Battleaxe (28 page)

But Hagen had beaten her and abused her. Belial had done nothing but treat her with kindness and respect and now displayed touching tenderness towards the child in her arms. Azhure stretched her smile until she thought she must look like a grinning idiot. “Do you think perhaps…?” she said, tilting her head towards the door of the cell.

“Oh, of course,” Belial smiled at her. “Let me get the keys.”

Azhure slipped the child down onto the floor and followed Belial across the cellar. As he bent down to pick the keys up from the stool where he had left them, Azhure pulled a fist-sized rock from the deep pocket in her black apron. She raised it high above her head, her hand trembling, and, just as Belial was starting to rise, she brought it down, dealing Belial a heavy blow to the back of his skull. He twisted as he fell, his eyes registering a moment’s surprise before they rolled up into his head and he collapsed unmoving on the stone floor. Azhure stared at him for a moment, unable to believe she had
actually hit him. She dropped the stone beside Belial’s body and started to shake, raising her hands to her face. What had she done?

“Quick!” a voice hissed behind her. “The keys!”

She turned and saw the Avar man standing by the cell door, his eyes intense. “The keys!” he repeated. Azhure reached across the floor to where they had fallen and slid them over to the Avar man. He had the door open in an instant. He picked the child up and grabbed Azhure’s arm. “Come,” he said, his voice quieter now, “you must come with me. You know that your friends will kill you too, now.”

Azhure nodded and stood, her legs still weak with shock. She glanced one more time at Belial, hoping he wasn’t dead. “Sorry,” she whispered, then the Avar man was pulling her towards the stairs.

Axis could not sleep. He had tossed and turned in his bedroll, listening to the sounds of the night, until finally he decided that there was no use pretending he was going to sleep and rolled out of his blankets, slipped into his clothes, strapped on his weapon belt and headed into the night.

He nodded to the perimeter guards as he passed them. He still felt troubled by the events of the afternoon. The condition of the Avar man and child had appalled him. He had seen death and agony many times on the battlefield, but never before had he seen such wanton cruelty. And all in the name of the Seneschal, all in the name of Artor and the Way of the Plough. Axis had been repelled by the blood lust in the villagers’ eyes, and now, as he was walking through the crisp cold air, he was repelled by the thought of the sight he would witness this morning.

He cursed himself as he wandered down the pathway approaching the Worship Hall. He needed to talk with Belial to calm his nerves.

The moment he descended into the cellar he knew what had happened. The cell door yawned wide and Belial lay sprawled in an unmoving heap over by the far wall. Axis crossed the cellar in five strides and gently rolled Belial over. He was still breathing, but he had a huge lump on the back of his head. Whoever had hit him had done a good job.

And Axis thought he knew who might have done it.

Axis took the stairs out of the cellar three at a time and ran the distance between the Worship Hall and Hagen’s house in the space of six heartbeats. He burst through the door without bothering to knock. Hagen lay in a pool of blood beside the bed, a knife sticking out of his belly. A bloodied towel lay on the table; and Azhure and the Avar girl were nowhere to be seen. Axis cursed and checked the man’s body—it was cool—and Axis cursed again.

He ran outside again and quickly orientated himself under the early morning sky. Azhure and the Avar man would have run for the Forbidden Valley…and Arne had set up the Axe-Wielders’ camp on the opposite side of the village. There was no time to rouse their support, and Axis refused to consider rousing the Smyrton villagers. The Forbidden Valley was unpassable to horses, and the Avar and Azhure must be close to it by now. Axis cursed yet again, low and vicious, as he turned and sprinted out of the village, heading northeast. Although he had tried to save their lives, Axis thrust aside his previous sympathy for their plight and any thought of simply letting them escape. Hagen was dead and, even more damning in Axis’ eyes, Belial lay assaulted and helpless after both he and Axis had trusted Azhure. His bonds and loyalties to the Seneschal demanded that the BattleAxe take revenge for the death of the Plough-Keeper, the assault of one of the most senior Axe-Wielders, and the escape of the Forbidden.

Axis was a strong and fit man, and once beyond the village he quickly settled into an easy stride. The entrance to the Forbidden Valley lay less than half a league from Smyrton along flat and easy terrain; Axis was determined to give the Avar man and Azhure a run for their pains.

