Battleaxe (18 page)

B
y nightfall Axis had resumed control and moved his men further into the Barrows. The Axe-Wielders had gathered their horses together quickly and reformed into their units. The two physicians who travelled with them tended the wounded while the dead were gathered and placed in graves hastily dug in an open area between two Barrows. “The Barrows can hold our dead as well as those of the Forbidden,” Axis remarked bitterly when Veremund dared to raise an eyebrow in his direction. Later, the two Brothers, pressed by Axis’ cold stare, mumbled the words of the Service for the Dead and managed, with a number of embarrassing stumbles, to commend the dead to Artor’s care. The injured lay on stretchers, ready to be taken back to Tare by a small escort the next morning.

Later, soldiers sat about their campfires, either forcing down warm food, or cleaning gear muddied during the confusion of the storm. Axis spent much of the evening walking among his men, smiling and reassuring, asking and answering questions, putting a comforting hand to a shoulder when it was needed, laughing and joking when that was needed more. Despite the apparent attention
Axis gave to the individual men of his command, his mind worried over the events of the day, trying to make some sense out of what had happened. He was grateful that no-one had seen the raging head in the clouds; he did not think he could explain that to his men. What was it that had bubbled out of his subconscious to drive back the frightful apparition that seemed so intent on destroying him?

The more Axis thought about the implications of what had happened, the more unsure he became. Having lived so long with the uncertainty and shame of his parentage, Axis was not a man who enjoyed encountering uncertainty in other areas of his life.

Finally, Axis wound his way to Ogden and Veremund’s campfire. The two old men were huddled inside their cloaks, as close to the fire as they dared to sit with their precious books in their laps. Both were so absorbed in their reading they did not hear Axis approach.

“And have you found the answers yet, old men? Can you tell me how to drive back another of those demon-spawned storms? Can you tell me how to protect my men from spears of ice that rain from the clouds?”

Ogden and Veremund looked up, startled. Axis stood the other side of the low fire, his stance aggressive. Both of his hands hovered close to the sword and axe in his weapon belt.

“Axis,” said Veremund gently. “Sit down with us awhile. We should talk.”

Axis stood a moment longer, then sat down cross-legged in one fluid motion. He has the Icarii grace, thought Ogden, and the temper to match.

“Yes,” Axis said harshly, “we should talk. And will you tell me the truth, old men?”

“How much truth do you want to hear, BattleAxe?” Ogden snapped, before Veremund laid a hand on his arm and replied smoothly, “We have never told you anything but the truth, Axis.”

Perhaps, thought Axis, but mostly couched in as many riddles as your beloved Prophecy. He took a calming breath. “What was that in the clouds this morning? Was it the Destroyer your Prophecy speaks of?”

“It was his image,” Ogden replied. “Not the Destroyer himself. He is not strong enough yet to make such a journey in the flesh.”

“Why journey in the flesh when you can kill and maim as effectively with your cursed sorcery?” Axis said angrily.

“Axis, be calm. Learn from it, but do not waste your energies blaming yourself.”

For a moment Axis battled with his temper; that Veremund had only spoken sense did not endear him to Axis. “Then tell me what to learn from it, man, tell me what to learn from it.” Axis paused, his jaw clenched tightly. “Why did he attack us?”

“Because we are a danger to him,” Veremund replied.

“Do you mean the Axe-Wielders are a danger to him?” Axis asked carefully.

“And you, BattleAxe,” Veremund replied just as carefully. He did not want to give Axis too much information while he was in this state of angry self-denial. “You lead them, and you lead them toward Gorkenfort. Perhaps Gorgrael thought it worthwhile to risk an attack while you were still far from the icy north.”

Axis accepted the answer. He would think about any further implications of Veremund’s words later, when his heart did not burn with such fierce sorrow that he thought he could not bear it.

Both Ogden and Veremund knew what was going through his mind. They had also seen what had happened to Faraday, yet they, unlike Axis, knew that she was probably still alive. Neither were unkind creatures, but they knew it would be disastrous for Tencendor if Axis were diverted from the path of the Prophecy.

“And what happens when this Gorgrael, or his image, returns, old men? What then?” said Axis.

