Sebastian was studying her.
‘Of course, here I am dwelling on my position when your own situation regarding the fate of your brother is far worse. But rest assured, Belwynn. Once we get inside the capital we are another step on the road to rescuing him. And I should take this chance to thank you all. In your own ways, you have strengthened the faith of my supporters. It doesn’t feel like chance that our paths crossed at this very moment.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Elana, ‘it is not.’
The priestess said no more, but everyone understood what she meant.
A rap at the door. Theron.
‘Come in,’ said Belwynn, seated on her bed in her room in Heractus Castle. Though really, she didn’t want him to. She wanted to be left out of this.
Theron slowly entered with an expression grim enough to match her own. They looked at each other for a while.
‘This is going to be the worst dinner of my life,’ said Belwynn eventually. ‘Why are you making me go? Elana and Dirk have been allowed to escape from here into the city.’
Theron shrugged, without much sympathy. ‘They invited you.’
‘But they don’t know me!’
‘The Lady of the Knights. That’s who they asked for. That’s what people are calling you now.’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Belwynn, standing up and smoothing down the white linen tunic that had been put out for her to wear.
Theron, who was wearing a man’s version of the tunic, put out his arm and when Belwynn took it, led her out into the castle corridor.
She suddenly wondered who Theron had forced out of the room for her to have it. They were making a lot of enemies in Heractus, and top of the list was the royal family, who had invited them to what was surely going to be an excruciating dinner. It summed up the uneasy situation they were now in. Jonas was still king; but Sebastian had taken over the capital and the government. No-one in Heractus quite knew what was going to happen next.
Theron knocked at Sebastian’s door and they waited outside for him to come out. Alpin opened it and Sebastian walked briskly out, before getting straight to business.
‘Right. Jonas’s queen is Irina,’ he began, speaking to Belwynn. ‘It is tradition here that she hosts the dinner. The only other guests at the table will be their two sons. Straton is the eldest. He tends to speak before he thinks. The younger, Dorian, is quieter and a bit brighter. Now,’ he continued, turning his attention to Theron. ‘They are all going to be upset. That is understandable and we shall let them be. Belwynn and I will control ourselves, so you must as well, Theron. Now is not the time to throw our weight around or argue, so save it for another time, even if Straton gets in your face. The fact that they have decided to be civil, and invited us to a meal, is a good sign for the future, so let’s not spoil it.’
‘I will be cool as ice, uncle. Don’t worry.’
With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Belwynn let them lead her down to the king’s hall. A small table on the dais was being laid by servants, while at the fire stood the royal family, just as Sebastian had described them.
Jonas had long, iron grey hair that matched the colour of his capital city. He had a strong looking physique, but nonetheless looked like a man past his best years, his skin pallid looking and wrinkled. His wife, too, had gone grey, and to Belwynn the pair of them looked like someone’s grandparents rather than a king and queen. Straton, a big looking ox of a man, looked kinglier, with brown, shaggy hair on his head and his face. Dorian was slimmer and clean-shaven.
As they approached, the family turned to look at them, a mix of emotions playing on their faces. Jonas himself looked at them impassively enough, but his wife Irina didn’t disguise her hatred. Straton’s face flushed red with anger.
‘Sebastian,’ said the king, ‘welcome, it’s been too long.’
The two men crossed the distance between them and embraced.
‘Your Majesty,’ responded Sebastian.
He turned to Irina, who gave him a filthy look. But, after a glare from her husband, she held out her hand and allowed Sebastian to kiss it. Sebastian moved on to speak to the two princes, while Theron led Belwynn over.
‘Count Theron,’ Jonas got out through gritted teeth, his dislike overcoming his manners.
‘Your Majesty,’ replied Theron neutrally.
The king turned to Belwynn.
‘This is the Lady Belwynn, Your Majesty,’ introduced Theron.
Jonas stared at her until it became uncomfortable. Belwynn looked at Theron, who nodded that she should offer her hand. She did so, but the staring continued.
‘Jonas,’ whispered his wife.
