Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy. Sara Douglass
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away.”
But the evil, disgusting presence only drew closer. In a few moments he knew that he would be able to smell its putrid breath. He gave up fighting to free himself and instead lay panting heavily, knowing he should garner his strength for the fight ahead.
“Go away!” he whispered again hoarsely.
It approached. He could feel it circling in the dark, could feel its loathsome presence.
“Axis, my son.” Axis shuddered violently as the voice slithered through the dark spaces between them.
“No!” Axis whispered again. All he could feel from the other presence was hatred.
“My son,” the voice repeated. “You should never have been allowed to reach birth. You are an abomination. You should have been aborted. You killed your mother … your beautiful mother.”
The voice drooled over the word “beautiful” and Axis almost vomited with fear and loathing.
“Your beautiful mother. She died because of you, my son. You tore her apart. She cursed you in the end, you know, as you tore her apart. She swore she would drown you when she could finally get her hands on you. But you killed her first. She died with her life blood draining all over you. What a fiery baptism!” The voice rasped at its own joke in a ghastly parody of laughter, and its mad chuckles surrounded Axis like choking smoke.
He was crying now, crying because of the pain he had caused his mother, crying because she had cursed him, crying because he had never known her.
“I never wanted you, my son. If I had known she was pregnant I would have torn you from her body myself.”
“You are not my father!” Axis cried, desperate not to believe it, but scared to the depths of his soul that this unspeakable voice was indeed his father. The muscles of his arms and legs bulged as they fought to escape the pressure of the invisible, magical bonds that bound him, but he remained trapped … trapped in this dark unknowable space with his father. A father who hated him.
“You destroyed your mother, as you will destroy everyone about you. No-one wants you, Axis, no-one loves you. You should be dead instead of your beautiful mother.”
Scores of dreadful red-hot teeth nibbled at his flesh, tearing strips of skin and muscle away from his body. Not enough to kill quickly, but enough to torture slowly to death. Axis battled with his sanity.
“See here,” the voice soothed, suddenly solicitous, “my friends will help you. Tasty, tasty.” The voice hardened with hate. “You are an abomination, Axis, you deserve to die. I have come to do what should have been done while you swam in your mother’s womb. Tear you apart … piece by piece.”
Axis lost control at that point, as he always did, and screamed. It was the only way he knew to escape.
The scream reverberated about the small chamber and brought Embeth out of her slumber with her heart in her mouth. She sat up and twisted around to Axis, who was rolling about on the bed, covered in sweat, his hands gripping the mattress.
“No,” he whispered, his eyes wide open and staring at something that Embeth could not see, “you are not my father!”
Embeth’s heart almost broke. She seized his shoulders, although his violent motions almost threw her off, and shook as hard as she could.
“Axis! Axis! Wake up. Wake up … it’s all right, my love, it’s all right …wake up!”
She remembered these dreams from the time he had first come to stay with her and Ganelon as an eleven-year-old. Once or twice a month they had punctuated his sleep, waking both her and Ganelon even though he was bedded down in the attic of their manor house.
But they had never been this bad … and she thought he had grown out of them. “Axis,” she cried desperately one more time, taking a hand from his shoulders and striking his face. “Wake up!”
Finally he was awake and out of whatever horror had gripped him. He grabbed Embeth’s arms, startled, still desperately afraid, not knowing for a time who she was or where he was.
“Axis,” she murmured, cradling his head against her breasts, “it’s all right, it’s all right, my love. I am here now, I am here.”
Axis wrapped his arms about her as tightly as he dared, clinging to the love she represented. For a few moments they rocked back and forth on the bed, the one gently comforting, the other trying to re-establish some grip on sanity.
Tears streamed down Embeth’s face as she gently stroked Axis’ hair. “Shush,” she crooned, feeling the fear wrack his shoulders, “shush.” After a few minutes Axis pulled away and lay back against the disarranged bedclothes. Embeth said nothing, thinking it better that he speak first.
Eventually Axis took her hand. “Thank you for being here,” he said softly, and Embeth wondered how many nights he had woken up to face this horror himself.
“It is the same dream you had as a child,” she prodded.
He breathed deeply. “Yes. The same, but it has grown worse over the past few months. Infinitely worse.”
He paused and Embeth stroked his face, feeling the sweat of fear starting to dry on his forehead and in his beard.
“Why does he hate me so much?” he asked no-one in particular. “Why? I never asked to be born. How can it be my fault? Embeth?”
“Yes?” Fleetingly, Embeth thought Axis might tell her of his dream. Even as a child he had kept its details hidden from her, no matter how hard she probed.
Axis turned his head so he could look directly at her. He had been going to ask her if she had ever felt as if she were about to die during childbirth, and, if so, if she had ever blamed the child that was tormenting her body with pain. But just as he was about to speak the words he found he couldn’t ask. To do that would be to reveal that every day of his life he lived with the guilt of killing his own mother. His beautiful mother.
Embeth watched the change come over his face, saw his face close over and knew that he needed to be on his own now. Axis had lived so much of his life unwanted by his own family that he found it hard to accept that others could love him for himself.
Embeth kissed his forehead a last time then slithered out of his bed, finding her clothes on the floor where she had discarded them. She dressed quickly in the chill early morning air, and wound her hair back on top of her head in a rough knot that would stand a cursory inspection by any curious eyes.
Axis lay still on the bed watching her, grateful that she had asked no more questions and that she recognised his need to be alone. Before she left Embeth paused by the bed, not touching him.
“Let me know if you need me again,” she murmured, “and I will come.”
He nodded, and Embeth smiled briefly, sadly. Without another word or look she turned and slipped quietly from the room.
Axis was left alone in the dark.
4 At the Foot of the Fortress Ranges
The two women sat closely together in the cold air, their plain woollen wraps tight about their shoulders, watching the sky begin to lighten over the Fortress Ranges. They had been sitting talking most of the night, and each knew they would have to move soon so that the younger could be back in her bed undiscovered by dawn.
The older woman turned her eyes from the sky. She had fine features, and such incredibly thick and wavy hair that it threatened to break free of the pins holding it protesting in its coil. From the widow’s peak on her forehead a startling swathe of gold, two-fingers wide, ran back through her silvery hair. She smiled gently at the younger woman, who had risked a lot to meet her here tonight.
“You are very generous to offer to help us, my