ruefully and rubbed the back of his head. Even now he still suffered biting headaches when he
got too tired.
A movement caught his eye and he spun around towards the Keep. Axis was striding
down towards him, face relaxed, pulling on gloves to keep the cold out, his black cloak billowing
out behind him.
―Is everyone in formation, Lieutenant?‖ he asked mildly, swinging into Belaguez‘s
saddle and nodding his thanks at the stable boy holding the stallion‘s head.
Belial kept a straight face. ―All cohorts are in formation, sir. In line. Packhorses loaded.
Supplies accounted for. Geared up, fed, watered, weaponed, and ready to go.‖ He paused. ―As
they have been for the past half an hour.‖
Axis smiled down at him. ―Then what are you doing still on your feet, Lieutenant? Mount
up.‖ He swung Belaguez around to face his Axe-Wielders. ―Axe-Wielders, are you ready?‖ he
cried in a clear and penetrating voice.
From the basin below him rose a single shout. ―We follow your voice and we are ready,
BattleAxe!‖
―Then let us ride!‖ Axis cried, and a shout rose from his men as they swung their horses‘
heads towards whatever fate awaited them at Gorkenfort.
39
RIVKAH AWAKES
The group travelled north through the Avarinheim for over ten days, tracing the forest
paths that ran beside the Nordra as it wound its way south from the Icescarp Alps. Grindle and
his son had cut a lightweight but strong sled from dead branches of a Timewood tree floating
down the Nordra river, and Raum was packed in every morning atop the folded leather tents.
During the day Grindle and Helm, strong even at his youthful age, shared the work of pulling the
sled through the Avarinheim.
The going was made easier by the smooth paths and calm weather. The Clans kept the
paths they travelled clear of dead wood and leaf litter for those who followed. When Azhure
asked why the unseasonable bitter cold and winds that swept Achar did not penetrate the
Avarinheim, GoldFeather smiled enigmatically and said that the trees of the Avarinheim kept the
Avar people safe from all but the worst winter weather. ―The trees have their own power,‖ she
said, ―even though in these times it mostly lies quiescent.‖
As they travelled Pease and Fleat instructed Azhure in the uses of the plant life of the
Avarinheim: the bark of the Alefen tree could be boiled for a stimulating and refreshing tea,
while the bark of the Bearfoot tree, if shredded and dried, could be woven into baskets and mats
and long-wearing soles for leather boots. Under the shelter of the evergreen trees grew a vast
variety of bushes and herbs that assisted the Avar in their daily life. Azhure, so used to the
Seagrass Plains that supported nothing but grain and vegetable crops, was constantly amazed and
delighted by the new discoveries she made around each turn of the forest path. The Avar
collected their daily food from the variety of berry bushes, malfari shrubs, small wild fruit and
nut trees and even, whenever one draped low enough for the more agile of the children to reach,
the great vines that roped between the treetops of the forest canopy. The pulp of their leaves
provided a sweet additive to malfari bread and, although she knew the Avar children were skilled
climbers, Azhure would watch with her heart in her mouth as Skali and Hogni scaled the great
trees for upwards of thirty or forty paces to reach the prized vines.
Both Fleat and Pease were fascinated with Azhure‘s soft blue dress woven from sheep‘s
wool. The Avar kept a small number of goats and sheep for their meat, milk, and skins, weaving
their clothes from goat hair and sheep wool. But Azhure‘s dress had a different feel and a
different weave than the Avar were used to, and Azhure quickly arranged to swap her apron and
full-skirted dress for an Avar tunic and leggings, much more comfortable and suitable for the
trek through the forest. As she slipped on dark red leggings and a thigh-length grey tunic with the
Clan pattern of intertwined branches about its hem, Azhure felt as though she were casting off
what remained of her life as a Smyrton villager. Fleat and Pease were more than pleased with the
swap as the blue dress would provide them with the material for a tunic each and some items of
clothes for the children. Only Barsarbe and GoldFeather among the females of the group wore
long skirted robes of pastel shades.
