The Bronze Axe

Chapter Thirteen

For ten days the wind blew from the northeast, stubborn and unrelenting, and scattered the ships like autumn leaves over the Western Sea.

Richard Blade, in waking dream and nightmare sleep, fancied himself in a cradle rocked by a giant's hand. His wound festered and the poison was insidious, seeking his life, held in check only by the bitter draughts given him by the silver-haired Dru, she who in his dream he had called Drusilla.

Her real name was Canace. This she told him in one of his rare lucid moments, before she administered the black cool liquid, so bitter to his tongue, that brought on the drowsy inertia, the waking dream state, that sapped his will and made his great muscles so much mush.

In the dim recesses of his brain he knew he was being drugged. He also knew the drug was combating the poison and saving his life. So, though he did not think to make the comparison, Blade at the moment was like the ship on which he lay, driven and harried, floating helpless on the tides, too weak to resist what he knew was happening to him. And such was the sly machination of the drug he did not want to resist. His mind was lulled and dormant,he welcomed his seduction as heartily as any spinster who dreads to die before experiencing the ultimate convulsion.

It could have been on the first day aboard ship, or the fifth Blade had no track of time that he dimly sensed what she was about. She paid him frequent visits, always with the bitter potion, careful that he never lapse back into full consciousness and will power. Blade, wandering lonely and bemused in his dream forest, welcomed her coming. The bitter drink meant an end to the pain in his back, and to the terrible cramps of his belly, and the wily potion persuaded him that he was lucid.

The cool hand on his brow. Gentle, smooth as satin fingers. The bitter drink to his lips and the cloths, wrung out in an ewer of cold water and pressed to his burning flesh. Then, for a little time, she would sit beside his rude cot and hold his hand and watch him with topaz eyes in which swam darker flecks of brown. She would toss back her white cowl, her hair a draping silver fall breaking gently on her shoulders, and Blade would marvel at her beauty and knew not, nor cared, if he was in death or life.

Her breasts were well swathed in the white robe, but Blade remembered the dream in the fens and knew those breasts he was too weak to raise a hand to touch would be firm and cold.

Then, from between those deep breasts, she would take the little golden medallion, worked in intaglio, of a crescent moon ensnared in a design of oak leaves. It hung from her white throat on a fine chain of gold. Her long fingers, blue nailed, toyed with the pendant and set it to swinging ever so gently to and fro while Blade watched as a cat will watch a string dangled before it.

Always she began in the same way, with the same words, her voice as low and unctuous as rich cream pouring.

"I am Drusilla, Lord Blade. That is my title, not my name. My name is Canace. I am also called Drusilla,leader of all the Drus in this land and in all the lands across the seas..."

On the first day, at this juncture, Blade opened his mouth in an effort to speak. A cool, soft, perfumed hand closed it gently and he had not tried again. Did not want to speak. Wanted only to listen to that voice running on like some celestial choir, recounting his sins and forgiving them, promising him joys in future and sealing it in the end with the greatest pleasure he had ever known. Blade, stricken and inert hulk that he was, lived for the paradise that was to come. That came every day just before she left him for the long interval of night.

On this day Blade did not know that it was the tenth and that the storm was at last abating she began in the same fashion. Her words were always the same, never varying, as though she meant to imprint them in Blade's mind forever. The golden medallion swayed before his eyes and he followed it listlessly. Somewhere, for the first time, a spark stirred in his mind and he was near to understanding what she was doing to him. There was a word for it. A technique called

The effort to think was too much and Blade closed his eyes. A soft blue-nailed finger opened them and she went on intoning what had become a litany between them:

"You killed a Dru, Lord Blade. There is no proof of this, but proof is not needed when a Dru accuses. But I do not accuse, though I know you guilty. It was you who slew that aged Dru in the forest, near the sacred glade. For this your life is forfeit, after dreadful torture. None can save you, nor will any aid or shelter you, for none dare challenge the Drus.

"This is our secret, Lord Blade. Ours, and that of Princess Taleen, but she is a child and of no importance. None will know that you are a murderer of Drus, and you need not suffer the terrible penalty, so long as we have understanding of each other."

Blade would have closed his eyes again, but she gently stroked them open. The little medallion flickered back and forth like a golden pendulum. His pain had gone now and he floated on an euphoric sea of anticipation. Soon the words would end she would do that!

