The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  He began walking towards Dirk and slid his sword from its sheath as he did.

  ‘Herin, that isn’t getting us anywhere!’ shouted Belwynn.

  Clarin quickly shot up and moved between Dirk and his brother.

  ‘Get out of my way, you idiot!’

  ‘No, Herin.’

  Herin pointed his sword at him.

  ‘Get. Out. Of my fucking way.’

  Clarin drew his own sword. ‘You’re not getting near him.’

  It was said in a matter-of-fact way, but Belwynn had rarely heard Clarin deny his older brother anything. The two men stared at each other.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ began Gyrmund.

  ‘Shut the hell up,’ Herin interrupted him.

  ‘I told him not to tell anyone,’ said Elana, quietly.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  ‘You knew all along, too?’ demanded Herin, still brandishing his sword.

  ‘When Dirk told me, I wasn’t sure if we could trust everyone. He has kept it out of the hands of Ishari. That’s the most important thing.’

  ‘But we were supposed to be taking the dagger back to Magnia,’ said Soren. He looked angry himself now, just in a more controlled way than Herin. ‘That was what the rest of us were trying to do. You weren’t, though. Were you ever going to tell us you had it, I wonder? I don’t see how you dare talk about trust.’

  Elana nodded. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. If you had found out that Dirk had the dagger, you would have insisted on taking it back to the Temple. It wasn’t safe there. Ishari would have just come back for it.’

  There was clearly something in what the priestess was saying, Belwynn had to admit.

  ‘So where should the dagger go?’ she asked Elana, intrigued.

  ‘I don’t know where, exactly, for sure,’ began Elana apologetically.

  ‘I’m not listening to any more of this,’ said Herin. ‘She’s either got a screw loose or she’s lying. If you were a man I’d have given you a smack in the teeth by now.’

  Herin’s temper tantrum was really irritating Belwynn now, but she held her tongue.

  ‘Madria doesn’t tell me everything!’ Elana tried to explain. ‘She speaks to me in visions, in instinct. I know that Dirk should have the dagger. I know that we should be going to Essenberg, not back to Magnia. I don’t understand everything that is happening, though.’

  It sounded heartfelt enough, but it left everything totally in the dark nonetheless.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Belwynn.

  Everyone looked at each other; no-one seemed to have a quick answer. Soren puffed out his cheeks and let out a deep breath.

  ‘It looks like we’re going to Essenberg, anyway. It may not be a bad thing that the Emperor hears about all of this. After that...we’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘In the meantime, are we trusting this little shit with the dagger?’ demanded Herin, pointing his sword at Dirk.

  ‘He hasn’t behaved as if he’s working for Ishari, Herin,’ Soren said mildly. ‘In fact, quite the opposite.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ responded Herin sarcastically. ‘He’s only robbed our nation’s treasure and taken it to Coldeberg.’

  ‘Well,’ said Soren, losing patience, ‘do you want it?’

  ‘I don’t particularly want the thing,’ snarled Herin, taken aback a little, ‘I just don’t want him to have it a moment longer. You take it, Soren.’

  ‘Shush,’ said Moneva, flicking her eyes over to the side.

  Belwynn looked over and saw Walter approaching. He and a few of his men were leading some horses over. Nine in all.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, looking around the group. That faint smile hovered at the corner of his mouth again. Had he heard any of their conversation? Belwynn wondered what he was thinking.

  ‘I’ve brought over your mounts for the ride to Essenberg, plus three spares.’

  He seemed to be the kind of person who never went anywhere without spares of anything. Belwynn guessed that probably made him a good general.

  ‘We owe you thanks,’ said Soren. ‘Not only for the horses.’

  ‘Well,’ replied Walter, ‘when we got word of Emeric’s coronation, my brother sent me off to investigate and bring back intelligence. Potentially a dangerous mission. We’re both lucky that one of my scouts spotted you when he did. You’re my intelligence. So thank you for showing up when you did. Are you all ready to ride?’ he asked, his eyes lingering over Rabigar and his damaged face.

