‘No, it’s not going badly. Just slowly,’ said Edgar, looking around them. ‘Sometimes I crave a bit of peace and quiet.’
‘Oh. Well, I can’t share that sentiment. I get more than my share of peace and quiet.’
Edgar looked at her quizzically.
‘That’s the life of a princess,’ she explained. ‘Over protected, spending your days sewing and reading. Excluded from important meetings,’ she said pointedly, making Edgar feel a bit embarrassed. ‘Until you get married off to some stranger twice your age.’
‘Right. I’d never really thought about it before. No sister, you see.’
Elfled laughed.
‘And what’s so funny?’
‘I was thinking to myself, what a shame for you, being an only child. It’s the strangest thing. When I was growing up you were the devil. Sitting on my family’s throne, dripping in the blood of innocents. I happily hated you: a childish, unthinking kind of hate. But now I’ve met you, I can’t hate you anymore. You’re so fair and...reasonable.’
‘I’m not always that reasonable.’
‘Come on Edgar, you were emoting with a spoilt princess about her not having any work to do!’
Edgar laughed. ‘I suppose so. Anyway, it’s made me very happy to have befriended you and Cerdda.’
‘I think it’s a really important thing that you are both doing today.’
‘Yes. Although we’re hardly going to make an impact on Ishari’s forces.’
‘Maybe. I didn’t mean just the war, though. Nobody would have predicted North and South Magnia working so closely together, even a year ago. It’s an important step towards uniting our country again.’
‘Union? That’s a long way off.’
‘Is it? Cerdda and Irmgard love each other very much. But they haven’t had children after years of marriage.’
‘Ashere?’
Elfled’s mouth gave a twitch of a smile.
‘I doubt that my brother Ashere will have any children.’
Of course, that left Elfled herself, but Edgar knew that if he pursued that avenue he would end up going bright red and tongue tied.
‘Well then, maybe it is possible,’ he murmured.
‘It is. Don’t you think Magnia should be one country again?’
‘Yes. Of course I do.’
Elfled seemed pleased with that response. ‘So, what’s left to sort out in there?’ she asked, nodding in the direction of Cerdda’s hall.
‘Well, we’re yet to agree on the objective of intervention in the Empire. We want to keep Essenberg out of Emeric’s hands. Anything more than that would be over-stretching our resources in my opinion. The other main sticking points are money, as usual, and leadership of the force we send.’
Elfled sighed. ‘Hardly sticking points. Sometimes I think you should let the women sort these things out, it’d be done in half an hour. The money is just like buying something from the market: you haggle and meet in the middle. As for who is in charge, it should be the complete opposite. No compromises. Who would you trust the most to do the job? Make sure it’s them.’
Edgar smiled. ‘Maybe you should go back in there instead of me and sort them all out.’
‘Who would you be happiest with in charge?’ Elfled persisted.
‘Well, it would be unfair to ask Cerdda to go when his brother led the first force.’
Elfled nodded. ‘So?’
‘Me.’
‘I agree,’ said Elfled, with a shy smile.
Edgar let out a big breath as he came to terms with the idea. It would mean being absent from South Magnia for a long time, a move not without its dangers. He had no military experience to speak of, either. But at the same time, it felt right. The force they would raise needed someone with his status to take overall command. It also meant that he would keep control of things.
‘Well. Looks like I might be going to Brasingia.’
Elfled looked at him solemnly. ‘Good luck, Edgar.’
Soren? Soren!?
Nothing. Belwynn had been trying to contact him for a day now. She knew that something was wrong.
She didn’t know what to do. Opening the door of her room at the Green Dragon, she stumbled out into the corridor. She crashed into someone coming the other way. Elana.
‘Belwynn, what’s the matter? Is it Soren?’
Belwynn tried to say something but instead burst into tears. Elana put her arm around her and directed her back into the room.
‘Sorry, Elana. I’m embarrassing myself all the time at the moment.’
‘No, you’re not. Don’t be silly. You still can’t talk to him?’
