The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  BELWYNN GAVE HER FOOT one final look, marvelling at the scarred tissue that, moments before, had been a gaping wound. She shoved her shoe back on. Elana had dealt with all the injuries. She looked exhausted from the healing she had carried out. But two problems remained.

  ‘They shouldn't be moved,’ Elana informed Herin in a tired voice. ‘It could cause permanent damage.’

  Herin grimaced.

  Both Soren and Dirk lay unconscious. Soren had not woken since he had collapsed on the ground after the vossi had fled. Dirk had been awake at first, but in agony, crying out in pain: mostly unintelligible, mixed in with pleas for help. He asked for help from the gods, from his mother but, interestingly, not from Toric. After Elana had treated him, he had grown calmer and fallen asleep. Belwynn would have been quite happy to risk Dirk's health, since the priest had been of little help so far, and she knew that Herin was thinking the same thing. The vossi had gone, but no-one knew if or when they would return.

  Belwynn's own injury was not too serious, though it would still give pain every time she put any weight on it. None of the others had sustained any serious injuries, but they were all itching to get moving away from the bloody mound. The fact that Soren, who had probably just saved everyone's lives, was now seriously ill kept them from departing the scene.

  ‘We're going to have to build stretchers,’ said Rabigar. ‘We'll be able to move them a fair distance before nightfall. Then we can decide what to do in the morning.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Belwynn quickly. She looked around at the group, but no-one disagreed with the plan, even if they wanted to.

  ‘Well, now that's settled,’ said Kaved, ‘we'd better get a move on.’

  The group wasted no more time as Rabigar and Kaved began hacking off adequately-sized branches from the trees around the mound. Belwynn and Moneva picked up branches lying around the forest floor and collected those obtained by the Krykkers, bringing them to the centre of the mound, where Herin, Clarin and Gyrmund set about lashing them together to make platforms strong enough to carry the weight of the two men.

  They worked quickly, and before long they were gingerly lifting the wizard and the priest onto the stretchers.

  ‘How ill do you think he is?’ Belwynn asked Elana.

  The priestess pursed her lips. ‘I don't know. His affliction seems to be more of the mind than of the body, and the powers that Madria has bestowed on me are not as effective in healing it.’

  Belwynn nodded. ‘I think the magic that he used on the mound was too great for him to control; he put too much into it. What with the magic he used to get us to the river as well...I don't think he had any energy left.’

  ‘I've never seen anything like that before,’ said Kaved, with apparent sincerity in his voice. ‘I didn’t think people could do that...’

  Belwynn guessed that was the closest the Krykker ever came to saying thank you, and she smiled in recognition. The truth was, she hadn’t seen Soren do anything like that before, either. It was a different kind of magic, different from what he had learned from Ealdnoth. It was witch magic.

  Gyrmund led the group off in a north-easterly direction while Herin and Clarin carried Soren's stretcher and Rabigar and Kaved carried Dirk. It was very slow going, especially because everyone was so exhausted from the combat on the mound. The adrenaline from the fight had left Belwynn’s body, and she felt empty and drained. By nightfall, however, they had covered enough ground to feel that they were a safe distance from the bloody scene, and with very little conversation tried to make themselves comfortable on the forest floor. Belwynn lay next to her brother’s prone body, still breathing, but dead to the world.

  Eventually she fell asleep.

  Prince Edgar was sitting in his tent with Ealdnoth, his court wizard, and his two bodyguards, Leofwin and Brictwin. They were awaiting the arrival of Wilchard, Edgar's chief steward, with the Cordentine ambassador.

  The wait gave Edgar time to contemplate his plans. It had been two days since the attack on Toric's Temple, and he had been busy. The potential threat to the kingdom had led Edgar to raise an army, and he had issued orders to all those in the land who had a duty to provide their prince with soldiers. Not all of those who had been ordered to had as yet provided men, and this meant that Edgar would be able to issue fines or even confiscate the land of those who had failed in their duty. In any event, a threat had not materialised, but Edgar knew that it was a foolish ruler who, once he had an army at his disposal, did nothing with it.