The king seemed to come out of his reverie and took her hand, briefly putting it to his lips. The skin of his hand and lips felt rough to the touch, and Belwynn was relieved when it was over.
‘So,’ said Irina, an icy expression on her face, ‘you are the one who calls herself the Lady of the Knights?’
‘I—no, I don’t call myself that,’ answered Belwynn, feeling herself blush.
‘I see. Your idea, was it, Theron? I should have known. Very clever.’
‘No, not me, Your Majesty,’ replied Theron smoothly. ‘That is the name the people have given her.’
‘The people? Ha!’ snorted Irina. ‘And I hear,’ she continued, ‘that you have the gift of healing?’
‘No,’ said Belwynn, startled by the question. ‘That’s not me—’
‘I see. What have you done to earn this name then, I wonder?’
Belwynn didn’t know what to say. She saw Sebastian looking at her with concern and knew that she had to keep control.
‘Nothing, I’m sure.’
‘Oh, not nothing,’ persisted Irina, her voice full of sarcasm. ‘You sang to the Knights, didn’t you?’
Belwynn looked at Theron and Sebastian. This had started just as badly as she thought it was going to.
‘Come,’ said Jonas, rescuing her. ‘Let’s dine.’
The group of seven walked over to the dais, Irina smiling at her as if she had won a victory.
Once seated, they were served with vegetable barley soup, a hearty dish that Belwynn enjoyed after what already felt like a long day. She noted that they were all served from the same tureen which reassured her. She didn’t know how paranoid she was being, but she wondered if it wouldn’t be in the interests of the king to have the three of them poisoned. Then again, it wouldn’t have surprised her if Theron had installed his own people in the kitchens. His occupation of the city had been nothing if not thorough.
The king sat with his wife on one side and Sebastian on the other, while opposite them were Belwynn and the three younger men. She felt as if she was a member of a dysfunctional family, with three parents sternly staring over at their unruly offspring.
‘What are your plans for the government, Grand Master?’ asked Jonas mildly, looking at his spoon as he brought it to his lips. ‘I understand you are not happy with current policies.’
To her left Belwynn heard Straton snort, though she couldn’t tell if it was with humour or anger. She didn’t turn to look, but kept her attention on her soup, waiting for Sebastian to reply.
‘Well I thank you for the opportunity to discuss this so soon, Your Majesty,’ replied Sebastian. ‘I am not sure how familiar you are with recent developments abroad. Ishari has not only invaded the Empire, but conquered the lands of the Grand Caladri.’
Belwynn took a peak at the king. He looked upset enough and nodded along. Whether he already knew about Ishari’s aggression or not, she couldn’t tell.
‘In these circumstances,’ continued Sebastian, ‘I believe the current policy of...peace,’ he cleared his throat, ‘while well intentioned...must now change.’
‘Ah,’ said Jonas, nodding along. ‘And a king’s duty is to defend his people, am I right Sebastian?’
‘Agreed.’
‘Then I ask you this,’ began the king, his voice getting slightly more animated. ‘If the Isharites have dest
royed Persala, the Grand Caladri, and the Brasingian Empire, what makes you think that Kalinth can stop them? And if we try and fail, what will happen to my people?’
‘It is the duty of Kalinth to fight in such a war,’ responded Sebastian. ‘Not to stand by and do nothing.’
‘Answer my question!’ demanded Jonas, his voice suddenly full of aggression. ‘What will happen to my people if you fail!’
‘You talk as if Kalinth has escaped the war,’ interjected Theron, coming to the rescue of his uncle. ‘But war has come already. Raids in the east from Haskany, in the west from Kharovia. Your people have suffered murder, seen their property destroyed and stolen, and countless other crimes. And your government did nothing!’
‘Not your noble League, though, Theron.’ Now it was Straton’s turn to get involved, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Riding about with your friends, undermining royal policy, so that you can play the hero. You’ve broken every oath to your Order and betrayed your king, but you’re still as self-righteous as you’ve ever been. This crusade against Ishari is going to drag the whole country to hell!’