Ogden glanced at Veremund. They had discussed this earlier, and concurred in thinking that Gorgrael had risked this attack only because so many of the Sentinels, as well as Axis and Faraday, had been in one spot. Now that they were split, Gorgrael might well hang back. They suspected—hoped—that Gorgrael had seriously weakened himself in trying to attack this far south. Ogden turned back to Axis. “We hope he will not adventure so
far south again. Axis, think a moment. The storm was vicious and deadly, but it lasted a few scant minutes once it reached the Axe-Wielders. If you were Gorgrael, would you have stopped with only a few hundred men?” Axis winced, but conceded the point. “Gorgrael could not press the attack home. Perhaps he has overreached himself with this effort. Hopefully we will be safe for the moment, and, who knows, perhaps we have even bought Gorkenfort time.”

“Brothers, why has he appeared in my dreams?” Axis asked quietly, looking into the low flames of the fire.

“Gorgrael is a creature who thrives on hate, hate is his very existence, it drives his heart,” said Veremund.

“Yes,” Axis looked up from the flames. “I have felt that.”

“And he hates most of all those who will stand before him, stand to deny him what he craves—the complete destruction of all lands below the line of year-long ice and snow”

“Why?” Axis interrupted. “Why would he want to do that?”

Ogden shrugged. “He simply hates, Axis. That is enough.”

Axis nodded. He understood.

“Gorgrael will try everything in his power to drive uncertainty and fear into the hearts of those who oppose him, Axis. If it means invading your dreams to do so, then Gorgrael is perfectly capable of doing that.”

There was a long pause. Ogden and Veremund both knew what Axis would ask next.

“What did I sing, Brothers? What did I sing out there?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Axis, you sang an ancient ward—”

“Sorcery!” Axis broke in, his voice horrified. Axis had absorbed the Seneschal’s fear and hatred of things magical at an early age.

“No, no,” Veremund hastened. “Although some might consider it an enchantment, it is simply a ward against evil. No-one can sing it, ward themselves against evil, unless it has been taught to them in the womb. Axis, your father sang that to you. He loved you so much that he gave you the gift of that song.”

Axis passed a trembling hand across his eyes, turning his head slightly away from the two Brothers. Veremund caught a glint of tears. “Never doubt that you were loved and wanted, Axis. If your father has never claimed you then it is because circumstances greater than his love for you have kept him away.”

Axis nodded his head curtly, acknowledging Veremund’s words. Finally he looked back at Ogden and Veremund. Tears trailed down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back. “Who was my father?
What
was my father?” he whispered.

Both of the older men rose and moved quietly around the fire, sitting either side of Axis. Veremund laid his hand on Axis’ shoulder, but it was Ogden who spoke. “Axis, neither of us know exactly who he was.” Neither felt the time was right to tell Axis that his father was almost certainly an Icarii Enchanter. “But if you find him then a great many questions will be answered.”

“Ogden, when I read that Prophecy from the book in the Keep, I felt as though a dark, deep dungeon that had been locked all my life had been thrown open and flooded with light. Ogden,” he looked Ogden deep in the eye, “I am not sure that I like what I can now see in that unlocked chamber. I am starting to wonder if it might have been better had it remained locked the rest of my life.”

Axis held Ogden’s eyes for a moment longer, then he shrugged off Veremund’s hand and stood up with the same fluid grace with which he had sat down. “Brothers, sleep well tonight, for tomorrow we ride for Arcen, where we will reprovision, then ride for Smyrton with full haste. I will not let Gorgrael deflect me from riding north.” He paused. “I will send riders with the injured back to Tare and then to Carlon with news of what has happened here this day.” His voice hardened. “And to that purpose I must now write to the Lady of Tare telling her that her beloved eldest son is dead under a mountain of mud and rock. Would that I could tell her myself rather than entrust such news to a messenger.”

“
W
e are in the tomb of the ninth of twenty-six Icarii Talons to be buried here, Timozel,” said Jack.