  The complication associated with raising an army was that all the grand magnates of South Magnia were there as well, keen to show off the soldiers under their command, eating the army rations at an alarming rate and drinking too much. The inevitable result of such a volatile mixture was arrogant confrontation.

  Edgar was aware that, with no enemy, he could not hold the army together for long. Men such as Otha of Rystham were already letting their suspicions about Edgar's motives be known. So far, he had spun them along with some vague pronouncements about the robbers of Toric’s Dagger having possibly come from North Magnia. Mention of the kingdom's bitter enemies had been enough to keep his nobles relatively happy with their prince. The army had marched northwards all day yesterday, albeit at a leisurely pace, and Edgar had let the rumours of a confrontation with North Magnia grow. Aware that he was playing a delicate game, the Prince of South Magnia was not yet ready to show his hand.

  Wilchard and Rosmont, the Cordentine ambassador, were shown into the tent by the guards outside. King Glanna of Cordence was a wealthy man and could afford to have a number of permanent ambassadors in his employ. Their job was to spread Cordentine influence throughout Dalriya and stick their nose into other people's business, reporting all they heard back to the Cordentine court. South Magnia was not considered important enough to have its own ambassador; instead, Rosmont's remit was to cover all the lands of south-west Dalriya. Edgar felt that he was at court quite often enough.

  Wilchard bowed to Edgar. ‘Your Highness, Lord Rosmont of Cordence.’

  ‘Please sit down, gentlemen,’ said Edgar, nodding to some seats prepared for the meeting. Wilchard was about the same age as Edgar, an old childhood friend, and now an adviser who usually participated in such meetings.

  ‘Your Highness,’ began Rosmont, bowing low. Rosmont began his usual speech, which involved a formal greeting from King Glanna and incorporated a brief history of all the special links and mutual treaties between the two countries. Edgar maintained a fixed smile throughout the proceedings as the ambassador listed what King Glanna believed to be the Prince's most special virtues.

  ‘Please send King Glanna my best wishes,’ replied Edgar when, at last, Rosmont had finished.

  Rosmont bowed low in acknowledgement. ‘I understand you have another ambassador at court, from the newly independent provinces of Trevenza and Grienna?’, he enquired, sounding all innocence.

  ‘Yes, a man arrived late last night, but I have yet to speak to him,’ answered Edgar.

  ‘Ah,’ came the reply. Rosmont was obviously doubtful of this, but in truth, the ambassador, whom Edgar understood to be a high-ranking cleric of Grienna, had been so tired from his speedy journey that he had been allowed to rest and was due to speak with Edgar after this meeting with Rosmont. The two provinces had only just claimed independence from Persala, and were now desperately sending envoys across Dalriya in the hope that other states would acknowledge this independence and lend some legitimacy to the move. King Mark of Persala would, of course, treat any such acknowledgement as an attack on his sovereignty.

  ‘I was sorry to hear about the loss of your national treasure the other day,’ said Rosmont, moving on to a new subject, ‘and shocked to hear that you were threatened yourself?’

  ‘Yes, a shocking business all round.’

  ‘And the direction your army is going would indicate that you believe North Magnian agents were behind it?’

  Edgar knew that Rosmont would be all over these events,
but he wasn’t about to give him anything here, either. ‘Nobody should jump to conclusions over this incident,’ he said sternly. ‘I have sent my own agents after the robbers to retrieve our treasure. It wouldn’t be politic to say anything else at this time.’

  Rosmont quickly accepted that no information was forthcoming on this subject and moved on to another, namely rights over the Wilderness. Mention of the place made Edgar think of Soren, Belwynn, and the others. In the past days he had put the loss of Toric’s Dagger to the back of his mind and relied on his cousins to retrieve it. He hoped they were doing well.

  ‘…King Glanna feels that such an arrangement,’ Rosmont was saying, ‘can only be beneficial to both parties.’

