“Two weeks’.” Borneheld snarled, and flung a pile of dispatches to the floor. “He could be anywhere!”
Jorge prudently waited for Gautier to say something first. The King had gone into such a fury after the desertion of both the Ravensbundmen and Duke Roland that Jorge had believed he was on the verge of an apoplectic fit. Now Borneheld trusted no-one about him save Gilbert and Gautier, and spent much of the time he wasn’t actively involved in fighting muttering about treachery. Yet Jorge was still in Jervois Landing; much as Borneheld might wish to, the Earl was still too valuable to dispose of in a fit of temper.
Why am I still here? Jorge asked himself, watching Borneheld pacing the room. Why haven’t I just rolled out of bed one dark night, got on my horse, and ridden for Sigholt? Because Jorge believed Achar still needed a voice of sanity about Borneheld, and he wasn’t completely sure Gautier and Gilbert always gave Borneheld the soundest advice. Gautier sometimes advised only for his own advancement, while Gilbert doubtless made sure Borneheld’s decisions were the best for the Seneschal…but not always the best for Achar.
If Jorge was unsure of Borneheld’s fitness to rule, he was still not completely sure about Axis, either. Jorge found it hard to set a lifetime’s prejudices and teachings aside. For almost seventy years he had believed that the Forbidden were foul and polluted beasts whose only thought was the destruction of Achar. He had grown up with the legends of the times before the Wars of the Axe when the Forbidden had made life miserable for Artor-fea^ing people. Yet now this Prophecy demanded that Acharites accept the Forbidden back into their homelands and form an alliance with them so that, united, they could defeat the invader from the north. For weeks Jorge had struggled with himself, yet every dawn brought further uncertainties. He wished Roland were still here.
“We go after them!” Borneheld snapped.
“Sire! No!” Gautier and Jorge cried in unison.
Gautier stood, extending his hand in appeal. “It would be too dangerous for us to try and follow Axis into Skarabost.”
“Do you think that I cannot deal with the few scattered communities of peasants we are likely to find, Gautier?”
Gautier paled. “That is not what I meant, Sire!”
“I think what Commander Gautier meant, Majesty,” Jorge said, “was that Axis has two weeks’ start on us. He could be anywhere. Skarabost is a large province. We could ride around there for months and not find him.”
“So you want me to simply sit back and let Axis have the eastern half of Achar!”
“Sire,” Gautier said, battling to stay calm, “Earl Burdel has a force of almost six thousand in southern Skarabost. Perhaps it is not as large as Axis’ force, but it is, at worst, enough to severely damage Axis. At best Burdel might be able to stop Axis altogether, especially if he manages to trap him as he crosses the Bracken Ranges into Arcness.”
“We could still ride into Skarabost,” Borneheld retorted, his temper barely restrained, “and help Burdel. Catch Axis in a pincer movement.”
“Skarabost is so big,” Gautier argued, “and we do not have any reliable information on where Burdel is. Our communications with him are poor. In all likelihood we would miss both Axis and Burdel, and ride about in circles in Skarabost.”
“Tiring your army, Sire, when it badly needs rest and reprovisioning,” Jorge added.
“And if Burdel doesn’t stop him?” Borneheld grumbled.
“Then there is still Baron Greville of Tarantaise and Baron YsgryrF of Nor, Sire. Axis would still have to fight his way through both Tarantaise and Nor.”
Borneheld stared at Gautier. “Those two are about as trustworthy asYsbadd’s famous whores. And neither is much of a fighting man. Anyway, how do you know where Axis is heading? Have you perchance seen his itinerary?”
“Sire,” Gautier said. “There can be only one place Axis is heading. Carlon.”
There was deathly silence in the room.
Gilbert’s eyes widened, appalled. Axis and his Artor-forsaken force were heading for Carlon? There was only one cohort of the Axe-Wielders left to protect the Tower of the Seneschal! And how loyal would those Axe-Wielders prove, when confronted with their former BatdeAxe?
“Carlon,” Borneheld breathed. Somehow he’d never contemplated that Axis would be so daring. Carlon?
