Sara Douglass – The Axis Trilogy 3 – StarMan

He twisted his sightless face in Belial’s direction. “Belial, why are any of us still alive? I thought…I thought that he would have somehow sent his wraiths after us. How long is it since the battle?”

“Fifteen hours,” Belial said.

“Fifteen hours? Has this pain only been going on fifteen hours? I thought I had lived in this…this prison for fifteen years. How much longer must I endure?”

Belial’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

Magariz cleared his throat. “Axis. For some reason he, ah, Timozel, has withdrawn far to the north.”

“I have sent farflight scouts to track his progress, StarMan,” SpikeFeather reported. “No, do not worry. The sky is free of Gryphon and the scouts have returned unharmed. The Skraeling host tracks north along the path of the Azle.”

“Why?” Belial said. “Why retreat north? He -” as all the others, Belial could hardly believe that Timozel now fought for Gorgrael, “- could have finished us within hours. And yet…”

“Timozel only follows GorgraePs commands,” Ho’Demi put in. “And perhaps Gorgrael was unnerved by your destruction of the Gryphon.”

“Or perhaps this is yet a trap,” Axis said harshly.

Belial exchanged glances with the others in the tent, then lowered his eyes to Axis. “Axis,” he said, “I am assuming command of the army.”

Axis lay still, then barked in hoarse laughter. “And I am not going to argue with you on that, Belial, for I am useless, useless,

useless.”

“Axis -” Belial began.

“Gorgrael has won, Belial, for how can I meet him like this? He has withdrawn Timozel to the north simply to toy with us.”

“Dammit, Axis!” Belial snapped. “I am not going to give up until I feel my own life fade and die. I fight until there is nothing left to fight for. You still live, and while you live there is hope.”

Axis turned his head away, but Belial took no notice. “I have sent word to the south, Axis. Word to Azhure.”

Axis’ head twitched, and he turned his face back to Belial.

“Azhure?”

“Perhaps she can help,” SpikeFeather said. “She has her own power.”

“She cannot meet Gorgrael,” Axis said. “Call back your messenger, Belial, for I do not want Azhure exposed to this tragedy. Besides, she has some weeks to go before giving birth. I,” his voice broke, “I do not want her to see this.”

“Nevertheless,” Belial said, “she deserves to know, and she is strong enough to hear the truth. Now, I want advice on where to take this army. Do we follow Timozel? Retreat south? Give me your thoughts.”

“We are in no condition to chase the Skraelings,” Magariz said, “besides, as Axis says, it could be a trap. Perhaps it would be best to retreat to Carlon.”

“It is far too long a march,” Belial said. “Every man and horse of us is exhausted, and we have too many wounded to face such a long march.”

“Perhaps the Murkle Mountains,” Ho’Demi suggested.

“There is shelter there, and the Chatterlings would not harm us.”

“We would be trapped if the Skraeling host swung south again,” Belial responded. “We need more supplies, and we won’t find them in there. And besides, those mountains depress me too much.”

“Sigholt,” Axis whispered.

Every eye in the tent swung back to him.

“Sigholt,” he repeated in a slightly stronger voice. “We would be safe there. And the Lake of Life can heal…”

His voice trailed off and all looked away from him. As magical as the Lake was, could she heal him?

Belial sat and thought. Of all havens, such as they were, Sigholt was the closest. But it would be a long march…a long slow march with the injured. And yet, better to attempt something than sit and wait for death.

“Sigholt,” he said in a firm voice, his mind made up. “We go for Sigholt. SpikeFeather, fly those of the Strike Force you can there immediately. Keep a wing or two back for scouting duty…and keep an eye on the Skraelings. I want to know if they swing south again. Magariz, Ho’Demi, we stay here today and pull out tomorrow morning. The injured will have to be strapped to mules, or stretchered between the beasts if they cannot sit. Axis …”

“I will ride Belaguez,” he said.

