The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  The gate was slowly swung open, revealing Wulfgar, standing with his hands on his hips. To one side of him stood a small group of priests, simple brown robes belted at the waist. Although slightly red and out of breath, Wulfgar did not betray any other signs that he might be unsettled by Edgar’s unannounced visit. He was a self-confident man, roughly the same age as Edgar’s father would have been. He was broad-shouldered and, despite being the high-priest, was dressed in the fine tunic and hose of a nobleman.

  ‘How was your journey, Your Highness?’ he asked Edgar as the prince and his bodyguards dismounted.

  ‘It was fine. A little warm,’ replied Edgar.

  ‘Good, good,’ said Wulfgar, walking over and clasping hands. ‘Dirk, see to the horses, will you? If you’ll follow me, my Prince?’

  Wulfgar led them over to his hall, which had been built on the eastern side of the temple site. It was a typical single-storey nobleman’s hall, similar to the one that Edgar had left that morning.

  On their way they passed the temple itself. Beyond its entrance chamber, the main building was circular, with a domed roof. It was originally built some time ago, but its wooden exterior must have been replaced many times since then. It was decorated in a pleasing style. A large carving of Toric’s sign of the sun faced them on the curving main chamber. Elsewhere were the buildings necessary for a settlement of this size to function: a stable, a smithy, a granary to store the food.

  Edgar followed Wulfgar into the hall. A fire, located against one wall, created a welcoming, smoky environment. Two long tables with benches stretched along the centre of the hall, demonstrating Wulfgar’s ability to feed a sizeable number of followers. Wulfgar could also afford to decorate his hall well. Tapestries covered all of the walls. The largest showed the rays of Toric’s sun hitting the earth and giving life to the land, producing cereal crops, fruits and vegetables, animals and men.

  Wulfgar gestured over to the top table. Edgar nodded to Leofwin. It was to be a private conversation. While Leofwin and Brictwin gravitated towards the fire, Edgar and Wulfgar sat down together.

  ‘There was an attack on your temple,’ began Edgar.

  Until now, the prince had given his host no clues as to the purpose of his visit. For his part, Wulfgar had not shown the least bit of surprise or curiosity at Edgar’s arrival. Now, however, with the cards seemingly about to be laid on the table, he could not help leaning forward and stroking his beard in a much more animated manner. He seemed to consider his response carefully.

  ‘You may have received a somewhat exaggerated report, Your Highness. The night before last a rabble appeared outside the main gates. They demanded entry, but in all honesty seemed confused about their reasons. We dispersed them easily enough.’ Wulfgar sat back in his chair. ‘There was no bloodshed,’ he added, in a reassuring manner.

  Edgar suppressed a smile. It was common, in his experience, for priests to exaggerate threats to themselves, in an attempt to extract more funds. It was much rarer to hear one dismissing a threat.

  ‘I have also heard that you have taken a prisoner?’

  Wulfgar looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Yes, Your Highness…a woman, possessed by some evil spirit, somehow made it past our gates and tried to steal Toric’s Dagger from us. She was caught inside the temple itself! This group from the other night was connected with her in some way…amongst other demands, they wanted her released.’

  Edgar nodded, thinking over Wulfgar’s words. The high priest had tried to hide the fact that he had the prisoner, but he was probably not lying outright.

  ‘Look,’ continued Wulfgar, ‘maybe you’ve had a complaint from some of these madmen, and perhaps you feel it’s necessary to come here and find things out for yourself. But I can assure you that the matter has been dealt with. She has already been judged according to the laws of our community and has been condemned to death. I’m sure I do not need to remind you that, in all matters relating to Toric’s Temple, the crown has ceded jurisdiction to me.’

  Edgar suddenly didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Wulfgar was puffing his chest out and jutting his chin forwards. He was trying to pre-empt any interference from Edgar in the woman’s case, but the prince was not to be brushed aside so easily.

  ‘I am aware of your rights, Wulfgar, and I fully support your decision. I would, however, like to see the woman before the sentence is carried out.’