"There has been much unrest of late. In Alb, in the late Beata's kingdom, in the lands over the Narrow sea, and now in Voth. There are some who dare, for the first time, to scoff openly at the Drus. To defy them. This is an evil thing, Lord Blade, and it will be stamped out without mercy. But for this warriors are needed, men of iron and bronze, and we Drus are not warriors. Our kingdom is of the mind, of the wondrous control of minds and of the thoughts therein.

"I thought to use Getorix, he who was called Redbeard, as the warrior arm of the Drus. But you killed him, Lord Blade, and are a far better man in mind than he ever was. So you will take his place, Blade. You see that I do not always call you Lord there will be equality with us. I will rule the minds and you, with force, will rule the bodies. You will accept this idea and when you are again well, which will be soon, you will execute my plans as I bid you. None but ourselves will know of this, nor of our personal relationship, for you will be a true believer of Dru faith, and will do what you do out of conviction. All these things you will do, Lord Blade, and you will not question nor need to understand why you do them. All I have spoken these days will be forgotten.

"You will marry Princess Taleen, if you like, because I think it fitting. Her father, King Voth, will be easier swayed thus. This is important, for Voth is important, and I wish his sanction. He respects Drus now, but he does not fear them. He must be made to fear them, and that will be part of your work in the months and years to come. For all this will not be done easily, nor quickly, and so you must understand. But it will be done!"

Always, on these last words, her voice rose in pitch and firmness. Blade, watching that lovely face, saw the scarlet mouth tighten over the perfect little bones of her teeth, and sometimes he could see the golden sword flashing down. And cared not. For when she reached this point it was almost time.

On this last day something new was added. "The seas grow calm," she said, "and the fleet is reassembling. In a day or two you will be much better, and we will come to the port of Bourne, where we will land and march overland to Voth. When that happens I shall leave you and travel alone to Voth, with my own people. But I will meet you there, in Voth's place, and it shall be as I have spoken these past days. With this difference and this you must not forget that our meetings will be clandestine and our speech covert. Though you are a Dru believer, and do my bidding, we must not be named together in these matters. All this you will remember, and you will act upon, and you will never speak of them."

The medallion swayed back and forth, back and forth. Blade closed his eyes, knowing she would not open them again. For now it was time.

Silence. Silence broken only by the creaking and travail of the ship's timbers as it labored easily in the lessening seas. Then, as always before, he heard her breathing change. The breath rasped in her throat, as though she could scarcely inhale, and he knew without seeing that her mouth was open.

She took one of his hands and put it between her thighs, pressing gently on it so he felt the easy tremor of long femoral muscles. She was slim legged, yet with a fullness of soft flesh that lay warm beneath the robe. She pressed her knees together harder, leaning forward, and he heard her breathing roughen as she bent close to him.

It was at such times that her words varied from the routine he had come to expect.

One day she had said: "Drus are also women!"

On another day: "How like a god you are!"

This day she muttered, so low he could barely hear, as she went to her knees beside the cot.

"Ah, Blade, if babes could be gotten so I would as lief conceive from your seed in my mouth."

Blade swam on a misty sea of pleasure. To the drug already flowing in him was added the opiate of her mouth. He could not keep from writhing and his excitement spurred her own. This was sensual witchcraft beyond his experience, and while in the throes he did not know if she were human or not. That she was the mother of all fellatrices he did not doubt, and when he could think at all it was to wonder if it had something to do with the Dru religion. For she would submit to nothing else, even had he possessed the strength.

She had been plain about it: "We Drus do only this to men. What we do among ourselves you may not know, or any man. Lie still, Lord Blade, and empty yourself of all dark spirits. They cannot harm me, for I am Drusilla!"

On this tenth day Blade, already drifting into dark limbo, had one last glimpse of her. Of Canace, called Drusilla. He knew her evil and he cared not. She had saved his life that she might use it, for her own vicious ends, and he cared not.

She smiled up at him, still on her knees, her velvety red mouth moist with his essence, and repeated what she had said once before.

"How like a god you are!"

She left, as she always did, without a backward glance.

