Axis and Borneheld halted some seven or eight paces apart and stared into each other’s eyes. Axis’ blood-red cloak flapped about his golden tunic, Borneheld wore a regal golden circlet above his gleaming bronzed WarLord’s armour. What would this world have been like, Belial wondered suddenly, if only one and not the other had been born? Both were largely what they were because of the rivalry between them. Would Borneheld have been so hostile to the Forbidden if Axis had not led them? So full of doubts if he did not have the golden rivalry of his brother to overshadow him? Would Axis have been so willing to subject Achar to civil war if Borneheld had not been King? So desperate to reach Faraday if she had not been Borneheld’s wife?
“Well, brother,” Axis said, “it seems the time for treaties and truces has well and truly died.”
“Have you made your peace with your dark and malevolent gods, Axis?” Borneheld sneered. “Shortly you will meet with them face to face.”
Axis forced a smile to his face, and watched as Borneheld’s own face darkened in anger. “Brother, I have asked to meet you this one last time to offer to you again the chance to fight under my command so that we may both repel the invader.”
“You are the invader, Axis,” Borneheld sputtered angrily. “And I am here to repel you.”
“Then it is war, brother? You would prefer that I now move to complete your humiliation?” Axis broadened his smile. “Borneheld, surely you realise that I now control more of Achar than you do?”
“I see the standards of the traitors Ysgryff and Greville flying in the ranks behind you, Axis. What did you offer them to make them renege on their duty to their King and to their god?” Borneheld snarled.
Each new example of traitorous activity drove Borneheld close to despair, and none so much as Ysgryff and Greville’s defection. Why was Artor betraying him like this? Artor? Artor? Do you still listen, Artor? Are you still there?
Over the past weeks Borneheld’s nightmares had got so bad that he hardly dared lay his head down at night. The evil-eyed black-haired witch, a-waiting at her counting table, appeared night after night, beckoning to him with her long white fingers.
Sometimes she held out a begemmed chalice, brimming with water.
During the day Jayme, as his advisers, bolstered Borneheld’s conviction and his belief in himself, but Borneheld wondered if their consciences troubled them late into the night too. And well might they desperately try to bolster my courage and belief, Borneheld thought cynically, because I am all that now stands between them and disaster. My army is the only thing that stands between Axis and the Tower of the Seneschal. Even Jayme has laid aside his ill-temper in the face of Axis’ army.
“Ysgryff and Greville came willingly to my cause,” Axis said, noting the dark shadows under Borneheld’s grey eyes. “As did all my army. Every one at my back loves me, Borneheld, and loves my cause. Can you say the same? I do not have to hire men to fight for me.”
Borneheld relaxed on his horse. At least this Axis did not know. “I have concluded an alliance with the Corolean Emperor, Axis. Hourly there arrive ships from Coroleas bringing me reinforcements. If you think to attack me, Axis, then delay not. Each day, each hour you wait, adds to my strength.”
The only indication of Axis’ surprise was a slight tightening of his hands about Belaguez’s reins. An alliance with Coroleas? Axis had long feared this. The Corolean Empire had massive resources in both gold and manpower—if Axis did not defeat Borneheld quickly and decisively, then he could be bogged down in southern Achar in a disastrous war of attrition for months to come. Not only was there the GateKeeper’s contract to fulfil, but Axis also worried deeply about Gorgrael and his continuing development of the Skraelings. Every day Axis wasted in southern Achar brought the likelihood of disaster in the north closer. Axis glanced behind Borneheld. Jorge and Gautier had accompanied him to meet with Axis—but if Jorge and Gautier were in Carlon, who was left to effectively command the defences at Jervois Landing?
And what had Borneheld offered the Emperor for a military alliance?
Borneheld could read the query on Axis’ face as soon as it crossed his mind.
“Nor, brother. I offered him Nor.”
“Well, I hope the Emperor does not lust too badly for Nor. He shall not have it.” Axis’ smile had gone completely now.
“I doubt we have much else to say to each other, Axis,” Borneheld said, and wheeled his horse away.
“Wait!” Axis’ voice was sharp. “There is someone waiting behind who wants to speak with you.”
