The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘Keep moving,’ said Herin, ‘get away from the walls!’

  They ran down the slope, Belwynn’s legs going so fast that she thought she would fall over. She turned back to see some guards lining the walls looking at them, but there didn’t seem much they could do from up there. Then, a file of soldiers emptied out of the gate they had used and called out a challenge before pursuing them down the hill.

  ‘Where are we going?’ shouted Soren, his breath ragged already.

  ‘Just keep going,’ Moneva shouted back. ‘With some luck Gyrmund will meet up with us. If not, this could be the briefest escape in history.’

  They kept running away from the city. Belwynn’s lungs were beginning to burn. She could see that, up ahead, there was farmland, and to the right a track led off in the direction of Kelland.

  Then she heard the horses coming. How could they have got a mounted force here so quickly? She had to turn around and look.

  A group of half a dozen horsemen were coming towards them from the west side of the city. She could see the lead soldier wore the livery of the dukes of Barissia.

  Moneva turned around, too, and stopped running.

  Belwynn took a second look. Rather than six horsemen, there were in fact only three of them, each one riding a mount and bringing a spare with them.

  The man in the lead, wearing the soldier’s uniform, was Gyrmund.

  He drew up, gritting his teeth as if he was in pain, as Belwynn and Moneva ran towards him. Moneva climbed up onto the spare horse and held out a hand for Belwynn to climb on with her, since there weren’t enough horses for one each.

  Behind Gyrmund came Elana, not finding the task of riding and holding the reins of another horse quite so easy. Rabigar was even further back, there was something over his eye...no. On closer inspection, she saw that he had no eye any more, just a bloody socket where it had once been.

  ‘What happened to Rabigar?’ Belwynn blurted out.

  Gyrmund screwed up his face, as if he was about to cry. ‘They took his eye,’ he said, almost choking on the words.

  Belwynn physically flinched at the news. Clarin swore out loud. ‘How is he?’ Soren asked Elana.

  ‘His eye is gone. I have done what I can for him.’

  ‘Can’t you fix it?’ asked Belwynn.

  ‘I can’t grow back an eye,’ responded Elana. ‘He needs rest for his body to cope with the shock.’

  ‘We can’t give him rest,’ said Soren. ‘Not now.’

  As Rabigar pulled up, Herin quickly clambered on in front of him and took the reins. Rabigar put his arms around Herin’s waist and slumped forwards. Clarin and Soren took the remaining spares. The soldiers were only a couple of hundred yards behind them but it looked like they had already given up on the chase.

  ‘Come on,’ said Herin, ‘we have to assume that they’ll be sending a force after us. We can talk later.’

  Moneva kicked their horse on and Belwynn was forced to hold on to her waist. Belwynn realised that they were on her own horse, the one that they had bought back in Vitugia. Gyrmund and the others had somehow gone back to the Boot and Saddle to collect them. There was a lot of explaining to be done at some point, but for now Belwynn was content to look back as Emeric’s soldiers and castle receded into the distance.

  They were still in danger, she knew, but nonetheless she felt a sense of relief at leaving the place behind. Belwynn thought that she would be quite happy if she never saw Coldeberg again.

  16

  The Imps

  Gyrmund took them across the open land north of Coldeberg onto a track that headed in a north-easterly direction and would take them to the Kellish border. It was certainly the shortest route out of Barissia. The track was narrow and uneven, not nearly as fast as travelling on the Barissian Road; but if they tried to cut east they would almost certainly run into Emeric’s soldiers. Meanwhile, they had to assume that a force would be coming after them, and at a faster pace, given that many of them were sharing horses. Rabigar had his arms around Herin, his one eye closed and his face deathly pale, with a pained expression. He obviously needed to rest, but they simply couldn’t afford to.

  They passed through Barissian farming land, gently rolling terrain with fields of grass, crops and grazing animals, not unlike the Magnian lands Belwynn had grown up in. They were rich lands, but she knew all too well how much work the farming folk who lived here had to put in to keep them that way. She wondered what they thought about their duke spending all their taxes on mercenaries and threatening war with their neighbours. She knew from her own bitter experience what civil wars did to places like this.

