Enchanter

by Sara Douglass

  A step behind Axis made them all start. Belial squatted by Axis, knowing as he did so that he was intruding. “Axis, Ho’Demi wants to speak with you, as does FarSight. Can you join us? Azhure? We need to speak about tomorrow.”

  “You go ahead, Axis,” Azhure said flatly. “I’ll give Caelum to

  Rivkah and then join you.”

  Axis caught her hand as she rose. “We’ll talk later, Azhure.” “Yes,” Azhure said, knowing that there would be no time later.

  Not this battle eve. “Yes, we’ll talk later.”

  Far to the south, eight massive Corolean transport ships, carrying almost five thousand men, approached the mouth of the Nordra River at Nordmuth.

  “From Nordmuth we’ll be able to row to Bedwyr Fort by dawn,” the first mate of the lead ship remarked to his captain.

  “Good,” the captain grunted. “Borneheld has promised me a fat bonus if we reach him two hours before dawn. I suggest if you want your slice of it you go down to the oarsmen and make sure that they understand it’s certain death for them if they do not put their backs into it.”

  The first mate chuckled with his master and patted the pilot on the back as he prepared to go below deck. “Make sure you do not run us atop any sandbars, my friend. I have gambling debts that need resolving.”

  The pilot grimaced. “My eyes shall not leave the waters before us. I have no wish to be stuck atop a sandbar with yourself and your captain for company.”

  Of course, it might have been helpful if the Corolean transports had posted guards at the stern of the ships as well, for there was more in the dark of the night at their backs than they had bargained for.

  53

  THE BATTLE OF BEDWYR FORT

  They stood around the camp fire in the dark hours before dawn, sipping hot tea sweetened to calm nervous stomachs.

  “How do you feel, about to go into battle against your own countrymen?” FarSight CutSpur asked Belial and Magariz.

  “None of us like it, FarSight, but what can we do? Besides,” Magariz’s dark face relaxed a little, “most of my countrymen stand with Axis, not Borneheld. Of Borneheld’s forces, some half, perhaps even more, are Coroleans.”

  Belial nodded and sipped his tea. “At least. It’s some consolation that Borneheld must bolster his forces with foreign troops. Axis, do you know if the remaining cohort of Axe-Wielders fight with Borneheld?”

  That was what Belial most feared, coming face to face with a friend on the battle-field.

  “They are still at the tower,” Axis said. He was dressed, as were all about the camp fire, in light armour over tunic and breeches. The blood-red sun blazed from his chest plate. “The eagle flew over the tower late yesterday evening and the Axe-Wielders were still there then. I doubt Borneheld will use them. No doubt the Brother-Leader will want to hold on to what remains of his Axe-Wielders for his own defence.”

  He looked about the camp fire. All the major commanders had joined him, and they represented the variety of races and beliefs who had, over the past twenty months, swung behind his standard. Belial and Magariz, his most senior commanders—the men who’d brought him the core of his army. FarSight CutSpur, senior commander of the Icarii Strike Force, with two of his Crest-Leaders, HoverEye BlackWing and SpreadWing RavenCry. Ho’Demi, looking alien and exotic with his tattooed face, a collection of knives and swords bristling from his leather armour. He had tied his long black braids back today so that an enemy could not use them as a handhold, but they were as full of blue and green glass and chimes as ever. Ho’Demi stood close to Baron Ysgryff, who had abandoned his silks and damasks for the full armour of his force of mounted knights. His helmet was still lying on the ground to one side, but otherwise Ysgryff was fully caparisoned in metal armour, burnished and bright, and bearing the baronial crest of his family. The Baron looked both comfortable and dangerous in his armour.

  Azhure stood with a light coat of chain mail over her tunic. Her hair, too, was tightly bound back, and covered with a close leather cap. The Wolven and a quiver of arrows were slung over her back, and at her feet lay Sicarius, the rest of the Alaunt lying a few paces beyond the light of the fire. Even the dogs wore light chain mail. Axis hoped they would be one of his most potent weapons this day. A surprise for Borneheld.