‘No. I don’t know why,’ said Belwynn, then paused for breath. ‘Well there’s one obvious reason. He’s dead.’
‘You don’t know that, Belwynn. Why have they kept him alive for a week, transporting him somewhere, only to kill him? How do you feel? Do you feel he is dead or alive?’
‘I don’t know, Elana! I can’t speak to him; I can’t sense his presence.’
‘So we don’t know what’s happened, Belwynn. Don’t give in to despair yet.’
Belwynn took a steadying breath. ‘You’re right. But I need to do something about it. I can’t just sit around here anymore being useless.’
‘We will do something, Belwynn. We’ll do something here, in Kalinth, first. I know that we’re supposed to be here, and that what we do will be important. Can you have patience a while longer?’
Belwynn wiped her eyes. ‘I don’t have a choice, do I?’
Elana shook her head. ‘Not that I can see. Look, why don’t we go to the Tower, and see if there’s any news?’
Belwynn nodded. ‘Alright.’
‘First, I need to check on the other two.’
Belwynn went with Elana to the room across the corridor which Rabigar and Dirk shared. Belwynn looked away as Elana lifted Rabigar’s patch and inspected his eye; or, at least, where his eye used to be. Taken from him by Emeric’s jailers in Coldeberg Castle, it was a wound that could have killed him had Elana not been there to treat it.
‘It’s still looking good,’ she told him.
She then moved on to Dirk. He didn’t look well. Placing her hands at various places, she moved around his body, murmuring prayers to her goddess, Madria. When she had finished, he seemed to Belwynn to look visibly better, his skin losing the grey tinge it had before.
‘We’re going to go to the Tower. Either of you fancy a walk?’
‘No thanks,’ said Dirk. ‘I think I’ll rest up here.’
‘I’ll take you there,’ said Rabigar. ‘I’ve a mind to visit with our new friend, Nestor the smith. I think he could do with an extra pair of hands.’
Belwynn smiled to herself. It looked like Nestor was going to get some extra help whether he needed it or not. They said their goodbyes to Dirk and left. The visit made Belwynn realise how much Elana had been doing in recent days, looking after the victims of two serious attacks. She felt guilty about leaving it all to the priestess, while she remained absorbed with her own troubles. She had even heaped those on to Elana as well as everything else.
‘How is Dirk doing?’ she asked Elana.
‘He’s not recovering. The injuries are too severe. I’m keeping him alive, but...’
Elana trailed off, perhaps struggling with her own emotions.
The news made Belwynn go cold. She had assumed that Dirk would make a recovery in the end. But if even Elana couldn’t properly heal him, what hope was there?
‘I’m sorry,’ said Belwynn, feeling like she should say something else, but knowing that whatever she said would be inadequate.
‘Thank you,’ said Elana. ‘I am trying to help him find peace with his situation. Madria helps him.’
They headed down into the main lounge of the Green Dragon. Its dark interior and smell of ale, familiar to virtually every inn Belwynn had visited, was not appealing this morning, and she felt much better once they got out into sunlight and fresh air.
They began making their way through the maze of streets towards the High Tower. They had not gone far when they heard a shout.
‘There she is!’
Swinging round, Belwynn saw a group of half a dozen women gesturing towards Elana. Elana waited as the group headed towards them. As they got closer one of their number held out a small bundle of blankets towards Elana. It was a small girl.
‘My child, she is sick,’ pleaded the woman, her eyes raw with emotion. ‘We don’t know what to do.’
Elana looked at Belwynn, as if to say sorry.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine on my own,’ said Belwynn.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll stay with Elana,’ said Rabigar. ‘Just in case.’
Belwynn watched the women lead Elana and Rabigar off down a side street. At that moment, she envied Elana her talent, God-given or not. It allowed her to be useful.
Belwynn continued alone. The atmosphere in the town felt safe enough for her not to worry. The fact that there was a palace full of armed knights no doubt had something to do with it. As she approached the Tower, she noted the complete absence of security. It seemed that anybody could walk in, yet nobody who was unwelcome tried to.
