His quiet words sent Borneheld into a frenzy, and it was all that Jorge and Gautier could do to hold him back from attacking Axis a second time.

“By Artor!” snarled Roland, stepping between the two men, his massive flesh quivering with anger. “Is it not enough that we face this peril from the northern wastes? How can we face outside dangers when we tear ourselves to pieces within?” He turned to Borneheld and abruptly slapped him across the face, sending droplets of blood scattering across the floor. “Is this how a WarLord acts in the heat of battle? What will you do when your foes taunt you across the battlefield, if this is how you react in the King’s Privy Council?”

Roland stared at Borneheld until Borneheld dropped his eyes and ceased to struggle against Jorge and Gautier. Then, belying his bulk, Roland whipped around to face Axis. “BattleAxe!” he snapped, and Axis straightened up from the wall, his gaze challenging. “Such a taunt belongs in the women’s chamber, and if you have to resort to that level of remark among this company then perhaps that’s where you belong!”

Axis’ face hardened, but he held his tongue. Roland stepped back and glanced at both men. “Well. Enough. I would scarcely have expected this behaviour from such high commanders. If you lead men, both of you, then you will have to learn a little more self-control. Am I right?”

There was silence for a moment, then Priam stepped forward. “I think the news was grim enough to make anyone lose their wits for a moment. But the Duke of Aldeni speaks wisely, and I am glad that at least one cool head remains in this room. I fear that over the next few months we will have news as bad or worse, and I think that we should all make the decision now to meet whatever the future holds for us united with all the courage and resourcefulness that we can muster. Now, perhaps we can retake our seats.”

After a moment’s awkward silence, Moryson stepped forward hesitantly. “Sire, if I might speak?” Priam nodded.

“Sire, has there been any report about what kind of creature attacked both Gorkenfort and the Retreat?”

“Yes. The two brothers who managed to escape the slaughter in the Retreat and several guards who rushed to Magariz’s quarters related what they saw. Magariz was attacked by creatures no-one has seen previously, or at least lived to report seeing, while three more of these same creatures led the attack on the Retreat.”

Duke Roland wheezed and grunted as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “And these strange creatures are …?”

“Large creatures, as large as the wraiths but far more substantial. Taller than a man, but man-shaped. They appeared to be made of old bones held together by yellowish ice; with very little actual flesh. Each had a skull of a strange tusked beast for a head, their eyes silvery orbs, beaks instead of mouths. Leathery wings tipped with talons. Frightening creatures. Huge raking claws for hands. And odd bits of white fur stuck over their bodies. Two led the attack on Magariz, three the attack on the Retreat.”

“This is terrible,” muttered Isend, “terrible.” His dark eyes shifted nervously about the other men in the room.

“But what did they want, sire? Was it just –” Axis paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “the body, or was that just a random happenchance?”

Priam shook his head, his eyes haunted. “No. The two brothers who escaped the room where the creatures slaughtered most of the brothers said that they whispered Rivkah’s name as they attacked. It was only after they had taken her body that they returned to the scriptorium and destroyed most of the books and records that were there.”

Jayme and Moryson again exchanged glances. “And the brothers saw the creatures carry off her body?” Jayme asked.

“No,” Priam replied. “They fled to a closet when the Retreat came under attack. They heard the creatures go down to the crypt, then up the stairs to the scriptorium. After destroying the scriptorium and its contents they feasted on the bodies of the brothers. Only after an hour’s silence did the two left alive emerge to discover the complete carnage.”

“Why?” whispered Borneheld. “Why?”

No-one could answer him. Priam spread his hands helplessly. Jayme, his face as white as fine parchment, rested his head heavily in one hand. Jorge looked about him for a moment, then leaned forward, his voice low and intense, but growing louder and more angry with each word.

“I am dismayed by the reaction here in this room, and I am now old enough not to care if I insult each and every one of you in saying that. Is this a war council? Or is every last man of you like the young virgin who, when confronted by a rapist, knows not whether to run screaming or to smile politely and lift her skirts for the invasion?”