  ‘Aye,’ said the Krykker. ‘I think we’ve done enough blathering here.’

  They had a full day’s ride ahead of them to reach Essenberg. It was another clear day, and everyone seemed confident that they would be sleeping indoors tonight. Everyone seemed to have had enough talk for a while, and they mostly rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and not necessarily the cheery ones. Herin brooded over Kaved’s betrayal, and Clarin, who had stood up to his brother earlier, was unusually quiet. Rabigar was distant and withdrawn. Soren was dealing with his own inner demons over the loss of his magical powers since the fight in the Wilderness—an issue that he had kept from everybody except Belwynn. Dirk, who for now still kept Toric’s Dagger in his possession, also looked troubled. Gyrmund and Moneva were perhaps the only exceptions, talking quietly to each other every now and again. No doubt Gyrmund felt some relief at no longer having to think about where they were going or worry about enemies behind or ahead. Walter was in charge today, and the marshal seemed happy enough to leave them alone as long as they didn’t cause him trouble.

  His soldiers knew their jobs, and everything was performed to military precision, as if they were in hostile territory rather than on the road back to their own base. The scouts rode out to survey the terrain in all directions. Walter himself stayed at the front of the line and was regularly reported to by the scouts. A rear-guard of ten soldiers ended the line, keeping Belwynn and her party in the middle. Protected—or contained, whichever way one wanted to look at it.

  After a few hours they were well inside Kelland and Walter ordered his men to wear the uniform of the duchy, showing the eagle symbol of his own family. The track they had started on had now become a road. The villagers in this area sold their surplus crops in Essenberg, and the traffic heading into the city became steadily heavier. They passed small groups of farmers and merchants, who were expected to make way for the imperial army. Walter offered the odd greeting as he passed, but he was only interested in getting back to the capital, and his men left these travellers to their own business.

  They made a brief stop for lunch and Belwynn took the chance to stretch her legs. Clarin joined her and they walked a few feet from the road in silence, stopping at a stone wall that kept in a herd of cattle, looking out over the Kellish countryside while the sun shone down directly overhead. It was a peaceful, idyllic little scene.

  ‘Reminds me of Beckford,’ said Belwynn.

  That was where she had met Clarin and her brother. She had been living with Soren at the house of the marsh witch, Delyth. It was an awful place. It stank to high hell. There were no humans nearby; instead, the lizard men who infested the Gotbeck marshes were regular visitors, and the old hag, Delyth, acted as if she were their queen. Then, one day, Soren had sent her home. Told her not to contact him. Didn’t tell her why, and she still didn’t know to this day.

  She returned to Magnia and lived by herself in Beckford for a year, waiting for him to return from his apprenticeship with Delyth. She busied herself with estate business. Herin and Clarin’s father lived nearby, and she met them when they returned home to see him. Their father had been sick and died shortly after they returned. A neighbouring landowner had begun to give her unwanted attention and asked her to marry him, refusing to take no for an answer. The brothers scared him off for her, and they had become friends. Looking back, it seemed to her now not to have been such a bad period of her life, even though she had thought herself miserable at the time.

  ‘Do you ever
wonder where you’ll end your days?’ she asked the warrior.

  Clarin looked over the farmland. ‘Yes. Somewhere like this, I hope.’

  She turned to him. ‘Really? I didn’t think you’d be the farming type.’

  ‘Why not? When I’m too old for this nonsense,’ he said, patting his scabbard, ‘I’ll need to settle down. Buy a piece of land, start a family. That’s what most men want, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Belwynn. ‘It’s what most men tell themselves they want, perhaps. But look at you; Herin; Soren. After this, are you all going to club together and buy a farm? I don’t see it.’

  Clarin laughed. ‘Yeah, that does seem kind of hard to picture. I can’t see your brother on the farm. Or Herin, for that matter. I can picture myself there, though.’

  Belwynn looked at him. Maybe he could. Maybe she could, too.

  They looked out over the fields a while longer.

