Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy

“And how many others are buried under the earth in this spot,” Arne whispered.

That thought didn’t bear thinking about, and Axis battled to regain his equilibrium. “Get back on your horses. I for one am going to feel a lot better with Belaguez underneath me again.”

Gilbert rode back as the others remounted. “What happened?” he asked.

Axis swung into Belaguez’s saddle. “We have been deprived of our axes, Brother Gilbert,” he said, a lot more calmly than he felt. “We must hope that the forest does not eat us as well. Ride on.”

Nothing else troubled them for the rest of the long ride, although the forest loomed still and dark around them and they were all tense and jumpy, snarling at each other whenever a twig snapped under hoof or a low-slung bough scraped at a head or a shoulder. Hands lay slippery with sweat on the hilts of swords, but the three Axemen were unwilling to wipe their hands along their cloaks in case the demons, or whatever other dark fiends inhabited these Woods, chose that moment to attack.

After they had been in the saddle almost eight hours, the ground started to drop away underneath them, and they had to rein their horses back on the increasingly steep path in case they slipped and fell. An hour later Gilbert pulled his horse up and turned back to Axis, his face now so weary that deep lines of fatigue scored his pimply cheeks and forehead.

“BattleAxe,” he waved ahead sketchily. “Water.”

Axis peered through the gloom. Although it was difficult to see very far ahead, he could see a glint of water. “Keep going,” he said. “The sooner we find somewhere to rest and eat the better.”

“If we find somewhere to rest and eat,” he heard Timozel mutter. Axis hefted his sword in his right hand, almost dropping it as his fingers cramped, and leaned further back in the saddle as Belaguez slipped a few paces down the slope. Artor, he thought, if we don’t get some rest soon we’ll have to lie down here in the very path.

And if we do that, will the ground swallow us as easily as it swallowed our axes?

Almost as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Gilbert’s horse jumped a small obstacle and landed on level ground, Gilbert only managing to keep to his saddle by the most strenuous effort. Forewarned, Axis gripped the saddle with his knees just as Belaguez leaped across a small stream; he called a warning back to Timozel and Arne. The path broadened and flattened ahead and all four men allowed themselves a deep breath of relief at the increased space, Gilbert taking the first opportunity he’d had to rein his horse back from the lead position. Axis kneed Belaguez forward.

“The trees thin ahead,” he said. “There’s a lake.”

A few moments later they had reined in at the shore of one of the most incredible sights they had ever seen. The entire forest sloped down into a deep circular basin, the mass of grey-green trees ending abruptly at the edge of an almost perfectly round lake. But it was the water itself that caught the party’s attention. It shone a soft, gentle gold in the late afternoon light.

Axis turned to Gilbert. “Did you know this was here?”

Gilbert shook his head slowly from side to side, not taking his eyes from the water.

“It must be enchanted,” Axis said flatly. “Water isn’t gold.”

“Perhaps it isn’t water,” said Timozel softly, making the sign of the Plough to ward off evil.

“Look,” said Arne, pointing with his sword. “It’s the cursed Keep.”

The Keep sat virtually at the lake’s edge, about a quarter of the way around, built of pale yellow stone that reflected the glow from the water. Its smooth cylindrical stone walls rose some thirty paces into the air, the walls only occasionally broken by narrow dark windows. It looked to be completely deserted.

“Well,” Axis spurred Belaguez forward, “let us go find this lost tribe of brothers, shall we?”

The horses slipped and slid their way around the lake’s edge, finally reaching the Keep just as the last rays of sun disappeared behind the tops of the forest trees. The Keep looked even more deserted closer up, and the men began to feel uneasy. No-one wanted to spend the night outside in this damned forest.

Axis kicked his stallion up to the barred door and brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on it three times. “Open up in the name of Artor!” he shouted. “We have need of food and rest.”

Nothing happened. Timozel and Arne exchanged looks, and Gilbert groaned quietly. Axis thundered at the door again, then edged Belaguez backwards a few steps so he could gaze up at the impassive stone walls.

“Damn you, open up,” he whispered.

A small trapdoor at eye level in the barred door suddenly swung open. “Well?” a scratchy voice demanded.

Axis felt relief wash through him. He half fell from his saddle and staggered stiffly up to the door.

“I am Axis, BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders. These are my two companions, Arne and Timozel, and Brother Gilbert, assistant and adviser to the Brother-Leader, Jayme.” There, he thought, let him think about that.

A pair of suspicious grey eyes darted back and forth across the group. “No, you’re not, and no, he’s not,” he said abruptly, and slammed the trapdoor shut in Axis’ face.

“What!” Axis hammered at the door again in angry frustration. “In the name of the Seneschal, open up!”

