OF THE KING
A xis lay awake for another hour after Embeth left, then, as the sky began to lighten towards dawn, cursed silently and stood up. He still felt exhausted. He’d only had an hour or two of sleep before the nightmare had claimed him and he’d needed a good eight or nine after the hard ride.
He splashed himself with cold water to rid himself of the stale sweat of his nightmare and dressed silently in the dark, not bothering to light a candle. He dreaded what Jayme might tell him this morning.
Jayme was already up and at prayer when Axis slipped into his quarters. The Brother-Leader was kneeling at the altar in his room, praying before an exquisite silver and gold icon of Artor the Ploughman. Axis knelt quietly behind him and bowed his head in prayer, trying to find some ease of mind in the rhythms of the ancient words and rituals. But prayers could not comfort him this morning, not after the nightmare he had endured, and after a few minutes his thoughts drifted to the daily problems of commanding a force of four thousand men.
A little later Axis realised Jayme was standing beside him, his hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. He sighed inwardly—Jayme’s interruption had distracted him from calculating the logistics needed to move six cohorts of Axe-Wielders from Nordmuth to Carlon.
“My son, you must not pray so devoutly, otherwise it might be said that the BattleAxe is more devout than the Brother-Leader…and we cannot have that.”
Axis smiled and gripped Jayme’s hand as it lay on his shoulder. “I find great comfort in prayer, Father, but there is no man who serves Artor more reverently and faithfully than you.”
Jayme helped Axis to his feet and the two men embraced warmly, Jayme touching Axis’ forehead briefly in blessing. “Well, at least I’ve managed to impress someone!” he said. “Come, I have fruit and bread, and some delicious fresh warm milk sent up for us to break fast with.” Jayme had arranged their breakfast at a small table by a window overlooking the twisting streets of Carlon far below the palace.
The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon and, although thick snow clouds blanketed much of the sky, a few rays managed to catch the glittering rooftops of the city’s buildings. Jayme turned and looked out across the beautiful view for a moment, watching myriad colourful pennants and banners snap in the stiff breeze. What fruit trees there were in the city waved their bare branches at the sky. They had lost their leaves weeks earlier. Axis noticed that Jayme’s face seemed older and more tired in the early morning light, and he wondered how haggard he looked himself.
Jayme’s tone turned serious as soon as they seated themselves. “Axis, you probably know something of what is happening in the north.”
“Something, but mostly rumour.”
Jayme was silent a moment longer, then he sighed. “Unfortunately, Axis, much of what you’ve heard is probably more truth than not. Gilbert and Moryson will give you exact military details later, and I have yet to hear what Priam’s intelligence is, but let me tell you what I know.”
For the next twenty minutes or so, while Axis ate his breakfast, his chewing becoming slower with each passing minute, Jayme outlined what he knew.
“So, my BattleAxe,” Jayme finished with a sad smile, “are your Axemen ready to face unbodied wraiths that can kill the most experienced soldier?”
Axis put down the piece of bread he had been turning over and over in his hand. What he had heard horrified him. Lord Magariz was an exceptional commander and his Gorkenfort units were among the best in Achar. If he was losing men in this manner then the situation was more than serious.
“Is there a possibility that the events of last winter were isolated, Father?”
Jayme frowned. “The Forbidden, or whatever they are, are starting to move south. Last winter…”
“Last winter they were simply probing,” Axis finished for him,
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