  Footsteps coming towards them made them turn around. It was Walter. Coming to check on them? Belwynn wondered whether he was really interested in them or whether he was just being the good general, checking that all his pieces were in place, looking out for obstacles in the plan.

  ‘Nice view, isn’t it?’ he asked, joining them to look over the wall.

  ‘Very,’ said Clarin.

  ‘I hope it stays that way,’ the Marshal commented.

  ‘You mean if there is war with Emeric?’ asked Belwynn. ‘Do you think that’s likely?’

  ‘Likely? Let me put it this way. If it wasn’t for the troubles in the north, we’d have been taking an army to Coldeberg, not fifty men.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘You haven’t heard?’ he asked, studying their faces.

  Belwynn remembered the cryptic comments of the wizard with red eyes, Pentas, about Persala.

  ‘Nothing concrete,’ she said. ‘We’ve been on the road a long time.’

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well, it’s no secret. A few days ago, two states, Trevenza and Grienna, declared independence from Persala and made a request to join the Empire. We didn’t commit to anything at the time. Then, just before I left Essenberg, we heard the news that a Haskan invasion of Persala had taken the capital, Baserno. The Persaleian army is destroyed.’

  At first Belwynn assumed that Walter was joking, but he said it in such a matter of fact way. Persala was the great power in the north, even if it had lost control of the south of Dalriya some time ago. It had been a great power for hundreds of years. For it to lose its capital and its army in an instant didn’t seem possible.

  ‘Where does that leave your brother?’ Belwynn asked.

  ‘He’s in a difficult situation. Does he allow the Haskans to take these two provinces and let Arioc’s army reach the northern border of the Empire? If he stands up for them, he risks immediate war with Haskany.’

  ‘And this is the moment that Emeric declares himself king,’ added Clarin. ‘Hardly a coincidence.’

  ‘No, it can’t be,’ agreed Walter. ‘Which is why anything you’ve learned about what’s going on in Coldeberg will be very much appreciated by the Emperor.’

  They rode on for the rest of the afternoon and early evening. Despite herself, Belwynn was excited about visiting Essenberg and meeting the Emperor. They had all gone to the city last year: she, Soren, Herin and Clarin. On one of their adventures working for a merchant. The job had been little more than a glorified shopping trip: taking some valuable jewellery there to be sold and bringing back the money, without losing either. Soren had disappeared one night on some mysterious mission, and she had gone drinking with Herin and Clarin. She had ended up in bed with Clarin at the end of the night. The next morning had been awkward. Neither of them had mentioned it since, and that was that.

  Essenberg itself was considered by many people to be the greatest city in Dalriya, and, Belwynn reflected, had perhaps lost its biggest competition, now that Baserno had fallen to the Haskans.

  Belwynn thought of Essenberg as a beating heart, with many arteries giving it life. The first to give it life must have been the river Cousel, since the city featured an island in the middle of the river, which made it an ideal crossing place. The Cousel ran from the Krykker Mountains down through Guivergne and the Empire and emptied into the sea where the southern Caladri lived. It was the biggest river on the continent and an important trading route as river barges passed up and down it, easily carrying heavy goods by water that would have been much more difficult to transport by land. Just as important now was the Great Road that passed through Essenberg. It was where north met south and where traders from all parts of the continent could meet and do business in safety, with the emperor’s soldiers there to enforce the law. Essenberg also enjoyed a central location within the Empire itself, with roads from Coldeberg, Witmar and Guslar all meeting there. In short, Essenberg’s location made it almost destined for greatness.

  Eventually they saw the walls of Essenberg ahead of them. Most of the buying and selling was done for the day, and there was no queue for entry as they reached the Coldeberg Gate. Walter’s status meant that they were all waved through without challenge, and they passed into the city.

