Читать книгу Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy - Sara Douglass - Страница 22

An hour after dawn the small group breakfasted and took their horses not fifty paces from the Silent Woman Woods. A biting wind blew over the land and they all shivered inside their cloaks. The horses shifted uneasily, the nervousness of their riders transmitting itself to them. Belial stared at the path leading into the Woods.

“It won’t be wide enough for two of you to ride abreast, sir.”

Axis sat still and silent, then said, “How far in is the Keep, Gilbert?”

Gilbert looked discomforted. “I’m not completely sure, BattleAxe.”

“I thought you knew most things, Gilbert,” Axis said dryly. “You do know exactly where the Keep is, don’t you?”

Gilbert’s face splotched a patchy red in embarrassment. “At the end of the path, BattleAxe.”

Belial swore under his breath. “Is that all you’ve got to say, you useless lump of …”

“Belial,” Axis said mildly, “it is not a good thing to curse the Brotherhood of the Seneschal. If Gilbert says the Keep is at the end of the path, then the Keep is at the end of the path. Of course, it might help if Gilbert knew how long this Artor-forsaken path is, wouldn’t it, Gilbert?”

Gilbert swallowed. He wished he were back in the Tower of the Seneschal. “We have not had any communication with the Keep for some time, BattleAxe.”

Axis frowned. “Jayme said he was going to send a rider in to tell them we were coming.”

“The Brother-Leader sent a rider, it is true … it’s just that he hasn’t come back out again.”

All the men shifted nervously now. Timozel and Arne, the youngest men present, traded frightened looks and fingered their axes.

Axis remembered how unsure Jayme had seemed about the records the Keep contained. “And just how long is it since the Brother-Leader has heard anything from the Keep, Gilbert?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes skyward, as if he found something terribly interesting among the clouds. His skin was pasty-white in the dawn light. “Thirty-nine years.”

“Thirty-nine years?” said Axis incredulous. “Gilbert, how does anyone know there is a Keep in there? Jayme told me that Brother Ogden was chief Brother in the Keep. How does he know that if there’s been no communication for thirty-nine years?”

Arne, a dour-faced and dark-haired man, chuckled suddenly in grim humour. “Because that’s who the Seneschal sent to take charge thirty-nine years ago, BattleAxe!”

Axis stared at Gilbert. “Is that right?”

Gilbert nodded unhappily. “The Brothers are an uncommunicative lot,” he muttered.

Axis swore under his breath. Why hadn’t Jayme told him this? “Belial. If we’re not out in three days, send in a party after us. If that party doesn’t come out within three days, then send no-one else in. Break camp and go back to Carlon. You can tell Jayme that if anyone else has to go back into the Woods then it will have to be him. And if he doesn’t want to go into the Woods, then he can go and stop the Forbidden at Gorkenfort.”

Belial nodded and backed his horse off a little. “May Artor keep and hold you in His hand, BattleAxe.”

“Now and forever,” the others muttered.

Axis turned to the other three. “Arne, Timozel, are you ready?” They nodded. Axis turned to Gilbert. “Brother Gilbert, you may take the lead. Your prayers might help to keep the demons at bay. Timozel, you follow me; Arne, bring up the rear. Are you ready, Axe-Wielders?”

“We follow your voice and we are ready, BattleAxe!” Timozel and Arne shouted.

“Then let us ride,” Axis cried and spurred Belaguez into a gallop.

Belial stood and watched them until they disappeared into the gloom of the Woods, then he slowly turned his horse. He would set guards by the trail night and day until his BattleAxe came back. Halfway back to camp he came across Faraday standing alone in the waving grass, watching the spot where the riders had disappeared.

The men slowed their horses to a walk once they entered the Woods. Within thirty paces of the tree line they were completely lost in gloom. Every man sat straight and tall in the saddle, eyes shifting constantly from side to side, expecting attack at any moment. They could hardly conceive of a world where there were no wide-open spaces, where the sky was not instantly visible. The three Axemen had pulled their swords from their weapon belts and held them at the ready. Gilbert occasionally whimpered in fear and would have stopped had not Axis kept Belaguez pressed against his horse’s rump.

