The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘I see. Have our other two friends come down, yet?’ asked Belwynn.

  Evander looked over at the servants, who shook their heads.

  ‘Would it be possible to bring their breakfast up to their room?’ she enquired.

  ‘Of course,’ said the woman who had served her.

  Evander led Belwynn and Rabigar back upstairs to a small room that appeared to be Sebastian’s private study. He had a shelf of books, a desk and a few chairs. Theron and Sebastian were seated, deep in conversation, but stood up to greet them.

  Theron walked over with a warm smile.

  ‘Ah, how are you?’ he said. The knight gripped Rabigar in a handshake and gave him a slap on the shoulder.

  ‘My lady,’ he said to Belwynn, taking her by the hand and lightly touching his lips to it.

  ‘We’re much better, thank you,’ answered Rabigar. ‘But Elana and Dirk are tired, we suggested they stay in their room.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Sebastian. ‘From hearing Theron’s account, I assume that you both must be tired, too. We are going on a hunt shortly but I insist that you stay and get some rest today. My people will see to you.’

  Sebastian of Melion was a tall and handsome man, his hair still dark despite middle age. His face was welcoming but seemed rather care worn.

  ‘This is the Lady Belwynn,’ said Theron, ‘and Rabigar, a skilled Krykker warrior by my reckoning.’

  ‘Good to meet you, please take a seat,’ said Sebastian, gesturing to the chairs.

  They all sat down.

  ‘Welcome to Sernea, my house,’ began Sebastian. ‘Please, anything you need, just ask someone and it will be provided. Now. Here in Kalinth we are rather cut off from events elsewhere in Dalriya. This is something which I deeply regret and is largely because of difficulties within our kingdom. So, when foreigners arrive out of the blue, I hope you will understand I am eager to share news. Theron has told me what happened to you in Korkis, and there is no need to explain that episode to me. You are quite safe here. Unfortunately, Kalinth has become a rather dangerous place for travellers recently. And you are a rather...can I say, out of the ordinary group of travellers?’

  Belwynn smiled and nodded at the comment. It was all very polite, but Sebastian had managed to get straight to the point nonetheless.

  ‘Now, now, uncle,’ said Theron, smiling at Belwynn in a conspiratorial way, ‘before you subject your guests to an interrogation, it is perhaps incumbent upon us to explain why our kingdom is a dangerous place for travellers. It is a disgrace for which we should apologise a thousand times over in shame before we begin to ask whats and wherefores to visitors in our land.’

  Theron said the words in good humour but Belwynn could clearly see the passion that lay behind them.

  Sebastian smiled thinly at his nephew’s outburst but was clearly not impressed by it.

  ‘Theron, this is not the moment to start discussing politics.’

  ‘Politics? That is a strange word to use when our country and its people are on the brink of ruin and subjugation!’

  It was now Sebastian’s turn to bristle with passion.

  ‘Are you saying that I don’t care?’

  Theron reached a hand over to rest on the older man’s forearm.

  ‘No. I apologise uncle. I know that isn’t true. I just get so...frustrated.’

  Sebastian grunted and turned his attention back to Belwynn and Rabigar. He looked embarrassed that he had argued with his nephew in front of them, but set his jaw firmly and continued.

  ‘It is incumbent upon me to ask strangers in my lands what their business is.’

  ‘We have travelled from the Empire,’ began Rabigar.

  ‘Up the Great Road?’ demanded Sebastian, sounding astonished.

  A Drobax army had passed down the Great Road. The idea of the four of them travelling up it sounded ludicrous.

  ‘Not quite,’ explained Belwynn. ‘We came via the Grand Caladri.’

  ‘The Grand Caladri?’ responded Sebastian, sounding no less surprised. ‘I’ve never heard of humans entering their lands before.’

  The count looked at them, eager for an explanation. Rabigar and Belwynn shared a look. Making up a story seemed pointless.

  ‘I’m afraid we have grave news for you,’ said Rabigar. ‘We were in Edeleny four days ago. It was invaded by Arioc and his forces. I fear the whole realm is taken.’

