Ysgryff, out of his armour but still dressed for war, was similarly sombre. “A thousand,” he said simply when Axis looked at him. “A thousand of my knights, and over three thousand of their horses.”
“And the pirates?”
“None,” YsgryfF grunted. “Pirates are protected by the gods, it seems, Axis. Besides, they came late into the fray, when their opponents were exhausted.”
“Where are they now?”
Ysgryff waved vaguely towards the Nordra. “Waiting for ships to take them home, Axis.”
“I cannot thank you enough for those pirates. If they had been Coroleans …” Axis shuddered, unable to go on.
“Then we would be counting our dead while awaiting death ourselves, Axis,” Ysgryff said quietly. “The pirates will also fight for the Prophecy when it demands it of them, as will most of the people of Nor.”
Axis lifted his head and stared at the trampled Plains of Tare. All of the bodies had been buried during the night, but the earth still retained a pinkish tinge. “The Prophecy has friends where I least expect to find them,” Axis said slowly. “Nor and the pirates have proved among the greatest.”
He sighed and dropped his eyes. Belial, his body stiff with weariness, had joined the group.
“Have you managed any sleep, Belial?”
Belial shrugged. “Two, perhaps three hours. Enough, Axis.”
“And our dead?”
Belial knew what Axis meant. How many of the ordinary mounted soldiers had they lost? “Around eleven hundred, Axis. Mostly the inexperienced soldiers who joined us at Sigholt. Some of the militia from Arcen, and some of our own men. Some of our oldest friends among them.”
Axis turned away.
“Axis,” Belial continued. “Our total losses come to well under four thousand men; Borneheld lost twice that number, Coroleans and Acharites. And Axis, remember, we lost close to…what? Seven thousand at Gorkentown? We will recover from this.”
“Oh, yes,” Axis said, turning back. “We will recover. But what a senseless, useless loss, Belial, and I grieve for every one of the Acharites who lost their lives for Borneheld’s cause as I grieve for those men who lost their lives for ours.”
“These men fight for you knowing that you care for them,” Belial said fiercely. “And I believe we have replacements from a somewhat unexpected source.”
Axis frowned. “What do you mean?”
Belial beckoned a man forward. He wore the tattered and blood-stained uniform of Borneheld’s army and he walked with a slight limp.
“Lieutenant Bradoke, my Lord,” he said, his voice firm but respectful. “I am the most senior of the prisoners. My Lord, we fought for Borneheld because he was the King and because our oaths bound us to him. But none of us liked to see him flee the field yesterday afternoon, and many of us have been discussing the Prophecy around the privacy of our camp fires for weeks now. Last night we talked again. Great Lord, we are at your mercy, but we plead to be allowed to decide our own fate.”
“And that is?” Axis asked.
Bradoke took a deep breath. “We would fight for the Prophecy too, Lord. We would join your force. Great Lord,” he carried on as he saw Axis about to object. “I have stood to one side and watched you grieve for each and every man who died for you. Borneheld would never have done that for us. We want, / want, to be given the chance to fight for you.”
Axis glanced at Belial and Belial nodded. Axis looked back at the lieutenant. He seemed sincere, but should Axis trust him? What else can I do, thought Axis, but trust him? I cannot afford the men to guard them and I desperately need forces to throw against Gorgrael. He sighed and nodded wearily. “Work out the details with Belial. How many men do you command, Bradoke?”
“Seven thousand, Great Lord.”
“By the Stars,” Axis said. “How are we going to feed you all?”
“Cheer up, Axis.” Ysgryff slapped him heartily on the back. “Carlon will be ours soon, and I’m sure that Carlon can feed us all. Besides, I have supply ships sailing up the Nordra now.”
“By the gods, Ysgryff,” Axis said weakly, “I might as well just hand the kingdom over to you.”
Ysgryff winked. “My ugly head would look ridiculous with a crown on top of it, Axis. Besides, like Ho’Demi, I am committed to the StarMan.”
