Belaguez stamped impatiently and rattled the bit in his mouth. Axis smiled and patted the horse’s neck, then turned and waved Belial, Magariz and Ho’Demi forward.
“Well?” he demanded as they drew their horses to either side of Belaguez. “How would you solve this problem?”
“I have no experience in sieges,” Ho’Demi said. “The closest I have come is waiting for an icebear to emerge from his snow cavern in the morning. Me? I would sit cross-legged before the gates, spear in my lap, and simply wait for someone to come out.” He waved the problem over to Magariz.
Magariz shrugged. “It is difficult, Axis. You have no siege engines and Burdel has, in all probability, planned and provisioned for a siege.”
“We could sit here and simply wait them out,” Belial said, then winced at the expression on Axis’ face. “And wait, and wait, and wait. We could be here for years.”
You do not know the extent of it, Axis thought, his eyes tracing the flight of the eagle overhead. We are now past mid-Rose-month and I have only three and a half months left to fulfil my contract to the GateKeeper. I can waste but a week or two here at the longest.
Axis was silent, his eyes focused on the tiny figure of Burdel. I shall have to rely on some sweet words to open those gates, he thought. That and a little enchantment.
Axis swung his gaze back to his three most senior commanders. “Here is what I want you to do.”
By evening Axis’ entire army, supply column included, had surrounded Arcen outside the striking range of arrows shot from the city’s walls. The army set up camp as though it intended a long and patient wait, and Axis ordered his own command tent to be erected opposite the main gates into the city. Above the tent floated his golden standard, the blood-red sun blazing in its centre. Axis strode about in the evening light, wearing the golden tunic under the red cloak, loose and relaxed, laughing and joking with those of his commanders who talked with him, one or two of the Alaunt constantly by his side. He was unarmed. From the walls of their city the people of Arcen watched. Axis’ every movement, as that of his army, was noted and remarked upon. Most had admired Axis as BattleAxe, and many had met and liked him when he had stayed in Arcen briefly two years previously. Two or three Arcen-based traders, who had traded with Axis and his force while they were still in Sigholt, were questioned again and again about the man and his army who now besieged Arcen. Three of the men Belial had sent out from Sigholt some fifteen months previously to spread the word of the Prophecy were also in the city. For the past two months they had resided in Arcen, spending most of that time drinking quietly in the city’s various inns and taverns and spreading word of the Prophecy among the townsfolk.
Axis spent a pleasant evening about camp. Azhure, Rivkah, Ho’Demi and his wife, Sa’Kuya, and Belial and Magariz joined him for dinner, the Acharite women wearing brightly coloured gowns and Azhure bouncing a laughing Caelum on her lap throughout the meal. To all intents and purposes Axis was relaxed, confident, and prepared for a long wait.
When they rose in the morning, Axis surprised Azhure by asking her to wear the long black gown she’d worn on the night of the reception in Sigholt.
“You brought it with you?” he queried, and Azhure nodded, puzzled. “Then wear it, Azhure. And leave your hair loose.”
He strode out of the tent and Azhure rose, washed, and dressed as requested. She smoothed the elegant black gown over her hips and rested one hand briefly on her belly. She suspected she was pregnant again, but she had not told Axis. Azhure smiled humourlessly to herself. Undoubtedly she would find herself face to face with Faraday sooner or later, and Azhure wished desperately that she did not have to do it with her belly bulging again with Axis’ child. Faraday would find the idea of a lover hard to accept; a lover pregnant with her husband’s child would be even worse.
Azhure emerged from the tent eventually, feeling slightly silly dressed in the elegant gown, and saw Rivkah standing to one side. Axis had obviously given Rivkah similar instructions, for his mother stood wearing a gown almost identical to Azhure’s, looking every inch the Princess of Achar.
“Azhure,” Axis’ voice sounded behind her and Azhure jumped. “Your bow.” He handed her the Wolven and her quiver of arrows, and Azhure slung them over her shoulder, feeling even more ridiculous. The ring of soldiers, Acharite and Ravensbund, encircling the town stood ready, their weapons hanging loose from their hands, their eyes fixed on the walls before them. Axis spoke quietly to Belial, Magariz and Ho’Demi, then motioned Rivkah and Azhure close.