  ‘Invaded?’ gasped Theron. ‘How?’

  ‘They used magic.’

  ‘I haven’t heard of this,’ said Sebastian, seemingly in disbelief.

  ‘Why would you have?’ asked Theron.

  ‘We saw it with our own eyes,’ said Rabigar firmly, in a voice that left no doubt.

  ‘How did you escape?’ asked Theron.

  ‘Magic, again,’ replied Rabigar. ‘A wizard, by the name of Pentas, teleported us out.’

  ‘He got some of us out,’ added Belwynn. ‘But the rest of our group were captured. Arioc has taken them prisoner...’ Suddenly, Belwynn felt herself breaking down. Her voice wobbled and tears began to stream down her face.

  Pull yourself together, she demanded.

  ‘My brother, Soren, is one of them...’

  Again, she couldn’t finish speaking, her voice sounding hysterical. It was like listening to some other person in the room talking, rather than herself. She looked at the sympathetic faces of the two counts looking at her and she felt totally embarrassed. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, imagining what a state she must look like.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she blubbered, and decided to stop talking.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Sebastian, somewhat awkwardly. ‘You have experienced an awful few days, there is no need to apologise whatsoever. Excuse me if I am a little shocked by what you are telling me.’

  ‘And please,’ said Theron, reaching over and holding her hand lightly, ‘understand that as knights we will do whatever we can to get your brother back.’

  ‘Thank you,’ whispered Belwynn.

  ‘You haven’t explained, I have to say,’ Sebastian added, ‘what exactly you were doing in Edeleny in the first place.’

  There was a silence. Rabigar looked over to Belwynn with a raised eyebrow, as if seeking permission to tell more. She nodded her acquiescence.

  ‘I suppose,’ said Rabigar, ‘we were there to get a staff.’

  ‘A staff?’ said Theron. ‘The staff Belwynn was carrying yesterday? Why is that so important?’

  Rabigar puffed out his cheeks. ‘This isn’t a short story. It begins in Magnia, about three weeks ago...’

  At last, Shira could see the outskirts of Guslar for herself.

  Despite the resounding success over Duke Ellard and his forces, the progress of her army had been frustratingly slow. This was primarily because she had agreed that a large force of Drobax should be in the van of the army to deal with any resistance. They were far less effective than the well drilled Haskan soldiers, but were totally expendable. Indeed, despite considerable deaths, her advisers indicated that there had been no significant depreciation in the numbers of Drobax in her army. No-one knew exactly how many there were, not even to the nearest tens of thousands. Such calculations were complicated, she had learned, by the Drobax army repopulating as it went along, so that while many might die every day, many infants would be born. Only a small proportion of these might be expected to live, but even so, that left hundreds who would.

  All of which meant that, while Shira’s army had begun its march south days before Arioc’s forces had even assembled, he had now successfully conquered the lands of the Grand Caladri, while she had only made a small inroad into Imperial territory. The resistance offered by the enemy had been tiny but had succeeded in slowing down her army. Still, it was a totally futile gesture. The Drobax she commanded were like the waves lapping at the shore. Endless. Infinite. Relentless. You could wade into the sea, slash and hack at it with all your might if you wished, but it would avail you none.

  Shira beckoned over h
er Uncle Koren, the man who had taught her how to fight and who she trusted the most. She pointed in the direction of Guslar.

  ‘How far?’

  ‘Apparently, a couple of miles to the main part of the city. No more than thirty minutes, certainly.’

  ‘I want to lead the force in. We’ll take Haskans only.’

  Koren furrowed his brow. He was a logical thinker, a tough realist, carefully weighing up the possible and ignoring the impossible. Shira had huge respect for him, though found him humourless and dull company.

  ‘You shouldn’t go. There may be some resistance, enough to put you in danger, but not enough to justify your presence.’

  ‘I’m bored, uncle. That’s my justification. And it’s an order.’

