The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  Elana finally lost her patience. ‘Madria certainly does not respond to foul language. But that is not the point. Maybe I could rid you of it...but I think it is a good lesson for you not to indulge in excessive drinking in the future.’

  ‘A lesson!?’, exploded Kaved, and then wished he hadn't, grabbing each side of his head with his hands as if it would split open without being held together.

  ‘Well, you're both making me feel a lot worse,’ interjected Herin. ‘Let's have some peace for a while.’

  Kaved muttered something under his breath about suffering in silence, but kept relatively quiet.

  Belwynn and Moneva, on the other hand, were in high spirits, and took great delight in increasing the irritability of their comrades by reminding them that they had brought it all upon themselves. Gyrmund and Rabigar rode with Soren at the front and soon connected the group onto the Great Road.

  The Great Road had been built by the Persaleian Empire at the height of its power. It led from their northernmost territories in Haskany all the way south in a straight line to Cordence. It was a demonstration of power, a way of transporting armies and supplies from one region to another with great speed, and a boost to pan-Dalriya trading and communications. It remained, for many, the greatest achievement of human civilization, and now confirmed the place of the Brasingian Empire as the dominant power in Dalriya, since almost half of the Great Road lay within its boundaries. Most travelling from north to south now took place via the Road rather than by sea, and it passed right through the capital of the Empire, Essenberg.

  The group had decided that Gervase Salvinus had most probably headed back to his own power-base in the duchy of Barissia. There were many travellers on the Great Road, but none of those questioned were able to confirm whether or not their decision was sound.

  The Road was the border between the two southernmost duchies of the Empire—Thesse to the west and Gotbeck to the east—the latter ruled over by an archbishop rather than a duke. The plan was to continue north along the Great Road and then take the Barissian Road west into the duchy, heading for its capital, Coldeberg, where they were sure to get some information on the whereabouts of Salvinus.

  Many of the group were eager to question Soren about the events on the mound in the Wilderness, in particular his apparition which scared off the vossi tribesmen.

  ‘What exactly was the image you conjured up?’ asked Moneva.

  ‘When the vossi were reluctant to approach us at first, it made me realise that we had stumbled onto a vossi burial ground. The vision I created was one of their gods, Riktu, who is lord of the vossi underworld. I made him berate them for making war on his sacred site. He eventually persuaded them to leave.’

  ‘Well, I think we all owe you one,’ she replied.

  ‘I used to think that all wizards were con-artists,’ interjected Kaved, ‘but you're different. Where does that kind of power come from?’

  ‘I have always had magic within me, Kaved. The Caladri have long used and accepted magic, while the Isharites control powerful yet terrible sorcery. For my part, I have been blessed with some power which I had to learn how to use and control. I've spent my time learning from masters of the craft, just the same as you have spent yours learning how to fight and to use your weapons in battle.’

  ‘I find it interesting, Soren,’ said Rabigar, ‘how you distinguish yourself from the likes of Elana. It is obvious to us all that you both have special, extraordinary powers at your disposal. Elana freely admits that her powers come from a superhuman being, her goddess Madria, yet you say your powers all come from within. We Krykkers have long held the belief that there can be no such distinction. Whether you know it or not, your powers have been given to you by spirits not of this world, in just the same way as Elana's. I do not agree with allowing interference into our world from unknown forces outside it, however well-meaning your intentions. It is dangerous.’

  Kaved made one of his smirks at this statement. ‘All that rather depends on what you call extraordinary powers, does it not, Rabigar?’ he asked enigmatically.

  Rabigar shrugged the question off.

  ‘Well, it is certainly dangerous,’ Soren replied to Rabigar. ‘You have all witnessed that. As for the powers coming from outside forces, that is very far from the truth. They come at a considerable cost to myself.’

  Rabigar didn’t reply, and the group rode on in silence for some time.

  Elana insisted that, for Soren's sake, it would be best if they had a brief rest for lunch, but they were all soon back in the saddle again. The nature of the Great Road meant that they were eating up the miles, and Gyrmund suggested that they might even make it to Barissia by the end of the day.