“You and I are going to talk to the good people of Arcen,” he said. “Rivkah, I want you to address them—take your lead from what I say.”
Rivkah, puzzled, nevertheless nodded in agreement.
“Azhure, notch one of those blue-fletched arrows in the Wolven and try your best to look like a fairy creature yourself. Few within Arcen will have seen such a beautiful woman approach their gates to threaten them with bow and arrow before. Come,” he waved both women to his side. “Let us go and talk to the people of Arcen. Do not fear for your safety, I can protect us from anything they might throw our way.”
There was a stir on the walls as the three figures approached on foot. Here was Axis, looking like a sun god in his tunic and cloak, with him walked two black-clothed women, both handsome, both queenly. What did it mean?
Burdel stood atop the wall close to the bolted gates. He was unnerved, both by the extent of Axis’ army, and by the approach of these three figures. He straightened his back, refusing to let his nervousness show. Axis’ army had no siege engines and Arcen was provisioned to wait out a year-long siege, should that be necessary. Burdel was reasonably sure he was in a stronger position than Axis.
Axis halted some fifty paces from the walls, noting the eagle’s position.
“Greetings, Burdel,” he called cheerfully, and his enchanted voice carried magically about the entire walls and drifted down into the city itself. “It is a fine morning, and a good one to talk.”
Burdel opened his mouth to call down insults but Axis continued before he had a chance to speak. “And greetings to you, Culpepper Fenwicke,” he called, naming the mayor of the city. “I see you standing inside the gates and I would have words with you. Please, would you climb the walls so I can the more clearly meet your eyes?”
There was a collective gasp from the people of Arcen. How could the man see straight through iron-reinforced wood?
Culpepper Fenwicke, a stout grey-haired man of middle years, slowly climbed the ladders to the top of the walls, moving to stand next to Burdel. He had met Axis when he’d ridden his Axe-Wielders through Arcen on his way to Gorkenfort and had formed an instant respect for the man. His respect now deepened tenfold. How could Arcen withstand a man such as this? “It is good to see you again, Axis.”
Burdel muttered an expletive under his breath. What was the fool thinking of to say such a thing?
Axis called back as if he had simply run into Fenwicke in the streets of Arcen on a fair day. “It is good to see you again, Culpepper. How is your lovely wife? Igren?”
“She is well, Axis,” Fenwicke muttered as Earl Burdel shifted angrily by his side.
“I am pleased to hear that. She entertained myself and my lieutenant Belial, who waits behind me, very hospitably on our journey through here the year before last. Now, Fenwicke, I have not much time to spend on further pleasantries and you and I find ourselves in a somewhat awkward situation here.”
Fenwicke spread his hands helplessly. Awkward wasn’t the word for it!
“Culpepper Fenwicke, I speak to you not as my friend, but as the mayor of this fine city. It saddens me to say this, but it appears that you harbour dangerous criminals within.”
The mayor cleared his throat. “Criminals, Axis?”
“Criminals, Culpepper Fenwicke, who may have persuaded you that myself and my army represent something of a threat. Culpepper, I do not want to threaten you or yours. I simply want Burdel. I have pursued him through mo
st of Skarabost and now I finally have him cornered in your fair city. Do not make me destroy your city, Culpepper Fenwicke, for the sake of one criminal and his henchmen.”
Burdel’s hands clenched on the stone battlements. “You are the criminal, Axis,” he shouted. “You are the misbegotten son of the Forbidden! You seek to destroy Achar and the peaceful life we lead within it.”
Axis ignored him. “Culpepper Fenwicke, and you good people of Arcen. I have standing by my side my mother, the Princess Rivkah of Achar. Perhaps she can clarify some of your misapprehensions.”
Axis’ words caused a stir within the city. Rivkah? Alive?
Rivkah, cool and calm, stepped forward. As she spoke, Axis wrapped her voice with enchantments so all could hear.
