Читать книгу Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy - Sara Douglass - Страница 24

Faraday lay sleepless in her bedroll, listening to her mother’s gentle snores. The night lay heavily upon her, and Faraday felt oppressed, trapped in this tiny tent. She twisted over to her other side and closed her eyes, trying to find sleep, but ten minutes later she was twisting back the other way, eyes wide open again.

She sighed and sat up. What she needed was some fresh air. Quietly, so as not to wake her mother, she turned the blanket of the bedroll back and fumbled in the dark for her shoes. The air was cold, and once she stood up Faraday reached for her heavy cloak to wrap around her nightgown as she slipped through the flap in the tent. Outside she pulled the hood of the cloak over her face. No use attracting attention to herself.

Her tent was right in the middle of the encampment. About her lay the huddled forms of several thousand warriors. Faraday smiled to herself. Under what other circumstances would her mother consent to her bedding down amid so many men? She picked her way carefully through the camp. Clouds scudded across the night sky but enough moonlight broke through for Faraday to see her way.

At the edge of the camp Faraday paused. She had expected one of the sentries to stop her before now. But all was quiet. Not sure whether to go back to her tent, or to go on further, suddenly a glimpse of white in the grass a few paces in front of her caught Faraday’s attention.

“Puss?” she whispered. “Puss?”

She hadn’t seen the cat for a day or so. Perhaps if she took the warm cuddly animal back to bed it would help her to sleep. She stepped past the boundaries of the camp and reached down for the cat. But just as her fingers brushed its back the cat sprang forward a few more steps.

“Puss!” Faraday muttered irritably and walked after it, but the cat jumped away from her again. Faraday was now engrossed in catching the cat. Some time later she looked up and fear gripped her heart for an instant, until she spun around and spotted the low campfires in the distance. She wasn’t so far away, after all. The cat purred about her legs and she bent down and picked it up.

But as Faraday turned back to the camp several dark figures loomed out of the night. She squealed in terror and convulsively gripped the cat to her breast. It squawked with indignation and squirmed out of her arms. She turned to run, but tripped over her long cloak and tumbled down into the grass, skinning the heels of her hands as she fell.

A tall, dark figure bent down over her.

“Get away from me!” Faraday hissed, trying to scrabble out of his reach on her hands and buttocks.

The figure leaned back. “’Tis only me, lady,” a soft burred country voice said. “Jack the pig boy. Won’t do no-one no harm. Jack Simple’s the name.”

Faraday held her breath ready to scream. The clouds thinned over the moon and she caught a look at his face. He was in early middle-age, sparse blond hair tumbling down over his forehead, his skin weather-lined and tanned, friendly eyes over a wide grin. Faraday stared at him, trying to work out what was wrong with his face, then she realised Jack the pig boy had the face of a friendly and completely harmless simpleton. In one hand he held a heavy wooden staff that topped him by a full handspan; it had a heavy carved knob of some kind of dark metal on its top. The other dark shapes behind him resolved themselves into large but equally harmless pigs, staring at her curiously.

The white cat, purring loudly enough to attract the attention of every sentry about the camp, was weaving itself ecstatically around Jack’s legs. He bent down and picked the cat up.

“Pretty puss,” he murmured, “pretty, pretty.” Jack held her in the crook of his arm and stroked her back in long sensual strokes. He had nice hands, long fingers, square fingernails.

Faraday recovered her composure and scrambled to her feet. She pulled her cloak about her again and carefully tried to brush the dirt out of her grazed hands.

“What are you doing here?” she asked harshly, still not completely recovered from the shock he had given her.

Jack looked downcast and shuffled his feet a little. “Didn’t mean you no harm, lady. Taking my friends for a walk, I was. Nice night, yes, for a walk.”

Faraday looked at the pigs. There was a small herd of about fifteen standing patiently behind Jack. They all looked fat and well-fed. Faraday supposed he came from a distant farmstead, and perhaps spent most of his time minding the pigs as they roamed the plains, fattening themselves for market.

“You scared me,” she said shortly, and wished as soon as she’d said it that she had not sounded so petty.

Jack looked contrite, lines of distress creasing his forehead. “M’lady. Please, I meant no harm.”

