grasped his head and forced him to look up. The creature bent over him, yellow gobs of phlegm
oozing down its protruding tongue and spattering on the ice floor. “Timozel,” it whispered,
drooling over the word, “what a pretty boy! Yes! You will serve me well.” Timozel felt a force
unlike anything he had ever experienced before compelling him to pledge his service to the foul
being before him. He was completely and utterly powerless to resist. Except…”Can’t!” he
choked. “What?” the creature spat, its eyes glowing red for a moment. “What does it
mean—can’t?” “Can’t,” Timozel whispered with the last of the strength in his body. “Already
pledged my life…my service…” The creature howled in fury, raising itself to its full height and
shaking its entire body in a frenzy of rage. Timozel, still held tightly in its grasp, was flung about like a wet rag. His muscles and tendons screamed with the abuse they were receiving. The
creature shrieked again, infuriated. “Who? Who have you pledged your life and service to?”
Timozel shook his head weakly; this the creature’s power could not compel him to answer—to do
so would break his oath of protection to Faraday. The creature hissed in maddened frustration.
“Listen to me, you crawling piece of excrement, listen to this. You will promise to serve me if you
are released from your other vow! Well?” It started to twist Timozel’s head about at such an
unnatural angle that Timozel could feel his spinal column crack with the strain. Red spots floated
before his eyes. He could feel the unnatural compulsion building again within his body. His
resistance to the power of the creature faded. “Yes, I do so swear,” he whispered, hating himself
more foully than he hated this creature before him. “I do so swear. If I am released from my
current pledge of service then I will serve you before any other.” Gorgrael smiled. He knew he
would have Timozel in the end. He indicated a shadow behind him. “The Dark Man bears
witness, Timozel. Your vow binds you to Gorgrael. On the day that you are freed from your
current vows you will come to me.” He held Timozel a heartbeat longer then let him go.
Gorgrael turned to the cloaked figure behind him. ―Did you set his feet on the dream
paths to find me?‖
He felt rather than saw the smile from the hooded man.
―Then thank you, thank you!” he almost grovelled.
The Dark Man inclined his head, accepting Gorgrael‘s gratitude. ―It is going well,‖ he
said. ―Very well.‖
―Will you stay awhile?‖ asked Gorgrael.
―No. No, you know that I have duties elsewhere. All will be well.‖
The cloaked figure before Gorgrael vanished.
As they rose through the emerald light it began to thicken about them, until in the last few
paces, when they could just see the brilliance of the stars in the night sky, it thickened into water,
and they burst coughing and choking through the surface of the Fernbrake Lake about fifteen
paces from the shore. Raum and Faraday were just tall enough to feel the bottom with their toes,
and they carried Shra above them to the shore. Jack and Yr were waiting anxiously with blankets
and wrapped them up as tightly as they could against the predawn ice.
Faraday hugged the blanket to her, feeling the wooden bowl press against the skin of her
stomach.
All three of them slept for the rest of the morning, exhausted by the events of the
predawn hours. When they finally rose, Raum and Shra immediately made preparations to leave
for the Avarinheim.
Faraday hugged them both. ―Take care. Do not let those Plains Dwellers snatch you.‖
Raum laughed at her. ―We travel only at night, and few humans can catch sight of us at
night.‖
―Listen to her, Raum,‖ Yr said, seriously. ―The Axe-Wielders will be in Smyrton
sometime within the next few weeks on their way to Sigholt and Gorkenfort. Take care as you
pass by on your way to the Avarinheim.‖
Jack, Yr and Faraday left for their camp in Pig Gully later that afternoon, arriving some
time during the night. All seemed as they had left it; the mule and the pigs were close by and
safe, Timozel lay asleep in his blankets. Yr slipped out of her clothes and snuggled down beside
him, removing the enchantment. ―He will wake as normal in the morning,‖ she whispered. Jack
and Faraday nodded and retired to their own blankets. Their sleep was sound that night. All
seemed well.
31
SMYRTON
On the first day of Frost-month, almost three weeks after traversing the passes in the
Bracken Ranges, the BattleAxe rode at the head of his column into the large Skarabost village of
Smyrton.
He was still on schedule to reach Gorkenfort at the beginning of Snow-month, but only
just. He had been forced to slow the Axe-Wielders‘ advance through Skarabost; in places the
horses had foundered in the deepening snowdrifts. But there had been other frustrations and
delays. The direct route from the Bracken Ranges to Smyrton would have taken Axis
uncomfortably close to Earl Isend‘s estates in the southern part of the province. Although he
knew the Earl was still in Carlon, Axis had taken the Axe-Wielders almost a day out of their way
to avoid the estates. Although the grief he felt over Faraday‘s death was less keen than it had
been, his guilt was no less painful. Axis could not bring himself to explain to Faraday‘s two elder
sisters how he had managed to lose their mother and sister. So he led the Axe-Wielders a day to
the east.
In itself that day‘s detour should not have caused any problems, but it brought them into a
village that had, over the previous several months, been terrorised by a vicious gang of bandits
some sixty strong. It had taken the Axe-Wielders two days to deal with the bandits, but, when
added to the delays caused by the weather, it meant that Axis reached Smyrton close to six days
later than he had wanted.
At least Gorgrael had not struck again since the night he had rolled his cloud of fear over
the Axe-Wielders. The weather over Skarabost, while worsening towards an unnaturally early
winter, had not had the feel of evil enchantment of the storm at the Ancient Barrows or the
roiling cloud outside Arcen. His reaction to Gorgrael‘s cloud had reassured Axis. He had dealt
with it without recourse to the strange music or songs that still haunted him from time to time.
As Axis rode into Smyrton, music and song were the last things on his mind. Smyrton
was a village like any other village in the Seagrass Plains of Skarabost except that it was,
perhaps, slightly larger than most. The lower taxes of the outpost regions attracted many settlers
to this village, despite its proximity to the Forbidden Valley. Even in this distant outpost of
civilisation, the open fields that surrounded the village were well-tended and the road into the
village well-repaired and cleared of snow. The few villagers out in the snow-covered fields in the
late afternoon waved excitedly as the long column of Axe-Wielders rode by.
There were sixty or seventy houses in the village; each with an ample garden containing
vegetables and fruit trees as well as chickens and the occasional pig. White-washed picket fences
kept stray children and animals from straying onto the roadway. Most of the village homes lay
clustered about the well-built Worship Hall where the good people of Smyrton met every
Seventh Day for the Service of the Plough. As the largest and most solidly built building in the
village, the Worship Hall also served as courthouse, village hall and place of refuge should
Smyrton come under attack. Close behind it stood the home of the local Plough-Keeper, and to
one side a well-tended graveyard. A large market square was the only other notable feature of the
village, and Axis wondered as he rode into the square what life must be like for country folk in
these isolated regions.
There was a small knot of visibly excited people standing in the market square to greet
them. The Plough-Keeper, clad in a flowing habit that wrapped about his legs in the stiff wind,
was instantly recognisable at the head of the group. His fat cheeks were red; whether from the
wind or from excitement, Axis knew not. Axis reined Belaguez to a halt in front of him, unable
to resist the impulse to touch his heels to the stallion‘s flanks and make him slide to a halt in a
half-rear so Axis could leap down to the ground in a fluid movement. Most of the village folk
took two or three rapid steps back to avoid the stallion, but Axis noted that one woman,
unusually striking for a country wife, had stood her ground and was now gazing at Axis with
something approaching disdain.
Axis saluted the Plough-Keeper. ―Brother Hagen, Brother-Leader Jayme sends personal