“And,” Gautier said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “he must have a force somewhere. Who knows how many of the three thousand who fled with him lived? Some must have died. Perhaps a thousand. Even the best commander, and Axis is not the best,” he hastened to add for Borneheld’s benefit, “would have lost a significant number to the Skraeling host which followed them out of Gorkenfort.”
Borneheld stared back at Nevelon. “Well fed and uniformed, you say?” he snapped.
“Yes, Sire, at least the two I saw were. Both were fit, and their uniforms clean and well made.”
“And the emblem of the blood-red blazing sun,” Gautier murmured. “Axis has found a new mark, it seems.”
Borneheld frowned. Where was his bastard brother? Over the past two months the men Gautier had sent into the southern Urqhart Hills had met with increasing resistance from patrols of a well-trained and well-supplied force. All wore the blazing sun emblem and one or two were led, it appeared, by this same woman who had struck Nevelon. It was now unsafe for Borneheld’s men to ride anywhere close to the Urqhart Hills, and even the eastern reaches of the Nordra were becoming dangerous. Not only did Axis have a force somewhere, it was growing stronger and extending its influence.
“Where are they?” Borneheld asked.
Nevelon cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, Sire, I’ve been thinking about this. It must be Sigholt. The garrison there deserted when they heard the Skraelings were moving eastwards. It has to be where Axis has based his force.”
Borneheld jerked up, shocked, sending a goblet of wine spinning to the floor. “Sigholt!” he cried”. Curse the commander who had panicked and abandoned one of the best garrisons in the country!
“If Axis has a rebel force based in Sigholt, then he has the power to hurt you,” said Earl Jorge. Though he and Roland were sadly out of favour with the King, it would not stop Jorge speaking his mind when he felt it was needed. “And there are rumours that many of the peasants from Skarabost are moving north of the Nordra river to join him.”
Borneheld swore, his temper smouldering dangerously. ” Why?” he seethed. “Why do they move to join one who has allied himself with the Forbidden?”
Roland considered Borneheld warily. “Axis still has a powerful reputation in Achar, Sire. As BattleAxe he was revered. That is what draws them.”
Roland had lost considerable weight since the fall of Gorkenfort – his skin now hung in great folds from his cheeks and neck where the fat had dissolved. In past months he’d felt his mortality keenly, and without thinking he rubbed the spot on his abdomen where he could feel the great hard canker deep in his belly.
Borneheld battled to hold his temper. Would he never be free of his hated half-brother? Why did so many rally to Axis’ name and not to his? Why revere Axis’ name and not his? Borneheld could not understand it. “We must stop him,” he muttered finally. “Attack Sigholt.”
Everyone present, from Gautier and Roland to the anonymous guards, started in horror. Attack the rebels in Sigholt? Now? When the Skraelings could attack Jervois Landing any day? Madness!
“Sire,” Gautier said carefully. “The Skraeling host masses to our north. Obviously they plan to attack soon. And Sigholt is an easily defensible fort. It would be, ah,” Gautier hesitated, “inadvisable to split our forces right now.”
“So we leave him free to take Skarabost?” Borneheld spat.
Gautier glanced at Jorge and Roland. “Majesty, Axis will face the same problems from the Skraelings as we do. Doubtless Gorgrael will attack through the WildDog Plains as well. Neither we, nor Axis, are going to be able to move very far from where we are encamped this winter. Axis must only have a small force, a few thousand at most. As we cannot move, neither can he.” He paused, summoning his courage. “Sire, we must seek a truce with them for this winter.”
“Whatl” Borneheld exploded out of his chair.
“Think of how we could use this to our advantage, Majesty,” Gautier said urgently, desperate to deflect Borne-held’s anger. “First of all, Axis is as keen as you are not to let the Skraelings further south into Achar. Whatever our differences, Axis hates the Skraelings as much as us. If he is at Sigholt, then his forces can do much of the work – and dying — to keep our north-western flank covered. And if we arrange a formal truce, we can get some idea of what force Axis commands. What do we know now? Magariz, some dark-haired woman who can use a bow, and a pack of vicious hounds!”