Borneheld pulled his horse up and turned as a lone figure spurred its horse forward from the front ranks of Axis’ army.
“Someone you have wanted to meet for a very long time,” Axis added.
A silver-haired woman drew close, slowing her horse. She was very handsome, fine-boned. Borneheld’s frown deepened.
“Rivkah,” Axis said, smiling at her, and Borneheld literally lurched in his saddle with shock. “Our mother wants to speak with you, Borneheld. She wants to see you once more before you die.”
Rivkah walked her horse over to Borneheld and slowly reached out and touched his cheek. Her face was impassive.
“Mother?” Borneheld whispered. Now she was closer he did not doubt that this was his mother. She had Priam’s eyes, and her face was an older version of the portrait of her he had in his apartments. Her memory was almost as important to him as was his devotion to Artor. And now here she sat before him, her fingers running gently down his cheek, her face expressionless, her grey eyes cool.
“Borneheld,” Rivkah said. “I had wondered what my eldest had made of himself. Now here he sits before me.” He was the image of Searlas, she thought, and abruptly she shivered.
As Rivkah remembered how much she loathed his father, her fingers, once gentle, now pinched Borneheld’s cheek sharply, and he pulled away in shock. Rivkah’s eyes had hardened and narrowed so that her gaze was now flinty and angry.
“You murdered my brother, Borneheld!”
“You abandoned me to a cruel and heartless childhood, Mother,” he retorted, trying to turn the accusations against her. “How could you have done that?”
“Easily,” Rivkah said. “I was the one trapped in cruelty and heartlessness. I never cared for you or your father and I revelled in the chance to make a life for myself, a new family, among others.”
“Then be not surprised that I have turned out to be the man I am,” Borneheld said, gaunt and shadowed. “Be not surprised that I have done the things I have done.”
Everyone listening stiffened in shock. Was this an admission of guilt regarding Priam’s death?
“If you do not like what you see before me, then blame yourself. I was not the one who ran away to let me grow unrestrained and unloved in a cold household.”
“I did not abandon you in quite the way you seem to think, Borneheld,” Rivkah said finally. “I was forced from your side to give birth to Axis in a cold and cheerless room. Then my newborn son was hurried from my side and my ears filled with the lie that he was dead. I was dragged, desperate and bleeding, to die on the slopes of the Icescarp mountains. Borneheld, why don’t you ask Jayme and Moryson how I got there? And Borneheld, please pass on to them my wish that we soon meet. There is a small matter of attempted murder that must surely weigh heavily on their minds. Perhaps, before they die, they might wish to confess to both me and their god.” Her face was cold.
“No,” Borneheld whispered. He did not want to be forced to believe the lie that Axis had told him at Gundealga Ford. He did not want to believe that Jayme and Moryson were guilty of trying to murder his mother. But they had planned other murders with ease, had they not?
“I have no doubt that they are men easy with murder, Borneheld,” Axis said. “Are you safe from their plots?”
Borneheld gave a wordless cry and wrenched the head of his horse about. “You ask if it is war, brother? It has always been war between us, and I long for the moment when your death puts an end to our ri
valry and hatred!”
For a long agonising moment he stared at Rivkah, then he booted his horse and galloped back towards his army.
Gautier turned after him, but Jorge hesitated.
“Princess Rivkah,” he said, bowing slightly in his saddle. “I am well pleased to see that you survive and look so well.” He turned back to Axis and spoke but one word. “Roland?”
“Roland is as well as can be expected. He rests easily at Sigholt.”
“Ah,” Jorge said, his eyes far away, then they refocused on Axis. “Axis, if I do not survive this battle, will you tell him that I have valued his friendship above all else during the past few years?”
Axis stared at the Earl of Avonsdale. “Jorge, why don’t you join me? You have heard Borneheld. The man is either mad or a murderer, and quite probably both.”
Jorge thought of his family, his daughters and son and their children. If he spurred his horse to join Axis they would all be dead by morning.
“Ah,” Axis said. “Does Borneheld now have to take hostages to ensure the support of his commanders?”