  They were in the Market Quarter of the city, where the Great Road, the road to Coldeberg, and the road to Valennes in Guivergne all converged on the south side of the river. This part of the city had been given over to the merchants and farmers who brought their goods from all over Dalriya to sell. Most of the stalls were now empty, and the local farmers had left for their homes, but some citizens were still plying their trade. Hot food was on sale for those who needed their dinner, and Belwynn’s stomach rumbled at the smells of fresh-baked bread and sizzling meats. Some stallholders, perhaps those who most needed the money or hadn’t got rid of their produce, remained, shouting out their final offers. The crowds had died down, but the numbers were still healthy as people strolled along in pairs and small groups, enjoying the summer evening.

  Their route took them straight to the heart of the market where, ahead of them, Albert’s Bridge, a hugely impressive stone and concrete construction, spanned the river. It was wide enough for people to walk six abreast, and Belwynn could see that a number of vendors had taken up positions along the bridge, selling jewellery and trinkets to rich men’s wives and girlfriends. To their left was Baldwin’s Bridge, a military bridge that formed part of the circuit of the city walls and defended Essenberg from a potential attack downriver by the Guivergnais. It was reserved for use by the army rather than civilians and was linked to two towers that had been built either side of the river, so that defenders could move on and off the bridge with ease. Two catapults were stationed on the bridge, so that boats could be sunk before they reached the city.

  Instead of going in this direction, Walter took them right onto the Great Road. This led them into the Army Quarter, where the Imperial Headquarters was located—colloquially known as the Imps. It had a large, rectangular site on the far side of the city, next to the river. This stretch of the river featured the First Bridge, made up of two separate bridges that each crossed from one side of the river bank to Margaret Island, in the middle of the Cousel. Elsewhere in this part of the city was the lion’s share of the residential buildings, crammed in between the Great Road and the city walls.

  Their route took them close to the First Bridge, so that Belwynn could see the trees on Margaret Island, before turning right to the Imps. The perimeter was marked out by wooden stakes but there were no defences and no guards. When Walter arrived, a few orders were barked out, and a group of boys came over to take the horses to the stables. Belwynn dismounted stiffly and handed over the reins to one of the boys, who she supposed were in training to become soldiers.

  ‘Till!’ Walter called over one of the boys. ‘Take our guests to the dining hall and tell the cooks that I said they should be fed.’

  Walter turned to them. ‘I will see to it that you all get a bed for a night, too, in the barracks. It may not be the most comfortable accommodation, b
ut it will be the best we can do at short notice. Then I’ll have to go over and see Baldwin. You’ll get an appointment some time tomorrow.’

  ‘How safe are we here?’ Elana asked him.

  To Belwynn’s mind the priestess was being unnecessarily fearful, and she shared a look with Soren. Herin was less subtle, rolling his eyes for all to see.

  Elana picked up on the response. ‘The Barissians could have people in the city now, could they not?’

  ‘They do,’ said Moneva. ‘Emeric will have sent his followers to the Great Road as soon as we escaped. They’ll be here by now.’

  ‘Relax. You’re in the middle of the Imps, surrounded by soldiers,’ said Walter, waving his arms about him with a smile. Elana still looked less than convinced, and the marshal’s face grew more serious. ‘If I’m not around, ask any soldier for help. If the worst happens you can seek refuge at the castle. Or at the cathedral, with Archbishop Decker. He can be completely trusted. But listen—you’ll be perfectly safe here.’

  17

  Three Coffins

  ‘IT’S NOT SAFE HERE,’ said Moneva.

  They were in the dining hall of the Imps, where neat rows of benches and chairs were laid out and the soldiers garrisoned here got their three square meals. They had arrived too late for dinner and a grumbling cook had served out watery soup, dry bread and waxy cheese.

  ‘The food’s not that bad,’ joked Clarin.

  ‘How so?’ Soren asked Moneva in a tired voice.

  He sounded like Belwynn felt—ready for bed and not in the mood for paranoia.

  ‘We were seen coming in through the Coldeberg Gate. Two men were sat down, chatting by the side of the road. One of them followed us into the market. A third man tailed us from there to here. He’s probably watching the Imps now, or someone else is.’

  That changed things somewhat.

  ‘Barissians?’ Soren asked Moneva.

  ‘I presume so.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Walter?’ asked Gyrmund.