Battleaxe (22 page)

To his relief Axis laughed and relaxed under his hand. “You have the soul of a diplomat, Belial. What are you doing wandering about with the Axe-Wielders?”

“I’d look ridiculous in satins and ribbons, Axis, and I can’t make a courtly bow to save my life. Now, to more mundane matters. I came out here with a purpose. The fifth cohort has a problem with its…”

“
Belial!
” Axis whispered, appalled, and Belial stopped short at the horror in Axis’ voice.

Rolling down from the north, perhaps half a league away, were great churning clouds hanging to the ground, shot through with silver and blue lightning.

Gorgrael! Axis thought, furious with the Destroyer and with Ogden and Veremund for claiming Gorgrael would be too weak to strike soon. With his anger came fear. How could he save his men in these open spaces?

As one both men raced for the camp.

As they reached the first of the lines Axis grabbed Belial’s arm. “Get word to the commanders,” he shouted. “Tell the men to dig themselves as far into the ground as they can before the storm hits. It’s our only hope!”

As Belial ran off, Axis looked back to the clouds, expecting to see the ghastly head of Gorgrael. But although they boiled with unnatural malevolence, they took no other form, and Axis turned back into camp.

Everywhere men were digging frantically with whatever came to hand—spades, swords, even pots and pans. Axis made himself walk
slowly through the lines of men, stopping every now and then. Fear showed on every face.

The storm clouds were closer now, perhaps only a few minutes away. They were massive, dragging along the ground even as they boiled and tumbled among themselves, glowing and crackling in the night air with flashes of silver and blue lightning. It was one of the most frightening—and weird—sights Axis had ever seen.

“There’s no wind, BattleAxe,” Ogden shouted, grabbing at his arm. “Listen to me, Axis, Gorgrael can’t—”

Axis threw his arm off, furious at the sight of the old man. “You told me that Gorgrael was too weak to strike again this far south. You were wrong then. Why should I listen to you now?”

“He
is
weak, Axis!” Veremund said, rushing up behind Ogden.
“Look
at those clouds. Do you sense the same power in those that infused the last storm?”

“There is no wind, no fury, Axis. Gorgrael has weakened himself,” Veremund continued more quietly.

“Then what is that I see approaching, gentlemen?” Axis snarled.

“It is a storm of fear,” Ogden said very, very quietly. “The Destroyer knows he can cause as much damage with fear as he can with ice spears.”

Axis knew he was right. Panic was as deadly to an army as were spears…of any description. Without another word he turned on his heel and strode further into the camp.

Veremund laid his hand on Ogden’s shoulder. “We can make ourselves useful amongst the horses. If they panic when that cloud hits they will kill more effectively than any ice spears that Gorgrael can send our way.”

Most men managed to dig themselves a small pit in the ground, dragging armour and cloaks over themselves, wriggling as close as they could into the earth.

When Belial indicated a small depression he had prepared for them Axis shook his head. “Hand me my cloak, Belial. I want nothing else. I will meet Gorgrael’s fear on my feet.”

He pushed Belial down, dragging a canvas ground sheet over him, then wrapped himself in his cloak and turned to face the clouds.

Already they had enveloped the outer edges of the Axe-Wielder lines and Axis could see the hunched forms of his men disappear as the clouds rolled forward.

Behind him Axis heard a horse neigh in terror, then a gentle whisper sounded and the horse snorted once and was quiet.

But he had eyes only for the clouds.

He wondered if death was like this. The clouds consumed everything before them. One moment a line of hunched shapes was clearly visible, the next it was simply gone as if it had never existed.

Suddenly Axis’ face was lit with an eerie blue and silver light, the reflection of the glow of the clouds, and in the next instant they had consumed him as well.

A cloud of fear, Ogden had said, and the moment they rolled over his head Axis knew why.

It was as though he stood alone in all existence. The enveloping cloud, clinging to every curve of his body and seeping up his nostrils, cut him off from every other living creature. Even the stars and the earth were gone. Although Axis knew Belial lay in a depression at his very feet,
knew
he was there, yet he was not. Belial was gone and Axis was alone. There was nothing but this cloud, running its hungry, icy fingers over the exposed skin of his face, sending slivers of fear sliding into the darkest niches of his body.

The interior of the cloud was brighter than the hottest day. The silver and blue bolts of lightning somewhere deep in the cloud’s interior reflected off every particle of water in its misty substance so that Axis had to squint to keep the light from hurting his eyes.

He began to tremble. There was
nothing
here in this cloud but himself. He was alone, isolated in existence.

Wrong. The whispers began again.

“Axis, Axis…pretty, pretty…tasty, tasty…”

Axis bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming. They were like yet unlike the whispery voices from his nightmares. The whispers
of his nightmare had hot teeth which stripped his skin and flesh achingly slowly so that he died the most painful death possible. These whispers were simply hungry…and Axis could hear them seeking through the mist.

