As she rose from Magariz’s side Rivkah noticed a tall, dark Nors girl standing at the edge of the firelight, her bright red dress covered with a tightly clutched cloak. “Belial?” she whispered, her voice hoarse with fear, her blue eyes dark and enormous in the shadows.
Rivkah shook her head. “I have not heard,” she said gently.
“Ah,” the girl murmured, and turned away. Rivkah stared after her a long time, sorrowing.
As she sat by the fire to watch over the sleepers, heavy with weariness, Rivkah pondered the way of battle and the way of the world. Men fight, and women wait and weep. Rivkah was very, very tired of not having what she wanted. She quietly vowed not to let life or love escape from her again. She would spend the last half of her life in happier circumstances than the first half. This time no-one, not even her son, would keep her from the man she loved.
Finally Rivkah shook Axis awake as instructed, but he was so exhausted he fell straight back into a deep slumber again and she decided to let him sleep through to the dawn. There was nothing that could be done in the middle of the night.
In the cold hour after dawn Axis, Azhure and Magariz sat in silence about the fire, all still with great circles of weariness under their eyes, but all looking infinitely better than they had. Rivkah watched Azhure feed her son. The new baby was still safe, but Rivkah did not know what would have happened if Azhure had been forced to fight any longer.
Axis shared his mother’s concern for Azhure. “You will stay in camp today, Azhure,” he said quietly. “Tired as you are you will be no use to anyone, least of all your son, if you don’t get more sleep.”
It was a measure of Azhure’s weariness, and her own concerns for her growing baby, that she nodded and cuddled Caelum a little closer. She had wondered, at critical moments during yesterday’s battle, if she would ever see Caelum again and she was not yet ready to leave him now.
Magariz raised his head from his hand. “Axis? Where do we start?”
Axis grimaced. “Where do we start, Magariz? We simply stand up from this camp fire and we start walking…and then we start where we can. Come.”
Axis stood and pulled Magariz to his feet. “Rivkah was worried for you last night,” Axis said quietly. “I am glad, not only for her sake, but for mine also, that you are still alive.”
It was a simple statement, but deep with meaning. Magariz managed a wan grin. “I am glad for my sake that I am still alive,” he said, and Axis laughed.
“Come on,” he said, pulling Magariz away from the women. “Let us see what sort of a victory we have won.”
Somewhat of a hollow one, Axis thought two hours later as he finished receiving reports from his commanders. They had won, but at enormous cost. The Icarii Strike Force had fared best of all, with only minor casualties to stray arrows and three dead to sheer misfortune. Ho’Demi, his face white behind its blue lines, reported that almost fifteen hundred of his Ravensbundmen had lost their lives.
Ysgryff, out of his armour but still dressed for war, was similarly sombre. “A thousand,” he said simply when Axis looked at him. “A thousand of my knights, and over three thousand of their horses.”
“And the pirates?”
“None,” Ysgryff grunted. “Pirates are protected by the gods, it seems, Axis. Besides, they came late into the fray, when their opponents were exhausted.”
“Where are they now?”
Ysgryff waved vaguely towards the Nordra. “Waiting for ships to take them home, Axis.”
“I cannot thank you enough for those pirates. If they had been Coroleans…” Axis shuddered, unable to go on.
“Then we would be counting our dead while awaiting death ourselves, Axis,” Ysgryff said quietly. “The pirates will also fight for the Prophecy when it demands it of them, as will most of the people of Nor.”
Axis lifted his head and stared at the trampled Plains of Tare. All of the bodies had been buried during the night, but the earth still retained a pinkish tinge. “The Prophecy has friends where I least expect to find them,” Axis said slowly. “Nor and the pirates have proved among the greatest.”
He sighed and dropped his eyes. Belial, his body stiff with weariness, had joined the group.
“Have you managed any sleep, Belial?”
Belial shrugged. “Two, perhaps three hours. Enough, Axis.”
“And our dead?”
