Eventually they heard footsteps and the sound of voices approaching the door. Clarin stood up. The door swung open. It was Urval. He entered the room with another man.
‘This is Master Orlin, chamberlain to King Emeric,’ he announced gruffly.
Two more men hovered in the doorway. They had swords strapped to their waists. Clarin looked at Soren. Belwynn knew that, with a nod, Clarin would set on all four. But with no weapon himself, that would be a desperate move. Soren hesitated briefly but decided against it and stood up himself.
‘Ah, Lord Orlin, a great pleasure to finally meet you,’ he began, bowing his head towards the floor. ‘I am Tivian the Magnificent. My sister, the Lady Ariella, and I have travelled a long way to entertain this great court.’
Orlin snorted. He was an older man, draped in expensive clothes. He had a long face, accentuated by a thin grey beard which ended in a slick point. His eyes were piercing blue and he studied each of them with the attitude of someone who was continually disappointed with the stupidity of those he encountered.
‘I sincerely doubt that your sister is a lady, in which case you should not use the title.’
Tivian the Magnificent laughed nervously.
‘It is not my habit to meet and greet every entertainer that passes through this castle. But when informing me of your arrival, my servant advised me that your sister was a very good singer. In the twenty or so years that he has worked for me, Urval has never been so fulsome in his praise. As a consequence, both myself and the King are interested to hear this voice.’
Orlin turned his gaze to Belwynn again.
‘If the voice is as pretty as the vessel, it must be special indeed.’
Belwynn blushed and muttered a demure thank you.
‘You will perform at this evening’s banquet, in about two hours. But first, King Emeric has requested a private audience. This is a great honour I have arranged for you. Do not disappoint.’
No. Belwynn’s heart dropped into her stomach. The plan had gone wrong already. They were going to be taken to see the very man who was hunting them down.
‘Of course not,’ enthused Soren, ‘my heart is beating wildly with excitement.’
Orlin frowned at him. ‘Most importantly, do not make the mistake of addressing him as a duke. It must be king. That would be more than your life is worth.’
Orlin turned around and left the room. The four men headed back down the corridor. Belwynn, Soren and Clarin followed behind.
At the end of the corridor they came to the stairs. Belwynn looked around, wishing that Dirk or even Herin would rush up to intervene. But no-one did. They continued towards their destination, Belwynn’s sense of dread growing with each unavoidable footstep.
Instead of going down the stairs they went through a second door. This opened into an antechamber. Two armed soldiers watched them walk straight past. Urval opened a large wooden door and ushered everybody through.
Emeric’s chamber was not large; his main hall would be downstairs somewhere. Belwynn had been expecting more people, but only two were waiting for them.
Sitting on a large chair at the end of the room, facing them, had to be Emeric. Belwynn had to admit that he carried himself like a king. He was not tall, but well-built, had mid-length jet black hair, which he pushed back, and a pale complexion. He was wearing leather and looked like he had just come back from, or was about to go, hunting.
Standing next to him was an unusual looking man. That was, he looked unusual at first sight, but on second sight Belwynn found it difficult to decide why. Certainly he did not dress like a Brasingian nobleman. He wore a long fur cloak with inscriptions sewn into it around the edges. He did not carry a weapon. He was clean shaven with very closely-cropped dark hair. It was his eyes, maybe. They were a dark, strange colour, close to violet, she thought. When Belwynn looked at his eyes they gave nothing away, no expression, no emotion.
Watch out for Emeric’s friend, advised Soren. I think he’s an Isharite. He could be a wizard.
‘Your Majesty, the songstress Ariella, at your request,’ introduced Orlin.
Belwynn curtseyed, and Soren gave a deep bow.
Emeric looked Belwynn over. ‘Very nice. Who are these?’ he asked, waving a hand at Soren and Clarin.
‘Greetings…’ began Soren, but he was cut off by Orlin.
‘This is the brother, the conjurer. This is their guard.’
‘Did I ask to see them?’ The question was put innocently enough, but Belwynn could sense the steel underneath.
‘No sire, you did not. My apologies. I will ask them to leave,’ replied Orlin.