  ‘Look there!’ shouted Clarin, pointing behind them. Belwynn could see that the land they had travelled across gradually declined and, on the horizon, from the direction of Coldeberg, was a large group of riders, perhaps two score in all.

  ‘Can we get to the border in time?’ Belwynn asked.

  Gyrmund pulled a face. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Herin and I could hold them up for a bit,’ suggested Clarin. But even he sounded doubtful.

  ‘We’ll carry on for now,’ said Soren. ‘Let’s not do anything reckless until we know we have to.’

  They moved on again, but that sick feeling had returned to Belwynn’s stomach. The others were probably hoping that Soren could help get them out of the situation again. She knew he couldn’t.

  They rode on. Afternoon was turning into evening, but it was a fine summer’s day and Belwynn knew that they wouldn’t be saved by the drawing in of the night. It didn’t seem like they would reach Kelland before the end of the day either. As each minute passed, things got a bit more desperate. When she looked back she saw that a smaller group of riders, about half a dozen, had detached itself from the main group and were gaining on them much faster. As soon as this front group caught up with them they would be forced to stop, and then the main group would be on them too.

  Ahead, Gyrmund began to slow down.

  ‘What is it?’ shouted Herin.

  ‘Soldiers.’

  ‘Barissians?’ Belwynn asked. ‘How could they have got ahead of us?’

  ‘Not sure who they are,’ said Gyrmund.

  They trotted forwards, unsure whether they were about to be trapped between two forces and if they should make a break for it across country.

  Belwynn peered over Moneva’s shoulder to take a look. There was a sizeable force of riders spread across the track and to either side of it, at least as many as the chasing Barissians, who were now catching up fast. This second force wasn’t moving, however. They seemed content to watch.

  Belwynn turned around. The leading group of six riders were very close now; she could make out their individual faces.

  ‘We’ve got to do something!’ she said.

  ‘Let’s risk it, then!’ replied Moneva.

  Moneva spurred her horse on towards the waiting group of soldiers.

  ‘Moneva, wait!’ shouted Gyrmund, but she ignored him.

  Sitting at the front, a few feet ahead of his troops, seemed to be the leader of the small force. He was approaching middle age, had close-cropped black hair and stubble. Neither he nor his soldiers wore any identifiable markings—just simple-looking leather armour—but their weapons and their horses looked expensive enough.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Moneva.

  It was a little too bold an opening for Belwynn’s taste, and the man seemed to think so, too, as he reacted with a frown and a half smile.

  ‘I am Walter, Marshal of the Empire,’ he replied. ‘And I was wondering who you might be, too.’

  ‘Thank the gods!’ declared Moneva and rode the short distance over towards him.

  Some of Walter’s troops moved forward, as if they saw Moneva as a threat, but he held up an arm and they stayed in position. Gyrmund and the others, hearing his reply, joined them. Meanwhile, the first six riders of the Barissians had pulled up, looking warily at Walter’s war band themselves.

  Walter? Isn’t
that Baldwin’s brother? Belwynn asked Soren.

  Yes, he replied. We may have just been saved.

  ‘We’ve just escaped from Coldeberg,’ said Moneva, apparently neither shy nor hesitant about explaining the situation to him. ‘Those are Barissian soldiers after us. Did you know that Emeric has made himself king?’

  ‘Yes, I had heard,’ replied Walter, still finding something amusing about the encounter. ‘That’s kind of why I’m in the area.’

  The rest of the Barissians had now caught up with the lead group, and they sat as their mounts drew breath, staring balefully at Belwynn and the rest of them. One of them trotted forwards from the group, stopping when he reached the halfway point between the two forces. He had a mean-looking scar from ear to chin and sat there, an air of confidence about him.

  ‘Salvinus!’ hissed Gyrmund.

  This was the man they had been chasing? Belwynn felt almost pleased to finally put a face to the name.

  ‘Have you come for a fight, Salvinus?’ Herin shouted towards him. ‘I’m ready for you, if so.’