“Culpepper Fenwicke, I greet you and your good people well. I speak on behalf of my son, Axis SunSoar. Many of you will know of the myths and rumours that surrounded his birth. Many will be surprised to find that I am alive. I did not die in Axis’ birth, as you were led to believe, but was left to die on the slopes of the Icescarp Alps by none other than Brother-Leader Jayme and his adviser, Moryson. They stole my son, and they tried their best to murder me.”
The city stood still, mute with astonishment. The Brother-Leader of the Seneschal? Party to attempted murder?
None disbelieved Rivkah, because Axis had quietly run the Song of Truth-Seeing through the city. The Song forced people to see what was true, not what was false. It was a powerful Song, requiring its user to manipulate a significant proportion of the Star Dance, and it had weakened Axis badly.
“Axis is the StarMan, good people of Arcen. Perhaps you have heard of the Prophecy of the Destroyer?” Most had, because both northern traders and Belial’s men had ensured that the Prophecy was quietly spread about the city. “He is the son of myself and one of the great Princes of the Icarii people—the people who rescued me from certain death. If I stand before you now, it is only through the goodwill of the Icarii people. They do not bring death and destruction, good people, but hope and joy for the future. Axis is no criminal. He acts only for the truth. He is incapable of anything less. He does not seek to destroy Achar and your peaceful lives. He seeks to unite those who have been riven apart. He seeks to create a new land of unity and of lasting peace. A land built on truth, and not on the lies of the Seneschal. Listen to him, for he is the only one who can save you.”
She finished and bowed her head, then smiled at her son and stepped back.
“Good people of Arcen,” Axis resumed. “Earl Burdel is the one who is guilty of trying to destroy the peace of this land. He has ridden his force through Skarabost and has tortured, burned and murdered all those who sought to follow the way of truth. Truth-seekers have ever been persecuted, and none more cruelly than those in Skarabost. Burdel has acted, it is true, under the orders of your King, Borneheld—but his own spite and cruelty have driven him to extremes even beyond those his master called for. Good people of Arcen, doubt not that I speak the truth. See.”
The air in the open space between Axis’ encircling soldiers and the walls of the city shimmered and shifted. Culpepper Fenwicke, as all who stood on the walls, save Burdel, cried and muttered in horror.
Arcen was now ringed by a ghostly circle of crosses and wooden frames. Hanging from each were the torn and twisted bodies of those whom Burdel had ordered murdered. Some had been nailed to their frames, others hung from ropes slung under armpits and around necks, their eyes and tongues bulging as they had slowly suffocated to death.
“See,” Axis whispered, his own eyes gaunt with the frightfulness of it, and his whisper reached into the heart of every man, woman and child within Arcen. Even those within the city who could not see over the walls experienced ghastly visions of their northern neighbours’ dreadful deaths.
Burdel had been responsible for this?
“No,” Burdel tried to shout, but his voice did not rise above a hoarse whisper.
“Listen,” Axis whispered, battling to control the power that was needed to produce these visions, trying to stop it from consuming him completely.
Then, in a nightmare that surpassed even the vision of the bodies strung to die, each of the ghostly images spoke, spoke whatever had last crossed his or her mind as they slipped towards a grateful death.
One whispered the name of his sweetheart, raped and strung up on the cross next to his, dead an hour before him and already eyeless from the attentions of the crows. Another murmured Burdel’s name, a curse before dying. Yet another cried out for his children, burned to death within his home. Another cried Burdel’s name and wished on him the same death as she suffered. One old woman wondered what she had done in her life to die in this manner. A child whimpered and wondered at the gaping hole in her chest where a soldier had thrust a careless spear. Another man whispered Axis’ name and called on him to save him. The woman next to him took up the cry, and soon the entire circle of murdered souls about Arcen were crying Axis’ name, crying out to him to save them, crying out to him to avenge their death.
Axis swayed on his feet, not only from the power that he struggled to control, but also from the horrors that the murdered souls revealed. He had no control over what they said, he could only release what they had actually been thinking at the moment of their deaths. And that flood of thought was horrifying to listen to. Azhure and Rivkah stepped close to Axis, each taking his arm, each supporting him.