  For a brief moment the priest allowed a flash of anger to show on his face, but he soon controlled himself.

  ‘The funny thing is, Your Highness, the woman says that she has already met you once before. She has, in fact, been demanding to speak to you, although I have explained to her that it is not in your power to overturn the decision.’

  Elana was her name. She had come to Edgar’s court about two weeks before, and he had spoken to her briefly.

  Before then, rumours had already reached the prince of a priestess with unique powers who had been healing people across his kingdom. However, she had not come to court to heal, but to persuade people of some great threat to Dalriya.

  Edgar remembered that she claimed the Dagger of Toric was somehow vital in averting this threat. She was certainly persuasive in her own way, and although she spoke passionately, she also spoke calmly, and was not, in his opinion, completely mad.

  But she had no real evidence to support her claims, and Edgar had explained that, in such circumstances, he was not about to entrust the most holy relic in Magnia into her keeping. When, as Wulfgar had suspected, some of her followers brought her case to him yesterday, it was easy for Edgar to put two and two together and work out that she had decided to take matters into her own hands.

  Wulfgar was right: the law said that Elana was his to try and to punish. So Edgar avoided that subject and pursued his request.

  ‘That is correct,’ Edgar confirmed in response to the priest. ‘She has been at court once before. I would like to speak with her again, however. Where is she being held?’

  Wulfgar did not answer the question immediately. He glanced over at the two bodyguards who had taken up residence by his fire. Edgar followed his eyes, and could barely believe that Wulfgar was considering resisting his request. He tried to control his anger. He had calculated that he could get what he wanted today with a casual personal visit and without creating a fuss.

  If he wanted to, Wulfgar could refuse his prince’s request or even have him ejected. Edgar would then ensure that he faced the consequences, but by that stage, people would begin to ask difficult questions about his interest in the matter.

  To his relief, Wulfgar relented and ordered one of the priests in the hall to fetch Elana.

  After what seemed an unduly long amount of time, in which the prince and priest sat in uncomfortable silence, Elana was brought into the hall.

  Edgar found her to be just as striking as the first time they had met. He had seen women who were more beautiful. But she had strong features and an intensity which drew attention to her. Her pale skin and blonde, almost white, hair gave her an ethereal look.

  As she was led to the table where Edgar awaited her, he noticed red marks around her wrists, which Wulfgar must have had tied. Still, that was likely the full extent of her injuries. Female prisoners could suffer much worse elsewhere.

  Elana’s eyes connected with Edgar’s, and she nodded towards him, as if she had been expecting his presence. Considering her situation, she looked remarkably calm.

  Wulfgar gestured to where she should sit and she did so, still without speaking.

  ‘Elana,’ began the prince, ‘you are aware of the sentence passed on you?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Your Highness,’ corrected Wulfgar.

  ‘Well...what is your defence?’

  Elana looked at him quizzically, as if she were trying to work out the meaning of the question.

  ‘She has already been tried in the relevant court, Your Highness,’ interjected Wulfgar.

  ‘I am aware of that
,’ responded Edgar roughly. He now returned his attention to Elana, who was beginning to annoy him just as much as the priest. Despite the fact that the prince had obviously travelled all this way to intervene in some way in her case, the condemned woman was acting as if the idea of making an appeal to him was somehow unnecessary. Edgar had begun to suspect that Elana was one of those pious people who expected their god to save them from trouble without doing anything much about it themselves— and in his experience, such people usually didn’t survive for very long.

  To his relief, she spoke up.

  ‘My defence is that this kingdom, and every other in the land, are under threat from Ishari, and that in order to fight this threat I need the dagger of the Lippers. This man—’ Elana gestured to Wulfgar—‘doesn’t want me to have it, because he thinks he owns it. Meanwhile, Ishari’s power grows stronger, while I stay locked up in his dungeon. The weapon isn’t even yours to give. It was stolen from the Lippers, who were chosen as its guardians, and who would have relinquished it to me.’

