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Priam had requested that Jayme and Axis meet him in his Privy Chamber mid-morning, and Moryson accompanied them, to advise the Brother-Leader and swell the numbers of the Seneschal.
The Privy Chamber was one of the largest chambers in the royal palace, smaller only than the Chamber of the Moons. It was lit by narrow windows high in walls which sported as their only decoration the nine standards of the major provinces of Achar. At the centre of the chamber sat a massive round table that, according to legend, was made from a single section of an immense oak tree which had stood on the site of the palace many hundreds of years before.
The moment they stepped into the stone chamber the three men sensed the tension among those present. There were five men sitting at the table, Priam, Borneheld, Earl Isend of Skarabost, Duke Roland of Aldeni and Earl Jorge of Avonsdale. Behind Borneheld stood his lieutenant, Gautier, while Duke Roland’s lieutenant, Nevelon, stood behind his lord’s chair. There were no servants in the Council chamber – unusual, because normally Priam had at least one clerk present to record the discussions and decisions of the King’s Privy Council. Nor was this a full meeting of the Privy Council, which normally contained the nine lords of the provinces and their advisers. The significance of those who were present was not lost on either Jayme or Axis. Borneheld, Duke of Ichtar and WarLord of Achar; the darkly handsome but foppish Earl Isend and the bulky Duke Roland, the lords of the two provinces that lay directly below Ichtar; and the wiry and grey-headed Earl Jorge, a cunning and experienced campaigner with a lifetime of advice to give. This was nothing less than a war council consisting of the most senior commanders in Achar as well as those lords whose provinces would be most affected by any incursions into Ichtar.
Isend and Roland looked visibly relieved to see them enter, as though the previous few minutes had been spent in uncomfortable silence. Borneheld looked darkly resentful at Axis’ presence, Jorge looked impatient, and Priam looked so haggard that Axis wondered if night-demons were invading his sleep as well.
Priam nodded at Jayme and Axis and waved them towards two chairs. Moryson stood a few feet behind his Brother-Leader’s chair, waiting to be called upon if needed.
Jayme inclined his head towards Priam. “My apologies if we have kept you waiting, Priam.” As spiritual leader of Achar, Jayme felt he was the King’s equal and rarely accorded him his tide, something that grated with Priam.
Borneheld broke in before Priam could speak. “Is it necessary for the Brother-Leader’s lackies to attend this Council, sire?”
“Borneheld, the BattleAxe is here at my invitation, and I have no objection if Moryson stays,” Priam said, passing a hand over his reddened eyes. Now that Axis was closer he could swear that Priam had hardly slept the previous night. His face had deep lines carved from nose to mouth, his auburn curls hung loose and unattended, and his clothes had the look of garments hastily thrown on simply to avoid nakedness. Not the fastidious Priam’s normal appearance. Axis grew more apprehensive.
Priam took a deep breath and sat up in his high-backed chair, his hands splayed out on the table before him, his eyes studiously avoiding those of the other men about the table.
“Let us begin, and let us not waste words,” he said quietly. “We all know of the troubles in the northernmost regions of Ichtar, and the reported sightings of the Forbidden by the villagers of Smyrton near the Forbidden Valley. Lord Magariz lost close to ninety good men while on patrol from Gorkenfort this past winter. Whatever attacked them has also devastated the Ravensbundmen. Over the past six months many thousands of them have been moving into northern Ichtar through Gorken Pass. Whatever we may think of the Ravensbundmen –”
“Carrion-eating barbarians,” Eari Jorge muttered.
“– we know they are not cowards,” Priam finished, as though he had not been interrupted. “Attacks on patrols have eased over the past months, have they not, Borneheld?”
Borneheld nodded. “I heard from Magariz last week. Over summer, such as it was, he lost only three men. But over the past two weeks the number of Ravensbundmen moving down from the north has increased dramatically. At the same time the weather is deteriorating badly in the north. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps not.”
“And now winter stands before us again,” Axis said quietly. He looked up from the table where his fingers had been idly tracing the ancient whorls in the wood.
Borneheld stared at him as Priam spoke again, his voice stronger. “Borneheld, you are the only one of us who has been to Gorkenfort. We would appreciate your understanding of what is going on there.”
Borneheld shifted in his chair and deliberately addressed his answer to every man at the table but Axis. “No man has seen anything like this before. A foe who lives and breathes the winter, who has no form or substance, who advertises his presence only with a whisper on the wind. A foe who laughs at naked steel and who has no respect for the bravery of soldiers. A foe who apparently despises a clean kill and who prefers to inflict as much pain as possible; harrying his victim over hours, watching him bleed to death by degrees rather than killing with a clean stroke. The Ravensbundmen say that it feeds as much off its victims’ fear as it does off their flesh. What is it we face? I do not know. All I know is that, no matter the skill, bravery and determination of those who have faced it, no-one has ever killed one of them. If they ever come in force, Artor help us.”
Earl Isend shifted in his seat. “You’ve been sending more soldiers to Gorkenfort over the past weeks, Borneheld.”
“Yes. I have to anticipate that they’ll come back with the winter snows.”
Priam slowly rested his face in his hands on the table, and Axis glanced worriedly at him, but Priam looked up after a moment. His eyes looked even worse. “Do you think these creatures are the Forbidden?” he asked Jayme. “Is this what we face?”
Axis had never seen Jayme look lost for words, but he did so now. “I am embarrassed to say that I do not know, Priam. It has been so long, a thousand years, since they were penned behind the Fortress Ranges and in the Icescarp Alps. Most of the ancient lore regarding them has been lost or is hidden in riddles. But if you want an answer, then, yes, I am afraid to the very depths of my being that these are the Forbidden. What else could they be?”
“Achar, Ichtar, stands in dire peril and you sit there and weep and wail and say, very sorry, but it’s been too long! You can’t remember! Then tell me, Brother-Leader,” Borneheld snarled, half rising out of his seat as he leaned menacingly across the table, “of what use are you when it is my men dying out there in the snow? Do you think mumbled platitudes will stop the Forbidden? Have they forgotten exactly what it is they hunt?”
Jayme flinched, but waved Axis back as he started to rise from his chair. “I feel as frustrated as you do, Borneheld, and I can only assure you that I and the entire Seneschal will do everything in our power to assist you.”
Even Axis, much as he hated to admit it to himself, felt the inadequacy of Jayme’s reply. Moryson shifteds lightly behind his Brother-Leader as if he meant to step forward in Jayme’s defence, but thought better of it as Borneheld glared at him.
Priam held a hand in the air. “There is more I have to tell you, and I have found it hard to find the courage to speak of it.”
Every eye in the chamber fixed itself on the King.
Priam stared straight ahead, avoiding
