"Douglass, Sara - Axis Trilogy 1 - Battleaxe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Douglass Sara)

"I never wanted you, my son. If I had known she was pregnant I would have torn you from her body myself."
"You are not my fatherr Axis cried, desperate not to believe it, but scared to the depths of his soul that this unspeakable voice was indeed his father. The muscles of his arms and legs bulged as they fought to escape the pressure of the invisible, magical bonds that bound him, but he remained trapped . . . trapped in this dark unknowable space with his father. A father who hated him.
"You destroyed your mother, as you will destroy everyone about you. No-one wants you, Axis, no-one loves you. You should be dead instead of your beautiful mother."
Scores of dreadful red-hot teeth nibbled at his flesh, tearing strips of skin and muscle away from his body. Not enough to kill quickly, but enough to torture slowly to death. Axis battled with his sanity.
"See here," the voice soothed, suddenly solicitous, "my friends will help you. Tasty, tasty." The voice hardened with hate. "You are an abomination, Axis, you deserve to die. I have come to do what should have been done while you swam in your mother's womb. Tear you apart . . . piece by piece."
Axis lost control at that point, as he always did, and screamed. It was the only way he knew to escape.
The scream reverberated about the small chamber and brought Embeth out of her slumber with her heart in her mouth. She sat up and twisted around to Axis, who was rolling about on the bed, covered in sweat, his hands gripping the mattress.
"No," he whispered, his eyes wide open and staring at something that Embeth could not see, "you are not my father!"
Embeth's heart almost broke. She seized his shoulders, although his violent motions almost threw her off, and shook as hard as she could.

"Axis! Axis! Wake up. Wake up...it's all right, my love, it's all right. . .wake up!"
She remembered these dreams from the time he had first come to stay with her and Ganelon as an eleven-year-old. Once or twice a month they had punctuated his sleep, waking both her and Ganelon even though he was bedded down in the attic of their manor house.
But they had never been this bad . . . and she thought he had grown out of them. "Axis," she cried desperately one more time, taking a hand from his shoulders and striking his face. " Wake upT Finally he was awake and out of whatever horror had gripped him. He grabbed Embeth's arms, startled, still desperately afraid, not knowing for a time who she was or where he was.
"Axis," she murmured, cradling his head against her breasts, "it's all right, it's all right, my love. I am here now, I am here."
Axis wrapped his arms about her as tightly as he dared, clinging to the love she represented. For a few-moments they rocked back and forth on the bed, the one gently comforting, the other trying to re-establish some grip on sanity.
Tears streamed down Embeth's face as she gently stroked Axis' hair. "Shush," she crooned, feeling the fear wrack his shoulders, "shush." After a few minutes Axis pulled away and lay back against the disarranged bedclothes. Embeth said nothing, thinking it better that he speak first.
Eventually Axis took her hand. "Thank you for being here," he said softly, and Embeth wondered how many nights he .had woken up to face this horror himself.
"It is the same dream you had as a child," she prodded.
He breathed deeply. "Yes. The same, but it has grown worse over the past few months. Infinitely worse."
He paused and Embeth stroked his face, feeling the sweat of fear starting to dry on his forehead and in his beard.
"Why does he hate me so much?" he asked no-one in particular. "Why? I never asked to be born. How can it be my fault? Embeth?"
"Yes?" Fleetingly, Embeth thought Axis might tell her of his dream. Even as a child he had kept its details hidden from her, no matter how hard she probed.
Axis turned his head so he could look directly at her. He had been going to ask her if she had ever felt as if she were about to die during childbirth, and, if so, if she had ever blamed the child that was tormenting her body with pain. But just as he was about to speak the words he found he couldn't ask. To do that would be to reveal that every day of his life he lived with the guilt of killing his own mother. His beautiful mother.
Embeth watched the change come over his face, saw his face close over and knew that he needed to be on his own now. Axis had lived so much of his life unwanted by his own family that he found it hard to accept that others could love him for himself.
Embeth kissed his forehead a last time then slithered out of his bed, finding her clothes on the floor where she had discarded them. She dressed quickly in the chill early morning air, and wound her hair back on top of her head in a rough knot that would stand a cursory inspection by any curious eyes.
Axis lay still on the bed watching her, grateful that she had asked no more questions and that she recognised his need to be alone. Before she left Embeth paused by the bed, not touching him.
"Let me know if you need me again," she murmured, "and I will come."
He nodded, and Embeth smiled briefly, sadly. Without another word or look she turned and slipped quiedy from the room.
Axis was left alone in the dark.

At the Foot of the Fortress Ranges

The two women sat closely together in the cold air, their plain woollen wraps tight about their shoulders, watching the sky begin to lighten over the Fortress Ranges. They had been sitting talking most of the night, and each knew they would have to move soon so that the younger could be back in her bed undiscovered by dawn.
The older woman turned her eyes from the sky. She had fine features, and such incredibly thick and wavy hair that it threatened to break free of the pins holding it protesting in its coil. From the widow's peak on her forehead a startling swathe of gold, two-fingers wide, ran back through her silvery hair. She smiled gently at the younger woman, who had risked a lot to meet her here tonight.
"You are very generous to offer to help us, my dear."
The younger woman looked at her companion. "You still do not trust me."
The older woman's eyes were as sooty-grey as the smoke from a damp wood fire. They held as many sparks, too. "You understand the reasons for that, surely."
The young woman sighed and rubbed her arms. "Yes. I do. But what can I do to make you trust me? What?"
"Trust cannot be bought, or hurried. It always takes time."
"But you do not have time."
The silver-haired woman paused. "We've never had enough time, Azhure. We have never had enough space. We have never had enough respect. And though we need the help of people like you, we must remain wary."
Disappointed at the rebuff, Azhure turned and waved her hand towards the distant village. "They hate anything they do not understand. It is the Way of the Plough."
The older woman rested a hand on Azhure's arm comfortingly and said, her voice filled with sadness, "I know, Azhure, I know."
"GoldFeather, you must trust me. Please! You desperately need help with the children."
GoldFeather shook her head slowly, resigned. "No, Azhure. It is too late. The only one that can save us from the Destroyer is lost and cannot be found. The Sentinels do not yet walk the land and Tree Friend has yet to be found. Soon winter comes. Ice will come to claim us. Tencendor cannot fight divided."
Her eyes glittered with tears. "You must return to your home before it is too late. Sing well and fly high, Azhure, and may you find some kind of peace in this most treeless of lands." She leaned forward and kissed Azhure's pale cheek.

In the Palace of the Kin Axis 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.