‘We’ve been sleepwalking into hell these past years,’ said Theron, his voice measured despite Straton’s taunts. ‘Now it’s time to make a stand. The honour of the country demands it.’
‘Don’t talk to me of honour,’ Straton shouted back down the table, the two men wisely positioned at opposite ends. ‘Not you.’
‘Then join us,’ Theron asked, his voice almost pleading. ‘You can be the one to rouse the country to defend itself!’
Belwynn looked at Straton, seething with anger. But did his face show some doubt, was he tempted to take up Theron’s challenge? She looked over at the king and queen, concern visible on their faces lest their son should join up with the Knights; Sebastian, equally keen that he did.
‘What’s more,’ began Straton, ‘I demand the release of Count Ampelios, who is at this moment languishing in the dungeons of this very castle! You have no authority to imprison the man, who has been a faithful servant of the crown for years!’
‘I warned him several times that if he tried to impede the Knights’ business I would have to arrest him. It was his own foolish actions that got him there.’
The moment had gone. Theron and Straton continued to argue across the table as the servants came to take away the soup bowls and brought in hot steaming pies. Belwynn could smell spiced mutton and pear but couldn’t help a small sigh, as her appetite had now disappeared.
‘Are you alright, my lady?’ Prince Dorian whispered to her while the raised voices to either side continued, his face looking genuinely concerned.
Belwynn looked around the table, but no-one was looking in her direction.
‘I was wondering,’ she replied, keeping her voice down. ‘How many more courses are there likely to be?’
16
Gustav the Hawk
DUKE COEN WAS A VIGOROUS MAN, and had set off at quite a pace. Lord Emmett and Frayne followed close behind, while Edgar found himself bringing up the rear, unfamiliar with the Thessian terrain. Prematurely bald, Coen’s head glinted in the sunshine, otherwise Edgar would have lost sight of him altogether.
Coen’s route began to take them uphill, allowing Edgar to fall in behind Emmett as their mounts slowed down a touch. As they made their way up Herne’s Hill, Edgar began to get glimpses of more of the Thessian countryside, stretching out in all directions. Looking behind them, he could see the army camp, where a sea of tents had been erected.
Emmett stopped ahead and dismounted, so Edgar did the same. Coen had already left his horse chewing at a clump of grass, and had begun marching up the final few feet to the top of the rise.
Edgar followed on. It was windy up here, and the breeze cooled him down after the brisk ride.
Coen had asked that just the four of them should come to Herne’s Hill alone. He had decided that they were to be the four commanders of the army, and should come and look at the terrain for themselves. Perhaps, also, to bond, since apart from Coen and Emmett, they hardly knew each other.
Coen pointed off in a north-easterly direction as they gathered round. ‘The Thessian-Barissian border is mostly a porous one. Walk a mile or so from one village to the next and you’ve crossed it. The Barissians have been in my territory for a few days now. It’s been hard, letting them destroy homes, take castles, kill our people. Hard not to go right after the bastards. But instead we’ve been harrying, making life difficult, without committing to a fight we’d likely lose. But the numbers you’ve brought can tip the balance, and I thank you. Sincerely thank you.’
Coen certainly looked sincere as he looked Edgar and then Frayne straight in the eye. The duke paused briefly, the first time Edgar had seen him stop. It suddenly hit Edgar how much this campaign meant to the Thessians. Their lives, and those of their families, hung in the balance.
‘You’re welcome, of course,’ replied Edgar. ‘Can we see potential battle sites from here?’
Coen nodded. ‘I’ve got a good idea where the battle will be, though in truth my duchy is as flat as your hand; this hill we’re on is as high as it gets.’
The duke pointed off into the distance again.
‘Salvinus has been pushing south, trying to draw us into a pitched battle.’
‘Salvinus?’ Edgar blurted out. ‘That’s the man who attacked our temple.’
‘Well, sounds like your men might have even more reason to fight,’ commented Emmett.