  Koren turned away and began organising a force, though Shira knew full well that every time she disagreed with him it rankled. She called over Roshanak, the Isharite who oversaw the Drobax forces.

  ‘I’m going to lead the force into Guslar. I will billet all the Haskan forces in the town but I don’t want a single Drobax there. Can you organise a suitable overnight location elsewhere?’

  ‘Of course. Anything else?’

  ‘When you’ve done what you need to, come to Guslar yourself and we’ll meet there tonight.’

  Roshanak nodded courteously and began giving out orders. It was not long before the huge army began going its separate ways. The Haskan forces, relatively small in number, began heading towards the capital of Rotelegen, with Shira and Koren in charge of the mounted regiment who would attack the town. The Drobax were herded west of Guslar where they would spend another night in the open. Shira felt a flush of relief that she would be free of their stink and repugnant presence for a night. Excited, she called out the order to advance before all her soldiers were fully lined up, and pressed on at the head of her forces.

  As they rode, the countryside of Rotelegen began to merge into the city of Guslar. At first, they passed unremarkable looking dwellings, but the walls of the city soon took shape ahead of them. The main gates, guarding the northern entrance to the city, were closed; but there was no sign of any guards on the walls.

  Shira and Koren pulled up at a safe distance. Her mounted soldiers milled about ahead of the gates, gradually daring to get closer and closer, but there was still no sign of defenders. Eventually a couple of the more daring individuals dismounted and gave the gates a good push, but they were locked in place.

  ‘Up there!’ one of the soldiers shouted, pointing up at the battlements above the gate. Shira, along with everyone else, strained to see movement, but she couldn’t make anything out.

  ‘I’m sure I saw something move,’ argued the soldier defensively, as his comrades began to question the sighting.

  A wagon pulled up and Koren began barking out orders, as the contents of the vehicle were unloaded and assembled. A battering ram, that most straightforward of siege weapons, was soon made ready and volunteers quickly emerged to grab a hand grip.

  ‘I’ve not seen them so quick to put themselves forward before,’ Shira said to her uncle with a smile. Taking hold of the ram usually made you a target for the enemy. This time, however, there did not seem to be an enemy.

  ‘Swing!’ commanded Koren.

  The ram, made of an oak log but encased with metal at the tip, was attached by ropes to an overhead beam. The men raised it backwards before swinging it at the target, using the energy created to make a stronger impact. A dull thud echoed around the walls but the gates remained solid. However, after a few more strikes, and with the men starting to find a rhythm, the splintering and cracking of wood could be heard.

  Suddenly, a missile came down from overhead and one of the men working the ram was sent to the ground.

  ‘Arrows!’ was the fearful shout and the soldiers looked up at the walls. Those who had bows began firing upwards until Koren shouted at them to desist. No enemy was visible. The unfortunate victim of the attack was dragged over for Shira to inspect. It had actually been a short spear which had been hurled from the battlements, hitting the man in the chest and killing him.

  ‘Restart the ram!’ demanded Koren, shouting at the top of his voice.

  The men quickly returned to their task, but now some of the other soldiers had their sights trained on the walls in case of a repeat attack. None came, and the gates made a horrible ripping noise. The ram had twisted one the gate on the left in on itself. The men were then able to push open the other gate, and Guslar was open to the invaders at the loss of only one life.

  Shira nudged her horse forward and peered into the town, but it seemed completely deserted. While the spear thrower on the wall was a warning that this was not entirely true, it seemed that there was no longer any genuine military presence left in Guslar. Still, Shira was not going to take anything for granted.

  ‘We’re going in to take the town! Keep discipline and stick with your unit at all times. Anyone who disobeys will be fed to the Drobax!’ Shira raised her sword in the air. ‘For Haskany!’

  With that, she manoeuvred her horse past the gates and led her force towards the centre of town. The central square was dominated by two buildings—the castle of the duke, and the cathedral of the bishop. But each road leading in was lined with the tall, well built houses of the nobility and merchant class—men who had grown rich on the trade coming up and down the Great Road.

