Battleaxe: Book One of the Axis Trilogy. Sara Douglass
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so kind as to pour the tea while I am gone.” Then he stalked from the room, slamming the Keep door behind him.
An hour later the men were warm, fed and far more relaxed than previously. Veremund had stomped back inside and joined them at the table. He refused to eat, sipping only at a mug of steaming tea. Ogden leaned forward. “Now, young men, what brings the BattleAxe, two Axe-Wielders, and what you claim to be the Brother-Leader’s adviser deep into the Silent Woman Woods to disturb two old men who would prefer to be left alone?”
Axis stared at his empty mug for a moment, then looked at Ogden and Veremund. “Brothers, we’ve come because the Seneschal, Achar itself, needs your help.”
For almost an hour Axis talked, telling them everything he knew about the problems in the north. Occasionally he’d clarify a detail with Gilbert, and sometimes one or other of the two Brothers would ask a question. Finally he sat back. “Well, can you help us? Can you tell us how to defeat these unbodied wraiths?”
Ogden looked at Axis, then glanced about the rest of the table. His eyes were troubled. “My sons. The news you bring is grievous. I am afraid to tell you that I, we, believe the news is worse than you yet realise.” He paused.
Axis’ face tightened. “Then tell me, man, tell me! Don’t sit there and keep me guessing!”
“BattleAxe. At one point you mentioned the possibility that this danger from the north might not actually be the Forbidden themselves,” said Veremund stumbling over the word “Forbidden”, “but something else. You were correct. Brother Ogden and I are afraid that the danger you speak of might be the Destroyer, Gorgrael himself, driving his Ghostmen and his ice and cloud down from the north.”
Axis glanced at Gilbert, but Gilbert looked as perplexed as he. “Veremund, what do you mean? Who is this Destroyer? This Gorgrael?”
Ogden answered instead. “Axis, first let me explain about this Keep a little.” Axis nodded. “Jayme told you that the Keep contained records, ancient records, from the time when the Acharites penned the Forbidden behind the Fortress Ranges, is that right?”
Axis nodded again. “Jayme hoped that these records would contain valuable information about how to defeat the Forbidden.”
Ogden blinked, amused. “Hardly, young man. The records that this Keep contains are the actual records of the Forbidden themselves. They extend back almost eight thousand years.”
“What!” Gilbert was appalled. “They should have been burned hundreds of years ago!” Ever since the Forbidden had been penned behind the Fortress Ranges and the Icescarp Alps the Seneschal had done everything in their power to rid Achar of any sign or memory of the Forbidden, even discouraging people from repeating the old legends that included the Forbidden. No wonder the Seneschal did not encourage any interest in the Silent Woman Woods and Keep.
“Exactly why the Seneschal has not let it be widely known that they exist, you young simpleton!” Ogden snapped at Gilbert. “They might be the records of the Forbidden, but they are valuable for precisely that reason.”
“But the Forbidden are brutes, hardly better than beasts, Ogden. How could they keep records?” Axis asked quietly, leaning forward so that the firelight glinted in his eyes and in the short hairs of his blond beard.
Veremund answered. “BattleAxe. The Forbidden, as you have so simplistically called them, had a written and oral culture that was far more complex than our own. Even after hundreds of years of brothers studying the records that remain, we can only dimly comprehend the complexity and beauty of their lives.”
Arne studied both Brothers carefully. “You sound as if you admire them.”
“Young man, it has been hard for Brother Ogden and myself to do anything but admire them. They were beautiful peoples.”
“Sacrilege!” Gilbert hissed. “You are unworthy to wear the robes of the Seneschal!”
“Hush, Gilbert,” Axis said tersely, though he sympathised with Gilbert’s reactions. How could these Brothers admire the Forbidden when, as every Artor-fearing Acharite knew, the Forbidden had done their best to slaughter every man, woman and child in Achar? “You said ‘peoples’, Veremund.”
“The Forbidden are composed of two peoples. The Icarii, sometimes known as the people of the Wing, and the Avar, or the people of the Horn. The records here are mainly of the Icarii, although we do have some relating to the Avar as well.”
“How can you read the language of the Forbidden, Brothers?” Gilbert asked suspiciously, ignoring Axis’ admonition to keep quiet.
“All the races of this ancient land once lived together, Gilbert, and spoke the same language. It has scarcely altered over the centuries.”
We speak the same language as the Forbidden? Axis raised his eyebrows, but he did not dwell on it. “And these records will tell us of what we face?”
Veremund nodded. “I believe so. But it might be better if I show you rather than simply tell you. Ogden, do you think that would be best?”
“Yes, Veremund. I think that would be best.”
Veremund inclined his head and stood up, taking the small lamp providing the only illumination in the room besides the fire, and climbed the circular iron steps until he disappeared from view.
Axis felt a premonition crawl down his spine and he reached instinctively for his axe. But it was gone, buried underneath the Woods, and his sword stood propped out of his reach against the wall of the Keep. He glanced at Arne and Timozel; both looked as nervous as he. How had they let their swords be placed out of their immediate reach?
Ogden noticed their tension. “Gentlemen, I assure you that there is no danger. Veremund has simply gone to fetch one of the Icarii books.”
Soon the four men heard Veremund shuffling back down the steps. He had left his lamp behind, and grasped a large leather volume to his chest with both arms. He almost dropped the volume as he reached the table; clearly it was very heavy. Ogden turned the book around so that he could open it, squinting in the flickering light and muttering as he leafed through the pages. The others could see that each page was made of vellum, and contained an unfamiliar hand-written script and illuminations of incredible beauty. Whoever had written in this book had used inks of vivid hues, and gold and silver paints glittered among the rainbow enamels of the script.
“Ah,” Ogden finally breathed, his fingers tracing lightly along the lines of a page. “Here we are. Both the Icarii and the Avar, often so dissimilar in nature, had a shared prophecy, a prophecy that dates back many thousands of years. All Icarii and Avar used to pray that they would not be alive when the prophecy came to fruition. Let me read it to you.”
He took a deep breath and began to read, his voice taking on a peculiar musical aspect. “A day will come when born will be … Two babes whose blood … whose blood …” He stopped, rubbing his eyes. “Cursed firelight!” he growled. “You should have brought the lamp back with you, Veremund. Here, can you read this?”
Veremund shook his head from side to side. “Brother Ogden, you know that my eyes are weaker than yours – perhaps the BattleAxe?”
Axis looked startled, but Ogden waved him over “The words won’t bite you, BattleAxe, and you have a young man’s eyes. I used to know these lines by heart, but ’tis so long since I had cause to remember them … Here,” his finger tapped the page impatiently as Axis sat down on the bench beside him. “The words start here.”
Axis stared at the page for a moment, but the writing was so strange and alien that he could not make out the words. He looked up at Ogden. “Brother, I can’t read this. The writing is foreign, and I –“
“Nonsense!” Ogden interrupted. “Look! Concentrate, and you’ll be able to read it – you’ll see.”
Sighing, Axis turned back to the page. He let one finger lightly touch the page; it felt slightly warm. He stared at the writing. The letters were strange,