  The Cordentines seemed to be proposing that a formal division of the Wilderness between themselves and South Magnia should take place. At the moment, while those kingdoms that bordered the Wilderness laid token claims over it, in practice the place was a law unto itself, and no-one's authority extended very far into the forest. King Glanna was always trying to win rights and ownership over places, whether by trade treaties or secret understandings, but Edgar could see little advantage in a treaty of ownership with the Cordentines when neither side had any authority over the place they were carving up.

  ‘And what thought has King Glanna given to the Empire's view of such an arrangement?’ asked Wilchard.

  ‘King Glanna's view is that Emperor Baldwin will have little interest in the destiny of the Wilderness, particularly if he is drawn into confrontation with Persala.’ Rosmont's eyebrows always raised to the corners of his face when dealing in intrigue, and now was no exception. The Cordentines expected a confrontation between Brasingia and Persala over the provinces of Trevenza and Grienna, and while their attentions were turned they could lay claim to the lion's share of the Wilderness; maybe even begin the difficult process of bringing it under the authority of the Cordentine crown.

  Edgar nodded in understanding. ‘What you say is interesting, Lord Rosmont. You will understand, of course, if I discuss your offer with my ministers first.’

  ‘Of course,’ came the smooth reply.

  ‘If we are now finished,’ said Wilchard to Rosmont, ‘I will escort you out.’

  With a deep bow and a few words of gratitude, the Cordentine ambassador was led out of the tent. Edgar rolled his eyes in relief. ‘What did you make of that?’ he asked Ealdnoth.

  ‘I don't like it,’ the wizard replied. ‘We offend Brasingia while Cordence makes a move on the Wilderness. Glanna's soldiers are free, while most of ours will still be tied up defending the northern border. Cordence will have a perfect excuse for building up a large army near our border, and we can hardly object if we have signed a treaty agreeing to it all.’

  Edgar had to agree. ‘Knowing wily King Glanna, I don't intend signing up to anything with him that isn't in our obvious interest, because it will doubtless be in his. But if he's thinking of making a move on the Wilderness, what's to stop him swallowing it up whole?’

  ‘We could probably frustrate his plans enough to make it too difficult to be worth his while. Plus, if Baldwin doesn't like it, he'll face the wrath of the Empire on his own and may lose some of his beloved trade deals there; I'm sure the threat of that would stop him dead in his tracks.’

  Edgar grinned at his adviser. Ealdnoth was not the most powerful of wizards: he admitted himself that Soren had more natural talent, but he was clever and experienced, and was worth as much to Edgar as an adviser as he was to him as a user of magic. Edgar would reject Rosmont's offer, though it would perhaps not hurt to string him along for a while first.

  Wilchard returned to the tent and immediately agreed with Edgar and Ealdnoth's assessment.

  ‘Can you give me an update on what we know about developments in the north before we meet the Griennese ambassador?’ Edgar asked his steward.

  ‘The balance of power there is shifting firmly towards Haskany. Since he took power, Arioc has won huge swathes of territory from the old Persaleian Empire. As you know, last year it looked like the whole of Persala would collapse when the old Emperor Conrad was deposed by a coalition of generals, led by Mark. However, by rejecting the old title of Emperor, hardly fitting anymore, and by overhauling the army, the new King has secured his position in the country. Mark still has enemies within the country—after all, he seized the throne by force; in the trading provinces of Trevenza and Grienna the people object to paying high taxes to defend what they see as other people's land. Short-sighted of course, but there you go. It looks like they've decided now is the time to make a break.’

  ‘How do you think Brasingia will react?’ asked Edgar.

  ‘Persala has always been an enemy, and if the Empire supports the two provinces with enough force, Mark doesn't have the resources to take on Baldwin—not with Arioc waiting in the wings to swallow him up. Baldwin is not a hasty man and may decide to wait to see how the rebellion develops. He may even have some sympathy with Mark. No doubt he has been weighing up his options.’

  If the two provinces were to succeed in their bid for independence, they would need the military support of Baldwin of Brasingia. Edgar realised that the Emperor may have already promised this in an attempt to destabilise his neighbour. Either way, the real momentum in this crisis was going to come from Brasingia, not Magnia.