Edgar nodded. He would be happy to take some revenge. He remembered them studying each other in the temple complex at Ecgworth, before Salvinus had retreated, with Toric’s Dagger in his possession. Brictwin had lurched out and knocked one of his riders off his horse. Ealdnoth and Soren had interrogated the man, and that was how they’d been able to put a name to the face.
‘He’s Emeric’s general,’ Coen informed him. ‘I assume that Emeric allows him to make most of the military decisions. Either way, I’ve been forced to give ground and head west, so that we could meet up with your forces. The Barissians have driven further south, cutting off the road to Lindhafen. They’re now free to march on my capital. Tactically sound on their part, but of course they didn’t know I was getting reinforcements!’
At this, Coen’s eyes sparkled a little. ‘If we march straight on them now they’ll be keen for a battle. Defeat us and they can take Lindhafen quickly, before heading north for Essenberg, which is Emeric’s real goal. I can’t delay engaging any longer, even if I wanted to. I would lose too much, and my soldiers are fed up of retreating as it is. Are you ready?’ he asked pointedly.
‘Yes,’ replied Edgar, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. ‘How do you envisage deploying the forces?’
‘Three main divisions,’ said Coen. ‘Myself in the centre with most of the Thessians, the rest under Emmett on the right. You and the Magnians on the left. The Middians are the best horsemen, so Frayne, I would ask your men to act as the reserve.’
Frayne nodded, his face impassive. ‘We will fight wherever we are put.’
It all sounded so simple. Edgar, still unsure of the geography, looked out over Thesse to where he guessed the road to Lindhafen was. Two armies, now roughly equal in numbers, fighting it out in the open.
‘How long will it take us to get there?’ he asked.
‘Two days.’
Why do I agree to things? Farred lectured himself as he slowly made his way up the steps to the top room of the tallest tower in the Emperor’s Keep. What am I, a child? he berated himself, as if walking slowly will somehow prevent it happening?
Despite the telling off, he found his legs moved just as slowly as before. In the end, though, they took him to the room of Gustav, Emperor Baldwin’s Archmage.
He rapped on the door.
‘Enter’ came the reply.
Taking a deep breath, Farred swung the door open.
The room was one of the biggest in the keep, but it was less alien than his imagination had led him to belie
ve. No magic potions bubbling away; no body parts kept in jars. A long table dominated the central part of the room, and it was completely bare. A large window let in the fresh air from outside. Gustav stepped forwards and offered his hand which Farred took.
‘Farred, I’m much obliged that you’ve agreed to help me out,’ said the wizard, ushering him into the room.
‘You’re welcome.’
Gustav, Farred had to admit, wasn’t much like the wizards from the stories that had been told around the fire back home. He didn’t have a large scraggly beard, didn’t display unconventional behaviour, didn’t have a wild animal of some kind sharing his living quarters. He was business-like, broad shouldered, and healthy looking for a man of older years.
‘I’m not going to ask you to do much at all, you’ll be relieved to hear,’ Gustav began. ‘Walter has explained to you about the Isharites teleporting killers into the keep?’
‘Yes. He showed me.’
‘Mmm. Well, I have agreed that my apprentice, Inge, should stay with the Emperor for the time being, until we can be more relaxed about his safety. Not that we can ever guarantee it, of course. Baldwin has asked me to respond to the attacks in some way. So, I’m asking you to fill in for her when I need some help. Right. I’m about to turn into a hawk,’ the wizard explained.
Farred’s jaw dropped open. Had he just heard Gustav correctly?
‘I could just do it myself, but to be on the safe side, I need to be restrained while the transformation occurs,’ continued Gustav matter-of-factly. ‘When I become a bird physically, my mind doesn’t change; I can still think perfectly clearly. So, I will just want to be moved over to the window so that I can fly off.’
He opened a box by the window and pulled out three lengths of rope. ‘It’s best if I lie down on my chest. Tie me to the table, as tight as you can. You’ll need to hold me down as well. And take care of my head, I don’t want to bash it too much.’
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 55