GoldFeather spent most of the day walking beside Azhure, only talking when Fleat and
Pease darted off to assist Grindle or Helm, or to collect some leaves or berries they‘d spotted
growing away from the path. She carefully explained the Prophecy of the Destroyer to Azhure,
as well as some of the Avar practices and beliefs that had puzzled Azhure during her first days
with the GhostTree Clan. Although Azhure was fascinated with the story of the Prophecy of the
Destroyer, she was more enthralled with GoldFeather herself. Ever since she had known
GoldFeather Azhure had been curious about her past, but previously there had never been the
time or the opportunity to question her closely about her origins and life.
GoldFeather told her nothing about her youth in Achar, but she did explain something of
her life with the Icarii and Avar. ―I am fascinated by both races,‖ she said one evening as they set
up camp in a small glade. ―Originally I spent time with the Avar simply to familiarise myself
with their way of life. But soon I realised I could help with the struggle to take their chosen
children to be bonded to the Mother. For many years now I have helped take the children through
the Seagrass Plains.‖ She shrugged. ―Some years I spend more months with the Avar than with
the Icarii.‖
―Do you always travel with the GhostTree Clan while you are in the Avarinheim?‖
―Over the past three or four years, yes, although I have lived with other Clans.‖
Azhure switched her line of questioning to the as yet mysterious Icarii. ―Who do you live
with among the Icarii?‖
GoldFeather smiled at Azhure‘s persistent questions, but she did not resent them. ―Why,
with my family, of course.‖
―You have a family?‖ Azhure asked.
GoldFeather smiled. ―A husband and a daughter. Listen,‖ she said softly. ―Do you hear
that bird?‖
Azhure paused from stretching leather hides over the supports of one of the tents and
listened. In the distance she could hear the beautiful song of one of the forest birds. ―What is it?‖
she asked.
―It is the Evensong lark,‖ GoldFeather said, her eyes distant with memory. ―I think it is
one of the most beautiful songsters of the Avarinheim forest.‖ She turned to Azhure and smiled a
little. ―I named my daughter after the bird—EvenSong.‖
Azhure smiled back at the woman. ―What a lovely name. Do you have other children?‖
GoldFeather‘s face clouded over. ―I had two sons, but I lost them both,‖ she said shortly,
turning away from Azhure.
―I‘m sorry,‖ Azhure said softly, but GoldFeather had walked over to Fleat to help prepare
the evening meal and did not hear. Azhure watched her for a moment. Obviously the loss of two
sons still hurt her deeply.
That evening about the fire the conversation returned to the puzzling BattleAxe.
―Azhure,‖ Raum said. ―What do you know of the man?‖
Raum was growing stronger day by day, his colour now healthy, and was starting to insist
that he could spend part of each day walking with the aid of crutches to relieve Grindle and Helm
of the burden of pulling him on the sled. But Barsarbe still insisted that he protect his leg as
much as possible.
―I know relatively little about him,‖ she said slowly. ―He only rode into Smyrton the
afternoon before I managed to free you and I did not have very much to do with him.‖
―You know nothing about his past?‖ Raum asked.
Azhure shrugged, taking a sip of Alefen bark tea. ―Only the old scandal that is repeated
by some of the Brothers of the Seneschal.‖
―What is that?‖ Barsarbe asked impatiently, carefully turning over leaves of the
waxflower shrub to dry before the fire. Waxflower leaves, when dried and powdered, made a
good stimulant for aged and weak hearts. Barsarbe knew a woman of the FootStrong Clan who
had need of such powder.
―That he is Axis Rivkahson, born of the shame of the Princess Rivkah.‖
―What is the shame of…‖ Raum began, but stopped immediately, appalled by
GoldFeather‘s low wail of distress.
GoldFeather sat, her hands pressed to ashen cheeks, staring at Azhure, her grey eyes huge
and shocked. She had gone so pale that her thick silver hair had more life in it than her face. Her
lips moved soundlessly and she had to try again and again before she could force any words