Sara Douglass – Battleaxe

Remember how you found them, Axis, torn and filthy and denuded of all their

self-respect. Did you see threat in the man’s eyes when he looked into yours? He trusted you with

the child. Let them go.

No! Axis kept forcing the sight of Belial‘s assaulted form lying senseless on the floor into

his mind.

Raum could move far and fast, but not with the child and Azhure to slow him down.

They had moved well to begin with, but the child started to fret soon after they had left the

village and Azhure‘s ribs pained her so badly she could hardly run. Raum tried to remain calm,

but he had visions of the Smyrton villagers hunting them down when they were within shouting

distance of the Avarinheim. He carried the child and tried to hurry Azhure along as fast as she

could go. Dawn was not far off, and he did not want to be caught out in the open after the sun

had risen.

They entered the Forbidden Valley just as the sky was beginning to lighten towards

dawn. Azhure gripped her side, her chest heaving as she fought for breath, forcing each leg

forward despite the sharp spike of agony which shot up her side. She began to wonder if

somehow Hagen‘s spirit was revenging itself on her for his murder. Ahead of her the Avar man

still moved smoothly, gripping the girl to his hip. Even with the injuries that the sharp iron spikes

of the villagers had inflicted on him, he had hidden reserves of strength. Azhure knew that he

could have been deep within the Avarinheim by now if it hadn‘t been for her.

They were close to the Nordra now as it escaped the Shadowsward through the narrow

valley. The River Nordra roared and leaped dangerously as it flowed through the narrow

confines of the chasm of the Forbidden Valley, and Raum and Azhure had to slow down on the

slippery and dangerous path that ran beside the river and the rocky chasm walls. There was

barely enough room for their feet on the narrow and treacherous path, and Azhure‘s heart rose

into her mouth every time she saw the Avar man‘s foot slip, or felt her own feet threaten to give

way on the slippery, rocky surface. Only a pace below the path the waters of the Nordra roared,

ready to consume them should they topple in.

After what seemed like an eternity of treading carefully, her clothes soaked through to the

skin by the spray and mist that rose from the turbulent water, Azhure saw the Avar man pause.

―Look!‖ he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the roar of the river, ―ahead lies

the Avarinheim. We are almost home!‖

Azhure peered ahead. The valley started to broaden some fifty or so paces ahead, and she

thought she could see the darkness of close trees. They were almost safe! She turned her eyes

back to the Avar man, relieved, but his eyes were now focused on something behind her and his

expression was one of horror. Azhure turned around, almost losing her balance. The BattleAxe

was close behind them, a bare twenty paces, his face set in determined anger.

Raum grabbed Azhure‘s shoulder and pushed Shra into her arms. ―Get ahead of me,‖ he

said urgently. ―Walk as fast as you dare. The path is wider and less wet just ahead. When you

can run, run. Get the child into the Avarinheim. I can hold him back here.‖

Azhure started to protest, but Raum pushed her roughly past him. ― Go!‖ he said fiercely,

and Azhure tore her eyes away from the BattleAxe and moved as quickly as she could along the

slippery path. She could feel the Avar man following her. Her breath came in terrified gasps. The

BattleAxe, no matter what he might have thought of Hagen personally, would never let his

murderer walk free. And Belial…? He would be even less likely to forgive the murder of Belial

than that of Hagen.

Azhure berated herself as she strode out. The footing was firmer now, the river bending

away to her left, and the Avarinheim was no more than twenty paces ahead. They were going to

make it after all! The Avar would protect them as soon as they were behind the tree-line. The

figure of a woman stepped a pace or two out of the trees, holding out her arms for the child.

Azhure‘s heart leaped inside her chest—it was GoldFeather! The woman‘s silver hair burned

brightly in the first rays of the sun as it rose above the walls of the chasm. They were safe!

And then everything went wrong. Azhure suddenly heard a shocked intake of breath and

a sickening thud and crack some ten paces behind her. She whipped around, almost falling

herself. The Avar man had hung back, trying to give her and the child time to reach the

Avarinheim before the BattleAxe reached them. But, just as the BattleAxe had closed in on him,

the Avar man had twisted his foot and slipped on what had to be the last remaining wet patch of

path. He had fallen awkwardly, and Azhure saw by the white and pinched line of his mouth that

he had hurt himself badly.

Without thinking Azhure started to scramble back towards him, forgetting even the child

in her arms. Perhaps all it would take was to get the man on his feet again and they could still

outrun the BattleAxe.

But it was too late, far too late. His sword drawn, the BattleAxe had reached the downed

Avar man in two strides, and Azhure was now close enough to see that his left ankle lay bent and

broken, the wicked gleam of white bone breaking the surface of his dark skin. ―Ah, no,‖ Azhure

moaned, and she would have run to him had GoldFeather not stepped up behind her and grabbed

her shoulders.

―Azhure! No!‖ she cried sharply, her own eyes riveted by the scene before them.

Raum lay on the ground, Axis‘ booted foot on his chest, his sword pressed so hard

against the Avar man‘s windpipe that the tip had broken the skin and a little trickle of blood had

trailed down his neck. Both men heaved to catch their breath.

―Well,‖ Axis panted between breaths, his eyes derisive as he stared at Azhure, ―you‘ve

managed to surpass your mother‘s efforts quite nicely, haven‘t you, Azhure? Murdering your

father and running off with one of the Forbidden far outclasses a simple midnight flit with a

pedlar. And Belial…‖

―Let him go,‖ Azhure said urgently, her voice strained, her eyes intent on Raum as he lay

fixed by the point of Axis‘ sword. ―I truly didn‘t mean to kill Belial.‖

―You killed your father,‖ Axis said shortly, ―Belial still breathes.‖

―Ah,‖ Azhure‘s voice regained some of its strength. She straightened her shoulders,

lifting her eyes to meet Axis‘ hostile stare. ―I‘m glad that Belial lives, BattleAxe. Will you

apologise to him for me?‖

―Azhure,‖ Raum whispered, twisting his head as far as he dared with Axis‘ sword to his

throat. ―Take the child and run. You can get her to safety. Leave me.‖ His chest heaved for a few

more breaths as he fought to conquer the agony that flared up his leg, and then he spoke to Axis.

―You will let them go, BattleAxe. You did not recreate Shra‘s life to kill her now.‖

―He‘s right,‖ the tall woman standing behind Azhure said, her voice calm and level. ―Go

now. Go on,‖ as Azhure hesitated, her eyes still fixed on Raum as he lay under Axis‘ sword. ―Go

now. Take little Shra and go. Quickly! Her father waits. Run, Azhure!‖

Azhure jumped at the command in GoldFeather‘s voice. Without another word or glance

she turned and walked quickly into the forest, disappearing from sight within a stride or two of

reaching the densely packed trees.

GoldFeather walked closer slowly, very, very slowly. She did not want to startle the

BattleAxe into sliding the point of that sword through Raum‘s throat the moment he felt

threatened. She stopped a few paces away. The man stared at her and his black uniform, the twin

crossed axes, brought memories flooding back into GoldFeather‘s mind. It had been so long

since she had seen one of the Axe-Wielders, and now here stood the BattleAxe himself, his foot

and sword dishonouring one of the most powerful Banes the Avar people had trained for many

generations. The man was young; what was the Brother-Leader thinking of appointing one so

young to such an important position? Her eyes flickered over his face for a moment. But she was

too concerned about Raum to look too closely.

GoldFeather bowed as graciously as her mother had taught her as a child. ―BattleAxe,

may Artor hold you in the palm of his hand and guide your steps always.‖

Axis frowned at the woman. She was a handsome woman of middle-age, and had a