  It was mid-afternoon when the group came upon the lone rider sat on his horse by the side of the road. Up to now travellers on the Great Road had done their best to politely avoid coming into contact with the strange mixture of heavily-armed men, women and Krykkers. Belwynn could sense them speculating about what business she and her companions were up to, but it seemed that none of them really wanted to find out. Merchants would do their best to avoid looking anyone in the eye, and noble retinues, using the Great Road to travel from one estate to the next, would grudgingly allow them space on it.

  As Gyrmund and Rabigar approached the stranger, it seemed that, contrary to previous experience, this man was actually waiting for them to arrive. He had a stunning appearance, jet black hair down to the nape of his neck, a black silk cloak which reached to his knees, and the most expensive-looking stallion Belwynn had ever seen.

  What really drew attention, however, were his eyes. They were red.

  Belwynn had never seen anything like it. Deep red eyes, as if they were on fire, and they were looking at the approaching group with an unreadable expression. Belwynn sensed power in this man. She looked back to his cloak, the hems of which were decorated with runic inscriptions.

  He's a wizard, Belwynn almost hissed to Soren, as if, by thinking too loudly, Red-Eyes would hear it.

  Yes. A powerful one. We're going to have to be very careful here.

  ‘Well met, friend,’ Gyrmund greeted him nonchalantly, as if he had already met a number of red-eyed travellers on the road that day. It was a neutral welcome, except for the fact that Herin, Clarin and Kaved had all ridden from the back of the line to the front, hands stroking the inches of air separating them from the hilts of their weapons.

  The man smiled, a friendly smile, revealing white, polished teeth. ‘Well met, friends,’ he began, his voice strong, resonant and confident. ‘I saw you approaching and wondered if I might accompany you along the road for a short while. I fear it can be dangerous to travel on one's own these days.’

  The words raised Belwynn's concerns higher. It seemed that little in this world could provide much of a danger to this man.

  ‘We travel alone,’ said Herin coldly, not fearing to stare into those red eyes for signs of dissent.

  Before the stranger could respond, however, Soren contradicted Herin's decision. ‘I think in this case we could make an exception, Herin. It will not cost us anything to travel with an extra companion for a short time.’

  Herin looked at Soren. Belwynn knew that her brother was probably the only person that Herin might allow to overrule him. With a raised eyebrow, he conceded to his wishes.

  ‘If you think so, Soren,’ he said.

  ‘You are all most gracious,’ said Red-Eyes, inclining his head, as if he were oblivious to any undercurrent of tension in the group. ‘My name is Pentas. I am pleased to meet you all.’

  Soren introduced himself and his companions, using their real names, which raised further eyebrows, but no comment from the rest of the group. ‘Where are you headed?’ he enquired of Pentas.

  ‘To Persala,’ he replied, ‘I felt that I must return to my home there, because of all the recent troubles.’

  ‘What troubles are those?’ asked Belwynn. ‘I'm afraid we've heard little of events to the north in recent day
s.’

  Pentas nodded, though Belwynn thought he looked a little surprised. ‘Well then, I must report to you that Trevenza and Grienna have broken away from Persala in a pact of independence. I fear that war must be inevitable. Of course, such a situation will be of more concern to myself than to a Magnian.’

  Belwynn knew that her accent was unmistakably Magnian, but she had travelled enough to know that Pentas's was not strong enough to place, and so she reserved judgement on whether he was Persaleian or not.

  ‘And where are you headed, friends?’ Pentas asked.

  It was an awkward question, since they didn’t want to tell this stranger exactly what they were up to. Herin looked about to tell the wizard to stuff his questions, but instead turned to Soren.

  ‘Coldeberg,’ replied Soren.

  Herin frowned, unable to understand why Soren was deferring to this man, but he kept his mouth shut.

  ‘Interesting,’ replied Pentas. ‘I thought you would be heading south, back to Magnia.’