Yet as he ran a small troubling voice nagged inside his head.

Why not let them escape? Why not simply say that you tried your best, and stop here, and let them escape into the night?

Damn it! Axis thought as the disturbing question would not go away. I cannot betray my trust to the Seneschal—it has protected me and supported me all my life.

And yet how strange that you wanted to save them from Hagen. How does that serve the Seneschal?

Axis panted for breath as he drew closer to the Forbidden Valley. Could he admit to himself that his guilt at earlier trying to save the Avar man and child now drove him desperately to catch the runaways? Before they had not killed, he told himself angrily, now they have.

Was it the Avar who killed or was it the Nors woman?

She killed for them. She killed to help them. And in accepting her offer of help they became accomplices in the murder of a Brother of the Seneschal. His blood stains their hands equally. I
am
doing the right thing, Axis told himself fiercely.

And how can you blame the man for taking the child and running, Axis Rivkahson, when the Seneschal was preparing to burn him today? What threat does he pose to the Seneschal, to Achar, that he should be burned?

He is one of the Forbidden! They are both of the Forbidden! I cannot betray the Seneschal’s trust in me. Now Axis’ lungs were beginning to burn with the effort of pulling in as much air as he could manage, and still it wasn’t enough.

Remember how you found them, Axis, torn and filthy and denuded of all their self-respect. Did you see threat in the man’s eyes when he looked into yours? He trusted you with the child. Let them go.

No! Axis kept forcing the sight of Belial’s assaulted form lying senseless on the floor into his mind.

Raum could move far and fast, but not with the child and Azhure to slow him down. They had moved well to begin with, but the child started to fret soon after they had left the village and Azhure’s ribs pained her so badly she could hardly run. Raum tried to remain calm, but he had visions of the Smyrton villagers hunting them down when they were within shouting distance of the Avarinheim. He carried the child and tried to hurry Azhure along as fast as she could go. Dawn was not far off, and he did not want to be caught out in the open after the sun had risen.

They entered the Forbidden Valley just as the sky was beginning to lighten towards dawn. Azhure gripped her side, her chest heaving
as she fought for breath, forcing each leg forward despite the sharp spike of agony which shot up her side. She began to wonder if somehow Hagen’s spirit was revenging itself on her for his murder. Ahead of her the Avar man still moved smoothly, gripping the girl to his hip. Even with the injuries that the sharp iron spikes of the villagers had inflicted on him, he had hidden reserves of strength. Azhure knew that he could have been deep within the Avarinheim by now if it hadn’t been for her.

They were close to the Nordra now as it escaped the Shadowsward through the narrow valley. The River Nordra roared and leaped dangerously as it flowed through the narrow confines of the chasm of the Forbidden Valley, and Raum and Azhure had to slow down on the slippery and dangerous path that ran beside the river and the rocky chasm walls. There was barely enough room for their feet on the narrow and treacherous path, and Azhure’s heart rose into her mouth every time she saw the Avar man’s foot slip, or felt her own feet threaten to give way on the slippery, rocky surface. Only a pace below the path the waters of the Nordra roared, ready to consume them should they topple in.

After what seemed like an eternity of treading carefully, her clothes soaked through to the skin by the spray and mist that rose from the turbulent water, Azhure saw the Avar man pause.

“Look!” he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the roar of the river, “ahead lies the Avarinheim. We are almost home!”

Azhure peered ahead. The valley started to broaden some fifty or so paces ahead, and she thought she could see the darkness of close trees. They were almost safe! She turned her eyes back to the Avar man, relieved, but his eyes were now focused on something behind her and his expression was one of horror. Azhure turned around, almost losing her balance. The BattleAxe was close behind them, a bare twenty paces, his face set in determined anger.

Raum grabbed Azhure’s shoulder and pushed Shra into her arms. “Get ahead of me,” he said urgently. “Walk as fast as you dare. The path is wider and less wet just ahead. When you can run,
run.
Get the child into the Avarinheim. I can hold him back here.”