“Pretty, pretty.”

“Tasty, tasty.”

“Axis, Axis.”

And then, horribly, from somewhere off to his right, Axis heard the click of claws. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click. As if some ghostly creature was scraping through the mist towards him.

He tried to tell himself that there was nothing there. Just voices. Just fear.

Click, click.

And, far away, the sweep of great wings through the air. And again.

“Axis, Axis.”

Click, click. Click, click.

And the sweep of wings.

He felt a movement at his feet and thought it was a creature come to devour him. He jumped back, feeling his heart seize so violently he thought it would kill him.

“No,” a soft voice moaned.

Belial! Axis took a deep breath. He was
not
alone! Not only Belial, but over three thousand of his men were out there.

How could he have forgotten that?

Again Axis breathed deep, clinging to the thought that he was not alone. Gradually he regained some measure of composure. Fear. That was all that Gorgrael could throw at him. Fear. Whispers in the cloud. Fear.

But Ogden was right. Fear could kill. If you allowed it to run away with your reason it would eventually persuade you to relinquish your hold on life.

And no doubt every one of the Axe-Wielders out there in their own private nightmares were as consumed with fear as he had just been.

Axis laughed, hard as it was, and reached down with his hand. He fumbled about then hauled the canvas off Belial. The rough feel of the material in his hand gave him added heart and even when a set of teeth snapped so close to his ear that he could feel their passing, Axis did not let it distract him.

“Belial? Belial, my friend!” Axis forced a hearty tone into his voice. “Why do you cower on your belly when you still have myriad adventures to face on your feet? Arise, my friend, and give me some company in this cursed mist.”

“Axis? ”

Axis flinched at the fear evident in Belial’s voice. If Belial had succumbed this badly, then how were the rest of his men faring isolated in the mist?

Axis grasped Belial’s hand. “Come, Belial, we still have a night of revelry ahead of us.” He hauled Belial to his feet, appalled at the sickly blue hue over the man’s face.

“Revelry,” he repeated slowly, then suddenly he knew what he had to do. “Belial? Come, wake from your fugue.” He snapped his fingers.

“Axis? What do you plan? A dance?” His voice was as forced as Axis’ had been moments earlier, but at least he was making an effort.

“A dance, Belial? If I plan a dance then we need partners. Come,” he gave Belial a shove that propelled him into the mist. “Wake those about us and we will have a night of revelry such as Gorgrael has never seen.”

Pray keep your heart, my friend, Axis thought as Belial stumbled into the mist. Pray keep your heart.

Axis sat down, reached into the pack he could feel at his side, “Ah, here you are. Well, Gorgrael, do you know this little ditty, perhaps?”

He struck a chord on the harp, then began to sing merrily, his voice clear and sweet, cutting through both mist and whispers.

Belle my Wife, she loves no strife

she said unto me quietly,

Rise up and save Cow Crumbocke’s life!

man! put thy cloak about thee!

Standing among the horses, Veremund and Ogden stared at each other wide-eyed. They had been affected by the mist, but not as badly as the Axemen.

“I thought he would have sung—” Ogden began, but Veremund cut him off.

“No. No, this is perfect. Anything else would have been alien to his men’s ears. This they know. This they can cling to.”

“This,” Ogden laughed, understanding, “they can sing along with.”

Cow Crumbocke is a very good cow

she has always been good to the pail,

She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow

and in other things she will not fail.

One by one men turned over in their pits. Many, like Axis, had been at the edge of madness. Some had teetered over.

Each of them had been alone with their fears and the dreadful whispers and scrapings of claws and beatings of wings. The mist, ghastly silver and blue and as dank and cold as a five-day corpse, had crept beneath armour and cloaks and had edged between tightly closed eyelids.

For I would be loath to see her pine,

so therefore, good husband, hear me now

Forsake the court and follow the Plough,

man! take thine old cloak about thee!

Men grabbed onto Axis’ voice as they would a hand reached out to save them from a raging sea. “Belle my wife…she loves no strife…” then they heard another voice, and another, and yet another. Then
they
realised that they were not alone. There were
others
out there.

It was the ballad that linked them and that allowed courage to flow between them.

The cloud roiled and hissed and lightning shot from earth to sky, but the song went on, and a greater chorus of voices began to sing it.

My cloak it is a very good cloak,

it has always been good to the wear,

It has cost me many a groat,

and I’ve had it this forty-four year.

The ballad, three thousand voices strong, soared into the night.

The cloud began to disperse. The lightning slowed then disappeared. Whispers faded. Claws and wings withdrew into the night. Soon there was silence and single shreds of mist clinging stubbornly to a few shards of grass. Then there was simply nothing but the night and low pregnant clouds beginning to shed their load of snow.

