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 somewhere 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
―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