  He looked at Dirk as he said this, red eyes fixed on the priest. Dirk looked troubled under that glare and turned to Elana for support.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘We are heading north.’

  Pentas now turned his gaze on Elana, but the priestess looked straight back at him without wavering. He nodded.

  ‘Very well. It is very kind to let me ride with you as far as Coldeberg.’

  What was that about? Belwynn asked Soren.

  Not sure, he replied.

  Soren still looked tired from his exertions in the Wilderness, and Belwynn suspected he was hiding the extent of the damage done. She had to ask another question of her brother, however.

  Why did you let him ride with us?

  I don't think we had much of a choice in the matter, Soren replied.

  You mean he’s a more powerful wizard than you?

  You could say that.

  Soren sounded down, almost bitter; Belwynn decided to leave it at that.

  The group continued their journey north, and Pentas did not hinder the speed of their progress, but rode along comfortably in the middle of the group, as if he were out on a ride with friends. He behaved as if he were blissfully unaware of the nervous looks that some of the others gave him, but Belwynn knew it was an act and kept her eyes on him.

  It was early evening when Gyrmund turned around to advise the group that they would shortly be turning off the Great Road onto the Barissian Road, which led directly to the capital, Coldeberg. He was quickly advised to face ahead again, however, by a hissed whisper from Rabigar.

  In front of them was the second lone mounted figure they had come across that day. Belwynn was unsure where he had come from; suddenly, he was sitting there, ahead of them, in the middle of the road. Pentas had been an arresting sight, but this newcomer managed to trump it. His mount and his clothes were just as expensive, but instead of the red eyes, he wore a mask which covered his whole face.

  It was a death mask, a human skull stripped of flesh and skin, seemingly frozen in a contorted howl of pain.

  It sent shivers down Belwynn's spine, and she could sense from behind the empty eye sockets the malevolent presence of the wearer, studying them.

  The figure nudged his horse and trotted slowly towards them. Belwynn felt the saliva in her mouth dry up as Herin, Clarin and Kaved once more moved from the back of the group to the front to face the danger.

  ‘Give me the dagger,’ demanded the skull in a rasping voice, as if the figure behind the mask was indeed a corpse, raised from the dead and given the power of speech.

  In response Herin and the others drew their weapons and spread across the road in a fan shape, readying themselves for an attack. The mask stopped his advance and waited, as if daring them to try anything.

  ‘Be careful,’ warned Soren in a tense voice.

  Belwynn could see a scabbarded sword at the right thigh of the figure, but it had not made any attempt to reach for it. As she had with Pentas, Belwynn could sense the power emanating from the creature in the mask.

  Just as she thought of the red-eyed wizard, he trotted his horse past her and towards the confrontation. Clarin and Gyrmund turned around in surprise but allowed him to move between them and out onto the road to face the waiting threat.

  Belwynn's mind was racing. She wanted to shout out that they didn't have the dagger, but no-one else had offered that information, so she decided that it was best to keep her mouth shut.

  ‘You,’ said the masked figure as Pentas approached, in a voice filled with hostility and disdain. ‘You would do best to stay out of my way, Pentas.’

  ‘I got here first, Nexodore. You're too late. The dagger is now my responsibility.’

  Nexodore cackled at Pentas's front, but there was no humour in the laugh. ‘These matters will never be your responsibility, Pentas. I will not think twice about casting you down if you stand between me and my duties.’

  ‘Then there is nothing left to say,’ answered Pentas.

  His voice was firm and betrayed no emotion. For a moment Belwynn wondered whether anyone in this world would dare do anything even to displease this red-eyed man, whose presence was so powerful. She half expected this Nexodore to turn around and ride back from where he came, but both men sat still, facing each other across a few feet of road. Belwynn felt a buzzing sensation in her head which grew and grew by the second as the hairs on her body began to stand on edge.

  They're testing each other out, trying to find a gap in each other's defences, said Soren.

  What can you do? asked Belwynn.

  Nothing.