Belwynn walked up the colonnaded steps leading to the Tower entrance, and she noticed someone looking in her direction. It was Tycho, the friend Theron had introduced to her when they had first arrived. He was in conversation with two other knights, both about the same age as him. He said his goodbyes to them and they headed off together away from the Tower. Tycho smiled and walked over.
‘Lady Belwynn, a pleasure to meet you again.’ He gestured at the two departing knights. ‘Just sending for reinforcements,’ he said and then looked at her with a frown as if he wasn’t sure whether that was information he should have revealed.
Belwynn pretended she hadn’t heard. ‘I was hoping to see Theron or Sebastian?’
‘Right, I’ll take you up. They’re in a meeting together.’
‘Oh. I’ve come at a bad time?’
‘No, no, just a small meeting—an...unofficial meeting,’ he said mysteriously.
Belwynn wasn’t convinced that Tycho was cut out for cloak and dagger politics.
He led Belwynn through the Tower entrance and into the main hallway. Instead of going straight on towards the Great Hall, they veered off to the left and through a doorway. Straight ahead Belwynn could hear the sounds and smell the aromas of the kitchens. Tycho led her to a set of stairs that took them to the next floor.
‘These are the chambers of the knights,’ he commented as he led her down a corridor. ‘They are allocated to us when we visit the Tower,’ he added.
They passed door after door. Compared to the splendour of the Tower elsewhere, the living quarters seemed sparse and cramped.
‘The rooms look very small,’ she commented.
‘Yes, but big enough for one man to store his possessions and to sleep.’
They moved further up the corridor, and Tycho rapped on one of the doors. There was a shout from inside and he opened the door. Sebastian, Theron and a third man whom Belwynn did not recognise were seated inside, on a bed and two chairs.
‘Hello, Belwynn,’ said Sebastian, standing up. ‘This is my good friend, Remi.’
Remi looked to be of a similar age to Sebastian. He was a big man with a big black beard which was flecked with grey. Remi gestured at them. ‘Come in, come in,’ he said, indicating that it was his room.
‘I’m not intruding?’ checked Belwynn, squeezing in but finding nowhere suitable to sit.
‘No,’ said Sebastian. ‘We need to talk to you anyway. I should have come to see you before, but I’ve only recently come out of my meeting with Galenos.’
Sebastian’s tone of voice suggested that the meeting had not gone well. They shuffled onto the bed to make room for Belwynn and Tycho on the two chairs.
‘I explained to him that I had changed my position on King Jonas,’ Sebastian continued. ‘That I thought it was our duty as an Order to intervene. I used some of the information you have given us, about Ishari aggression,’ he said, looking at Belwynn, ‘and all the other arguments, including our responsibilities to the people.
‘I thought that I could persuade him. But he wasn’t interested in persuasion or debate. He just repeated his position, that the Order should remain loyal to the King of Kalinth. In every situation. He didn’t engage with me at all,’ Sebastian shook his head, evidently still bemused by his lack of success. ‘I didn’t get anywhere.’
It seemed as if the energy and drive had all been sapped out of Sebastian by the setback.
‘The man’s an idiot, that’s the problem,’ said Remi darkly.
Sebastian shook his head as if to stop his friend’s tirade, but the other knight raised his hand and pressed on.
‘And he’s surrounded himself with idiots. Men like Euthymius. He listens to them more than the rest of us now. They spend too much time in this Tower, and not enough in the real world.’
‘I think he felt like I was challenging him,’ said Sebastian dolefully. ‘That I was being disloyal. I’m afraid that he now sees me as an enemy.’
‘I’m sorry for you, uncle,’ said Theron, ‘but I’m not surprised. This is how our Order has been run for years now. Anyone with a different opinion to the leadership is cast as a traitor. It is weakness. Galenos is old and weak and doesn’t want to confront the truth. In fact, he would rather turn on his own brothers than do that. And it is our country and our people who have been suffering for it. Weak leadership from the knights and from the royal court. It is killing our land.’
They were stark words and delivered without Theron’s usual good humour. It left the room quiet and still as the words were digested and their implications, which had been left unsaid, hovered in the air.