Yet, despite the three thousand voices, Axis’ voice still rang clear and sweet through the night, leading the choir.

Belle my Wife, she loves no strife

she said unto me quietly,

Rise up and save Cow Crumbocke’s life!

man! put thy cloak about thee!

Some had been at the edge of madness. Some had teetered over.

But all came back.

T
hey left the next morning armed against the cold with clean clothes, new clothes and boots for Yr (and even an old but serviceable cloak that had once belonged to the Goodman’s father), a plentiful supply of provisions, blankets, and, as promised, the trusty and sound mule to carry their newly acquired belongings. Jack set off in the lead, his vacant expression lasting only until they were out of sight of the Renkins’ farmstead, his pigs trotting happily before him. Timozel followed, leading the placid mule, and the two women brought up the rear, walking with healthy strides now that their energies had been a little replenished. Although the snow continued to drift down about them, the wind had abated. Nevertheless, all were aware that mid-Bone-month was six weeks too early for snowfalls this far south. No-one spoke his name, but the lingering menace of Gorgrael’s threat shadowed their footsteps.

Although Faraday and Timozel had told the Goodpeople Renkin they were headed north for one of the towns of Rhaetia, Jack slowly led them north-east towards the Bracken Ranges, the low and narrow mountain range that divided Skarabost from Arcen. As they
approached the ranges their legs ached with the constant scrabbling up and then down low rolling hills. They met no-one and encountered no insurmountable obstacles, although it rankled with Timozel that Jack was leading this expedition north when Artor’s vision in the stairwell had clearly shown him to be a mighty warrior who would one day lead a great army. But Timozel said nothing. Artor would show him when the time was right. Meanwhile, as Faraday’s Champion he devoted his days completely to her, making sure she had the most advantageous spot before their evening campfire and the choicest portions of food. His nights were devoted to other pursuits.

Faraday had become abruptly and uncomfortably aware of the new relationship between Yr and Timozel the first night they made camp. The covert movements and soft sounds drifting across the campfire from their blankets had first made her wriggle in embarrassment, and then struggle to suppress her own curious thoughts about what it would be like to bed with a man. Images of Axis and Borneheld mixed in her mind, confusing her, and she tossed uneasily, sleep eluding her for several hours.

Jack watched Faraday toss restlessly within her blankets from where he sat huddled watching the flames, his face unreadable. He was more concerned than ever at Timozel’s presence with them, and wondered if the young man would disrupt their purpose. Ogden and Veremund had told him that Timozel had a good if troubled heart, but Jack wondered if that goodness had survived unscathed through the Chamber of the Star Gate. Like Yr, he had noticed the subtle changes in Timozel over the past few days, the increasing confidence and maturity, and wondered exactly what the changes would lead to. Jack could only hope that his devotion to Faraday would serve her well. That Timozel shared Yr’s blankets and body at night meant nothing; Yr would eventually leave Timozel alone to pursue her purpose. Jack sighed and tossed a few more of the dead rosenberry branches onto the fire. Even in this wet and cold weather, if one reached deep enough into the thick rosenberry bushes there was always dry and dead wood at hand for a small campfire. He hunkered
down inside his blankets, grateful for the added warmth they gave him, closed his eyes and tried to snatch a few hours of sleep. They were only three or four days away from Fernbrake Lake, and he and Yr would have to talk to Faraday before they reached it. The Sentinels had told Faraday she had two very important tasks to perform without which Axis would not succeed in his battle against Gorgrael. The first was to keep Borneheld from murdering Axis in a fit of jealous rage. That she already understood. But at Fernbrake Lake Faraday would have to begin her journey towards fulfilling her second important task, that of Tree Friend.

After ten days of travel they reached the Bracken Ranges. Jack led them towards a narrow gully which would take them into the low mountains. It was the easiest passage, he explained patiently to a protesting Timozel, but Timozel walked off in a huff. Faraday sighed and made as if to walk after him, but Jack had held her back.

“Dear one, Yr and I need to speak with you for a moment. Let Timozel go.”

Faraday gazed at Timozel striding ahead with the mule, upset at his constant arguing with Jack, but she nodded her head.

“Sweet child,” Jack began soothingly, “you are the one that the Sentinels have trusted so much to. Aside from ourselves you are the only one who understands who the StarMan is. Faraday, please keep that trust. Do not tell Timozel too much; the lad might well betray Axis with an unwary word. Do you understand?”

It ached Faraday’s heart to keep secrets from Timozel; he was, after all, her Champion.

Yr smiled and took Faraday’s hand. “I will stay by your side for the time being, sweet girl. Share your doubts and secrets with me if you must speak them. It will be far safer that way.”

Yr’s touch reassured Faraday and she smiled a little and nodded. “I will do anything I can to protect Axis,” she said softly. “You know that. I have told Timozel nothing and I will continue to keep Axis’ true identity from him.”