‘No. They’re here now. They may stay,’ announced the king magnanimously.
At a prompt from Orlin, Urval moved over to the side of the chamber and grabbed a stool, which he carried towards Emeric. He deposited it about twelve feet away from the king. Orlin and Urval then moved over to stand by the wall on one side of the room. The king gestured for Belwynn to sit on the stool. Belwynn, carrying her lute with her, did so. She sat down, facing only Emeric and his friend. Meanwhile Soren, Clarin and the two soldiers were left to find standing positions along the second wall.
Choose a long one, advised Soren. Try to keep it going until the others get here.
If they get here, thought Belwynn. It did not seem as though Dirk had betrayed them and warned the Barissians of their presence, but that did not mean that he would or could locate and free the others. Unfortunately, that prospect appeared to be all they had. Emeric inclined his head towards her, indicating that she should begin.
With his dubious position as a newly crowned king in mind, Belwynn decided that it was best to steer clear of any songs connected to the Empire. She settled on the neutral song of Celandine the Slave Queen.
Celandine was a girl from the coast of Kalinth during the time of the Vismarian Onslaught. The local knight, Hector, had failed to defend his people and instead paid tribute to the Vismarians to stop their attacks. He took Celandine from her home and sold her into slavery to the rovers of Vismar. She became the slave of Bringar, a fierce warrior, who took her back to his home. Over time, however, Bringar fell in love with Celandine, and made her his wife. To honour her, he returned to the shores of Kalinth with his war band. There he won a great victory over the Knights of Kalinth. Hector and many of his allies lay dead, and Bringar established a Vismarian kingdom there. Celandine returned to her homeland to be crowned queen.
Belwynn sang, playing the lute to support her voice. She used her voice to throw out patterns, to entice and entrance the listener and dominate their senses. She pulled them into the song so that all they were aware of was the music, the story, and her.
It did not take long for Emeric to lose himself in her voice. She could tell the signs by now. The eyes were the best guide. Emeric’s became transfixed, focusing on some object in the distance, looking at her but through her at the same time. Frowns of concentration on his forehead eased away and his facial muscles relaxed. A light smile appeared on his lips.
Others soon followed: the two soldiers, Urval, even stern Lord Orlin.
But one man did not lose himself in Belwynn’s song. The man from Ishari was indeed looking at her, but in a very different way from the others. His strange, violet eyes were staring into hers, as if he could see through into her mind and her soul. He made no facial gesture other than the stare, and once Belwynn noticed that, it became difficult to concentrate on anything else.
As Belwynn sang and strummed the closing notes of the song, the Isharite began clapping, making stilted, discordant noises.
‘Very good,’ he pronounced as he clapped, though his sneer said otherwise. This had the effect of waking the others from their reverie. Emeric flashed his companion a look of anger for making the sound, but it passed quickly. He shook his head, as if waking up from sleep. The other listeners did the same.
‘Ariella, come here,’ beckoned the King.
Belwynn placed the lute on the floor and stood up
from her chair. She walked over to him. Emeric remained seated. The Isharite still stood beside him, watching her, his sneer not far from his lips.
‘That was wonderful, Ariella,’ Emeric declared in a quiet voice. He offered Belwynn the palm of his hand. She placed her own in it. Emeric raised her hand and gave it a kiss, lingering just a touch longer than politeness allowed. He gave her it back reluctantly. Emeric’s eyes glanced over towards Soren. ‘This conjurer,’ he began, keeping his voice to little over a whisper, ‘he is your brother, yes?’
‘That is right, Your Majesty,’ replied Belwynn.
‘Ah…’ Emeric looked pleased. ‘You must stay at court for a while. Both of you, of course.’ Emeric’s eyes moved from hers to appraise her body, looking at her breasts, her hips, and her legs. There was no doubt why he wanted Belwynn to stay around.
Belwynn forced herself to continue with the routine. She had to hope that this would soon end. ‘You are most generous, Your Majesty.’
From the corner of her eye Belwynn saw the Isharite smirking.
Emeric followed her gaze. ‘Don’t mind Tirano. He can be tiresome, but he has his uses.’