Apart from feeding and resting the troops, then moving his main camp site to the banks of Grail Lake, there was only one other thing that Axis wanted to do that day.
Late in the afternoon he rode with a small escort to the Tower of the Seneschal – Spiredore.
It had been two years since he last saw this tower, but it seemed like yesterday. For thirty years it had been his home and the home of the man he had regarded as his father, Jayme. For thirty years he had believed in the Seneschal and everything it had stood for and for thirty years he had believed that the Tower had stood as the outward manifestation of Artor s love and of the Seneschal’s care for the people of Achar.
Now Axis saw the beautiful white tower differently. It was a shining example of the lies and the deceptions that the Seneschal had forced on the people of Achar, and of the cruelty that the Seneschal had plotted and conducted against the people of the Horn and the Wing – the Avar and the Icarii. Once, Axis knew, the Tower of the Seneschal had been Spiredore, one of the magical Keeps of Tencendor, one of the most powerful places in the ancient land.
Now Axis intended to rid the Spiredore of its jailers once and for all.
It rose, as it always had, pristine and white, soaring some one hundred paces into the air, its seven sides gleaming softly in the late afternoon sun. To one side the silver-blue waters of Grail Lake – one of the sacred lakes – twinkled merrily, as if it knew that its friend and companion of so many thousands of years would shortly be released.
What do you hide? Axis asked himself as he rode closer to the tower. What secrets do you have buried within you? What will I find when I throw the Seneschal out?
But of more immediate importance was what the cohort of Axe-Wielders ranged in neat formation before the tower meant to do. Axis waved his escort to a halt and reined Belaguez back to a walk, pulling him to a stop some ten paces from where Kenricke, the commander of this, the final cohort of the Axe-Wielders, sat his horse.
He was a greying man, tall and spare, and his face was unreadable. For a moment Axis’ eyes flickered to the twin crossed axes on the man’s tunic. How long had he worn that emblem with pride? Now he was dressed in his fawn tunic with the blazing sun. A different world, a different man.
“Kenricke,” he said, by way of greeting. “It has been a long time.”
Kenricke stared at Axis for a moment then, suddenly, shockingly, he saluted Axis in the manner of the Axe-Wielders, fist across the twin axes on his breast, bowing sharply and crisply from his waist. “Axis,” he began, then paused, embarrassed. “I do not know by what title to honour you now.”
“Just call me Axis. It is still my name,” Axis said.
“Axis. Why are you here? For what purpose have you ridden back to the Tower of the Seneschal?”
“I intend to recreate the world that the Seneschal sought so long to destroy, Kenricke. The tower of Spiredore is an integral part of that world. I come here today to release Spiredore from the Seneschal.”
“Many words for a simple purpose, Axis. You intend to throw the Seneschal out,” Kenricke replied.
“You always did have a brutal way with words, Kenricke. Will you stand against me?”
Kenricke sat his horse a long time in silence, gazing at Axis, then abruptly he booted his horse forward, drawing his axe out of his belt. Axis tensed a little, but he did not move. Kenricke had been his first master of arms when he had joined the Axe-Wielders as a teenage boy – and he did not think the man would attempt to strike him down.
As his horse drew level with Axis, Kenricke hefted the axe in his hand so that he held it by the blade and presented it to Axis haft first. “I surrender my blade and my command into your hands, Axis. Since you left us we have been simply a sad memory waiting for our commander to return. Take my axe, Axis, and take my loyalty with it.”
The significance of the moment was not lost on Axis. Kenricke was effectively ending over a thousand years of proud military history.
“I accept both axe and surrender, Kenricke, and welcome you to my force. Belial waits back in camp,” Axis tilted his head towards the camp along the shores of the Lake, “and will redeploy you. But, Kenricke, you will all have to surrender your axes. In this new land there will be no place for them.”