Faraday and Timozel looked about them. Although obviously built by skilled masons, for the tomb of a King it seemed remarkably bare. Apart from the central stone block there was nothing else in the chamber. The four stone walls, relieved from outright starkness by false pillars, showed no sign of any opening.

“How do we get out?” asked Faraday.

Yr turned to Jack. “Jack, you know this place better than any of us. Do you know the way below?”

Jack turned to the stone block and laid a reverential hand upon it. “These Barrows were built for only twenty six of the Icarii Talons, Kings over all Tencendor. The Talons ruled Tencendor for over five thousand years, yet only twenty-six were laid to rest here. Thirty-one lie in more mundane surroundings.”

Timozel stirred restlessly, but Jack raised his hand. “Be still, lad. You must know this. Only twenty-six. Under half the total number of Talons. The twenty-six who were not only Talons, but also of the line of Enchanters. These Barrows are very enchanted places.”

“Enchanters?” Timozel’s voice was stiff. “What do you mean?”

Jack looked at the boy. “Those of the Icarii who could cast enchantments, Timozel.”

Timozel’s eyes widened and he invoked the sign of the Plough against evil, shifting back a little towards the wall of the tomb. He did not like this talk of Enchanters and enchanted places.

Faraday moved to stand beside Jack at the stone block. “Is the Talon entombed beneath this block?” she asked, about to rest her hand on the stone, but thinking better of it.

“No.” Jack paused, reflecting. “The Enchanter-Talon was laid out on this block when he died. But he has long since gone. And where he has gone, so must we.”

“The Star Gate.” Yr took a deep breath. “I have never seen it—but I yearn to. I have heard so much…so much.”

Jack nodded. “Only I among the Sentinels has laid eyes on the Star Gate. And no-one for the past thousand years has walked the paths of the StarFarers down to the Star Gate.”

“Why do you call them StarFarers, Jack?” said Faraday.

“It is what the most powerful of the Icarii Enchanter-Talons were known as, although all Enchanters bear the word ‘star’ somewhere in their name. They honour the stars and the movements of the heavens. Much of their magic comes from the stars, or so it is said.”

All this talk of magic was making Timozel uneasy. “Enough of that. Where are you taking us? What is this Star Gate?”

Jack hid his annoyance behind a bland smile. “What it is concerns you not, Timozel. If I thought I could get us out of here without passing by the Star Gate then I surely would. But all paths lead down to the Star Gate, and to find another path to the surface we will have to walk past the Star Gate.”

“Is it dangerous?” Faraday asked.

Yr laughed. “Not unless you walk through, sweet child.” She paused and regarded Jack a moment. “Jack has not explained well enough, I think. These Barrows are not actually tombs, for they hold not the bodies of the Enchanter-Talons. Each Barrow is instead an entrance-way. A gate before the real gate, if you like. Whenever one of the twenty-six died their people would build for them a Barrow,
with this chamber below it. Below the chamber they built a long stairwell that leads to the Star Gate. When the Barrow, chamber and stairwell were completely built, the body of the Enchanter-Talon was laid upon the stone block and the Barrow sealed. Once sealed in his tomb the Enchanter-Talon would eventually make his way down the stairwell into the Chamber of the Star Gate and walk through. Each had his own entrance to the Star Gate—thus twenty-six Barrows for twenty-six Enchanter-Talons. Twenty-six gates to the Star Gate. Once through the Star Gate, it is said the Enchanter-Talons wait.”

“Wait for what?” Faraday’s eyes were wide. She had not believed that anything the Forbidden did could be so hauntingly beautiful. Despite her devout upbringing, Faraday was rapidly losing her uneasiness with talk of things magical. This talk of the StarFarers and the Star Gate fascinated her.

Yr shrugged. “Who knows, darling girl? They wait for whatever concerns them.”

Timozel didn’t like the sound of this. How could these Enchanter-Talons make their way down a flight of stairs when they were dead? No wonder the Seneschal taught that magic was evil. Yr stepped over to him, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder and leaning close. “Who knows how these dead Enchanter-Talons made their way down, Timozel. I confess that it is the living who concern me.” She rubbed her other hand gently against his chest and leaned against his body.