“It’s all right, Jack. I know you meant no harm. Why,” she said, to turn Jack’s mind away from his guilt at startling her, “the cat adores you.” To be honest, Faraday was feeling just a little jealous of the cat’s attentions to Jack. Up to now the cat had showed a preference only for her or Axis. It had been a tie to bind them.

Jack smiled broadly, wiping away all the worry lines from his face. “Yr, her name is, Lady. It’s been a long time since I saw Yr. Many, many years. More years than pigs I have here. Twice as many, surely.”

Faraday smiled tolerantly at him. The cat had undoubtedly never been out of Carlon before this time, and was certainly not more than fifteen years old, let alone thirty. Poor Jack, he must live in a wonderful fantasy world.

“What are you doing here?” Faraday repeated, although she kept her voice light this time.

“We’re come from the Woods, lovely lady.”

Faraday gaped at Jack. “You’ve come from the Silent Woman Woods? Jack! Those Woods are bad! Don’t you know that?”

“Woods are good, lady. People tell me the Woods are bad, but the Woods and I get along just fine. Pigs can find lots of nice nuts and cones to eat in the Woods. No, no,” he shook his head emphatically, “people don’t know what the Woods are really like.”

Faraday glanced over his shoulder, finally realising just how close they were to the Woods. Worry fines etched her face.

“No, no, pretty lady,” Jack said anxiously as he watched her frown. “No need to be afraid. Let Jack show you.” He took her hand and started to pull her towards the Woods.

“No! I can’t go in there!” Faraday cried. “Let my hand go!”

Jack instantly dropped her hand. “Lady, I mean you no harm! The Woods don’t mean no harm, neither. Not unless you mean them harm. No,” Jack dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “trees’ll tell you secrets, lady. They are magic trees. If you ask them nicely, sometimes they will tell you your future.”

“Really?” asked Faraday doubtfully, her interest piqued nevertheless. What if she could find out her future? Would she see herself surrounded with her and Borneheld’s children? Her husband loving and attentive at her side? Perhaps if she could see that it would still her fears about her marriage. “Really?” she asked Jack again, her tone less doubtful than curious. “How close do we have to get?”

The two creatures that had assumed the forms of Ogden and Veremund paused briefly at the door to the sleeping chamber. Their eyes glowed the soft gold of the lake outside.

“They are asleep,” the one who called himself Ogden said quietly.

“Yes,” said his companion. “They will sleep well.”

They stepped lightly into the room and stood either side of Timozel, curled tightly in his blankets, only his tousled dark head showing. Veremund leaned down and placed his splayed hand and fingers over the man’s face, covering it from chin to forehead.

“Ah,” Veremund said softly. “This one has a good heart, though it is shadowed with some unhappiness.” He shook his head slightly. “He will endure yet more unhappiness and uncertainty. He will have troubled choices.”

They moved on to Gilbert. Both hesitated above him, but finally Ogden leaned down and placed his hand over the man’s sleeping face.

“Ah,” he hissed almost instantly. “I knew I did not like this one. His heart is full of holes and snakes reside there. His mind is a maze, and waits to trap the innocent. He will not be true; Artor has too strong a hold on this one.” Ogden let go of Gilbert’s face with a grimace and wiped his hand down his habit. He looked at Veremund. “What can we do?”

Veremund shook his head sadly. “Our task is simply to watch and be heedful. We cannot act, though perhaps we can warn. Come,” he stepped over to Arne, who lay arms akimbo atop his blankets. “I wonder if he will do?”

He bent down and rested his hand over Arne’s face. “Another good-hearted man. Stolid, and it will take much to change his mind. He will not like what lies around the corner and the secrets that will be revealed. But in the end his loyalty will keep him true. He would follow his BattleAxe to the grave if that is where Axis asked him to go. Yes, he will do well.” His voice changed slightly, and now he spoke directly to Arne. The tips of his fingers glowed slightly golden where they touched Arne’s face. “Good man, listen to these words. One day your BattleAxe will face great danger. Watch carefully those around him, especially those who pretend friendship and profess loyalty. Treachery will dog his footsteps. Watch your lord’s back, good man, and protect him from those who would do him harm.”