Jorge’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish you well, Axis. That is a strange thing to say to the commander of an opposing force, is it not? But I do wish you well, Axis.”
“And I you, Jorge,” Axis said. “And I you.”
52
BATTLE EVE
“All lies, Borneheld,” Jayme said soothingly. “All lies. Axis probably now wields sorcerer’s powers, certainly if he now reads minds as easily as you suggest. How much effort would it take for him to conjure a vision and attach it to some strange woman’s face? Now, now, Borneheld. Be calm. Think rationally.”
Jayme looked over at Moryson standing patiently across the room. Both men, as the larger number of the Brotherhood, had taken permanent refuge in the palace in Carlon. That Jayme had been forced to virtually abandon the Tower of the Seneschal to Axis’ army appalled him. The remaining cohort of Axe-Wielders surrounded the Tower, but Jayme doubted they could hold out for long against the forces arrayed before them.
But that was not Jayme’s current concern. Borneheld had come back from his foolish meeting with Axis in a dither about some woman who claimed to be Rivkah.
Jayme squared his shoulders and stared at Borneheld. The man had succumbed to an attack of conscience. Artor damn him! Jayme thought savagely. Why develop a conscience at this late stage of his life?
“Majesty,” Moryson said, stepping forward from his corner. “I can only echo what Jayme has said. Why believe a man who is undoubtedly in league with demons? What has he done for you to trust him? Betray you at Gorkenfort? Send his flying monstrosities to worry you at Jervois Landing? Seduce away some of your most senior—if unreliable—commanders? Why trust a man like that?”
Borneheld looked at Moryson, desperate to believe him. Moryson’s open face and clear blue eyes, his habitually mild expression and soft voice reassured him a little.
“Always before the dawn is the darkest hour,” Moryson continued. “Now is your darkest hour, Borneheld. Artor waits to see if you are capable of leading Achar and the Seneschal through it. Borneheld.” Moryson stepped close now and laid a calming hand on the King’s shoulder. “I bless the luck which brought you to our aid at this moment. Who else could lead us through?”
Well, Borneheld, Jayme thought as he watched Moryson pat the man soothingly on the shoulder, you only live because we cannot find the man to replace you. As yet, my King, we still need you, although I fear that we made a grave mistake in elevating you to such a powerful position. Oh Artor, perhaps we should simply have continued with Priam? The man was a fool, but generally manageable.
A feeling of peace and tranquillity flooded through Borneheld. Yes, Moryson and Jayme were right. How could he have listened to Axis? The man was evil to the core.
Gautier, silent while Moryson and Jayme had reasoned with Borneheld, now stepped forward. “Sire. I have some thoughts regarding our plan of action on the morrow.”
“Yes?” Borneheld asked. It was late, but he did not want to go to sleep. “A plan?”
“Let me explain…” Gautier began.
In another corner of the palace Faraday sat silent while Yr brushed out her hair.
“I can feel Jack, Ogden and Veremund,” Yr said. “They are close. Soon we will be reunited.” She put the brush down. “Although what the four of us can do I do not know. With Zeherah absent, lost, the Prophecy will undoubtedly fail.”
Faraday stood and walked over to the window overlooking Grail Lake. Far away, so far distant that she could almost not see it, she could discern the flickering points of light which marked the first ranks of Axis’ camp.
Since she returned from the Grove Faraday had been consumed with worry about Axis’ feelings for her. He had hesitated when she’d asked if he still loved her. Even then he had really only said he desired her. Faraday’s eyes filled with tears. Borneheld had desired her, and that desire had brought only pain and hate. She wanted to be loved before anything else.
“I thought he loved me,” she said, her eyes on the camp.
Yr put a comforting hand on Faraday’s bare shoulder. “Faraday, sweet heart,” Yr began softly. “He has been away a long time. You have both grown in different directions. Axis has become an Icarii Enchanter—no longer is he the BattleAxe you fell in love with. And no longer are you the girl who stared at him so innocently in the Chamber of the Moons. I have no doubt Axis was astounded to find you so changed. Sweeting, perhaps all you both need is a little peace to get to know each other again. After all, what time have you ever managed to spend alone? What time have you had to get to know each other? Fear not, Faraday. Your time awaits you.”