Timozel’s face hardened and he seized her hand, lifting it off his chest. Did she seek to enchant him with her charms? Yr shrugged and stepped back, clutching the cloak closed where it had gaped open. There would be time enough later.

“Enough,” Jack said mildly. “It is time to descend. We have no food or water. The quicker we move through the quicker we can find something to eat.”

Jack picked up his heavy staff and hefted it in his left hand, running his right hand gently over the metal knob at its apex. Faraday looked closely at the metal knob for the first time. It had deep lines etched into it, whirling in complicated patterns across the
knob that was about the size of a man’s clenched fist. The metal looked strange, blackened, tarnished almost. Then her attention was diverted from the knob to Jack. He was talking to the staff, very quietly so that his actual words could not be heard, but with a beautiful cadence underpinning his words. He almost seemed to be singing to it. Faint emerald light pulsed from his fingertips in rhythm with his voice. Yr stepped up softly behind Faraday. “Step back this way, Faraday,” she whispered. “You must not get in the way.”

Yr and Faraday joined Timozel by the far wall. He was staring at Jack, his eyes dark with suspicion, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly Jack seized the staff in both hands, whirled it at shoulder height three times around his body, then thrust the metal tip against a spot in the floor.

“
Ecrez dontai StarFarer!
” he cried, and instantly a large section of the stonework underfoot dropped several handspans and slid underneath the rest of the floor. Stone steps spiralled out of sight into the blackness below.

“I am impressed, Jack,” Yr said very quietly. “You seemed to have learned well during your long wait for the StarMan.” Jack raised his head from his contemplation of the steps. His jewel-like eyes were faintly satisfied. He nodded in acknowledgement of her compliment.

“Let us go. Timozel, you will bring up the rear with one of the lamps. I will lead with the other. Yr and Faraday can come between us. The climb is long, I fear. Please be careful, the steps can sometimes be uneven.”

They had to climb slowly. The stairs were steep and, as Jack had cautioned, uneven in places as the stairwell wound down deep into the earth in tight spirals. Jack, Yr and Faraday had to carefully hold their cloaks out of the way lest they trip over their trailing hems, and Jack gave the lamp to Yr so that he could manage both his cloak and the heavy staff.

Faraday concentrated hard to avoid falling. The steps seemed to spiral down into infinity, and she lost all track of time. Her calves and knees ached after only a few minutes and, as they descended
further, the ache intensified into a burning sensation. She was so lost in contemplation of her pain that she bumped heavily into Yr when she stopped in front of her.

“Pay attention!” Yr snapped. “Jack has called a rest.”

Faraday mumbled an apology and sat down to massage her aching calves. “How much further, Jack?”

“We’re about halfway down,” Jack said. Faraday was glad to see that both he and Yr were also massaging their legs. Magical creatures they might be, but it didn’t stop their muscles from complaining. Timozel was stoically pretending that his own legs didn’t ache.

Yr began to comb out Faraday’s wet and tangled hair with her fingers. Faraday smiled and closed her eyes. She would give two years of her life for a warm bath, she thought vaguely, lulled into tranquillity by the touch of Yr’s hands.

As Faraday’s eyes closed Timozel surreptitiously stretched his legs across the width of the stairwell, his face grimacing with relief as the ache began to abate. He sighed and settled his shoulders comfortably against the stone wall.

For a while he watched Yr comb Faraday’s hair, then his eyes, like Faraday’s, slowly closed.

He was on a great beast—not a horse, something different—that dipped and soared. It screamed with the voice of…

Timozel’s eyes flew open and he sat forward, startled. For an instant he could have sworn that he was…

“What’s wrong?” Jack’s quiet voice asked, concerned. Yr and Faraday were too absorbed in each other to notice Timozel.

“Nothing,” said Timozel tersely. “Nothing.”

Jack stared a moment longer, then sat back, turning his face to the blackness below them. No wonder the Axe-Wielder is unsettled, he thought. This is a stairwell haunted by the memory of strange steps. He tried to rest, wishing that fate had not brought them to
this
Barrow. Prophecy.

Slowly Timozel leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes.

He fought for a great Lord, and in the name of that Lord he commanded a mighty army that undulated for leagues in every direction.