Belial knew what Axis meant. How many of the ordinary mounted soldiers had they lost? “Around eleven hundred, Axis. Mostly the inexperienced soldiers who joined us at Sigholt. Some of the militia from Arcen, and some of our own men. Some of our oldest friends among them.”
Axis turned away.
“Axis,” Belial continued. “Our total losses come to well under four thousand men; Borneheld lost twice that number, Coroleans and Acharites. And Axis, remember, we lost close to…what? Seven thousand at Gorkentown? We will recover from this.”
“Oh, yes,” Axis said, turning back. “We will recover. But what a senseless, useless loss, Belial, and I grieve for every one of the Acharites who lost their lives for Borneheld’s cause as I grieve for those men who lost their lives for ours.”
“These men fight for you knowing that you care for them,” Belial said fiercely. “And I believe we have replacements from a somewhat unexpected source.”
Axis frowned. “What do you mean?”
Belial beckoned a man forward. He wore the tattered and bloodstained uniform of Borneheld’s army and walked with a slight limp.
“Lieutenant Bradoke, my Lord,” he said, his voice firm but respectful. “I am the most senior of the prisoners. My Lord, we fought for Borneheld because he was the King and because our oaths bound us to him. But none of us liked to see him flee the field yesterday afternoon, and many of us have been discussing the Prophecy around the privacy of our camp fires for weeks now. Last night we talked again. Great Lord, we are at your mercy, but we plead to be allowed to decide our own fate.”
“And that is?” Axis asked.
Bradoke took a deep breath. “We would fight for the Prophecy too, Lord. We would join your force. Great Lord,” he carried on as he saw Axis about to object. “I have stood to one side and watched you grieve for each and every man who died for you. Borneheld would never have done that for us. We want, I want, to be given the chance to fight for you.”
Axis glanced at Belial and Belial nodded. Axis looked back at the lieutenant. He seemed sincere, but should Axis trust him? What else can I do, thought Axis, but trust him? I cannot afford the men to guard them and I desperately need forces to throw against Gorgrael. He sighed and nodded wearily. “Work out the details with Belial. How many men do you command, Bradoke?”
“Seven thousand, Great Lord.”
“By the Stars,” Axis said. “How are we going to feed you all?”
“Cheer up, Axis.” Ysgryff slapped him heartily on the back. “Carlon will be ours soon, and I’m sure that Carlon can feed us all. Besides, I have supply ships sailing up the Nordra now.”
“By the gods, Ysgryff,” Axis said weakly, “I might as well just hand the kingdom over to you.”
Ysgryff winked. “My ugly head would look ridiculous with a crown on top of it, Axis. Besides, like Ho’Demi, I am committed to the StarMan.”
Apart from feeding and resting the troops, then moving his main camp site to the banks of Grail Lake, there was only one other thing that Axis wanted to do that day.
Late in the afternoon he rode with a small escort to the Tower of the Seneschal—Spiredore.
It had been two years since he last saw this tower, but it seemed like yesterday. For thirty years it had been his home and the home of the man he had regarded as his father, Jayme. For thirty years he had believed in the Seneschal and everything it had stood for and for thirty years he had believed that the Tower had stood as the outward manifestation of Artor’s love and of the Seneschal’s care for the people of Achar.
Now Axis saw the beautiful white tower differently. It was a shining example
of the lies and the deceptions that the Seneschal had forced on the people of Achar, and of the cruelty that the Seneschal had plotted and conducted against the people of the Horn and the Wing—the Avar and the Icarii. Once, Axis knew, the Tower of the Seneschal had been Spiredore, one of the magical Keeps of Tencendor, one of the most powerful places in the ancient land.
Now Axis intended to rid Spiredore of its jailers once and for all.
It rose, as it always had, pristine and white, soaring some one hundred paces into the air, its seven sides gleaming softly in the late afternoon sun. To one side the silver-blue waters of Grail Lake—one of the sacred Lakes—twinkled merrily, as if it knew that its friend and companion of so many thousands of years would shortly be released.
What do you hide? Axis asked himself as he rode closer to the tower. What secrets do you have buried within you? What will I find when I throw the Seneschal out?
