Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy. Sara Douglass
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“Belial!”
“Sir.” Belial appeared at his side, a tall, well-built man with deeply set hazel eyes and a thick line of fine sandy hair over his tanned and beardless face. He wore a plain, grey woollen tunic coat over a white shirt and grey leather trousers, the normal uniform of the Axe-Wielders. Belial was some seven or eight years older than Axis, but despite his service, experience and undoubted expertise he had never harboured any ambition to lead the Axe-Wielders. He preferred that someone else have the ultimate responsibility and care, and he served happily under Axis.
“Why isn’t everyone in formation!” Axis snapped. “It’s late!”
Belial took no offence at his BattleAxe’s short temper. He was always tense and irritable before they moved out. “This is the last cohort to form up. The other cohorts are waiting outside in the streets. In line. Packhorses loaded. Supplies accounted for. Geared up, fed, watered, weaponed, and ready to go.”
Axis glared at Belial but there was so little light the effort was wasted. “Then where are these cursed women!” he growled.
“These cursed women are geared up, fed, watered, ah … packed, and ready to go,” a feminine voice said from behind him.
Axis wheeled around. He could just make out Embeth in the dim light, but it was the huddle of female shapes behind her that caught his eye. Artor’s arse! he thought, only avoiding swearing out loud through a supreme effort.
“I had not expected you to bring every single one of your seamstresses, laundresses and chambermaids with you, Lady Tare,” he said curdy. “Do you think to teach my Axemen needlework about the fires at night?”
“The Lady of Skarabost, her daughter Faraday and I have brought our maids, BattleAxe. We do not travel without our attendants,” Embeth replied firmly.
“Well I hope they can ride, because you’ll have to travel without them if they fall off their cursed horses crossing the first overflowing gutter they come to!” Axis snarled, ignoring Embeth’s gasp at his rough tone. Turning on his heel, Axis disappeared into the throng of men as they mounted and formed up.
Belial shrugged in sympathy at the women, then hurried off to fetch their horses. Embeth turned to the ladies Merlion and Faraday and smiled wryly. “I have heard that his temper improves as the sun rises, my friends. Let us hope that is truly the case!”
“No wonder Priam doesn’t receive him!” Lady Merlion muttered. She wished Isend had found them a more gracious escort – and one with a less unsavoury parentage.
Faraday wriggled in embarrassment at her mother’s words, then abruptly giggled at the image of their maids floundering in a flooded gutter while Axis rode resolutely on.
Her mother was horrified. “Faraday!”
Embeth struggled for a moment, then she too started to laugh, wheezing with the effort of trying to keep it low. Finally she gave up and burst into a merry peal as Belial and several servants came back with their horses. “Onwards and forwards, ladies,” she chuckled, “onwards and forwards!” and scrambled onto her horse.
Faraday was just settling her skirts after mounting her horse side-saddle when a rough hand touched her knee. “Borneheld,” she gasped. The sun had just risen and a shaft of light shone directly into Borneheld’s face as he squinted up at Faraday. “My dear. I had to see you safely off.” Faraday was too high to lean down so that he could kiss her mouth, but Borneheld made up for it by patting her leg awkwardly through the skirts of her riding habit.
“I will count the days until I see you again, Borneheld,” Faraday muttered, embarrassed by his attention in case Axis reappeared. She wriggled her leg slightly, hoping that Borneheld would drop his hand.
Although he ceased his patting, Borneheld kept his hand firmly in place as he peered about the courtyard. “Where is …? Ah!”
The final cohort had formed up, and Axis appeared at one corner of the courtyard, mounted on his dappled-grey stallion, Belaguez. The horse was skittish in the early-morning cold, and his steel-clad hooves slipped and skidded over the slick cobbles of the courtyard as Axis rode across to Borneheld.
Faraday was now so mortified she wished that somehow Artor could find enough pity in his heart to reach down and snatch her from this life. She averted her eyes, her colour rising, unable to look at the BattleAxe. Axis shot her a quick glance, recognising her from the banquet. He knew who she was now, since Earl Isend had spent the best part of an hour persuading him to accompany her and her mother to Arcness.
“Borneheld,” he said flatly, his eyes flickering over his half-brother’s hand resting on the young woman’s knee. He felt a moment’s sympathy for her.
Borneheld was unable to resist a sneer. “Don’t lose too many of my Axe-Wielders before you arrive in Gorkenfort, BattleAxe.”
Axis’ mouth compressed and his hands tightened on Belaguez’s reins, causing the stallion to half rear. “If you can’t manage to drag your mind away from your forthcoming marriage, Borneheld, then I doubt that you’ll survive long enough to lead even your horse to water.”
Borneheld finally lifted his hand from Faraday’s knee to pat her patronisingly on the arm. Seizing on the equine metaphor, he spoke without thinking, wanting only to irritate Axis. “Isend has handed me the reins of the finest mare in the stable, BattleAxe. You could never hope to own anything this well-bred.” He laughed at his own wit and, dropping his hand, fondled Faraday’s leg again.
Underneath her choking blanket of embarrassment, Faraday’s temper flared into white-hot anger. She was no mare to be passed between men for the highest price! She dug her booted heel into her horse and viciously swiped it with the long whip that hung down the far side from Borneheld. The horse snorted and leaped sideways in surprise and indignation, and Borneheld lost his footing. He waved his arms and stumbled alarmingly, almost falling to his knees on the slippery cobbles.
“Borneheld!” Faraday cried, hoping her voice held a suitable degree of surprised anxiety. Her green eyes flickered momentarily to Axis before she hooded their triumphant gleam. Her mother gasped out in concern behind her, but Borneheld regained his balance and glanced at Faraday, assuming she had momentarily lost control when the horse had shied at some imagined shadow.
Faraday splayed her hands in a display of helplessness and Borneheld smiled to reassure her. “My dear, it doesn’t matter. When we are married I’ll teach you to ride properly.”
Axis had noticed Faraday’s actions and glance and restrained a wry grin. The girl had spirit, it seemed. “And in return perhaps the Lady Faraday can teach you your dance steps, Borneheld. Your exhibition just now was hardly impressive.”
Borneheld stiffened, wishing a biting retort would spring to his lips. “Do not tarry on your way to Gorkenfort, BattleAxe,” he snapped finally, his colour rising. He gave Faraday a final pat on the arm, then turned and strode back into the palace.
Although cheered by the BattleAxe’s remark, Faraday nevertheless shook her head imperceptibly. Why had she acted so foolishly? She squared her shoulders, wondering at the antagonism between the two brothers.
“Axis.” Jayme walked out from the shadows where he had been standing. Axis bowed from the saddle and gave his Brother-Leader the clenched fist salute of the Axe-Wielders. “Axis. Ride well and fast, my son. Find the answers that we so desperately need. And remember your promise.”
Axis nodded, his eyes cold. The tension between the two had not dissipated completely over the past five days since their furious argument in the Brother-Leader’s apartment. Axis edged his horse away from the Brother-Leader. “Furrow wide, furrow deep, Father.”
“Wide and deep,” Jayme replied. “May Artor hold you in His care now and for always, my son.”
For a long moment their eyes caught above Belaguez’s tossing head, then, as Jayme raised his hand in blessing, Axis wheeled his stallion around in a tight circle, sparks rising as the horse’s hooves struck the cobbles.
“Axe-Wielders,