Again Timozel’s eyes flew open, but this time he kept still. Commanded a great army? He almost chuckled. Commanded a great army? Humph! Not if Axis had his way, he thought sourly. So determined is he not to favour me because he beds my mother I’ll be lucky to achieve chief of the horse lines before I’m fifty. Timozel felt a stab of resentment, deeper than he’d ever felt before. He had a poor future in the Axe-Wielders.

He closed his eyes again.

The cold wind blew at his back as hundreds of thousands screamed his name and hurried to fulfil his every wish. Before him another army, his pitiful enemy, lay quavering in terror. They could not counter his brilliance. Their commander lay abed, unable to summon the courage to meet Timozel in just combat.

This must be a vision from Artor—a reward for taking the holy vows of Championship.

Remarkable victories were his for the taking.

“Yes,” Timozel whispered.

In the name of his Lord he would clear Achar of the filth that invaded.

“Yes,” he said, louder this time. He revelled in the power he would wield. His fist clenched by his side.

His name would live in legend forever.

“Timozel?” Faraday touched his hand. “Are you all right?”

Timozel hesitated, not wanting to let the vision go, then he opened his eyes and smiled at Faraday. “Yes. Yes, I will be all right.”

All will be well.

I will be a
powerful
Champion, he thought, for people to scream my name thus. He muttered a quick prayer to Artor, thanking him for the vision.

“All will be well,” he whispered.

“Let’s move,” Jack said finally, and they all rose stiffly to their feet. Yr had done her best with Faraday’s hair, and now it lay coiled into a neat roll in the nape of her neck, the worst of the tangles and mud removed. Faraday turned to look at Timozel as they started to climb down again, his confident smile reassuring her. She thought she was going to like having her own personal Champion.

Timozel followed the others with new assurance. Artor’s vision made him feel older, more purposeful. Harder. Ready to stand and defend Faraday—and Artor himself, if need be—at a moment’s notice. A true Champion.

They continued to climb down the stairs, the only relief from complete blackness the dim glow provided by the lamps Yr and Timozel carried. Faraday shivered as she thought what it must have been like for a person to climb down this stairwell in total darkness. But then, perhaps these Enchanter-Talons made their own light.

Eventually they became aware of a faint sound of wind echoing up the stairs around them.

“What’s that?” Faraday whispered, and felt Timozel touch her shoulder reassuringly.

“It is the sound of the Star Gate,” Yr replied. Her voice was stiff with barely suppressed excitement, and Faraday looked at Timozel, intrigued.

The sound grew louder as they got closer and a faint blue light began to augment that of their lamps. Finally the light was strong enough for Jack to ask Yr to douse her lamp, and after a moment’s hesitation Timozel did the same. Yr was almost pushing Jack’s back in her eagerness to get to the bottom of the stairwell.

“Peace, Yr, we’re almost there,” grumbled Jack though he was also keenly excited. He had seen the Star Gate on three previous occasions, yet three hundred viewings would never be enough for him.

As they rounded one more bend, the stairs abruptly ended in a long corridor that angled towards an open archway in the distance. Blue light and sound pulsed at them from the far side of the archway. Jack stopped them for a moment, although Yr looked so excited that for a moment Faraday thought she might break and run down the corridor towards the strange blue light. Her heart began to pound, and Timozel pulled her a little closer to his body, thinking she needed reassurance.

“There is no danger as long as you do not step through the Star Gate,” Jack said, his eyes keen as they searched those of Faraday and Timozel. “But there are one or two things that I must warn you of.
Yr? Do you listen as well?” Yr nodded her head impatiently, her eyes on the distant archway. Jack turned back to Faraday and Timozel. “No human has been down here for almost a thousand years, and in the time of the Icarii rule it was rare indeed that a human was allowed to see the Star Gate. This is one of the most sacred Icarii sites in this land, so treat it with due reverence. The Star Gate is very beautiful, and it will tempt you to step through. You can hear it sing now. But if you do that you will never come back. Do you understand?” Both Faraday and Timozel nodded.

“Well then, let us enter the Chamber of the Star Gate.”