  Axis’ eyes flickered back to Azhure, trying to catch her eye. They had not found the time to resolve their problems last night. Axis had stayed late talking with senior and unit commanders, and Azhure had been busy with her archers. When he’d returned to their bedrolls, he’d found her asleep.

  Caelum was with Rivkah, safe with the supply wagons far to the rear and with several reserve units to guard them. If the battle went badly, their orders were to take the wagons and flee to the Silent Woman Woods—the Woods would protect the remnants of Axis’ family and force against anything Borneheld could throw at them.

  Azhure, I love you.

  And for how long?

  Axis flinched a little. Stay safe today.

  And you, Axis. And you.

  “Borneheld has his forces grouped about Bedwyr Fort,” Axis said to the group. “He will not come to us, but will wait for us to attack him.”

  “Will Borneheld conduct the battle from the fort?” Ho’Demi asked.

  “No,” Axis answered. “No, I do not think so. Bedwyr Fort is old and full of holes. It was once vital for the protection of Achar, guarding the approaches to Carlon and Grail Lake, but over the past several generations it has been left to decay. Its main defences and fortifications face the river, not the plains, and it will be vulnerable to Icarii attack. No, I think Borneheld will fight with his men. My friends…” Axis paused, and the group about the fire looked at him.

  “I have a request. No. An order.” He looked up and all could see that his eyes burned strangely. “Borneheld must not die on the battlefield today.”

  “What?” Ysgryff exclaimed. Axis had told him about Borneheld’s promise to the Coroleans and he was appalled. Borneheld meant to give the Corolean Emperor the province of Nor?

  “I cannot say much, but I have certain obligations, both towards the Prophecy and towards other…allies…who have given me aid. Borneheld can only die with Faraday present.”

  Azhure stiffened. Kill Borneheld before Faraday? What could Axis be thinking of?

  “I cannot say why,” Axis said, aware of Azhure’s shock. “But believe me when I say it is important. Faraday must still be in Carlon—even Borneheld would not haul her out to the battlefield, so I have no doubt that eventually I must chase Borneheld back to the royal palace in Carlon itself. Understand?”

  Axis was clearly ordering, not requesting, and all nodded stiffly.

  Belial broke the awkward silence that had descended. “Borneheld has chosen badly to fight about Bedwyr Fort. He will have himself and his army trapped in the triangle of land between the Lake, the river and our army.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Axis replied. “If extra Corolean transports sail up the river—and I believe that late last night there were some eight approaching Nordmuth—then they can easily disgorge their load behind our lines once we move in to attack Borneheld. We will have to be careful. Watchful. FarSight, are your farflight scouts keeping an eye on the river?”

  FarSight nodded. “They are already in the air, Strike-Leader.”

  “Then today we reforge Tencendor. After today, I hope, Gorgrael will be my only enemy.”

  And WolfStar? he thought. Where are you? What do you plan this day? What surprises will you spring?

  FarSight nodded. “Today we fight to restore Tencendor. It will be a great day, Axis. A great day.”

  Axis stared at the Senior Crest-Leader. “Then perhaps it is time to launch your strike, FarSight. Time to loose the Icarii Strike Force on Borneheld of Achar.”

  Axis intended to use the Strike Force on Borneheld’s army as he had used it in the passes of the Bracken Ranges against Burdel. But Borneheld’s army had a large number of soldiers who had seen battle at Jervois Lan
ding—and who had seen the Icarii Strike Force in action against the Skraelings. Watch had been kept for the Icarii Strike Force, and even though they were not spotted until they were virtually upon the army, as soon as the cry went up, “Ware! Above!”, men reached for shields in a well-practised manoeuvre and raised them above their heads, creating a ceiling of steel over the tightly grouped ranks of Borneheld’s army.

  Some were not fast enough and some did not keep their shields close enough together, but overall the Icarii strike did not have the same devastating effect on Borneheld’s army as it had had on Burdel’s force.

  Borneheld had arranged his army in much the same manner as he had his defences at Jervois Landing. Most units were well dug into trenches that would, Borneheld hoped, direct the flow of Axis’ army into traps and trenches that would break the legs of their horses and, eventually, the hearts of their riders. Numerically his army was some five to eight thousand less than Axis’ army, but Borneheld knew he had the advantage of being the defender.