  When the envoy was ushered in, he promised a certain sum of money and beneficial trading rights in Grienna and Trevenza in exchange for Edgar’s recognition of the two provinces as states outside the jurisdiction of Persala. Edgar's decision was unlikely to alter the balance much either way, but he decided that he would have to let the envoy leave empty-handed. There was no reason to become involved in the conflict, and it was far wiser to wait on Baldwin of Brasingia's response before he came down on either side.

  Events in the north were becoming a concern to the Prince of South Magnia, however, and he talked about them with Wilchard and Ealdnoth long after the envoy had left. If war was coming to Dalriya, he had to make sure that South Magnia was in a strong enough position to defend itself.

  The orders to raise camp had to be given long in advance because of the cumbersome nature of Edgar's army. It seemed to take an age for orders to pass down the chain of command, and the majority of the Prince's troops were not professional soldiers, but men who only sporadically became warriors when asked to do so by their liege lords.

  Despite this, the main part of the morning was still left when the army of South Magnia resumed its progress northwards. The soldiers would often be greeted by the folk who lived in the villages and farmsteads through which they passed: some simply gawped at the sight, others offered food or drink. All of them were desperate to know where they were going.

  As Edgar rode along, never far from his dutiful bodyguards Leofwin and Brictwin, he heard many a soldier claim that the Prince had decided to invade his northern neighbour, a claim which he noted was greeted with mixed enthusiasm. While some of his countrymen might delight in taking the old enemy to task, many realised that war meant hardship and taxes, especially for those who dwelt nearest the enemy border.

  It was before midday when Farred arrived. Edgar was eager to hear all his news but decided that it would do better to travel a little farther and stop for lunch, when he could sit with Farred, Ealdnoth, and Wilchard to discuss his plans for the day.

  After another hour's journey they came to a suitable location on the outskirts of a sizeable northern town called Halsham. Because of its size and location, Halsham was an important strategic settlement to the princes of South Magnia. Edgar's father, Edric, had encouraged its growth, giving it certain rights to trade and self-governance, and in return the town councillors committed themselves to provide resources to the crown, particularly in times of war. One of the most important of these was providing supplies to the royal army, and Edgar now demanded that the town of Halsham feed his troops while he met with his advisers.

  Since Farred's arrival a few days ago, Edgar had devel
oped an immediate liking to the man. He gave his opinions with honesty and intelligence, and he was not afraid of action or of doing things a little differently. Edgar had decided he would be the perfect man to undertake a special mission to the court of Edgar's neighbour, Prince Cerdda of North Magnia.

  Cerdda and Edgar shared many problems, stemming from the separation of Magnia into two states after years of civil war. Edgar’s father, Edric, had become the leader of one side in the war. He had agreed a peace with his enemy, Bradda, whereby Magnia was divided in half. Neither Edric nor Bradda would claim the title of king, but instead be known as princes of the South and North. When Edgar and Cerdda inherited their father’s positions, the peace had held.

  The biggest danger to both Edgar and Cerdda was from their own nobility, and it was with this in mind that Edgar had sent Farred to meet with Cerdda. In the borders, both princes were dependent on their followers to defend their territory, and this dependency had long been taken advantage of.

  The individual who offered the biggest threat to Edgar was Harbyrt the Fat, Marshal of the Northern Marches. Harbyrt owned vast stretches of land on the northern border and had many men in his power. Few in the region could stand up to him, and those that tried would more than often end up dead, their lands confiscated by Harbyrt as he used his military powers to brand them a traitor. The problem for Edgar was that he could do little to curtail Harbyrt because of the ever-present threat of war with North Magnia. Harbyrt would have little compunction in transferring his allegiance to Cerdda, which would give the North Magnians a big advantage in terms of territory and military strength.

  Edgar had thus been forced to accept a number of indignities from Harbyrt the Fat. He had once sent a trusted friend to the region to act as royal sheriff in an attempt to impose his will on the region. Harbyrt had continually frustrated his efforts, and, as the conflict became violent, Edgar had been forced to withdraw his sheriff and replace him with one who could work with Harbyrt.