The gloom and the silence enveloped them. Not even birds called from the trees. About one hundred paces in, Timozel abruptly cried out from behind. “BattleAxe!”

Axis pulled Belaguez to a halt and whipped around in the saddle. “What is it?”

Timozel was bent double, half out of the saddle as he leaned further and further down his horse’s offside. “It’s my axe!” he gasped, “it’s …”

Now Axis could feel it too, a massive weight hanging down by his right hip as if a gigantic hand had seized his axe by the haft and was pulling it towards the ground. He grunted and tried to pull the other way, but whatever had hold of his axe was too strong. The next moment he was pulled out of his saddle, and though he desperately grabbed the pommel he felt himself being dragged inexorably to the ground. Axis heard Gilbert cry out in horror, but he had no time to see what was wrong with him. The pressure on his axe increased – whatever invisible hand had hold of the haft was unbelievably strong – and, an instant after he heard Timozel hit the ground, Axis was pulled completely out of the saddle himself and hit the ground so hard that his breath was knocked out of his body.

Axis unbuckled his weapon belt to free himself of his axe almost as soon as he hit the ground, and the instant it was free he felt the immense pressure disappear. He jumped to his feet. Timozel and Arne lay struggling on the ground nearby, their horses a little further down the track, milling in confusion. Axis almost lost his footing as the ground swayed underneath his feet.

“Tim … Arne … unbuckle your weapon belts!” Axis shouted, stumbling in his efforts to reach his men still writhing helplessly on the ground. Timozel had been pulled halfway into the ground and Axis bent over him, the ground heaving beneath his feet, desperately trying to help Timozel free himself from his axe. Finally the weapon belt dropped free and Timozel grunted in relief. Axis hauled him to his feet then bent to help Arne, who had also unbuckled his weapon belt. All three turned to look for their axes, but the ground was heaving and buckling even more violently and their axes had completely disappeared underneath the loose covering of leaves and pines needles that littered the surface.

They all stepped back several paces to where the ground was firm, legs shaking. “Artor save us!” Arne gasped, “they would have taken us with them!” For a few heartbeats longer they stood, swords in hand, chests heaving as they fought to recover their breath, watching the ground where their axes had disappeared, hardly able to comprehend what had happened. After a moment the ground settled down until even the leaf litter had ceased to shift. They exchanged frightened glances. What sort of place was this where the forest could eat axes? How could they fight the very earth itself?

“I wonder whether the rider that Jayme sent was wearing an axe,” Timozel said quietly, his youthful face ashen. “And if he was, I wonder if he got his weapon belt off in time.”

“And how many others are buried under the earth in this spot,” Arne whispered.

That thought didn’t bear thinking about, and Axis battled to regain his equilibrium. “Get back on your horses. I for one am going to feel a lot better with Belaguez underneath me again.”

Gilbert rode back as the others remounted. “What happened?” he asked.

Axis swung into Belaguez’s saddle. “We have been deprived of our axes, Brother Gilbert,” he said, a lot more calmly than he felt. “We must hope that the forest does not eat us as well. Ride on.”

Nothing else troubled them for the rest of the long ride, although the forest loomed still and dark around them and they were all tense and jumpy, snarling at each other whenever a twig snapped under hoof or a low-slung bough scraped at a head or a shoulder. Hands lay slippery with sweat on the hilts of swords, but the three Axemen were unwilling to wipe their hands along their cloaks in case the demons, or whatever other dark fiends inhabited these Woods, chose that moment to attack.

After they had been in the saddle almost eight hours, the ground started to drop away underneath them, and they had to rein their horses back on the increasingly steep path in case they slipped and fell. An hour later Gilbert pulled his horse up and turned back to Axis, his face now so weary that deep lines of fatigue scored his pimply cheeks and forehead.

“BattleAxe,” he waved ahead sketchily. “Water.”

Axis peered through the gloom. Although it was difficult to see very far ahead, he could see a glint of water. “Keep going,” he said. “The sooner we find somewhere to rest and eat the better.”

“If we find somewhere to rest and eat,” he heard Timozel mutter. Axis hefted his sword in his right hand, almost dropping it as his fingers cramped, and leaned further back in the saddle as Belaguez slipped a few paces down the slope. Artor, he thought, if we don’t get some rest soon we’ll have to lie down here in the very path.

