Axe-Wielders ride lightly armoured with mailshirts under their cloaks to give them the best
chance against further ice-spears. At night, in camp, men slept fully clothed, weapons to hand,
double sentries posted in case Gorgrael struck again. Ogden and Veremund might hope that Gorgrael had exhausted himself with his effort at the Ancient Barrows, but Axis wasn‘t prepared
to risk it.
Axis felt in a reasonable mood as he sat before the campfire that night, his cohort
commanders and Belial laughing and joking about some tavern brawl they had witnessed in
Arcen, Ogden and Veremund sitting quietly to one side. Axis had virtually ignored the two old
men since they had left the Barrows; everything had gone wrong since he had read the Prophecy.
And though they had argued they would be useful to answer questions Axis might have, both
gave such indistinct answers or such disturbing ones that Axis sometimes found himself
wondering whether or not he should leave them behind.
However, over the past week the Brothers had proved surprisingly pleasant company
about the campfire at night. They had respected Axis‘ wish to be left alone, and had proved to
have such a repertoire of bawdy ballads that even Axis sometimes forgot his cares and dissolved
into embarrassed laughter at their contributions to the campfire ballads.
But they were far more than they appeared. Axis leaned back into the shadows and
narrowed his eyes as he stared at them. Perhaps what they said to him about not knowing the
identity of his father was the truth, but Axis also had the distinct feeling that they did not tell him
all they knew—and how had Ogden known the basic melody of that ward? Axis remembered
how they had faltered over the Service for the Dead at the mass burial site at the Barrows. Was
thirty-nine years long enough to completely forget the words (and yet still remember ancient
enchantments)? It had been embarrassing and disrespectful towards the dead and Axis had
fought hard to restrain his anger at them.
As the Axe-Wielders moved through Arcness and into Arcen itself, Ogden and
Veremund avoided contact with any of the local Plough-Keepers, as the brothers who lived
among and ministered to the people were known. Many among the Axe-Wielders had noted and
commented on their peculiar behaviour. Some of this could simply be the result of spending so
long isolated in the Silent Woman Keep, perhaps combined with the onset of old-age senility, but
Axis wasn‘t sure and he knew that Arne watched them closely as well.
But tonight everyone seemed in a relaxed mood. Belial had produced a harp and was
laughingly trying to play the tune of a ballad he had heard in Arcen. Axis smiled. He liked Belial
very much and respected him as a fighting man, but his attempts at the harp were appalling.
―My friend,‖ Axis leaned back into the light and held out his hand. ―That harp needs
tuning. Let me see.‖
Belial grinned and handed the harp over. Axis‘ diplomatic remark had not fooled Belial
who had deliberately mishandled the strings to prompt Axis into asking for the instrument. Axis
had been too quiet since losing so many men at the Barrows, and Belial tried whenever he could
to lift the man out of his dark moods.
Axis sat back with the harp, making a pretence of tightening the strings, then he looked
around the campfire. ―And what shall we sing tonight, my friends?‖ he asked softly.
―Belle my Wife!‖ one of his commanders called and the others laughed and clapped. It
was a favourite ballad among the Acharites, yet one only a skilled musician could do justice.
Axis smiled with his men and strummed the opening chords.
This winter’s weather, it waxeth cold
and frost it freezeth on every hill,
And Artor blows his blasts so bold
that all our cattle are like to spill.
Belle my Wife, she loves no strife
she said unto me quietly,
Rise up and save Cow Crumbocke’s life!
man! put thy cloak about thee!
His voice was clear and strong, and the others let him sing the first four verses before
they joined in. Soon the night rang with good-humoured voices and when the ballad was finally
sung to a close, after the fifth repetition of the final chorus, Axis joined his men in laughter and
loud applause.
He played several more ballads, then, as the mood shifted, strummed soft tunes on the
harp as his commanders talked about the ride north and about the danger they would shortly face.
What were these creatures that had attacked Gorkenfort? Where did they come from? Who drove
them?
―BattleAxe?‖ asked Baldwin, one of Axis‘ commanders. ―What do you think about this
Prophecy? Are the creatures that attack Gorkenfort the Ghostmen the Prophecy speaks of?
Before we left Carlon we thought it was the Forbidden who were responsible. But now…‖ His
voice drifted off.
There was silence as everyone waited for their BattleAxe to answer. Ogden and
Veremund watched him carefully.
―Do you think that Gorgrael‘s Ghostmen attack Gorkenfort, Baldwin?‖ said Axis, turning
the question back.
Baldwin hesitated. The Prophecy Timozel and Arne had brought out of the Silent Woman
Woods had spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Axe-Wielders. Once heard, it was
impossible to forget.
―I cannot get the Prophecy out of my mind,‖ Baldwin admitted, and to one side Ogden
nodded. It was enchanted. Once heard, few would be able to forget it—except the third verse, of
course. Only one man could remember that. He restrained a smile as he thought of the
enchantments that the Prophet had woven into his Prophecy. No doubt the Seneschal would find
over the next few months that many Acharites were not so deeply committed to Artor as they
thought.
―It seems to make sense,‖ Baldwin continued softly, ―that if Gorgrael is responsible for
the attacks in the north, then perhaps he was also responsible for the storm that hit the Ancient
Barrows.‖
Axis frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but another commander, Methuen, broke
in.
―If it is Gorgrael in the north, then we need to find this StarMan to save us.‖
Axis, angry now, opened his mouth again, but was again forestalled.
―Axis,‖ Belial asked gently. ―What is that you play?‖
Stunned by the question and by the circle of eyes gazing at him, Axis closed his mouth.
What was it he played? Axis hadn‘t been paying any attention to what he actually strummed on
the harp. Now he realised that he was playing a haunting melody he had never heard before. But
it was more than that, for the style of music, its phrasing and beat, were completely alien to his
ears.
―A silly tune, Belial, nothing more.‖ He dropped the harp at his feet and hurriedly rose. ―I
have to check the sentries,‖ he said, tersely, ―to make sure they have the perimeter adequately
covered.‖
Then he was gone.
Arne rose to follow him but Belial grabbed his arm. ―No. Wait. Give him some time
alone.‖
Axis inspected the sentries, then wandered a little distance from the camp, needing time
to sort out his thoughts. What was happening to him?
The only good thing which could be said for his experiences since the Ancient Barrows
was that his nightmares had finally completely disappeared. But if the lies of his nightmares no
longer troubled Axis, thinking on the continuing enigma of his father made him deeply
uncomfortable. What sort of man was this that could teach a growing foetus how to sing an
enchanted ward to protect himself against evil later in life? Enchantments of any sort were evil,
the Seneschal had taught him that. Even the herbal remedies that many country women used
were frowned upon by the Brotherhood of the Seneschal, especially if the women used words or
songs to aid the herbs in their healing powers, and Axis himself had been involved in several
cases where he had to bring these women to the Tower of the Seneschal for trial and justice. Axis
shuddered at the memory of what happened to those women who had been found guilty; death by
the purification of fire had always been the sentence imposed by the Seneschal. Never would he
forget the screams of the simple country women as the flames engulfed them; at least it had not
been his role to light the fire.
And now he, the BattleAxe, was experiencing disturbing, long-buried memories out of
that deep, dark place that the reading of the Prophecy had unlocked. Not only memories, but
talents. The ward against evil that he had sung to the apparition of Gorgrael had been the most
powerful thus far, but the strange alien melody he had played for his men this evening had been
another example.
Where had his talent for the harp and the music come from in the first place? Axis could
never remember actually learning the harp. He had simply always played. Even as a small child