younger woman looked at her companion. “You still do not trust me.”
The older woman’s eyes were as sooty-grey as the smoke from a damp wood fire. They held as many sparks, too. “You understand the reasons for that, surely.”
The young woman sighed and rubbed her arms. “Yes. I do. But what can I do to make you trust me? What?”
“Trust cannot be bought, or hurried. It always takes time.”
“But you do not have time.”
The silver-haired woman paused. “We’ve never had enough time, Azhure. We have never had enough space. We have never had enough respect. And though we need the help of people like you, we must remain wary.”
Disappointed at the rebuff, Azhure turned and waved her hand towards the distant village. “They hate anything they do not understand. It is the Way of the Plough.”
The older woman rested a hand on Azhure’s arm comfortingly and said, her voice filled with sadness, “I know, Azhure, I know.”
“GoldFeather, you must trust me. Please! You desperately need help with the children.”
GoldFeather shook her head slowly, resigned. “No, Azhure. It is too late. The only one that can save us from the Destroyer is lost and cannot be found. The Sentinels do not yet walk the land and Tree Friend has yet to be found. Soon winter comes. Ice will come to claim us. Tencendor cannot fight divided.”
Her eyes glittered with tears. “You must return to your home before it is too late. Sing well and fly high, Azhure, and may you find some kind of peace in this most treeless of lands.” She leaned forward and kissed Azhure’s pale cheek.
Axis lay awake for another hour after Embeth left, then, as the sky began to lighten towards dawn, cursed silently and stood up. He still felt exhausted. He’d only had an hour or two of sleep before the nightmare had claimed him and he’d needed a good eight or nine after the hard ride.
He splashed himself with cold water to rid himself of the stale sweat of his nightmare and dressed silently in the dark, not bothering to light a candle. He dreaded what Jayme might tell him this morning.
Jayme was already up and at prayer when Axis slipped into his quarters. The Brother-Leader was kneeling at the altar in his room, praying before an exquisite silver and gold icon of Artor the Ploughman. Axis knelt quietly behind him and bowed his head in prayer, trying to find some ease of mind in the rhythms of the ancient words and rituals. But prayers could not comfort him this morning, not after the nightmare he had endured, and after a few minutes his thoughts drifted to the daily problems of commanding a force of four thousand men.
A little later Axis realised Jayme was standing beside him, his hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. He sighed inwardly – Jayme’s interruption had distracted him from calculating the logistics needed to move six cohorts of Axe-Wielders from Nordmuth to Carlon.
“My son, you must not pray so devoutly, otherwise it might be said that the BattleAxe is more devout than the Brother-Leader … and we cannot have that.”
Axis smiled and gripped Jayme’s hand as it lay on his shoulder. “I find great comfort in prayer, Father, but there is no man who serves Artor more reverently and faithfully than you.”
Jayme helped Axis to his feet and the two men embraced warmly, Jayme touching Axis’ forehead briefly in blessing. “Well, at least I’ve managed to impress someone!” he said. “Come, I have fruit and bread, and some delicious fresh warm milk sent up for us to break fast with.” Jayme had arranged their breakfast at a small table by a window overlooking the twisting streets of Carlon far below the palace.
The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon and, although thick snow clouds blanketed much of the sky, a few rays managed to catch the glittering rooftops of the city’s buildings. Jayme turned and looked out across the beautiful view for a moment, watching the myriad of colourful pennants and banners snap in the stiff breeze. What fruit trees there were in the city waved their bare branches at the sky. They had lost their leaves weeks earlier. Axis noticed that Jayme’s face seemed older and more tired in the early morning light, and he wondered how haggard he looked himself.
Jayme’s tone turned serious as soon as they seated themselves. “Axis, you probably know something of what is happening in the north.”
“Something, but mostly rumour.”
Jayme was silent a moment longer, then he sighed. “Unfortunately, Axis, much of what you’ve heard is probably more truth than not. Gilbert and Moryson will give you exact military details later, and I have yet to hear what Priam’s intelligence is, but let me tell you what I know.”
For the next twenty minutes or so, while Axis ate his breakfast, his chewing becoming slower with each passing minute, Jayme outlined what he knew.
“So, my BattleAxe,” Jayme finished with a sad smile, “are your Axemen ready to face unbodied wraiths that can kill the most experienced soldier?”
Axis put down the piece of bread he had been turning over and over in his hand. What he had heard horrified him. Lord Magariz was an exceptional commander and his Gorkenfort units were among the best in Achar. If he was losing men in this manner then the situation was more than serious.
“Is there a possibility that the events of last winter were isolated, Father?”
Jayme frowned. “The Forbidden, or whatever they are, are starting to move south. Last winter …”
“Last winter they were simply probing,” Axis finished for him, speaking slowly, thinking it out. “This winter there is every possibility that they will come in force.”
“Yes,” Jayme nodded. “I think so, and so, I believe, do Priam and Borneheld. These past few weeks they’ve been as jumpy as cats. Borneheld travelled to Gorkenfort over the summer months to assess the situation for himself. Now he is starting to move large units of infantrymen and cavalry north; for the past ten days all the merchant rowing transports on the River Nordra have been busy with men and armour rather than grain. And, as the good brothers of Gorkentown reported, the mood is not good. Nor is it here in Carlon. Even the traditional drunken revelry in the streets following the public nameday banquet for Priam was less than enthusiastic last night. Men preferred to return to their wives rather than take advantage of other, um, offers. And over the past week or so my brothers in the city and surrounding districts have been performing more marriages than usual. Those soldiers moving north are making sure their affairs are in order.”
Axis’ face was grim. “Will Priam and Borneheld ask for our help?”
“If it truly is the Forbidden that they face … then they’ll have to.” He paused a moment. “Axis, I am more than pleased you managed to return to Achar so quickly. I have a feeling that we will need you desperately over the coming months.”
Axis met Jayme’s eyes above the remains of breakfast. After a moment both men looked back out over the city view. At first Axis had been puzzled by Jayme’s insistence on eating breakfast by the window when the warm fire beckoned, but as he gazed out he realised that Jayme had probably wanted him to have a good look at the weather. DeadLeaf-month