Jorge glared about the table, his grey eyebrows bristling with indignation. “Every one of you seems to have missed the point that the greater tragedy would have been if Magariz had been killed or taken. Magariz is the man who currently holds the fate of Achar in his hands. He is the one who, until he can be relieved, must hold these creatures back.”

Jorge leaned still further across the table and stabbed his finger at each of the men sitting there. Now his voice was low and intense. “I am aware that Rivkah was either sister or mother to three of you and I am aware that the loss of the brothers upsets the Seneschal deeply. But Achar faces an unimaginable threat from an unknown foe. We cannot weep and wail over a body that is thirty-years’ cold. Pull yourselves together! Act like men and the leaders of Achar that you are supposed to be!”

Jorge leaned back in his chair, his weather-lined face defiant. He was disgusted with the way Priam had acted. Priam was supposed to be the man to provide the leadership for the whole nation, but had instead sat in his chair and gone into a fugue over the loss of his sister’s body. And as for Borneheld … he had always harboured doubts about Priam’s wisdom in appointing the untested Borneheld as WarLord, and Borneheld’s behaviour today had only deepened them. Jorge shifted his gaze to Axis, who was relaxed back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded.

Jorge spoke again into the silence. “BattleAxe. What is the danger?” Let me see just how good he is, he thought to himself.

“You have said yourself,” Axis replied calmly. “The danger is that Achar is about to be overrun by creatures whom we do not understand and who threaten to break through Gorkenfort’s defences. In a manner of speaking they have already done so.”

“Yes,” Jorge said, “and I think that –”

“And furthermore,” Axis continued, over him, “I think that perhaps Gorkenfort is not the only flashpoint. One of the indications we had that these creatures would renew their attacks was the number of Ravensbundmen migrating down from the north during past weeks. Is it possible that the sightings of strangers about Smyrton, emerging from the Forbidden Valley, is another indication of the same thing? That the creatures who are pushing the Ravensbundmen from the north are also pushing the creatures of the forest south from the Shadowsward?”

Jorge nodded slowly. But Jayme looked anxious and concerned. “But Axis, are not the Forbidden in the Icescarp Alps and the Forbidden in the Shadowsward the same? Are they fighting among themselves?”

“Or is there something stranger still than the Forbidden, stronger than the Forbidden? More frightening than the Forbidden?” Roland asked.

“Damn it, we just don’t know!” Jorge was angry with himself as much as anyone else. “We just have no idea what it is that we face. Now, what are we going to do about it?”

Borneheld slapped the table with his open hand, attracting everyone’s attention. If he had lost his temper earlier, then he appeared cool and decisive now. “We move, and we move fast. Whether or not we face a threat from the Shadowsward or not I have yet to be convinced,” he shot Axis a brief look of simmering ill-will, “but we do know that we face a threat from above Gorkenfort. If these creatures are wanting to move south through Ichtar then they will have to come through Gorken Pass, it is the only way past the River Andakilsa and the Icescarp Alps. There they will run straight into Gorkenfort. Earl Jorge speaks well. This young virgin is not going to run squealing, nor is she going to lift her skirts. We fight, and it is obvious that this winter the battle will be over Gorkenfort. I have moved many units, both of infantry and of cavalry, to Gorkenfort over the past few weeks. That will not be enough. I propose that as it can be organised, and I think it will only take a few days, I will move another seven thousand men to Gorkenfort. And I will move as many of them as I can the fast way. By ship through the Andeis Sea and then up the River Andakilsa.”

“But those seas are unpredictable in autumn,” said Priam.

“And would you have me move them the slow way, by rowboat up the Nordra and then by forced march across the plains of Ichtar? That journey will take close to six weeks and they will be exhausted when they get there. We need to move now, we need to move as fast as we can, and we need the men relatively fresh when we get there. If I commandeer as many ships as I can in Nordmuth then I could be there in under three weeks from the time we leave Carlon. It will take more than a week to organise the units and transport.” Borneheld thought for a moment. “Myself and the greater part of the force can be at Gorkenfort ready to fight by mid to late Bone-month; the remainder of the force can go via the Nordra and be in Gorkenfort in early Frost-month, early Snow-month at the latest. I am ready”

Axis sat up straight and directed a level look at his half-brother. “The Axe-Wielders also stand ready to defend Achar.” He did not want anyone in this chamber to think that Borneheld commanded the only force capable of meeting the threat from the north.

