Yr had managed to keep Faraday and Timozel alive in the landslide at the Barrows, they could
not understand how Raum would have found out. But Axis must not know that Faraday was
headed for Gorkenfort and Borneheld. There was still time for him to arrive before her and ruin
all their plans. Yet they had promised not to lie to Axis. What should they do?
Veremund took Axis‘ hand. ―It is possible that Faraday survived the fall into the Barrow.
The ground is riddled with tunnels and tombs.‖
Axis looked distraught. ―Then she could be wandering lost, trapped in those dark
chambers!‖
―No, no!‖ Veremund hastened, patting Axis‘ hand. ―If Raum saw her, then it must have
been above ground. Perhaps she is working her way north from the Barrows to her home in
Skarabost. She must have mentioned you to him. Otherwise, why would Raum mention her to
you? Axis, she may well be home by now, and if she has Timozel to protect her, then what could
go wrong?‖
Axis relaxed a little. ―Yes, you are probably right. Well, Brothers of the Seneschal you
may not be, but you are all that the poor villagers of Smyrton have right now. Gentlemen, you
have a Service of the Dead to perform. At least you‘ve had some recent practice.‖
Belial laughed, and then flinched and held his head, groaning.
Axis smiled at him, his thoughts on Faraday. He let himself hope a little.
36
THE GHOSTTREE CAMP
It was two days before Barsarbe was satisfied enough with Raum‘s progress to let him
out of the tent. And although Grindle and his family were eager to hear of his adventure through
the Seagrass Plains and Shra‘s presentation to the Mother, Barsarbe was adamant that Raum
needed sufficient rest before he could explain what had happened.
GoldFeather felt unsettled; she kept going over their conversation with the BattleAxe in
her mind, analysing each expression that had crossed his face. There was something about his
face that tugged at her memory…something…something. It finally came to GoldFeather with a
sickening jolt. The man‘s face resembled Priam‘s in some characteristics. A thought so terrible
occurred to GoldFeather that her stomach turned over and she almost gagged. Borneheld? Had
Borneheld become the BattleAxe? He was about the right age, and Stars alone knew he could
have inherited both his devotion to Artor and his military prowess from Searlas. But no. No.
GoldFeather started to relax as she thought it through. It was very unlikely that a noble as high as
the Duke of Ichtar would take the position of BattleAxe. And hadn‘t Azhure mentioned the
man‘s name at some point? Axis, yes, that was it. Axis. She breathed a great sigh of relief. Not
Borneheld. That would have been too frightful to contemplate. To meet Borneheld again after so
many years? No. There was too much guilt associated with Borneheld for her to want to meet
him again.
And he hadn‘t resembled Searlas at all. No. But the encounter still nagged at
GoldFeather, shadowing her mind. There was something about the man‘s face. Those eyes…no!
Stop it, GoldFeather told herself firmly. Stop it! You‘ve made a clean break from the past, so
why worry over it like a sore tooth now? The man was probably a distant cousin to the royal
family of Achar. That would explain the slight resemblance to Priam. She managed a small
smile, convincing herself. Stars knew some of the past kings had scattered their bastards far and
wide.
While Barsarbe kept Raum inside the tent, refusing to allow discussion with him about
anything but the most trivial queries about food or comfort, GoldFeather spent more and more
time walking the trails of the Avarinheim, trying to turn her mind from the BattleAxe by thinking
of her husband and daughter waiting for her return in the Icescarp Alps. Although GoldFeather
freely gave of her time to help the Avar in whatever way she could, each year she spent months
away from her own family, and each year she wondered if she was drifting too far from them.
Yet with the Skraeling wraiths intensifying their raids on the Avar, GoldFeather knew there was
still work she had to do. Now more than any time in the previous twenty years, the Avar needed
her help, and that of the Icarii.