Jack looked ahead to check that Timozel was still out of earshot.
“Sweet child, tomorrow we will reach a lovely lake in the centre of the Bracken Ranges. While we are there we will show you some of what your second task will be.”

Faraday frowned. The pass that Jack had indicated was only a few minutes’ walk away. “You would not tell me what that was, Jack, when I asked before. Will you tell me now?”

Jack nodded. “Dear one, do you remember that night by the Silent Woman Woods when the trees sang to you?”

Faraday’s face paled and Jack hastened on. “Remember that what the trees sing is often confusing. Their truth is sometimes not as we understand it. Remember that.”

Faraday nodded curtly but Jack’s words did not comfort her.
None
of the images the trees had shown her were positive. No matter how she rearranged them time and time again in her mind, Faraday could not see how the vision could depict anything except pain.

Jack and Yr watched Faraday’s face close over. They hoped that her horror at the vision had not turned into a complete rejection of the singers.

Yr squeezed Faraday’s hand gently as it lay in hers. “Dear one, no human has ever before heard Tree Song, and even very few of the Avar, the forest people, have. Faraday, it is important that the forest has a friend who can lead them to Axis. You must be Tree Friend.”

“I
hate
the forest!” Faraday said tersely. “It is dark and evil and I will have nothing to do with it!” Her voice rose and Yr and Jack exchanged worried glances.

Jack placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and opened his mouth, but Faraday rounded on him. “Don’t you
dare
enchant me into submissiveness,” she said in a low fierce voice, her festering anxiety over the vision finding release in anger at Jack. Although Faraday genuinely liked Jack and Yr and was prepared to trust the Sentinels if it helped Axis, she wondered about the secrets they kept and occasionally resented their obvious manipulation of people about them.

Jack hastily removed his hand. “None of us will force you into anything,” he said firmly, but Faraday turned on him again.

“You did not hesitate to trick me into placing my hand on that tree with your deceptively simple face, Jack.” Faraday wrenched her hand from Yr’s. “And if you worry about Timozel learning some of your dark secrets, then perhaps you should worry more about what Yr whispers into his ears during the long night than what I might innocently say to him during the day!” She glared at Yr for a moment, then turned back to Jack. “If your precious Prophecy needs a Tree Friend then it will have to find one elsewhere,” she snapped and turned her back on the pair of them, lengthening her stride to catch up with Timozel.

Jack held Yr back from following her. “Leave her awhile,” he muttered softly. “We will have only one chance at Fernbrake Lake. If we cannot present her to the Mother some time over the next few days then we are all doomed to endure the long dismal slide into complete destruction.”

That evening they made camp well into the pass Jack called Pig Gully. They had followed the gully for about a league, deep into the mountains, before Jack had called a halt as it narrowed to an end. With the mountains on either side of them they were sheltered from the worst of the winds, and there were plenty of scattered bushes to provide a leaping fire.

While Timozel unpacked and rubbed down the mule, Yr prepared the evening meal, cutting thick slices from a smoke-cured ham and one of the remaining loaves Goodwife Renkin had packed for them. As she laid out the portions on plates Faraday joined her.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” Faraday said stiffly. “I was upset.”

Yr looked up at her carefully, and motioned Jack closer. Faraday glanced at Jack as he approached and her stiffness increased. “I understand that you are bound to the Prophecy. I understand that. And I accept that I have my role to play.” She paused, but neither Yr nor Jack said anything to help her. “Why do the trees need a friend? Why do they need
me?”

“The trees and their people need someone to speak for them. They have picked you. Faraday, someone has to bring the trees behind Axis. He must unite Tencendor. If the trees do not join him then he cannot do that.”

“Veremund assured me that my second task would be less distasteful than my first. Did he speak the truth?”

“Faraday. You will come to love the trees almost more than life itself.” Yr paused, thinking. Tree Friend’s role was far more than bringing the trees behind Axis. But it was not the Sentinels’ place to tell Faraday that. “The trees have chosen you for a reason, Faraday, and that reason contains only joy. No sadness. Believe me.”

A shadow crossed Faraday’s face. “They were so sad,” she whispered, remembering the Tree Song. “Yet so beautiful.”

“They were slaughtered across Achar, dear one. Few remain. Lovely lady,” Jack moved to change the subject, “tomorrow we will take you to Fernbrake Lake. But you must understand that Timozel cannot,
must
not, come with us. He is an Axe-Wielder and he would be in danger there.”

Faraday looked alarmed, but Yr reassured her. “We will have to enchant him a little. He will know nothing. He will simply sleep, unaware, while we visit Fernbrake Lake. Trust us.”

Faraday sighed and nodded. “I wish I had never left Skarabost,” she said quietly and turned away.