Blade, tumbling into sleep, fought his torpid mind so that he might grasp two things she hated being a woman and would be a man. And a growing, though very faint spark of rebellion she held him in thrall as much with her mouth as with her drug. If he could combat one he could could

The effort was too much. Blade slept.

Topside a large square sail slatted and boomed as it was hoisted up the single mast in the brisk wind. They had been running before the wind for days, under bare poles, and a great halloa went up from the sea raiders as the cloth firmed and slewed about and the rudder took firm hold. If this new wind held steady a week would see them in Bourne. Already the men spoke eagerly of new loot to come.

Jarl, though ruling them with an iron hand cunningly concealed, had been noncommital. He did not know of Blade's plans. First they would have to see if the new ruler lived or died.

At first there had been very little grumbling, thanks to the terrible storm which had menaced them all. It took all their efforts to stay afloat and it was one of Thunor's miracles that only five ships had been lost out of twenty. There having been no treasure on the lost ships, the concern for them was not great except in the case of relatives.

But the moment the storm began to fail the grumbling began. Men gave loud opinions without being asked, and certain brazen-tongued sea lawyers opined that it was stupid, as well as unprofitable, to march all the way to Voth when there was plenty of loot to be found nearer by. They could, for instance, go south to Alb and sack it after all. Not prime pickings, perhaps, but not bad and better than making the long and perilous voyage north to Bourne, a mere fishing village.

Jarl handled the complainers in his own way. He had a dozen soundly whipped, keelhauled three, and at last had to hang a man from the yardarm when he struck an officer in an argument. The grumbling went underground.

Jarl stood with the Princess Taleen on the tiny poop deck as the silver-haired Dru passed on the way to her cabin. She was cowled and did not speak or glance at them as she passed, carrying the ewer and flask she used in ministering to Blade.

Both watched her out of sight down the aft hold where the tiny cabins, hardly larger or cleaner than pigstys, were situated.

Taleen, dressed warmly for shipboard, her auburn tresses flying in the wind, looked at Jarl and frowned. They had become good friends during Blade's illness and Taleen, suspecting the truth about Jarl and women, did not mind at all and kept it to herself.

Taleen said: "I would see Blade, Jarl. You must arrange it this very night."

Jarl looked unhappy. "I think it not wise, Princess. You know the Dru's orders. No one to see Blade, and only she to minister to him. I dare not go against her."

Taleen's brown eyes flashed angrily in the sun. "Ha! You are all afraid of her. And yet you call yourself men!"

Jarl stroked his smooth chin and a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, Princess. We are. And you are not afraid of Drus?"

She would not look at him and he thought that tears lurked not far below the surface. "Yes," she admitted. "I am. I am as great a coward as any of you."

"Only when it comes to Drus," Jarl said stoutly. "You will not find us cowards else. But I, who do not even believe in the gods, confess that I find Drus terrifying. I do not understand it myself. Yet they are powerful, Princess. Very powerful. And Blade lives, does he not? Hate and fear the silver Dru as you will, she brought Blade back from death. Our physicians I will admit they are poor enough things had all given him up and could only pray to Thunor for him."

"And I to Frigga," Taleen scowled. "So I admit that the silver Dru saved Blade and yet I hate and distrust her. She is much too beautiful for a Dru!"

Jarl, wiser than he knew, smiled at that and said, "And too much alone with the man you mean to marry, eh, Princess?"

Taleen gave him a scornful look. "That matters not. Drus are pledged celibate. Anyway Blade will not marry me I only said that when I thought to help him against Redbeard. I hoped Redbeard would hold my father in fear, and would not dare but that is over. Let us not prate of things past. I mean to see Blade, if only to tell him what I think of him for letting himself be stabbed!"

Jarl settled his silver spiked helmet in place against the wind. "Be patient, Princess. And grateful. Blade lives she would not lie about that and soon we will be at Bourne and beginning the march to Voth. If I can hold these surly dogs in leash that long!"

The brown eyes glittered and Jarl, unaccountably, felt uneasy.

"Patience is a thing the Drus preach," said Taleen. "When it serves their purpose. They say it to be a virtue but I have had enough of Dru virtues. But you need not be privy to it, Jarl. I will do it alone."

She was staring at the hold where the silver Dru had vanished and Jarl did not like the look of speculation in her eyes.