Azhure spent most of the two days wandering about feeling totally useless. The question
of her remaining within the Clan was still undecided, and she spent most of her time with Fleat
and Pease. Fleat took pity on the Plains Dweller, and explained to Azhure what Raum and Shra,
and all the other children Azhure had seen going past Smyrton over the past few years, had been
doing.
―We revere the Mother as the giver of life,‖ Fleat explained one evening as she and Pease
were grinding dried malfari tubers for flour between flat quern stones before the fire. ―Those
children picked to be trained as Banes are presented to the Mother and form a special bond with
her, enabling them to touch not only the Sacred Grove itself, but use the rhythms of life that
surround us to heal and help grow. Both we and the Avarinheim,‖ she paused in her grinding to
look about her at the forest, ―rely on them to keep the land and the seasons healthy, else we
would all die.‖
Pease added dried berries, seasoning herbs and lard to the malfari flour the two women
were grinding, rolling and slapping into small round loaves which she wrapped in the large waxy
leaves of the odinfor bush and put in the hot coals of the fire to bake. ―Our Clan is honoured that
Shra was chosen by the Banes to be presented to the Mother,‖ she said, smiling affectionately at
the little girl who had hardly left her mother‘s side since she‘d come home. ―Already the
GhostTree Clan has Raum, Grindle‘s younger brother, as Bane, and now we will have Shra as
well.‖
―Is Barsarbe of your Clan as well?‖ Azhure was still a little confused by the relationships
within the Clan.
―No,‖ Fleat replied. ―She comes from the FlatRock Clan, but came with us to the edge of
the Avarinheim to wait for Raum‘s return with Shra.‖ She took a deep breath of relief. ―Thank
the Mother she did. Without her healing skills Raum would likely have died.‖
Azhure helped the women gut some fat-bellied trout caught from the Nordra. The older
children spent much of their time helping their mothers in the time-consuming task of food
gathering; they generally found time for play only in the early evening. As far as Azhure could
see, the Avar did not bother to plant or crop at all, preferring to live off only what the
Avarinheim provided for them. ―Do all of your people live in Clans like the GhostTree Clan?‖
she asked, sucking a finger where the sharp blade of the bone-filleting knife had cut it open.
―Yes.‖ Fleat passed a spare odinfor leaf across for Azhure to wrap her finger in. ―We all
live in small family groups. The Avar must live from what the Avarinheim chooses to give us,
and we cannot survive in large villages like your people do. We spend most of the year travelling
from spot to spot throughout the Avarinheim. This is really too close to the edge of the
Avarinheim for our liking. We are here only because we were waiting for Raum and Shra to
return.‖
―And soon we travel to the Yuletide Meet!‖ Pease said, her dark brown eyes gleaming
with excitement.
Azhure frowned. ―The Yuletide Meet?‖
GoldFeather joined them, sitting down by the fire beside Azhure. ―Each year the Avar
and the Icarii meet for two important festivals. Although the Avar are close to the earth and the
Icarii closer to the heavens, they share the Yuletide and Beltide festivals in common, and each
year meet in the groves of the northern Avarinheim where the forest meets the mountains in
order to celebrate these festivals. Yuletide is the most important of the rites. It is held at the
winter solstice, only a few weeks away now, and both Avar Banes and Icarii Enchanters are
needed to ensure the sun rises from its death and is reborn. The Beltide festival is a more joyous
affair, and is held in early spring to celebrate the reawakening of the earth after the death of
winter.‖
Pease‘s grin widened. ―Many marriages are contracted at Beltide, Azhure. It was then
that I joined the GhostTree Clan as Grindle‘s wife. Other unions and ambitions are consummated
as well. Beltide is the one night of the year when Icarii and Avar indulge in temptations denied
them the rest of the year. Beltide is a night when dreams and desires become reality. Tell me,
Azhure, of what do you dream? Of whom do you dream?‖
Azhure blushed and the other women laughed.
―Azhure will have no opportunity for Beltide excesses if she does not remain with us,