  Soren had to reach over a restraining hand to stop Herin moving forwards. Belwynn wondered if Herin would have been quite so full of machismo if he wasn’t sitting with about fifty imperial soldiers. He probably would, she decided.

  Salvinus ignored Herin’s invitation.

  ‘Walter,’ he said, nodding at the marshal.

  ‘Gervase,’ came the reply.

  Suddenly Belwynn was filled with doubt. They were on first name terms. Might they be allies?

  ‘This group you’ve apprehended are escaped prisoners from Coldeberg. They tried to assassinate Emeric today. I am taking them back there.’

  ‘Indeed, so they tell me. Why don’t you tell me something, Gervase? Did they try to kill Duke Emeric or King Emeric?’

  ‘King Emeric.’

  ‘Indeed. That puts a rather different perspective on the situation.’

  ‘I don’t see what it has to do with it.’

  ‘You don’t see?’ Walter’s tone moved from genial to outraged in three words. ‘You don’t see how that makes him a traitor?’

  For the first time Salvinus looked a bit disconcerted. He tried to shrug the issue away. ‘A title is a title, to me. I know that Emeric meant no offence to Baldwin over it. He still recognises his authority as his liege lord and emperor.’

  ‘A subject receives his title from the emperor. He doesn’t presume to take one himself. We both know what Emeric has done, so don’t play the innocent, Gervase.’

  ‘Look,’ said Gervase, still all reasonable. ‘That business needs to be settled between Emeric and Baldwin. Fair enough. Our business here is about these prisoners. You’re on Barissian soil; that can be overlooked. But you don’t want to get personally involved in this, Walter. You don’t want to make a personal enemy of Emeric. Believe me.’

  ‘He doesn’t want us,’ said Soren. ‘He wants something we have. I think Emperor Baldwin would be very interested in it.’

  Walter raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Thing is, Gervase, I’m on Imperial soil, and I’m Marshal of the Empire. Unless you want to make a fight of it, which I don’t recommend, you’ll have to run back to Emeric without your prisoners. And you can take him some personal advice from me. He better come crawling to Essenberg with an apology soon if he wants to keep his duchy.’

  ‘This is very stupid, Walter,’ said Gervase, at last flashing some anger of his own. ‘We’ll get what we want in the end. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

  ‘Oh, you might be surprised about what I know,’ responded the Marshal.

  Gervase turned his horse around and left without another word.

  He passed his men and carried on back down the track towards Coldeberg. Turning their mounts around, the rest of the Barissians followed him. Belwynn and the others watched them go until they were left alone with Walter and his soldiers.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ said Belwynn to him, meaning every word.

  ‘Well, you’re welcome. This has been an unexpected end to the day. But I should warn you, based on what I’ve just heard, the Emperor and his ministers will want to hear about this. If you were planning on going to Essenberg anyway, well that’s just fine, and we can all stay friends. But if you had other plans, I have to tell you, they’ve been changed. You’re coming with me to see my brother. Whether you like it or not.’

  ‘It was Kaved,’ said Moneva. ‘He betrayed us to Salvinus.’

  The inquisition had begun, then. And maybe the recriminations.

  Yesterday Walter had taken them another two miles along the track to his camp, and most of them had collapsed into the beds he had provided for them without saying a word to each other. Belwynn certainly had. But now that they had slept and Walter had seen to it that they were provided with some army rations for breakfast, she got the feeling that the talking would start. Personally, Belwynn didn’t have much appetite for either.

  Everyone had taken up a seat around a dead fire as Walter’s men broke up camp and prepared to set off for Essenberg. Herin was grim faced. Rabigar had been treated again by Elana, and she had cleaned the eye up a lot, so that it didn’t look half as bad as yesterday. It still looked terrible, though. She wondered why they hadn’t covered it with anything. But why should he? To make Belwynn feel better?

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Gyrmund.

  ‘He came in as Belwynn was entertaining Emeric,’ said Clarin, who recounted the brief adventures of Tivian and Ariella.

  Gyrmund’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘Yes,’ said Clarin with a chuckle, ‘you missed out on some fun there, Gyrmund.’