But of more immediate importance was what the cohort of Axe-Wielders ranged in neat formation before the tower meant to do. Axis waved his escort to a halt and reined Belaguez back to a walk, pulling him to a stop some ten paces from where Kenricke, the commander of this, the final cohort of the Axe-Wielders, sat his horse.
He was a greying man, tall and spare, and his face was unreadable. For a moment Axis’ eyes flickered to the twin crossed axes on the man’s tunic. How long had he worn that emblem with pride? Now he was dressed in his fawn tunic with the blazing sun. A different world, a different man.
“Kenricke,” he said, by way of greeting. “It has been a long time.”
Kenricke stared at Axis for a moment then, suddenly, shockingly, he saluted Axis in the manner of the Axe-Wielders, fist across the twin axes on his breast, bowing sharply and crisply from his waist. “Axis,” he began, then paused, embarrassed. “I do not know by what title to honour you now.”
“Just call me Axis. It is still my name,” Axis said.
“Axis. Why are you here? For what purpose have you ridden back to the Tower of the Seneschal?”
“I intend to recreate the world that the Seneschal sought so long to destroy, Kenricke. The tower of Spiredore is an integral part of that world. I come here today to release Spiredore from the Seneschal.”
“Many words for a simple purpose, Axis. You intend to throw the Seneschal out,” Kenricke replied.
“You always did have a brutal way with words, Kenricke. Will you stand against me?”
Kenricke sat his horse a long time in silence, gazing at Axis, then abruptly he booted his horse forward, drawing his axe out of his belt. Axis tensed a little, but he did not move. Kenricke had been his first master of arms when he had joined the Axe-Wielders as a teenage boy—and he did not think the man would attempt to strike him down.
As his horse drew level with Axis, Kenricke hefted the axe in his hand so that he held it by the blade and presented it to Axis haft first. “I surrender my blade and my command into your hands, Axis. Since you left us we have been simply a sad memory waiting for our commander to return. Take my axe, Axis, and take my loyalty with it.”
The significance of the moment was not lost on Axis. Kenricke was effectively ending over a thousand years of proud military history.
“I accept both axe and surrender, Kenricke, and welcome you to my force. Belial waits back in camp,” Axis tilted his head towards the camp along the shores of the Lake, “and will redeploy you. But, Kenricke, you will all have to surrender your axes. In this new land there will be no place for them.”
Kenricke nodded. “I understand.”
Axis turned his eyes to Spiredore. “Jayme?”
Kenricke grinned sourly. “The Brother-Leader, his advisers and most of the senior Brothers fled to Carlon days past, Axis. The Tower of…Spiredore is inhabited by a few old men and young novices. They ask only that you leave them their lives.”
Axis thought about it for a moment. “Can I speak to the most senior of them?”
Kenricke nodded and waved at one of the Axe-Wielders in the rear of the formation. The Axe-Wielder tapped on the white door set into the centre of the nearest side of the tower, and after a moment it opened, an elderly Brother scurrying out.
“Brother Boroleas,” Axis said, recognising the man. As Kenricke had taught him skill in arms, Boroleas had largely taught him his letters. “I have come to reclaim Spiredore.”
“I have come to plead with you for our lives,” Boroleas said stiffly.
“You shall have them,” Axis replied.
“And our freedom?” Boroleas asked.
“You shall have an escort of twenty armed men to Nordmuth, Boroleas, where you will board a ship for Coroleas.”
“And our books?” Boroleas pressed, hardly daring to hope.
Axis killed the hope immediately. “I have granted you your lives, Boroleas. Do not ask for your books as well. You leave now, and you leave everything behind you. Kenricke, will you supervise the Brothers’ evacuation?”
Kenricke nodded, and Axis turned back to Spiredore. It was his.
