with age, they mumble about prophecies. Jayme would be horrified if he knew what was going on here. If he knew what this Keep really contained.”
“Gilbert,” Axis’ voice trembled with rage, “it is not up to you to single-handedly determine to destroy what the Seneschal has maintained for a thousand years.”
Veremund and Ogden glanced at each other. Best that Axis continue to believe that for the time being.
“If you go back to Jayme and give him your opinion that the lot should go up in flames, and if he should agree with you, then fine. I will light the pyre myself.” Ogden winced, but kept still under Axis’ hand as the BattleAxe continued. “But you have no right to destroy this building and its contents by your own judgement, Brother Gilbert. Do you understand me?”
Gilbert stared at him defiantly. “You are wrong, BattleAxe, but I must comply with your orders. My weak body is no match against your sword, and that of your two henchmen.” His eyes swept over Arne and Timozel, then returned to Axis. “But I will inform the Brother-Leader of your unreasonable and, might I say, somewhat disturbing championship of these two old Brothers and their books. Perhaps their behaviour can be excused by their weak minds, but you appear too ready to listen to words of the Forbidden, Axis, before those of the Seneschal.”
“I keep an open mind,” Axis snarled, “and I am willing to listen to all who are willing to talk to me. And if you want to run squealing to Jayme I cannot stop you. But, by Artor, the moment you are out of these woods you are on a fresh horse and heading back to the Tower of the Seneschal. And,” Axis let go of Ogden’s shoulder and stepped forward to seize the front of Gilbert’s habit, “you’ll take a copy of that Prophecy back to Jayme as well, if I have to brand it on your forehead. Do you understand me?”
Gilbert sneered into Axis’ eyes. “You may be sure that I will report everything that I have heard and observed when I get back to the Brother-Leader, BattleAxe. Everything.”
Axis stared at him a moment longer, then let go of his habit, pushing the Brother back half a step as he did so. He turned to Arne. “And what were you doing in the upper levels, Arne?” he asked, his tone still low and dangerous.
Arne cleared his throat. “I heard a noise, commander, and I thought I’d investigate. I knew Brother Ogden and Brother Veremund were down here.”
The two elderly Brothers regarded him benignly. He would do well.
Axis wasn’t satisfied with Arne’s explanation, but he wasn’t prepared to push him in front of Gilbert. He shifted his hard stare to Timozel to search for any guilty expression, then turned back to Ogden and Veremund. “How long before you’re ready?”
“We’re all but ready now, BattleAxe. Give us a moment to pack some food and saddle our mounts and we will be ready.”
“Make sure you are,” Axis barked and turned to Arne and Timozel. “As you can see, Ogden and Veremund will be coming with us to render assistance as they may.” Neither Arne and Timozel dared say anything in Axis’ present mood. “I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to get out of these Woods, so breakfast as quickly as you can and then saddle the horses.”
Both Arne and Timozel understood the order as “forget breakfast and saddle the horses now!” and were quickly out the door. Axis then pulled out a bench with his foot and sat down. “Now, Gilbert. Shall we sit down and wait together?” He broke a piece of fresh bread and covered it with some bacon from a dish. “You’d better eat something, Gilbert,” he said around a mouthful of bread and bacon. “You’ll have a hard ride back to the Tower of the Seneschal if you want to get there as quickly as I think you do.”
Gilbert merely stared at him and remained standing. Ogden and Veremund packed one remaining book into their already bulging saddlebags, stuffed a holdall with some of the food that remained on the table, and hurried outside as well.
They were ready in under half an hour. Axis took pity on Arne and Timozel and gave each of them some food after they’d finished saddling the horses. Leaving a sulking Gilbert with the two Axemen he then helped Ogden to close the Keep down; Veremund was behind the Keep saddling their horses.
“You must be sad to leave this Keep after so long,” Axis remarked softly as Ogden poured water over the fire and spread the damp ashes out.
Ogden straightened up and looked at Axis. “Yes,” he said. “Both Veremund and I have spent most of our lives here. We will be sad to leave,” he waved his hand vaguely around him and looked towards the upper levels of the Keep, “all our books and records, for they have become friends to us.”
Axis moved closer. “You can understand that I share some of Gilbert’s sentiments, old man, can you not?” he said softly. Ogden nodded, for once speechless. “I am the BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders,” Axis continued so quietly that Ogden could barely hear him. “My duty is to protect the Seneschal and Achar itself from whatever threatens it. I find it … uncomfortable, to say the least, to hear you and Veremund talking of the Forbidden as though they are old friends. You would not let your rather dubious loyalties compromise any advice that you might give me in the future – would you, old man?”
It was not a question and Ogden fully realised it. How strange that this man should appear in the guise of the BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders, he thought to himself.
“My lord,” he said, and this time he did bow. Axis’ eyes narrowed at both title and action. “I understand your loyalties to your land and to your people and I swear on all that I hold dear that I will never compromise those loyalties.”
It was an ambiguous answer, but Axis believed that Ogden meant well.
“Don’t call me ‘my lord’,” he said shortly, and stalked out the door. Ogden paused briefly in the room. Both he and Veremund, as others, had waited eons for this moment and this man. They had sacrificed their lives for it. It was up to them to guide the future. Ogden made a quick gesture with his hands, his eyes glowing golden for an instant, then he turned and walked through the door without a backward glance.
He almost ran straight into Axis who had stopped dead in amazement at the scene before him. Gilbert, Arne and Timozel all sat on their horses, Timozel holding Belaguez’s reins ready for him. Gilbert looked openly disdainful, while Arne and Timozel were looking everywhere but at Axis’ face.
Veremund stood by the group of horsemen, holding the reins of two fat, long-eared, thoroughly amiable white donkeys. Both wore oversized saddles and had large crammed saddlebags, tied on to the backs of their saddles.
“You can’t seriously expect to keep up riding those two donkeys,” Axis said incredulously.
Ogden stalked past him and took the reins of his donkey from Veremund. “They will keep up, BattleAxe. They have impeccable breeding.” He looked at his companion. “If you would be so kind, Veremund.”
As Ogden put his foot into the stirrup and grasped the saddle with both hands, Veremund, his face completely expressionless, placed his hands underneath Ogden’s ample posterior, and gave a single heave that almost sent his friend tumbling over the other side of the donkey.
After an anxious moment Ogden settled safely onto the donkey’s back. His hair stuck out wildly and his habit had rucked up beneath his legs, but he seemed unperturbed. “See,” he said triumphantly, gazing about the group. “As agile as any youth. No trouble at all.”
Axis groaned and covered his face with his hands, and Timozel