Arne moaned slightly in his sleep, and his hands clenched convulsively. Veremund paused a moment longer, then he released Arne and stood up. “It is all we can do. And now …” both turned to look at Axis, “now …”

Axis lay fast in a deeper and more peaceful sleep than he’d had for many months. He looked years younger than he did when awake.

Ogden whispered and looked at Veremund pleadingly. “May I be the one to …?”

Veremund bowed slightly to his companion. “Dear one, we can both do this. If you place your hand thus, and I place mine so, then we can both share this moment.”

He took Ogden’s hand and placed it over Axis’ face, then placed his own hand over Ogden’s, but so that his own fingertips touched Axis’ flesh between Ogden’s spread fingers.

For a long moment both were completely still, their eyes perhaps glowing slightly more golden, as they listened to Axis’ heart.

“Oh, yes, yes!” Veremund whispered, almost ecstatic. “Yes! I believe it is so! Oh! But wait, can you feel it?”

Ogden, his own face close to Veremund’s, nodded slightly. “Yes. The Destroyer already seeks him out. He invades his dreams and seeks to create doubts. He seeks to create hate in his heart. And,” Ogden paused briefly, “oh my goodness! This one has already touched the Sacred Grove!”

“All by himself,” Veremund said incredulously. “It is a wonder they let him live! We must watch over him. Ah, my sweet friend, fate has him firmly in hand. No wonder the Silent Woman Woods let him through unscathed. They had to.”

Both let go of Axis’ face and sat back on their heels at his side.

“And yet there is so much we do not know. My friend, if we can find his father, then we might be able to learn more about the Destroyer.”

Faraday paused nervously in front of the tree. Jack had assured her she would not actually have to enter the Woods, that it would only be necessary to touch the nearest tree. Still, now that she was this close she wondered if it had been unwise to allow Jack to talk her into this.

But Jack was grinning happily. Yr had followed them and now sat watching curiously from a few paces away. She blinked, her eyes bright blue even in moonlight, and Jack’s smile, if possible, became even broader than previously. He turned back to Faraday.

“Lady? Lovely lady, let me take your pretty hand.” Jacks hands were rough and work callused, but somehow comforting. Faraday relaxed slightly. Jack winked at her. His eyes were the most unusual shade of green. Faraday smiled. How could she not trust this simple-hearted man?

“Look, the trees are nervous too.”

Faraday looked startled. “Nervous? Why?”

Jack’s smile dimmed. “Axes, people bear axes. Trees do not like axes. Trees are afraid of people. They do not trust them. Lady, tell me, do you bear these trees ill-will in your heart?”

Faraday looked bemused. “No, no, Jack. I bear them no ill-will. But I feel a little silly about all this.”

“Come, lady. Place your hand against the tree trunk. Here.” He placed her hand on the rough bark, covering her small hand with his own roughened one.

“What am I supposed to do, Jack? How can I talk to the tree and ask it my question?”

“You must talk to it with your heart, lovely lady, not with words. Close your mouth and talk with your heart, with your feelings. Feel the tree, feel what it says to you.”

The man was crazy, not just a simpleton, Faraday thought. Just to please him, she closed both her mouth and her eyes for good measure, and tried to let a stream of goodwill flow towards the tree. Then, just as she was about to step back, her eyes flew open.

“Jack!” she gasped. Something unbelievable had just happened. Just when she had started to relax suddenly she felt another presence, it was the only way she could explain it. She could feel the tree, feel its emotions, in her own heart. The palm of her hand tingled.

Jack smiled, and dropped his hand. Now Faraday pressed almost her entire body along the tree trunk.

“Jack,” she said, her voice breathless with wonder, “it’s singing to me!”

Jack’s eyes filled with tears.

In the Keep, Ogden and Veremund were still crouched beside Axis. As the tree started to sing to Faraday their eyes widened and glowed so bright that the entire chamber was bathed in golden light.

“Dear one!” Ogden gasped, and Veremund groped for his hand. Both were filled with wonder.

“It’s singing to me,” Faraday whispered again. “I can feel it. Oh! It sings such a sad song. Oh Jack, it is so sad!”

Jack stepped close and embraced both tree and Faraday. Faraday began to weep and laugh at the same time, the tree’s song was so sad yet so incredibly beautiful. “They are all singing to me,” she whispered. “The entire forest is singing to me!”