  Shira led her forces to the two targets. As they approached down the main street, missiles came in from the houses on either side. Shira reacted to the first signs of organised resistance by waving units of her men into the houses to clear them out. She continued herself, taking half of the remaining force towards the doors of the cathedral while her uncle took on the castle. The doors were locked shut, and arrows were fired down at them from the thin windows of the building. The Haskan soldiers were quick to overwhelm the defenders though, firing arrows and stones at the windows to push back the defence. Then, the ram was quickly brought back into operation.

  This time, the going was slower than at the city walls. There were clearly a significant number of people taking refuge inside the building, and they had barricaded the doors. Minutes went by and the ram seemed to be having little impact.

  Shira took some time to look over at the castle. Koren’s forces had got into the building, but the fighting was still ongoing.

  She ordered fire arrows to be shot into the cathedral, in the hope that it would cause a distraction to the defenders. The tactic seemed to have some effect, as the battering ram started to rattle the doors. Then, one of the doors fell over towards the attackers, the hinges and locks shattered by the ram. With whoops of excitement the Haskans headed for the opening, ripping out the tables and benches blocking their way into the cathedral. The defenders stabbed out with their spears and threw whatever missiles they had to hand. Several Haskans were hit, and had to be dragged away from the fight by their comrades. But the blood lust was up, and more soldiers took their place.

  Shira was one of them, and the presence of their queen gave even more impetus to the Haskan attackers. Their superior weight of numbers started to tell and they slowly pushed themselves forwards. Shira, in the middle of a scrum, made sure she held onto her sword and shield, kept relaxed, and kept her breathing even. The movement forwards gathered pace, and suddenly Shira found herself heaved into the central part of the cathedral. She peered around her, letting her eyes get accustomed to the darker environment. She picked out the enemy and they were not so many as she had expected. Many were women and children. It confirmed her earlier suspicions that the Emperor had given up Guslar, and pulled his forces out.

  Ready, Shira led her men into the attack. She feinted at a defender armed with a spear, drawing in the thrust which she sidestepped, and then flicked her blade along the shaft of the spear, cutting the fingers off the hand of her enemy and forcing him to drop his weapon. He retreated to the far wall, and already, it had moved from a fight to a slaughter. Shira led the work, not shirking to cut down her
share of victims. It was the women who disgusted her the most. Crying out for mercy, or asking for their children to be spared. Grown women who still thought some tears would save them, who hadn’t armed themselves to fight for what they wanted. Shira felt no remorse at ending their lives: useless, overgrown children who had no chance of survival in this world.

  The work was soon over. The blood of the defenders was splattered up the walls of the cathedral. Shira’s soldiers checked to see if anyone survived, perhaps playing dead. They then took anything they valued from the corpses.

  Shira called over one of the men.

  ‘Find my captains, ask them to meet me in here as soon as possible.’

  She raised her voice so that those in the cathedral could hear.

  ‘Fan out from here in your units, check the remaining parts of the town for any survivors. Then find somewhere to sleep for the night, but stay together. We must be vigilant. The Imperial forces are still at large, they may counter-attack.’

  She made a point of watching the soldiers go, so that they reconnected with their units under her stern gaze. After they had left she looked about her. Wandering over to the far side of the cathedral, she found some chairs and busied herself with setting them up, one for her and three for her captains. She took a seat and waited.

  Koren was first. She gestured to a seat and he sat down in that stiff, formal way she associated with all old soldiers.

  ‘Any news?’ she asked.

  ‘The castle is taken,’ Koren looked around the cathedral dispassionately. ‘Probably more in here than there.’

  ‘Really?’ replied Shira, surprised. ‘Trusting their gods more than their rulers?’

  Koren shook his head. ‘Baldwin must have organised a full evacuation days ago. The people left here are those who refused to go. Those in the castle weren’t his servants, they were...squatters. Oh, and before Baldwin’s forces left, they poisoned the water supply. I’ve sent orders round for the men not to drink or eat anything they find.’

  ‘Poisoned the water?’ came a voice from the doors. ‘What a dirty trick.’