55
MORNINGSTAR
Three days after the Battle of Bedwyr Fort Axis’ camp had spread along the eastern shore of Grail Lake. Tents, gaily pennoned with the standards of the individual commanders within Axis’ combined force, or, increasingly, with miniature versions of Axis’ personal golden standard, spread along virtually the entire shore. Men rested and recovered in the early autumn sunshine. Carlon was left alone as Axis’ army concentrated on recovering its strength after the battle. Ships from Nor had resupplied the force, and the Carlonese, running out of fresh supplies, had to put up with watching Axis’ men feast on new breads and freshly-picked fruits. They also watched the Ravensbundmen play a rough and sometimes deadly game of football from horseback, and the Icarii drift about the skies and camp in a flurry of wings.
MorningStar and StarDrifter shared a tent in the northern part of the camp, and on this third day Axis stood with them, going over some of the books the Icarii had recovered from Spiredore. All of the Brotherhood’s works Axis and StarDrifter had ordered burned, but StarDrifter and MorningStar, to their delight, had discovered hundreds of ancient Icarii texts secreted away in locked cupboards and chests.
“What did the Seneschal do with them?” MorningStar muttered, her head bent over one of the latest finds. “Not read them, surely?”
Axis shrugged. “I have no idea why they kept them. Perhaps they simply did not understand what they had found. Perhaps when they moved into Spiredore they packed these books up, or stuffed them into back bookcases, and completely forgot they were there.”
StarDrifter shared his mother’s excitement. “Axis! So many of these texts we thought completely lost! And now to have recovered them! See, mother!” he pointed to a small book he had just unpacked from a crate, “The History of the Lakes—I thought this book was only legend!”
MorningStar gasped in astonishment and picked the book up. “The History of the Lakes” she breathed. “Oh, Axis, thank you for all you have done for the Icarii!”
Axis smiled. Now, with most of the sacred sites of the Icarii opened to her and her brethren, Axis was seeing a side of his grandmother he had not known existed. Only this morning Axis had seen her laughing and chatting with Azhure as she took Caelum for a walk in the morning sunshine. Apparently MorningStar had put her deep suspicion of Azhure to one side.
MorningStar reluctantly put down the book. There would be plenty of time to read these at her leisure. “Is there anything left in Spiredore?”
StarDrifter shook his head. “No. We have removed everything that belonged to the Seneschal—burned most of it. Underneath the wooden panelling on the walls we have found the original carvings in the white stone—very much like the carvings that encircled the well leading down to the UnderWorld, Axis.”
Axis nodded, recalling the beautiful carvings of women and children dancing hand in hand in the UnderWorld. He could not wait to see what those in Spiredore looked like restored.
“When will y
ou reconsecrate Spiredore?” he asked his father.
“Tomorrow night, Axis. The moon will be full—Spiredore shares a special harmony with the moon.”
“Oh,” MorningStar muttered. “What is that girl doing?”
Axis and StarDrifter stared at her, but MorningStar was gazing out the open tent flap. “Imibe is supposed to be watching Caelum as he has his afternoon nap. Now, here she is running off to watch her husband at his horse games again. I’d better go and watch over the boy—Azhure is visiting some of the wounded in the physician’s tents this afternoon.”
“I’ll go, MorningStar,” Axis offered. “I know how much you want to examine these books, and you know how much I enjoy spending time with my son.”
“But StarDrifter needs to talk with you about tomorrow night’s ceremony, and I have many years ahead of me to enjoy these texts. And, Axis,” she grinned, “I enjoy spending time with Caelum as much as you.”
Axis’ gave in without further argument. Later his decision would return to haunt his dreams. What would have happened if he had walked into his tent that fine afternoon to check on his son?
MorningStar smiled at her son and grandson—and walked out of the tent and into Prophecy.
MorningStar knew something was badly wrong the instant she walked into the tent that Axis shared with Azhure and Caelum. Caelum’s cot was in the far corner, lost in shadows, and a darkly cloaked figure was bent over the cot, reaching down to the baby. “Who are you?” MorningStar began, her voice hard, and the figure whipped about.
“Oh,” MorningStar whispered, her hand creeping to her throat in horror, feeling the dark power seep across the space between them and encircle her.
Dark power. Dark Music. MorningStar could do nothing against it.
Enchanter Page 55