  Borneheld, relatively safe in a hastily erected command tent (well protected from above with several layers of thick canvas) surveyed the maps of his defences one more time.

  “The transports?” he asked Gautier. Both men, as all within the command tent, were heavily armoured and weaponed.

  “They sailed through Nordmuth late last night, Sire,” Gautier replied instantly. “And they are currently anchored on the Nordra midway between Bedwyr Fort and Nordmuth awaiting your orders.”

  “And the smaller boats?” Borneheld said

  “Ready to sail, Sire,” Gautier replied. “Axis will die today, along with his malformed crew.”

  “I surely hope so,” Borneheld began, then stopped and listened, his entire body tense. “What is that?”

  A sound like heavy rain permeated the command tent.

  Gautier listened. “It is the sound of the Forbidden’s arrows raining uselessly down on the shield ceiling covering your troops.”

  Borneheld clenched his fists and pumped them into the air. “It has begun!” he shouted, his eyes bright.

  All he felt was relief. At last, the end to his rivalry with his brother.

  The Battle of Bedwyr Fort began with the Icarii Strike Force attack on Borneheld’s army and dragged its bloody way through the day. For hours men—and women—fought and died until the western Plains of Tare were stained bright with the blood of the dead and the dying.

  Axis had been disappointed but not overly surprised by the relative failure of the Icarii Strike Force to cripple Borneheld’s army. Borneheld was a far superior commander to Burdel and he also had the benefit of having watched the Icarii Strike Force in action above Jervois Landing. As the Strike Force flew back over Axis’ lines—there were no casualties apart from one birdman who had suffered a crippling wing cramp and had fallen to his death among the Corolean soldiers—Axis began to move his mounted units forward. He already knew about Borneheld’s trenches and traps, and was wary of moving his mounted units too deep into the lines of trenches; Ysgryff’s mounted knights he kept to the rear to use only if he could tempt Borneheld’s soldiers out of their trenches.

  It would have to be a combination attack on the front trenches by mounted men, foot soldiers—both spearmen and pikemen—and the Icarii Strike Force. The entrenched soldiers would not be able to maintain their shield defences against the Icarii and repel a ground attack as well.

  In the end Axis did as he had against the Skraelings in the WildDog Plains. Rather than move against the entire line of trenches, Axis made small, concentrated attacks from both ground and air forces. He chose his sites carefully, surveying the system of trenches from above through the eagle’s eyes, and attacking those areas he thought would later provide vulnerable holes in Borneheld’s front lines.

  At those sites Axis selected, initially some nine, he sent the mounted archers in first, protected by the Strike Force. Both the mounted archers, whether those under Azhure’s command or Ravensbund archers, and the Icarii archers let loose their arrows—and up would go the shield defences. As soon as the troops were committed to maintaining their shields above their heads—and the shields were so large and heavy it took two arms to do it—Axis would send in the spearmen and pikemen…and the Alaunt.

  The Alaunt had been instructed by Azhure to go for the commanders. At each point of attack three or four Alaunt would spring into the trenches, unerringly leaping for the throats of the two or three senior commanders within the immediate area. They created confusion and sometimes hysteria; not only did they kill the commanders within moments of entering the trenches, but their snarling and snapping confused and terrified the soldiers. Shields dropped as men reached for swords to deal with the hounds, and as shields dropped arrows rained down from above, and spearmen and pikemen closed the gap between their ranks and the trenches and thrust their weapons into the muddle of leaderless soldiers.

  Always the Alaunt leapt out of the trenches the instant before the arrows, spears and pikes flashed down. Always they leapt out unharmed.

  They had the devil’s own luck.

  It was a slow and cumbersome method of attack, but by mid-morning Borneheld could clearly see that one by one, the front trenches were collapsing. It might take a day, even two, but Axis would eventually work his way through the entire trench system.

  “We can’t defend ourselves from simultaneous attack from above and ground-level,” Borneheld growled. “Why doesn’t the damn coward send his entire force to attack us?”