Tears squeezed out of the corners of Yr’s eyes as she watched them. Tree Friend had been found at last. At last.

Jack stepped back a little. “Ask of it what you will, Faraday my lovely lady, and if it can the tree will show you what it can see.”

Faraday wondered fleetingly how Jack knew her name. She had never mentioned it. What did she want to ask the tree? Oh yes, Borneheld.

Tell me of my husband, she asked the tree, asking with her heart, not words.

For an instant the song faltered, then it started up again and an image so vivid filled Faraday’s mind that the night and the forest disappeared entirely from her sight.

But the vision was not beautiful, and Faraday’s face crumpled in despair. She was in the Chamber of the Moons in the palace in Carlon, but now the tables that had been there the night of Priam’s nameday banquet had disappeared. The Chamber was bare, save for several hundred people who stood in a circle around its edges. Their faces were blurry, indistinct, their presence unimportant except as witnesses to the tragedy about to unfold. She felt herself held by the strong arms of Jorge, Earl of Avonsdale; although she strained against his arms to be free, reaching with her arms and hands into the centre of the Chamber, Jorge was too strong for her. She was crying, terrified by what she saw.

The Tree Song altered, became harsher, and images began to flicker rapidly before her eyes.

She saw Borneheld, stepping down from the throne. Two men circling, swords drawn, faces twisted into snarling masks of rage fed by long-held hatreds. Borneheld and Axis. Both bleeding, both stumbling with weariness. Red. Everything was red. Even the silent watchers were clothed in a red veil. A bloodied sun hanging over a golden field. The heat. The heat! Faraday flinched as a gigantic fireball consumed her. Two men circling, trading blows, bleeding. A feather. Many of them, floating about her. The two men fighting. A mother weeping. A scream, as if of an angered bird of prey. Swords, notched with use. A heart, beating uselessly. A golden ring, flying through the air. A scream – hers. “No!” Borneheld lunging at Axis, forcing him to a knee. Music, strange music, as if stone were being dragged over stone. Blood. Blood, everywhere. Dark Man watching, crying with laughter. Axis, on his knees, his sword flying out of his hand and sliding uselessly across the floor. A feather, she felt as if she were choking on a feather. A woman, beating at prison bars, pleading for release. A darker woman at a table, keeping tally, watching. Blood – why was there so much blood? Axis? Where was Axis? Faraday twisted away, gagging in horror. He was covered in blood – it dripped from his body, it hung in congealing strings through his hair and beard. He reached out a hand, then a great gout of blood erupted that covered her as well. She could feel it trickling down between her breasts, and when she looked for Axis all she could see was a body lying before her, hacked apart, and a golden and white form, as if a spirit, slowly rising behind it.

The chamber rang with shouted accusations of murder and treachery.

And all the time, the blood.

She could feel it, smell it, taste it.

Driven to madness by the feel of the warm blood running down her body, Faraday began to scream.

She ripped her hands from the tree and screamed and screamed her horror, almost falling in her distress. Jack grabbed her before she could run away and held her as tightly as he could, muffling her screams against his chest.

“Naughty tree!” he said angrily, glaring at the tree. “Naughty, naughty tree! You made the lovely lady cry.”

Now Faraday was sobbing uncontrollably, twisting feebly to free herself from Jack’s arms. Jack tried ineffectually to pat her back. “Please, pretty lady, sometimes the trees play tricks, yes they do. They show us only snatches of the truth, not all of it. Sometimes they warp what is truth, yes they do. Yes they do!” he said, giving the tree another angry glare.

Faraday finally managed to tear herself free. “It was horrible, Jack. Horrible! I don’t want that to happen ever. Ever!” She started to back away from the trees, tears staining her cheeks, then stumbled. “I wish you had never brought me here, Jack. Go away!”

Then she was gone, flying through the night, her cloak whipping back from her slim form, her white nightgown flapping about her legs. Yr gave Jack a reproachful look and then bounded after her.

Jack watched them disappear into the night, then turned back to the trees. “Well, my friends, I don’t know what you showed her, but you scared her almost to death. Perhaps it was for the best. She needs to be awoken. She needs to have reason to fight. But I hope you haven’t frightened her too much … she is your only hope.”