  Although Elana was now putting forward her case, the bizarre nature of the argument did not help. Wulfgar put a forefinger to the side of his head and twisted it. Edgar tried to continue.

  ‘It is true that Toric’s Dagger was won from the Lippers by King Osbert of Magnia some generations ago, but it has been well preserved and honoured ever since, and as its guardians, neither Wulfgar nor I are prepared to hand it over to just anyone who claims it.’

  Wulfgar nodded in solemn agreement, but Elana disagreed.

  ‘The powers which have been granted to me by Madria, the true Goddess of Dalriya, are a sign from her that what I say is true and that the weapon should be entrusted into my keeping.’

  ‘Blasphemy!’ fumed Wulfgar. ‘You would take Toric’s holy weapon and use it for the evil designs of your false god!’

  Edgar heard raised voices from outside the hall. It sounded like they were about to be interrupted, and if he didn’t steer this his way now, the chance would be lost.

  ‘Some of what you say may be true,’ he began, holding up a hand for silence as Wulfgar started to object.

  ‘I have heard that you do possess healing powers, and it is possible that they do derive from your goddess. That is why I have decided that your claims should be investigated. If my kingdom is under threat, then I am duty bound to defend it. Meanwhile, the Dagger remains here.’

  At Edgar’s last sentence, Wulfgar swung round to confront him as it slowly dawned on him what the prince was saying.

  ‘This woman is not leaving my temple. She has been condemned to death and I will not withdraw my sentence.’

  ‘The sentence stands. I have already told you that I support your decision. However, this woman may well be aware of a threat to my kingdom, and may even be able to help in its defence. In these circumstances the sentence will have to be postponed. As soon as I am satisfied that there is no threat, I will personally return her to you.’

  The High-Priest did not have a ready response to this, and Edgar felt a little self-satisfied with his argument. Of course, Wulfgar knew that if he allowed Elana to slip out of his control the chances of her being returned were slim, but he could hardly accuse his prince of bad faith.

  ‘Prince Edgar, I recognise that you are acting to protect our kingdom—your motives I can only commend—but I fear that this witch has somehow used her magic on you and is leading you astray. She has broken into one of our kingdom’s temples in an attempt to steal our most precious treasure. She is devious and dangerous and I fear that I cannot in good conscience allow her to escape when Toric himself has instructed that she should be killed as soon as possible.’

  Before Edgar had time to respond, the doors of the hall were thrown open, and the noise outside, of which he had been vaguely aware, burst into the room.

  Several of Wulfgar’s priests, weapons drawn, burst into the hall and towards the table where he was sitting. Leofwin and Brictwin moved over to the same area, but the priests had come to find the hall’s owner.

  As he drew closer, the man in the lead began shouting at Wulfgar. ‘My lord, intruders have broken through the main gate, and now they’re in the temple. At first we thought they were the prince’s men, but—’

  ‘How many?’ cut in Wulfgar harshly. He didn’t wait for a response, but grabbed an axe from someone and led the priests back towards the doors. Everyone in the hall followed the high-priest’s cue, arming themselves and streaming out of the hall.

  Edgar and his two bodyguards followed them out.

  The prince quickly surveyed the scene in the courtyard. Several bodies lay by the eastern gate, where the defenders must have put up some kind of resistance. The conflict had then moved to the temple, from which they could now hear shouting. The speed of the initial attack seemed to have taken the defenders by surprise.

  ‘There are about a score of them, all on horseback,’ one of the priests was informing Wulfgar.

  ‘Follow me,’ ordered the High-Priest. ‘We’ll trap them in the temple.’

  Leofwin grabbed Edgar’s wrist. ‘My lord, I don’t think you should put yourself in danger here.’

  Edgar stopped and looked at Wulfgar’s followers, who were earnestly listening to his barked instructions. There were barely a dozen of them, and though they might find reinforcements at the temple, they were in a weak position.

  No-one seemed to know who the enemy were, but the fact that they were all on horseback indicated that they were probably well-trained and well-armed warriors, as did the ease with which they had breached Wulfgar’s defences.