The trapdoor popped open again. “You’re not the BattleAxe,” the scratchy voice said belligerently, “Fingus is.” The grey eyes shifted to Gilbert. “And he’s not adviser or whatever to the Brother-Leader. I am.”

The trapdoor slammed shut again.

Axis leaned wearily against the door, rubbing his hand over his eyes in exasperation. Fingus had been BattleAxe decades ago. These men had received no news from beyond the borders of the Silent Woman Woods for the past thirty-nine years.

He somehow raised the strength to hammer at the door again.

“Go away!” the voice called from behind the door.

“We are hungry, we are tired, and we need some where to stay the night,” Axis said in what he hoped was a reasonable tone. “Please, will you give us aid?”

Finally there was the sound of bolts being pulled back and Axis stood up straight, just in time to avoid falling over as the door swung inwards. A short, plump Brother of about seventy stood there, suspicion darkening the grey eyes in his round, cherubic face. Wispy white hair surrounded his head like a halo. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place,” he said irritably. “Come in, come in.”

Timozel took the horses and tied them up loosely to a row of iron rings in the wall of the Keep, then he followed the others inside. The irritable Brother slammed the door shut behind him.

14 Inside the Silent Woman Keep (#ulink_847fe6d1-3846-5c4a-895d-4537608c7f44)

“Well? What are you doing here? What are you doing wandering the Silent Woman Woods?” he demanded.

Axis looked around. They were in a large, dimly lit circular room which seemed to take up the entire ground floor of the Keep. To one side a twisting iron staircase led to the upper levels. Various packing cases lay strewn across almost half of the floor space, while the other half was set up as a rude kitchen and eating area. A large wooden larder, propped up by bricks, leaned precariously against the stone wall, while a crude wooden table sat before a small fire in an iron grate. The fire provided the only light in the room. A small and utterly insufficient iron hood led some of the smoke away through a pipe in the wooden ceiling. The rest of the smoke simply drifted about the room.

Axis gave the Brother the Axe-Wielder’s salute; he saw no point in insulting the man. “Brother Ogden?”

The Brother grunted and looked the group over. “That is my name.”

“Brother Ogden, my name is Axis, BattleAxe of the Axe-Wielders. Wait!” He raised his hand slightly and took a step forward as Ogden started to shake his head. “Brother, it has been thirty-nine years since you had contact with the outside world and many things have changed since you were last at the Tower of the Seneschal. Fingus died many years ago. Now I am BattleAxe. King Karel likewise died many years ago and now Priam sits on the throne of Achar.”

“He was a snotty-nosed toddler when I last saw him,” Ogden grumbled. Timozel restrained a smile at the image of a snotty-nosed Priam, complete with auburn curls. The Brother looked at Axis sharply. “Who’s the Brother-Leader did you say? Jayme?”

Axis nodded. Ogden frowned then smiled as if recalling something. “Well, well. Done well for a boy from the farm, hasn’t he? I wonder what friends he made to reach such a high position?” He muttered to himself for another moment, his smile fading, then wandered over to the table. “Well, sit, sit. No use standing about like gawking peasants caught at court.” He kicked out a couple of bare benches from underneath the table. “Courtesy dictates that we offer you some food while you tell us why you are here. Veremund!”

Ogden’s sudden bellow caught the four men off-guard and Gilbert, who was closest to Ogden and in the act of sitting down on the dusty bench, tripped and would have fallen had not Timozel caught his arm.

“Veremund!” Ogden bellowed again, staring at the staircase where it disappeared into the darkness. There was a shuffling from above, then a figure hastened into view, lit by a small lamp that he was carrying. He hurried down the staircase, whispering to himself.

Veremund was as tall and spare as Ogden was short and fat, and unlike Ogden’s pale grey eyes, his eyes were almost black in his pale face. His hair, however, was as white and as wispy as his fellow brother’s. Ink stains ran down his dirty grey habit.

“Guests!” he exclaimed, as he caught sight of Axis and his companions. “Ogden! We have guests!” He hurried over to the table and enthusiastically shook all four men’s hands. “Charmed,” he beamed. “Absolutely delighted, old chap.” He patted Timozel on the head and clapped Gilbert on the shoulder, then he spied the insignia on the breast of Axis’ coat.

“BattleAxe! We are indeed honoured … aren’t we, Ogden?” He looked expectantly at Ogden, who grumbled to himself again and shuffled over to the fire and pushed a large kettle closer to the flames. “Well,” Veremund continued, a little deflated. “We are honoured. It’s been a long time. Please excuse Brother Ogden’s poor manners, gentlemen. He does dislike to be disturbed from his contemplations, you see. But I am glad to have company.” He waved at the men to sit down. “Please, sit … sit.”