  ‘So Kaved’s still alive, then?’ Gyrmund asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Herin, his voice steely, ‘but I’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done.’

  ‘Why did you bring him?’ asked Rabigar. His voice sounded like he looked: injured, and hurt. ‘I knew he couldn’t be trusted...’

  Belwynn felt desperately sorry for the Krykker, but she felt sorry for Herin, too. He could hardly look at Rabigar, but he made himself.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rabigar. I swear to you: I’ll make him pay. I’ll get revenge.’

  That was perhaps the first apology Belwynn had ever heard Herin make. She could tell that there was a part of him who wanted to turn around and head straight back to Coldeberg right now.

  ‘Why did you ask me to come with you? Why didn’t I say no and stay where I was?’

  Rabigar sounded miserable. In mourning. Elana had apparently stopped the pain from his eye, but she couldn’t heal the loss he was suffering. That would take time, but right now it was raw and there for all to see.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ repeated Herin, his mouth dry. ‘What else can I say?’

  There was a horrible silence. Eventually Soren filled it.

  ‘So, you know what happened to us; our meeting with Emeric. What about the rest of you?’

  ‘Moneva freed us,’ began Gyrmund, ‘she won’t tell us how...’

  Moneva shrugged. ‘Getting into places without being seen is what I do. Carry on with the story.’

  ‘Then Dirk found us,’ continued Gyrmund. ‘He told us you were upstairs and that he knew the way to a postern gate on the north side of the castle. We agreed that some of us needed to get out and pick up the horses or we’d never get far, even if we did make it out of the castle. We had to risk going back to the Boot and Saddle.’

  True enough, considered Belwynn; without the horses they would almost certainly be dead by now. They would also have needed to get Rabigar out at that point. She shuddered to think what state he would have been in.

  ‘He then saw this soldier he recognised,’ said Gyrmund, handing this part of the story over to Dirk.

  ‘Do you remember the soldier who took us to Orlin’s rooms?’ asked Dirk.

  ‘Yes...Dom, wasn’t it?’ said Belwynn. ‘A funny little chap.’

  ‘Well,’ said Dirk, ‘Gyrmund had put on a soldier’s uniform, so I told him to ask Do
m to help him take some prisoners back to see Salvinus.’

  A soldier’s uniform taken from some dead soldier Moneva killed, no doubt, Belwynn said to Soren.

  She got them out, didn’t she? he replied.

  ‘He was a very helpful fellow,’ said Gyrmund. ‘We walked straight out through the gatehouse entrance; Dom did all the talking for us. When we got to the Boot and Saddle we went straight for the stables. I don’t know if Salvinus or his men were still there, in the building or out the back. Didn’t seem like it. No-one came out to challenge us, anyway. We simply rode out and carried on through the West Gate.’

  ‘What about Dom?’ asked Belwynn. She was soft, she knew, but she didn’t want them to have harmed him.

  Gyrmund smiled and shook his head. ‘We gathered up six of the horses. I told him that they were the prisoners’ horses and that Salvinus would want to inspect them. When we rode off we left him standing there, a puzzled expression on his face.’

  ‘Well, thanks for coming back for us,’ said Belwynn.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Clarin, ‘and at least we know we can trust Dirk now after the dagger thing.’

  ‘What dagger thing?’ asked Gyrmund, frowning.

  Clarin shook his head. ‘I clean forgot,’ he said, ‘most of you still don’t know!’

  ‘Don’t know what?’ said Herin through gritted teeth.

  Belwynn suddenly had a bad feeling.

  ‘Dirk had it all along!’ said Clarin, seemingly oblivious that this might not go down too well.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ said Herin, his voice getting loud, ‘what do you mean he had it all along?’

  The two brothers both looked at Dirk.

  ‘I...I stole it from Toric’s Temple before Salvinus got there. He never had it.’

  Herin slowly stood up. ‘You mean all this,’ he said, waving his arms around, ‘all this happened because they knew we had the dagger? You let us blunder into Coldeberg unprepared when you knew they would be after us?’