  The Prince turned back to his bodyguard. ‘They need our help.’

  Leofwin looked at Edgar for a moment then simply nodded, though his disapproval was evident. ‘Look to the Prince at all times,’ he instructed his nephew, as the three men jogged over to catch up with Wulfgar’s band.

  The High-Priest turned around to look at his Prince, but said nothing.

  ‘Is this all the fighters you have?’ Edgar hissed at him, gesturing at the armed priests with him.

  Wulfgar seemed taken aback by the question. ‘Yes…there are some in the Temple, but we’ve lost those men at the gates,’ he said, indicating the men who had already fallen.

  Twenty fighters. That was all Wulfgar had to protect the Temple. He had spent too much on tapestries and feasting, and not enough on soldiers. But now was not the time to get into that argument.

  They had barely walked a few more yards when Wulfgar’s plan to catch the enemy in the Temple fell through. At first a handful, then all of the raiders emerged. Upon seeing Wulfgar’s force, they quickly mounted their horses. All of them wore armour and carried weapons.

  The High-Priest’s march came to a halt as his men realized that they were faced by an enemy that was superior in every way.

  The horsemen slowly trotted forwards. Edgar exchanged glances with Leofwin: Wulfgar’s priests looked nervous and were liable to run if the enemy charged them. If they did run, they would be cut down and dispersed by the horsemen with ease.

  The Prince pushed his way to the front. ‘Form a semicircle behind me,’ he ordered.

  The priests looked to their leader, who looked relieved that someone else was taking charge of a situation that was getting more desperate by the second.

  ‘Do as your prince commands,’ Wulfgar growled, and took a position by Edgar’s left side. Leofwin and Brictwin stood on Edgar’s right side, while the priests took up position behind and to the flanks. They seemed a little more confident now that their prince had arranged them into a formation and that they were no longer at the front. Some of the more belligerent ones even shouted insults and curses at the approaching cavalry.

  One of the attackers rode some yards ahead of the others, and Edgar assumed that this was the leader. He didn’t wear any identifying symbols to betray who he was or where he was from. As he gradually drew closer, the prince could make out a moustache, and he could tell that he rode his horse naturally. The animal
was powerful and expensive-looking.

  He stopped some fifty yards from the defenders, and Edgar could see that he was being examined by his opponent in the same way that he was analysing him. He held the man’s stare and hoped that he was at least making his foe think twice about attacking. In truth, the numbers and manoeuvrability of the enemy made Edgar’s position pretty hopeless.

  At first, the Prince had almost subconsciously assumed that these invaders were from North Magnia, the breakaway kingdom to the north with which his own kingdom had been at war for over a generation. Although there had been an official peace for some years now, small raids were not unheard of.

  But as the rest of the riders drew up next to their leader and listened to his instructions, Edgar began to doubt this origin. For a start, he had lieutenants on the Northern border who should have intercepted a force like this before it had travelled so far south. The location suggested that these attackers came from the east, and this seemed to be confirmed by an examination of the enemy. Many wore moustaches with a shaved chin, a fashion in the Empire. Magnians tended either to be clean-shaven, like Edgar himself, or full-bearded, like Wulfgar.

  Edgar’s thoughts were interrupted by decisive action from the enemy. The horsemen trotted towards them and gradually picked up speed until they were charging at them, weapons drawn and ready.

  ‘Brace yourselves,’ ordered the Prince as his subjects prepared to face the onslaught.

  The horsemen were advancing at a rapid rate and it looked as if they were planning to smash into Edgar’s line without stopping. He felt sure that the horses would refuse to do so, but they kept coming. Then, in a perfectly executed manoeuvre, just as the Prince prepared for contact, the horsemen at the front pulled away to the sides and continued harmlessly past the Magnians. The rest of the horsemen followed, swerving either to the left or the right in the same way as their comrades.

  Just as the last of the riders galloped past, Brictwin ran out from his position next to Leofwin to challenge the enemy. Acting with great speed, he took a swing at the last of the riders passing by.