Belial paled. “Axis, you will never manage.”

“I will not be stretchered, Belial, curse it! Tie me to the bloody horse if you have to, but I will not be stretchered!”

Belial stared at him, then nodded tersely. “So be it, Axis.”

After they had all gone, Axis lay in his darkness and tortured himself with thoughts of Timozel.

Timozel. He had been a delightful baby, and had grown into a mischievous but no less delightful child. He had been full of pranks and laughter, the apple of Ganelon’s eye.

He had grown into a charming man, but now Axis wondered if some of that charm had been forced. He had certainly developed into a skilful warrior, and Axis had been only months away from giving Timozel command of his own unit when the lad disappeared with Faraday.

And yet, how he had changed. When? Since I began to bed his mother? Axis wondered. Was that it? He writhed on the bed, thinking on it, then cried out in agony as the blanket caught at his corrugated skin. For long minutes he gulped in cold air, trying to keep a grip on his mind, then he forced it back to Timozel.

Who knew what had changed the boy. Axis remembered worrying once how he would tell Embeth if Timozel ever found himself at the wrong end of five handspans of sharpened steel -had he ever in his wildest imaginings thought that it might be he who would push that steel into Timozel’s belly as Timozel had pushed it into Jorge’s?

And now Axis not only wanted to push it in, he wanted to lean on it, twist it, feel blade scrape bone with it.

“Timozel,” he whispered into the dim interior of the tent, “I hope this is the end of your treacheries. How many of those you once called friends have died through your orders? And Gorgrael? How could you turn to hirnl What did I do to you, Timozel, that you should repay me so harshly?”

Trap!

“O h, Goodwife!” Faraday giggled, “surely not!” “Surely indeed,” the Goodwife nodded sagaciously, pleased to see Faraday so merry. “‘Twas nothing that could be done. Popped out like a greased . . . well, popped out nice and smooth. ‘Twas my third, so was easier.”

Faraday knelt down and, still smiling, dug into the soft soil with her fingers. Now that they were in the lower Bracken Ranges the soil had more give in it and was easier to work than the hard-packed dirt of Arcness. And it had never been ploughed, so it was more receptive to Faraday’s touch.

As Faraday dug out the small hole, the Goodwife handed her the seedling. She was quivering in her pot, almost leaping from her crib in her eagerness, and Faraday hushed the sister, singing to her, stroking her tiny leaves. As the seedling calmed down, Faraday gently tipped her into the palm of her hand, then slid her into the soil.

“Thona,” she whispered to the seedling. “May you grow tall, and may your voice eventually join with that of the Earth Tree’s.”

Then, singing the Song of the Earth Tree under her breath, Faraday patted the seedling into the soil and sat back on her heels, remembering Thona’s story, the sorrows and laughters of her life, as she had recalled the events of every seedling’s previous life as she planted them out.

The Goodwife watched silently. Later she would sing her silly little cradle song over the seedling, the one they all enjoyed

so much, but for now she just watched. She was pleased with the girl. She had put on weight and colour since the Goodwife had joined her; and took the herbs that the Goodwife pressed on her without complaining. And a good thing I came along when I did, the Goodwife thought. These noble ladies, fine-bred they be, and pleasing to the eye, but they all need a good, stout sensible lass to look after them and tell them what to expect.

Faraday looked up and smiled at the Goodwife’s expression. “Nice and smooth-like, Goodwife? Well, I can only hope you’re right. Now, lend me your hand…I swear my knees have stiffened beyond repair with all this upping and downing.”

The Goodwife helped Faraday to her feet and patted her hand. “You’ve only a few more seedlings for the day, dear. Would you miss me if wandered up that gully there for an hour or two?”

Faraday looked up at the gully to her left. It was long and narrow and dim, and doubtless held a store of herbs. She waved the Goodwife away. “Off with you, Goodwife. I hope you find something tasty to spice our evening meal.”