  Belwynn looked around at her companions and saw that they, too, were feeling the side effects of this magical duel. Even the horses whinnied nervously.

  Then, suddenly, wave upon wave of power surged from the two figures. Belwynn turned back to look at the two wizards and nearly wretched with the effort as the magical forces at work surged into her body. They were still sitting perfectly still, in the same position, but for some reason Belwynn felt that it was Nexodore doing the attacking.

  Then, from the corner of her eye, Belwynn noticed a flash of metal. Herin's drawn sword seemed to be sucked from his grasp, and the weapon flew straight towards a point between Pentas's shoulder blades. Just as the blade was about to sink into the wizard's back, its flight was halted in mid-air, and it clattered harmlessly to the ground.

  Pentas had stopped an attack, but his concentration, it seemed, had been affected. Almost as soon as Herin's sword hit the ground Pentas's horse collapsed. It seemed to Belwynn as if the stallion suffered some kind of internal haemorrhage. With a sudden jolt, it spasmed and then its legs gave way, causing Pentas to topple forward off his mount. Nexodore held his hand above his head, ready to finish off his defenceless opponent, when an arrow whistled past his head.

  Instead of sending the spell to Pentas, he quickly adjusted, and the power was instead directed at Herin, who had tried to make up for the embarrassment of losing his sword by taking out the wizard himself. Herin was hurled from his mount by the power of the blast, shooting into the air for a few feet before crashing to earth.

  Pentas had been given the precious recovery time he needed, however, and he slammed his palms onto the Great Road. There was a deafening, tearing sound of rock on rock, and then the ground between the two wizards opened up. Pentas had created a crack along the road, allowing hot steam to billow forth from the fissure. Now it was the turn of Nexodore's mount to lose its footing, and both horse and rider tumbled into the widening hole which Pentas had rent in the earth.

  Pentas had no time to gloat, however, as the ground beneath him also gave way, and he was dragged into his own trap, followed by the carcass of his horse. Clarin, who had moved forward after his brother had been attacked, was now forced to quickly backtrack to avoid joining the two wizards. The whole group quickly moved away to safety, Gyrmund grabbing the reins of Herin's horse to pull it away as well.

  The cracking of the ground ceased, though
it continued to smoulder.

  As the others went over to check on Herin, Soren and Belwynn went to take a look at the hole. Soren gingerly peered down, but shook his head. Belwynn looked for herself, but could see no trace of any of the bodies which had been sucked in, surely to their deaths. The fissure stank of rotten eggs, and they reluctantly walked away.

  Herin was a little dazed, but had no serious injuries. He did, however, get upset when Clarin ruefully informed him that his sword had joined the two wizards in their deep grave.

  ‘Don’t tell me I’ve lost another one!’ he groaned.

  ‘Well, what was all that about?’ asked Kaved, and everyone looked to Soren for an answer.

  The wizard, however, shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t tell you much. Nexodore is a name I know, a man of great power who serves Erkindrix of Ishari. I don't know the name Pentas...but what I do know is that we've just been involved with two of the most powerful wizards of Dalriya. For both of them to come looking for us, personally...I don't know. I don't know what's going on. But any wizard of real power in Dalriya will have heard what went on here; the expenditure of magical power was incredible, and if these two came looking for us, then anyone else will now know exactly where we are as well. I suggest we get as far away from here as possible, as quickly as we can.’

  ‘Well, I'm not going to argue with that,’ said Gyrmund. ‘We might not make it to Coldeberg before nightfall, but I’m all for giving it a try.’

  11

  A Crown and a Hat

  THEY DIDN’T MAKE IT TO Coldeberg, instead spending the night outdoors. Everyone agreed that it was safest to keep a low profile and avoid possible detection.

  Belwynn was tired, but couldn’t get to sleep. Night noises sounded like they could be people out in the dark, looking for them. When she did finally drift off, she dreamed of being chased by a man with red eyes. When he caught her, he turned into a skeleton and dragged her underground, to the land of the dead.