Borneheld started to say something, but Jayme leaned forward and held up his hand. “No, BattleAxe. I think you are needed elsewhere. I am ashamed that I cannot provide Priam and Borneheld with the information that they need to fight these creatures. But there is one place where we might still find the information.”

He glanced at Moryson, who nodded slowly. “The Silent Woman Keep.”

There were nervous glances among several of the other men. Over the past forty generations few men, and certainly none in the room, had ever visited the Silent Woman Keep. The Keep stood solid and dark in the centre of the only remaining forest in Achar, the Silent Woman Woods. Many whispered that although the Brotherhood of the Seneschal preached that all forests were evil, they allowed the Silent Woman Woods to remain simply to protect the secrets of the Silent Woman Keep. Few Acharites would ever willingly venture within leagues of the Silent Woman Woods. And no one professed any curiosity about the Silent Woman Keep or the small band of brothers who kept vigil there.

“Yes,” Jayme agreed. “I suggest that you should reinforce the WarLord by all means, but do so by a circuitous route. Take the majority of the Axe-Wielders and travel to the Silent Woman Keep. Our brothers there have access to ancient records and chronicles from the time of the Wars of the Axe. Learn what you can about the Forbidden. From there, travel on to Smyrton via Arcness and Skarabost to assess the danger. Then,” Jayme turned back to face Priam and Borneheld, “leave some of your Axe-Wielders at Smyrton and travel to Gorkenfort. Borneheld will need both your information and your men if the danger is as bad as it appears.”

Borneheld’s face darkened and he opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Priam. “A sensible plan, Jayme. We need to know more about these creatures.”

Jorge nodded again. Sensible indeed. It kept Borneheld and Axis apart for as long as possible before the likelihood of real fighting in the north. Even going via the circuitous route Axis could still be at Gorkenfort by the beginning of winter. Winter would be the time these creatures struck in force, if they kept to their previous pattern. And, if Artor were with them, then Axis might also arrive with some information about exactly what it was that they faced. Hopefully, once Borneheld and Axis had a real foe to face they would forget their private enmity.

Borneheld did not look so happy about the arrangement. “Sire, my forces are perfectly capable of –”

Jayme broke in smoothly. “And, of course, when the BattleAxe and the Axe-Wielders arrive in Gorkenfort, WarLord, they will be under your command.”

An expression of deep contentment filled Borneheld’s broad face. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. That would be satisfactory. I’m sure that I’ll be able to use your men somewhere, BattleAxe. And yourself, of course.”

Axis turned to Jayme, a look of angry incredulity over his face. The cloth he had been using to wipe his lip was clenched tightly in his fist. “Brother-Leader –”

Jayme took Axis’ arm. “We have much to discuss in private, BattleAxe. Let it rest.” His painful grip belied his genial face.

Axis took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, avoiding Borneheld’s triumphant gaze, his mouth white and pinched. He would rather burn in the everlasting fire pits of the AfterLife before he handed control of the Axe-Wielders over to Borneheld.

“So,” Priam said, relieved that some decisions had been made, “then we have at least made a start. Roland, Jorge, I can count on you to support Borneheld with troops, supplies, and perhaps your own persons and advice? Good. Gentlemen, if we can adjourn for the moment? I’m sure that each of us has enough to keep us busy. Furrow wide, furrow deep, and may Artor guide our steps over the coming weeks and months.”

As the group left the room, Earl Isend caught up with Borneheld and tweaked his elbow. “Duke Borneheld, if I may speak with you for a moment?”

Borneheld pulled his elbow away roughly, annoyed, and walked a little faster. He did not like the foppish Earl Isend very much.

Isend wet his lips nervously and struggled to keep step with Borneheld as he strode down the corridor. “Duke Borneheld? It is about my daughter … Faraday.”

Borneheld stopped abruptly and turned to look at Isend, a speculative gleam in his eye. He’d taken particular note of Faraday when she had been presented to Priam the night before. Most men in the Chamber of the Moons had.