“I can stand no more!” Axis rasped, and he let go the enchantment. Abruptly the circle of bodies strung up about the city of Arcen vanished, but their cries and laments seemed to linger in the air and in the memories of the people listening for hours—and in some cases, for years—to come.
Men and women broke down and wept in the streets of Arcen, and more than one of the militiamen standing on the walls had to put his spear or bow aside and turn aside to lean for comfort on his neighbour.
Axis took a deep breath and stood straight. “I am all right,” he said to Azhure and Rivkah, and reluctantly they let his arms go. “Azhure,” he said, “I rely on you now, do not fail me. Take your bow.”
Azhure nodded, and Axis raised his head and spoke again. “Culpepper Fenwicke. You harbour a criminal within your ranks. I ask that you give him and his senior commanders to me. You heard the souls of the people as they died. They cry out to me to avenge their deaths. I can do no less.”
“No!” Burdel shouted, amazing even himself with the strength of his voice. “No! Fenwicke, I am your Earl and overlord. You must listen to me. I order you to listen to me! He,” Burdel pointed a shaking finger at Axis, “can do nothing to us. We are all safe behind these walls. Eventually he will simply go away. Fenwicke, I order you not to listen to him.”
“You are wrong, Earl Burdel,” Axis called. “I have asked Culpepper Fenwicke and the citizens of Arcen to cooperate with me, for my fight and my grievance is not with them. Indeed, I wish all of them well. I do not want to fight them. But know this, Fenwicke, if I am forced to fight I can decimate your fair city.”
Axis indicated Azhure. “I command a force of archers such as you have never seen before. They could mark every man, woman and child within your fair walls. We do not need vision or an unobstructed view to mark with deadly certainty. In the streets behind you there is a cart piled high with baskets of fruit. At the top of the pile is a basket full of overripe melons. The topmost melon has been marked. Watch.”
Azhure, watch with me. See? This is what the eagle sees.
A vision of the interior of Arcen flooded Azhure’s mind.
Trust in me, Azhure, and trust in what the eagle sees. The cart is directly behind the gates. Do you see?
“Yes, I see.”
Then aim.
Almost in a trance, Azhure raised the Wolven. She sighted along the arrow, but she did not see the walls before her. Instead she saw the great fat overripe melon sitting atop the cart of fruit as if the walls did not exist.
Trust in me. Trust in yourself.
Azhure
let fly the arrow, and every man along the walls traced its arc with their eyes. It flew high above the walls, then dropped straight and true into the melon, exploding it in a shower of juice and bright red pulp.
“And so might every head in Arcen be marked, Culpepper Fenwicke. I do not want to threaten you, for, as I said, my quarrel is not with you but with the man who stands by your side. Give him to me.”
I thank you, Azhure.
Burdel struggled and shouted, but Fenwicke was adamant. It had not been the arrow that persuaded him, but the cries of those that Burdel had murdered. If Burdel could do that to the poor people of Skarabost, how long would it be before he turned on the people of Arcen? Best hand him over to Axis SunSoar now. Those few soldiers who came to Burdel’s aid were tied and bundled outside the city gates with Burdel, his two sons and his three surviving commanders.
Axis would let none of them live—not after what he had witnessed. The soldiers were killed instantly with quick blades to the back of the necks. But Burdel, his sons—both of whom had ridden with their father in Skarabost—and the three commanders did not escape so lightly.
“Culpepper,” Axis said, turning away from Burdel for a moment. “You know what I must do.”
Culpepper Fenwicke nodded. “I know. I accept it.”
“Good. Belial, have cause to erect six crosses. These men will die as the people of Skarabost died.”
Belial, his face pale but determined, nodded and walked away. Within moments the sound of saws and hammering could be heard.
Axis turned back to Burdel, who stood stiff and defiant. “Perhaps I should ask you if you have anything to say, Burdel.”
Burdel hawked and spat at Axis. “I hope that Borneheld gut-knifes you and leaves you to linger at death’s door for days as the juices of your bowels slowly poison the rest of your body.”
Enchanter Page 47