Emeric indicated that Belwynn should step to the side as he turned his attention to the small gathering in the chamber. ‘I am well pleased with this performance. Ariella will be invited to sing more of her songs at supper tonight. Her brother will also perform,’ he added. ‘This song of Celandine has much to teach us. This Bringar of Vismar was not born a king, but he made himself one. Those men who cannot defend their people, men such as this Hector, will have their titles stripped away. Soon there will be many changes in Dalriya. We in Barissia are the ones who will rise to glory.’
Everybody in the chamber politely applauded Emeric’s speech, including the Isharite, Tirano. Belwynn noted that he even nodded in agreement with the king’s words.
Then the door opened. One of the soldiers from the antechamber outside had pushed it open, and he now leaned into the chamber.
‘Kaved the Krykker,’ he announced.
Before Belwynn could take in what was happening Kaved sauntered into the room. He took a few steps and then stopped dead. For a moment he stared at Belwynn, then at Soren and Clarin standing by the wall.
‘What the fuck is happening here?’ he demanded.
Then everything happened very fast.
Belwynn’s head started swimming. Kaved was the traitor, and he was about to blow their cover.
‘How dare you burst in here and speak to the King like that?’ Orlin was demanding of the Krykker.
At the same time Kaved was speaking. ‘That’s them, you idiots! They’re the ones with the dagger!’
Now it was time for Emeric and the others to look around in bewilderment.
Belwynn grabbed the opportunity. She leant down and grabbed the knife she had been concealing in her boot. Before he had time to react, she grabbed Emeric off his chair and put the knife to his throat. Tirano grabbed at the arm of the king as if to pull him away.
‘Let go or he’s dead!’ screamed Belwynn, more hysterically than she had intended.
Tirano let go and backed off. The two soldiers along the wall had drawn their own swords and now faced her. Meanwhile, Kaved and the two guards from the chamber were closing in as well.
Belwynn pressed the knife edge into the king’s neck, drawing blood. ‘Tell them to stop or I’ll do it!’
‘Stop! She’s got a knife,’ shouted Emeric hoarsely.
‘Do as the king says. No closer,’ Tirano commanded Kaved and the soldiers.
The soldiers, even Kaved, did as they were asked, but still held their swords. Belwynn had bought them some time but they were outnumbered and the longer the face-off went on, the more likely the rest of the castle would hear. Her knife hand had begun to shake, causing Emeric to utter a fearful careful as it scratched against his throat.
What are we going to do? she asked Soren.
‘Give it up, Belwynn,’ shouted Kaved. ‘They won’t hurt you. They just want the dagger.’
‘Shut up, traitor,’ Clarin shouted back at him. ‘Where’s my brother?’
‘Here I am,’ came a shout from the door.
Belwynn peered over to the doorway. Standing in the entrance, sword in each hand, stood Herin. Don’t say he’s betrayed us as well, she thought.
He raised one sword so that it was pointing at Kaved’s head. ‘And now you pay for your treachery.’
Herin rushed into the room, throwing one sword to Clarin while lunging at the Krykker with the other. Kaved met his sword stroke and the clash of steel rang out in the room. Then, behind Herin, Belwynn saw Moneva enter the room.
‘This way,’ Moneva shouted over to them.
Belwynn tried to pull Emeric in the direction of the doors at the far end of the chamber. Her knife hand, however, was now shaking violently; she could no longer control it. She looked over at Tirano and saw him staring intently at her. He was using magic. Her hand began to jerk away from Emeric’s neck, so that the knife was no longer pressed against him. The king took his chance. With one hand he grabbed Belwynn’s wrist, pushing it away, and then smashed backwards with his other elbow. Emeric caught Belwynn in the face and she fell backwards, dropping the knife.
Belwynn landed sharply on her backside. Her nose throbbed and she felt dazed. She could hear shouting all around her and the clash of swords. Then arms grabbed at her, half dragging, half lifting her to her feet.
It was Soren. He was pulling her over to the doors. Herin was slashing wildly at Kaved and had pushed him backwards into the room, but the Krykker was resisting. Closer to the doors, Moneva was clashing swords with one of the guards; another lay on the floor, clutching his chest.