Azhure started to protest, but Raum pushed her roughly past him. “
Go
!” he said fiercely, and Azhure tore her eyes away from the BattleAxe and moved as quickly as she could along the slippery path. She could feel the Avar man following her. Her breath came in terrified gasps. The BattleAxe, no matter what he might have thought of Hagen personally, would never let his murderer walk free. And Belial…? He would be even less likely to forgive the murder of Belial than that of Hagen.

Azhure berated herself as she strode out. The footing was firmer now, the river bending away to her left, and the Avarinheim was no more than twenty paces ahead. They were going to make it after all! The Avar would protect them as soon as they were behind the tree-line. The figure of a woman stepped a pace or two out of the trees, holding out her arms for the child. Azhure’s heart leaped inside her chest—it was GoldFeather! The woman’s silver hair burned brightly in the first rays of the sun as it rose above the walls of the chasm. They were safe!

And then everything went wrong. Azhure suddenly heard a shocked intake of breath and a sickening thud and crack some ten paces behind her. She whipped around, almost falling herself. The Avar man had hung back, trying to give her and the child time to reach the Avarinheim before the BattleAxe reached them. But, just as the BattleAxe had closed in on him, the Avar man had twisted his foot and slipped on what had to be the last remaining wet patch of path. He had fallen awkwardly, and Azhure saw by the white and pinched line of his mouth that he had hurt himself badly.

Without thinking Azhure started to scramble back towards him, forgetting even the child in her arms. Perhaps all it would take was to get the man on his feet again and they could still outrun the BattleAxe.

But it was too late, far too late. His sword drawn, the BattleAxe had reached the downed Avar man in two strides, and Azhure was now close enough to see that his left ankle lay bent and broken, the wicked gleam of white bone breaking the surface of his dark skin. “Ah, no,” Azhure moaned, and she would have run to him had GoldFeather not stepped up behind her and grabbed her shoulders.

“Azhure! No!” she cried sharply, her own eyes riveted by the scene before them.

Raum lay on the ground, Axis’ booted foot on his chest, his sword pressed so hard against the Avar man’s windpipe that the tip had broken the skin and a little trickle of blood had trailed down his neck. Both men heaved to catch their breath.

“Well,” Axis panted between breaths, his eyes derisive as he stared at Azhure, “you’ve managed to surpass your mother’s efforts quite nicely, haven’t you, Azhure? Murdering your father and running off with one of the Forbidden far outclasses a simple midnight flit with a pedlar. And Belial…”

“Let him go,” Azhure said urgently, her voice strained, her eyes intent on Raum as he lay fixed by the point of Axis’ sword. “I truly didn’t mean to kill Belial.”

“You killed your
father
,” Axis said shortly, “Belial still breathes.”

“Ah,” Azhure’s voice regained some of its strength. She straightened her shoulders, lifting her eyes to meet Axis’ hostile stare. “I’m glad that Belial lives, BattleAxe. Will you apologise to him for me?”

“Azhure,” Raum whispered, twisting his head as far as he dared with Axis’ sword to his throat. “Take the child and run. You can get her to safety. Leave me.” His chest heaved for a few more breaths as he fought to conquer the agony that flared up his leg, and then he spoke to Axis. “You will let them go, BattleAxe. You did not recreate Shra’s life to kill her now.”

“He’s right,” the tall woman standing behind Azhure said, her voice calm and level. “Go now. Go on,” as Azhure hesitated, her eyes still fixed on Raum as he lay under Axis’ sword. “Go now. Take little Shra and go. Quickly! Her father waits.
Run
, Azhure!”

Azhure jumped at the command in GoldFeather’s voice. Without another word or glance she turned and walked quickly into the forest, disappearing from sight within a stride or two of reaching the densely packed trees.

GoldFeather walked closer slowly, very, very slowly. She did not want to startle the BattleAxe into sliding the point of that sword through Raum’s throat the moment he felt threatened. She stopped a
few paces away. The man stared at her and his black uniform, the twin crossed axes, brought memories flooding back into GoldFeather’s mind. It had been so long since she had seen one of the Axe-Wielders, and now here stood the BattleAxe himself, his foot and sword dishonouring one of the most powerful Banes the Avar people had trained for many generations. The man was young; what was the Brother-Leader thinking of appointing one so young to such an important position? Her eyes flickered over his face for a moment. But she was too concerned about Raum to look too closely.