“Do you think so, Yr?” Faraday turned to the Sentinel, hope illuminating her green eyes. “Do you really think so?” What Yr said made sense. Both Axis and she had undergone their own transformations—but they could soon learn to relove each other.
Another watched the distant camp fires that night as he paced the rooftops of the palace of Carlon. Timozel seethed with fury and resentment. Battle loomed on the morrow and Borneheld insisted he remain behind—remain behind!—to guard Faraday lest some feathered evil try to carry her off.
I am the man of vision, Timozel thought furiously, pacing back and forth across the rooftops, I am the one Artor has indicated should lead the battle on the morrow!
A great and glorious battle and the enemy’s positions were overrun—to the man (and others stranger who fought shoulder to shoulder with them) the enemy died. Timozel lost not one soldier.
“Me!” Timozel muttered and stopped abruptly, his dark cloak swirling about him. “Me!”
Remarkable victories were his for the taking.
And yet thin-faced Gautier would ride at Borneheld’s side, but not Timozel.
“You will lose if you do not let me fight for you,” Timozel said, more calmly now. “Lose. Stay behind yourself, Borneheld, and let me command Gautier and your army. I am the man of vision. I am the man of victory!”
But were his visions wrong? Misleading? Had he misinterpreted them? Was Borneheld, the fool, not the Great Lord for whom he would win so many victories?
His name would live in legend forever.
“Yes!” Timozel muttered ecstatically.
Axis sat, smiling, before the dancing fire, bouncing Caelum on his knee. Every day his son grew more fascinating than the day before. He was talking in short sentences now, and crawling about whenever he got the chance. Only this morning Axis had been forced to rescue him from beneath Belaguez’s agitated hooves.
“Caelum,” Axis whispered into his son’s ear, and brushed back the child’s mop of unruly black curls.
“Papa!” Caelum cried, and then shrieked with laughter as Axis began to tickle his stomach and back.
Azhure, sitting to one side, looked on and couldn’t help but smile. Axis, glancing up, reached across and took her hand. “Azhure, let us not go into battle distanced as we have been. Do you want to re
consider your decision to stay with me?”
“No,” she said softly. “I do not want to reconsider my decision, Axis. But I fear it. I fear the future very much.”
“Mama!” Caelum reached out both arms for Azhure. “Azhure!”
Caelum had never called Azhure by her given name previously, and Azhure laughed in sheer delight, dropping Axis’ hand to lift their son into her arms. “Azhure!” Caelum cried again, and spoke to his mother with his mind as well. I will never forget your name.
Azhure’s eyes filled with tears as she hugged Caelum.
“Why should he say that?” Axis asked. Caelum’s words had sounded in a faint echo through his mind as well.
Caelum turned and regarded his father solemnly with his great blue eyes. Because Azhure has forgotten her mother’s name, she fears that one day I shall forget hers. She fears that as we both live on far past her own lifespan we will forget her name as her bones crumble into distant memory.
Axis’ mouth dropped open, astounded both by the length of his son’s thought and by his perception, and he lifted his eyes to Azhure. Was that what was wrong?
“Faraday will live with you, Axis,” Azhure said. “You will both live into legend, as will Caelum. Eventually you will forget me. Am I mentioned by the Prophecy? No. Yet Faraday is the wife who will hold her husband’s slayer in joy at night.”
“By all the gods that walk the distant paths of the stars, Azhure, I will never forget you! I swear it!”
Nor will I forget, Caelum whispered into her mind. Nor I.
“It is why I fear the future with you, Axis,” Azhure said. “Because, in the end, I will not share the future of either you or my son. Faraday will, but I will not.”
Caelum turned an accusing eye on his father. Who is this Faraday?
“You may say now that you love me, Axis, and that Faraday must share you with me. But in short years she will have you all to herself. Will she accept me? Why not? She knows she will probably outlive me by hundreds of years. She controls almost as much power as you do. And if I have learned one thing over these past two years, it is that use of such power extends life far beyond what is considered usual in Achar.”
Enchanter Page 52