And if we do that, will the ground swallow us as easily as it swallowed our axes?

Almost as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Gilbert’s horse jumped a small obstacle and landed on level ground, Gilbert only managing to keep to his saddle by the most strenuous effort. Forewarned, Axis gripped the saddle with his knees just as Belaguez leaped across a small stream; he called a warning back to Timozel and Arne. The path broadened and flattened ahead and all four men allowed themselves a deep breath of relief at the increased space, Gilbert taking the first opportunity he’d had to rein his horse back from the lead position. Axis kneed Belaguez forward.

“The trees thin ahead,” he said. “There’s a lake.”

A few moments later they had reined in at the shore of one of the most incredible sights they had ever seen. The entire forest sloped down into a deep circular basin, the mass of grey-green trees ending abruptly at the edge of an almost perfectly round lake. But it was the water itself that caught the party’s attention. It shone a soft, gentle gold in the late afternoon light.

Axis turned to Gilbert. “Did you know this was here?”

Gilbert shook his head slowly from side to side, not taking his eyes from the water.

“It must be enchanted,” Axis said flatly. “Water isn’t gold.”

“Perhaps it isn’t water,” said Timozel softly, making the sign of the Plough to ward off evil.

“Look,” said Arne, pointing with his sword. “It’s the cursed Keep.”

The Keep sat virtually at the lake’s edge, about a quarter of the way around, built of pale yellow stone that reflected the glow from the water. Its smooth cylindrical stone walls rose some thirty paces into the air, the walls only occasionally broken by narrow dark windows. It looked to be completely deserted.

“Well,” Axis spurred Belaguez forward, “let us go find this lost tribe of brothers, shall we?”

The horses slipped and slid their way around the lake’s edge, finally reaching the Keep just as the last rays of sun disappeared behind the tops of the forest trees. The Keep looked even more deserted closer up, and the men began to feel uneasy. No-one wanted to spend the night outside in this damned forest.

Axis kicked his stallion up to the barred door and brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on it three times. “Open up in the name of Artor!” he shouted. “We have need of food and rest.”

Nothing happened. Timozel and Arne exchanged looks, and Gilbert groaned quietly. Axis thundered at the door again, then edged Belaguez backwards a few steps so he could gaze up at the impassive stone walls.

“Damn you, open up,” he whispered.

A small trapdoor at eye level in the barred door suddenly swung open. “Well?” a scratchy voice demanded.

Axis felt relief wash through him. He half fell from his saddle and staggered stiffly up to the door.

“I am Axis, BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders. These are my two companions, Arne and Timozel, and Brother Gilbert, assistant and adviser to the Brother-Leader, Jayme.” There, he thought, let him think about that.

A pair of suspicious grey eyes darted back and forth across the group. “No, you’re not, and no, he’s not,” he said abruptly, and slammed the trapdoor shut in Axis’ face.

“What!” Axis hammered at the door again in angry frustration. “In the name of the Seneschal, open up!”

The trapdoor popped open again. “You’re not the BattleAxe,” the scratchy voice said belligerently, “Fingus is.” The grey eyes shifted to Gilbert. “And he’s not adviser or whatever to the Brother-Leader. I am.”

The trapdoor slammed shut again.

Axis leaned wearily against the door, rubbing his hand over his eyes in exasperation. Fingus had been BattleAxe decades ago. These men had received no news from beyond the borders of the Silent Woman Woods for the past thirty-nine years.

He somehow raised the strength to hammer at the door again.

“Go away!” the voice called from behind the door.

“We are hungry, we are tired, and we need some where to stay the night,” Axis said in what he hoped was a reasonable tone. “Please, will you give us aid?”

Finally there was the sound of bolts being pulled back and Axis stood up straight, just in time to avoid falling over as the door swung inwards. A short, plump Brother of about seventy stood there, suspicion darkening the grey eyes in his round, cherubic face. Wispy white hair surrounded his head like a halo. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place,” he said irritably. “Come in, come in.”

Timozel took the horses and tied them up loosely to a row of iron rings in the wall of the Keep, then he followed the others inside. The irritable Brother slammed the door shut behind him.