“He has to be heading there,” Gautier said, “He would expect you to have your forces tied to Jervois Landing. If he captures Carlon, then he has us as good as defeated. But to reach Carlon Axis will have to ride in a wide sweep through Skarabost, Arcness, Tarantaise and Nor. He will have to subdue eastern Achar before he can capture Carlon — no commander in his right mind would want to leave problems at his back that could attack him later.”
“But if you chase Axis through Skarabost you risk losing him altogether.” Jorge spoke strongly now. “He will almost certainly reach Carlon first. And once you have lost Carlon you have lost Achar. Your best course of action would be to ride for Carlon. Better to secure your capital than gamble on finding Axis somewhere in the wastes of Skarabost.” Dammit! Borneheld had to see the sense behind that! Carlon was too important a prize — Artor! but it was the key to Achar itself!
“Artor,” Borneheld whispered, his face grey. “You’re advising me on a course of action that could see me lose the entire east to Axis? What would that leave me? Western Achar? Have you forgotten that treachery and ill-luck already cost me Ichtar? A third gone to the wraiths, and you tell me that I would be better off losing another third to Axis?”
No-one spoke. Who was brave enough to remind Borneheld he was now in the weakest position he had ever been in? Who was foolhardy enough to remind him that Axis probably not only had a strong force behind him, but possibly now held the upper hand? Lose eastern Achar to Axis? Better that than Carlon. But it would leave Borneheld with only a tiny proportion of his kingdom. Less than a third, perhaps even only a fifth. Gautier and Jorge wished they were anywhere rather than in this room. Both wished they were three years into the past, when all was as it should be and no-one had heard of Gorgrael, wraiths, or the Artor-cursed Prophecy.
Gilbert stepped from his shadowed corner, his face sallow in the late afternoon light. “Borneheld, you have no choice. I add my voice to those of Gautier and Jorge. Carlon is vital. VitaP. If Carlon falls to Axis, then the Seneschal also falls. I do not have to remind you what that might mean.”
Indeed Borneheld did not have to be reminded. The Seneschal was one of his main supporters. Indeed, he would not be King if…if …
Borneheld forced his mind away from the guilt. “And you would be content to let the Forbidden crawl over eastern Achar, Gilbert? What would your Brother-Leader say to this?”
“He would say that united the King and the Seneschal will have a good chance of winning Achar back, from Axis and Gorgrael. Have you forgotten the lesson of the Wars of the Axe? We drove the Forbidden out of Achar once, we can do it again. These are dark days, Borneheld, no-one denies that. What we need is a King who can lead us out of them.”
Gilbert’s words infused Borneheld with determination. “Yes, these are dark days, gendemen. And I am the one to lead us out of them.” He laughed, the sound harsh in the room. “Imagine what would have happened if that lily-livered Priam had still sat the throne of Achar, gendemen! Artor must have indeed meant me to lead Achar out of the shadows and into glory if he struck Priam down in the prime of life.”
Yes, that was the message of Timozel’s visions, wasn’t it?
Borneheld’s mind was now made up. The Skraelings had all but retreated into Ichtar, and only a token force could man the defences. Yes. He would ride for Carlon with the majority of his army. He would wait for Axis to ride into the Plains of Tare and meet him there. Borneheld’s mouth curled. He would finally enjoy meeting his brother on the battlefield. They had waited all their lives for this confrontation.
“We ride for Carlon within the week, gentlemen. There we will make our stand. From there we will begin our march into victory over both Gorgrael and Axis.”
Contemplations of a Rag DollIn the eight weeks since they’d left Sigholt Axis’ forces had swung east through northern Skarabost, then south in an almost direct line through the centre of the province. Axis had to curb his impatience to move faster. He was determined not to wear his army out on a march that left them facing battle weakened and tired.
Frustratingly, Burdel’s force retreated before them. There had been some minor skirmishes with the rearguard of his men, but they had not managed to push Burdel himself to battle. He no doubt intended to make a stand either in one of the passes of the Bracken Ranges, where the defending force would have the advantage, or in his home province of Arcness, probably in the heavily fortified city of Arcen itself.