‘I think we need to think ahead carefully from now on,’ said Remi. ‘Starting with the feast tonight. We can’t afford to be naive: if Euthymius and his allies now see some of us as enemies, they may be on the attack.’
Belwynn swallowed, and after a moment’s hesitation, piped up. ‘I was thinking. I would like to go to the celebrations tonight. I would like to sing.’
The four knights in the room all looked at her with the same expression.
‘You want to sing?’ asked Theron after an uncomfortable pause.
She smiled reassuringly, her first proper smile of the day. ‘Let me sing tonight, Theron. It will help. Trust me.’
Belwynn had had enough of feeling useless. It was time for her to do something.
It was a strange day for the middle of summer. It felt more like one of those winter days, grey and wet, when the sun never really appears, and the day never gets going, offering a half-hearted interruption to the night before retreating again. A non-event of a day.
The weather doesn’t help things, Farred thought to himself, but we have other problems. The force led by Prince Ashere had been unable to make contact with the Isharite army since setting out from Burkhard Castle over six hours ago. A big bank of fog to the west slowed down the scouting parties who struck off in that direction, so that long after the other groups had returned to report their findings, the army had to sit and wait for the western party. The most recent group had yet to return at all.
He sensed the mood of the soldiers, much more negative and frustrated than they had ever been before, and he understood it. Upon arriving at Burkhard they had received a warm welcome. They had all felt satisfied at a job well done, and they had mentally prepared for the next stage of the conflict. Leaving again so soon, and heading back out against the huge and seemingly invincible enemy army, left them feeling flat and fed up. The prince had asked Farred and Brock to bring only half of their men, but even those more willing amongst them didn’t really want to be here.
Ashere sat astride his horse a few feet in front of his army, gazing into the distance. He seemed not to notice or care about the morale of his soldiers. F
arred wasn’t sure whether it was an act or not. His aloofness and intensity had been a strength until now, but today it didn’t seem to be working so well.
Farred nudged his horse forwards. His eyes met with Brock’s, and the Middian pulled in alongside him, before they walked their horses up to Ashere’s.
‘They’re still not fucking back yet,’ said Ashere by way of greeting, still looking into the far distance.
‘When they do get back,’ replied Farred, ‘I think we should call it a day. We can always go out again tomorrow.’
‘Maybe,’ said Ashere.
‘Definitely,’ responded Brock. ‘Even if we do find the bastards, we have to engage, withdraw, and make it back to the castle. We’ve run out of time.’
‘Yes,’ said Ashere in an absent-minded way.
Silence.
‘Ashere?’ demanded Farred, getting exasperated.
Ashere finally looked at them both.
‘I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. They should be here. We should have found them by now. I’m missing something...’
Ashere’s voice trailed off. He then cocked his head slightly to one side.
‘What’s that noise?’
Farred didn’t hear anything. But Ashere obviously had, so he concentrated harder. Then his ears tuned in. A rumbling sound. Farred realised that it had been going on for a while now, in the background. It seemed to be coming from the west. Then suddenly, in a flash, it came to him.
‘Form up!’ he yelled at the top of his voice, stretching his arm out to the west.
The South Magnians he commanded stared back in shock at the sudden explosion of volume. But Ashere and Brock, coming to the same realisation as him, shouted the same command, and so their small, mounted army started to wheel in the direction of the noise.
It was the fog. The Isharites had been here all along, hidden by the mists, no doubt engineered by their magicians. Farred cursed himself. They had got so used to attacking the unsuspecting Drobax that they had got casual about the threat posed by the magic wielding Isharites. This time, the Isharites had set their trap, waiting for Ashere’s approach, eager to get their revenge.
The rumbling noise got louder, and Farred began to make out fast approaching figures on horseback coming through the mist. The Haskan cavalry. His adrenaline kicked in, his mouth went dry. They had no idea how many they were up against. He turned to look at Ashere for guidance. The Prince was standing up in his stirrups. He raised his sword in the air.
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 44
