sleep as well.
Priam nodded at Jayme and Axis and waved them towards two chairs. Moryson stood a few feet behind his Brother-Leader’s chair, waiting to be called upon if needed.
Jayme inclined his head towards Priam. “My apologies if we have kept you waiting, Priam.” As spiritual leader of Achar, Jayme felt he was the King’s equal and rarely accorded him his title, something that grated with Priam.
Borneheld broke in before Priam could speak. “Is it necessary for the Brother-Leader’s lackies to attend this Council, sire?”
“Borneheld, the BattleAxe is here at my invitation, and I have no objection if Moryson stays,” Priam said, passing a hand over his reddened eyes. Now that Axis was closer he could swear that Priam had hardly slept the previous night. His face had deep lines carved from nose to mouth, his auburn curls hung loose and unattended, and his clothes had the look of garments hastily thrown on simply to avoid nakedness. Not the fastidious Priam’s normal appearance. Axis grew more apprehensive.
Priam took a deep breath and sat up in his high-backed chair, his hands splayed out on the table before him, his eyes studiously avoiding those of the other men about the table.
“Let us begin, and let us not waste words,” he said quietly. “We all know of the troubles in the northernmost regions of Ichtar, and the reported sightings of the Forbidden by the villagers of Smyrton near the Forbidden Valley. Lord Magariz lost close to ninety good men while on patrol from Gorkenfort this past winter. Whatever attacked them has also devastated the Ravensbundmen. Over the past six months many thousands of them have been moving into northern Ichtar through Gorken Pass. Whatever we may think of the Ravensbundmen—”
“Carrion-eating barbarians,” Earl Jorge muttered.
“—we know they are not cowards,” Priam finished, as though he had not been interrupted. “Attacks on patrols have eased over the past months, have they not, Borneheld?”
Borneheld nodded. “I heard from Magariz last week. Over summer, such as it was, he lost only three men. But over the past two weeks the number of Ravensbundmen moving down from the north has increased dramatically. At the same time the weather is deteriorating badly in the north. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps not.”
“And now winter stands before us again,” Axis said quietly. He looked up from the table where his fingers had been idly tracing the ancient whorls in the wood.
Borneheld stared at him as Priam spoke again, his voice stronger. “Borneheld, you are the only one of us who has been to Gorkenfort. We would appreciate your understanding of what is going on there.”
Borneheld shifted in his chair and deliberately addressed his answer to every man at the table but Axis. “No man has seen anything like this before. A foe who lives and breathes the winter, who has no form or substance, who advertises his presence only with a whisper on the wind. A foe who laughs at naked steel and who has no respect for the bravery of soldiers. A foe who apparently despises a clean kill and who prefers to inflict as much pain as possible; harrying his victim over hours, watching him bleed to death by degrees rather than killing with a clean stroke. The Ravensbundmen say that it feeds as much off its victims’ fear as it does off their flesh. What is it we face? I do not know. All I know is that, no matter the skill, bravery anddetermination of those who have faced it, no-one has ever killed one of them. If they ever come in force, Artor help us.”
Earl Isend shifted in his seat. “You’ve been sending more soldiers to Gorkenfort over the past weeks, Borneheld.”
“Yes. I have to anticipate that they’ll come back with the winter snows.”
Priam slowly rested his face in his hands on the table, and Axis glanced worriedly at him, but Priam looked up after a moment. His eyes looked even worse. “Do you think these creatures are the Forbidden?” he asked
Priam nodded at Jayme and Axis and waved them towards two chairs. Moryson stood a few feet behind his Brother-Leader’s chair, waiting to be called upon if needed.
Jayme inclined his head towards Priam. “My apologies if we have kept you waiting, Priam.” As spiritual leader of Achar, Jayme felt he was the King’s equal and rarely accorded him his title, something that grated with Priam.
Borneheld broke in before Priam could speak. “Is it necessary for the Brother-Leader’s lackies to attend this Council, sire?”
“Borneheld, the BattleAxe is here at my invitation, and I have no objection if Moryson stays,” Priam said, passing a hand over his reddened eyes. Now that Axis was closer he could swear that Priam had hardly slept the previous night. His face had deep lines carved from nose to mouth, his auburn curls hung loose and unattended, and his clothes had the look of garments hastily thrown on simply to avoid nakedness. Not the fastidious Priam’s normal appearance. Axis grew more apprehensive.
Priam took a deep breath and sat up in his high-backed chair, his hands splayed out on the table before him, his eyes studiously avoiding those of the other men about the table.
“Let us begin, and let us not waste words,” he said quietly. “We all know of the troubles in the northernmost regions of Ichtar, and the reported sightings of the Forbidden by the villagers of Smyrton near the Forbidden Valley. Lord Magariz lost close to ninety good men while on patrol from Gorkenfort this past winter. Whatever attacked them has also devastated the Ravensbundmen. Over the past six months many thousands of them have been moving into northern Ichtar through Gorken Pass. Whatever we may think of the Ravensbundmen—”
“Carrion-eating barbarians,” Earl Jorge muttered.
“—we know they are not cowards,” Priam finished, as though he had not been interrupted. “Attacks on patrols have eased over the past months, have they not, Borneheld?”
Borneheld nodded. “I heard from Magariz last week. Over summer, such as it was, he lost only three men. But over the past two weeks the number of Ravensbundmen moving down from the north has increased dramatically. At the same time the weather is deteriorating badly in the north. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps not.”
“And now winter stands before us again,” Axis said quietly. He looked up from the table where his fingers had been idly tracing the ancient whorls in the wood.
Borneheld stared at him as Priam spoke again, his voice stronger. “Borneheld, you are the only one of us who has been to Gorkenfort. We would appreciate your understanding of what is going on there.”
Borneheld shifted in his chair and deliberately addressed his answer to every man at the table but Axis. “No man has seen anything like this before. A foe who lives and breathes the winter, who has no form or substance, who advertises his presence only with a whisper on the wind. A foe who laughs at naked steel and who has no respect for the bravery of soldiers. A foe who apparently despises a clean kill and who prefers to inflict as much pain as possible; harrying his victim over hours, watching him bleed to death by degrees rather than killing with a clean stroke. The Ravensbundmen say that it feeds as much off its victims’ fear as it does off their flesh. What is it we face? I do not know. All I know is that, no matter the skill, bravery anddetermination of those who have faced it, no-one has ever killed one of them. If they ever come in force, Artor help us.”
Earl Isend shifted in his seat. “You’ve been sending more soldiers to Gorkenfort over the past weeks, Borneheld.”
“Yes. I have to anticipate that they’ll come back with the winter snows.”
Priam slowly rested his face in his hands on the table, and Axis glanced worriedly at him, but Priam looked up after a moment. His eyes looked even worse. “Do you think these creatures are the Forbidden?” he asked
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