  It was clear that Axis was determined to win this battle, and he wasn’t going to win it by leading his army into a death trap.

  “We have no choice,” Borneheld finally said. “If Axis will not come to me, then I will have to go to him. I want this resolved today. Today.” He turned to Gautier. “Send the orders, Gautier. Mount up. This battle will be fought one against one across the plains of Tare.”

  “The Icarii?” Gautier asked, so forgetting himself he gave the Forbidden their correct name.

  Borneheld buckled his helmet on. “They will be dangerous only while we ride through the trenches to meet Axis. Once our forces meet and mingle, they will not dare to loose their arrows below. No, Gautier, this will be a one-on-one battle of attrition. The last one left standing wins.” Borneheld paused. “And your reserves, Gautier?”

  “Ready to go, Sire, as planned.”

  Borneheld’s eyes were cold. “Then perhaps we will win, after all. Send a message to the Corolean transports to start to move a little closer to Bedwyr Fort—but not too close. I want them in position to loose their soldiers behind Axis’ lines.”

  Gautier bowed. “Sire.”

  It was, as Borneheld predicted, a battle of attrition.

  For hours the two armies melded and fought entwined, knights, foot soldiers, spearmen, pikemen, archers, swordsmen. It was the largest battle any present had ever been engaged in; some fifty-five thousand men and women, all determined their side should win the day. All sense of time fled for those engaged in the heat of the battle;

  it was simply strike, withdraw, take a deep breath, defend, strike, withdraw, take a deep breath, defend, strike—and kill or be killed.

  Axis fought in the thick of the battle, Arne always close at his back, his golden standard flying high above the field. Sometimes Axis found himself fighting beside a common soldier whose name he did not know, sometimes beside Ysgryff, sometimes by the side of Ho’Demi, sitting his horse with ease and confidence, sometimes by the side of either Belial or Magariz, both fighting smoothly and efficiently, faces grim with concentration. All, even Axis, took small wounds.

  Axis eventually let Belaguez’s reins drop, guiding the horse by pressure of knee, by voice, and sometimes by thought. He wielded his sword with two hands, striking to the left and the right, and trusted Arne to cover his back. Above him FarSight had detailed two Wing to watch over Axis exclusively.

  Azhure’s mounted archers were largely engaged at the edges of the battle, moving quickly to
where they were most needed, driving their arrows cleanly to where they would do most damage. Axis could feel her, feel her excitement at battle, and he tried not to worry too much for her. Azhure was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

  Sometimes Axis caught a glimpse of Borneheld’s standard, but he did not try to fight his way through to it. Their battle would not take place on this field.

  It was a relatively evenly matched battle. Axis’ army outnumbered Borneheld’s, but they were also slightly travel-wearied. For hours they fought backwards and forwards, the tide shifting this way and then that—but always men died or were crippled to lie screaming under hooves steel-edged with terror. Above and about all stirred thick, choking dust.

  By mid-afternoon every muscle in Axis’ body ached. How long had they been fighting? He took a quick glance at the sun and almost paid for it with his life as a sword suddenly arced down from his left. It was stopped only inches from the juncture of his neck and shoulder by the quick action of Arne, and Axis heard him grunt in satisfaction as he sliced the Corolean swordsman’s arm from his body. The man screamed and fell from his horse.

  Axis took a moment to catch his breath. He knew almost nothing except what was happening in the small circle about him, and he desperately needed to know the overall state of battle.

  “Arne, watch over me,” he muttered, and his eyes drifted out of focus as he looked down over the field through the eagle’s eyes.

  What he saw appalled him. Countless men lay dead and dying. How many? Thousands, at the least, and they wore the emblems and uniforms of both Borneheld’s men and his. As with men, so with horses. There were thousands of riderless horses, some dying and kicking out their life in great gouts on the ground, others running wild-eyed with fear through the chaos. Suddenly he spotted Azhure, Sicarius running at the heels of Venator, leading a squad of her archers into battle at the northern edge of the mass of seething soldiers. She was unharmed, although she swayed with exhaustion.