“He is right,” said Jorge, his voice low and intense. “Not only do we not have the forces spare to attack Axis, we do not have the forces spare to defend Skarabost from the Skraelings if they come down through the WildDog Plains. Let Axis’ force do the work and the dying in defending our north-western flank. A truce would keep Skarabost free from both Skraelings and Axis.”
Borneheld abhorred the idea of a truce with Axis, but he knew he couldn’t afford to fight on two fronts over the winter. He sat down again, deep in thought. He was desperately aware of just how important this coming winter campaign would be. If he lost Jervois Landing, then he would lose all. Hate Axis he might, but Borneheld knew when to compromise. He could not afford to move against him this winter, and if he could not afford to, then best he make sure that Axis was tied by his word to Sigholt. Axis’ death would have to be delayed until spring next year.
He nodded curtly. “Very well. Gautier, can you make some initial contact with Axis’ force?”
Gautier’s face relaxed. “If I send a patrol into the southern Urqhart Hills, then yes, I believe so. When do we want to meet them? Where?”
Borneheld looked at Jorge. “What do you think?”
Jorge thought quickly, surprised to have been asked. “We must have this arranged before Snow-month commences, Sire. That is only three and a half weeks away. Time? Last week in Frost-month at the latest. Where? On the Nordra south of the Urqhart Hills – perhaps Gundealga Ford. We do not want to be trapped within the Urqhart Hills, and if we state the Nordra, then that will draw Axis out of wherever he is based. He will have to come with a significant force to protect himself, and we will gain some idea of his strength.”
“Good,” Borneheld said brusquely. “If I can’t flush Axis from Sigholt before next spring, then at least I can do something about these weak-minded fools who rush to join him from the backward villages of Skarabost, and cut off some of his supply routes as well. Nevelon! Fetch me pen and parchment. I must write to Earl Burdel in Arcness. I have a task for him. One he will enjoy.”
He turned to Jorge, Roland and Gautier. “If I am to meet Axis then I need him to know what he faces. Contact Brother-Leader Jayme as well, and tell him that I want a senior member of the Seneschal present when I face this evil-bred brother of mine. Perhaps one of his advisers. Surely he could spare one from his side.”
Borneheld sat back in his chair, a smirk spreading over his face. “I think I will enjoy meeting my brother over the treaty table, gentlemen. I want to see if he has grown any lizard features.”
Absent from the deliberations, the Ravensbund Chief sat in his tent in the camp outside Jervois Landing. His wife, Sa’Kuya, prepared him a pot of Tekawai, the traditional tea of the Ravensbund people. The ritual was almost as old as the Ravensbund race, and the pot and cups Sa’Kuya used had been handed down over countless generations.
Picking up a tiny cup, she handed it to Ho’Demi, carefully turning it so that the design emblazoned on the side of the vessel faced him.
It was the blood-red blazing sun.
Unsmiling now, for this was a serious ritual, Ho’Demi took the cup from his wife, bowing slightly as she handed it to him, then took a tiny sip.
Sa’Kuya served the other four men in the circle about the brazier, then she bowed gracefully and retreated to the shadows further back in the tent. Ho’Demi glanced at his four fellow Ravensbundmen. Ho’Demi had been grateful to be left out of Borneheld’s discussion tonight because he wanted to speak again with the two Ravensbundmen who had accompanied Nevelon on patrol. He inclined his head at the two other Ravensbundmen present, elders whose advice Ho’Demi respected, but spoke to the two warriors.
“Izanagi, Inari, I am grateful that you consented to sip Tekawai with me on such short notice.”
Izanagi and Inari, both highly regarded warriors within the Ravensbund force — though Gautier had yet to acknowledge their value — lowered their eyes in reply and bowed slightly. It was always an honour to sit in Ho’Demi’s tent.