‘This way,’ came a shout, and there was Dirk, beckoning them out of the room. Belwynn and Soren passed through the doors and turned around to look for Clarin. The big warrior was walking backwards in their direction, fighting against Orlin’s soldiers. Belwynn could see a body lying on the floor and thought at first that it was Emeric, but she could see him by his throne, along with Tirano and Orlin. She realised that the body must be that of Urval.
Then Emeric, Tirano and Orlin began moving towards Clarin, and Belwynn could see swords in their hands. ‘Clarin, watch out!’ she called. Dirk responded by running over to stand by Clarin, but they were too heavily outnumbered.
‘Herin!’ shouted Soren. ‘We’ve got to go!’
Herin had pressed Kaved back and back but had not found an opening in his defence. He took a step back and looked around at the room. After a brief respite he pressed on at Kaved once more, but after three strokes he suddenly pulled backwards. In a fluid movement he spun around and moved on the soldier who was fighting Moneva, swinging at him from behind. The soldier never saw the blow coming as Herin’s sword sliced into his neck. Moneva stepped over the body and, together with Herin, moved in to help out Clarin and Dirk.
Belwynn looked behind her, through the next set of doors towards the stairs. There was no-one there, but it was only a matter of time. ‘Hurry up!’ she shouted back into the room. They were moving towards the door but still facing outwards to defend against the Barissians.
‘I’ll come back for you,’ Herin snarled at Kaved.
‘You’ll finish it now, unless you’re craven,’ Kaved barked back.
Moneva turned around and skipped through the door, past Belwynn and Soren. ‘Follow me,’ she called without stopping. Belwynn and Soren ran after her, and soon made it to the stairs. Moneva was already halfway down. Belwynn began descending down the thin and winding steps, Soren close behind, and Dirk behind him. At the bottom Belwynn arrived in the castle hallway where the fine tapestries hung, with the fire still blazing. Thankfully, nobody was standing around it any more. She wondered why and turned around to ask Moneva.
‘We’ve dumped the bodies down the stairs,’ she answered, before Belwynn got her words out.
‘This way,’ said Dirk.
Rather than attempt to leave via
the bailey and through the gatehouse, Dirk took them through another door, roughly beneath the door to Emeric’s chambers on the floor above. They ran behind him, down a long corridor with rooms on either side. The corridor ended in an opening into a room from where Belwynn could hear clanging noises and the occasional shout. Dirk ran straight in and she followed.
The room turned out to be the castle kitchens. There were a dozen people working there: kneading bread, filleting meat, boiling stew, washing and carrying pots, pans and utensils. When Dirk entered there were shouts and challenges. After he had waved a sword at them and Belwynn and the others entered the room, they piped down.
Dirk took a second to get his bearings and then moved to the far end of the room. He dropped his sword and began moving a huge set of shelves containing pots and pans, crockery, tubs of sauces and bags of flour and salt. A couple of plates fell off and smashed onto the floor. Soren rushed over to give him a hand and they shifted it out of the way. They had revealed an iron gate, which Belwynn hadn’t even noticed behind the shelves. Soren pushed and pulled at the gate, but it was secured with a lock. They didn’t have a key.
Dirk fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a slim piece of metal which ended in a short curvature. He inserted it into the lock and then wriggled it about inside. Meanwhile, Clarin and Herin had entered the kitchens, looking behind them for any potential pursuers. After a few moments Dirk gave it a full twist and pushed open the gate, which moved with a rusty screech. He rushed through and Soren followed behind him.
Belwynn went through after her twin into a small, round stone room. She briefly glanced up, and realised that she was in one of the castle towers. Two feet above them was a grate, forming a murder hole through which burning oil could be poured down onto attackers. It was more than likely that there were some guards in that room now. Dirk moved directly to a postern gate in the opposite wall and jiggled his skeleton key in the lock before it clicked. They burst through the door and found themselves outside the city walls, on a long grassy slope leading downwards. Beyond they could see meadows and fields.
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 20
