The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  The Great Road took them to the northern Castle Quarter of Essenberg and they went straight to the royal castle. Baldwin and his court were probably already in Coldeberg, but someone would have been left in charge of things, and both the Kalinthians and the Caladri were invited guests of the Emperor. After explaining who they were, Belwynn and the others were admitted to the castle but had to wait a while before someone arrived to greet them. That someone was a priest.

  ‘His Grace is on his way to meet you. I can take you to your rooms first.’

  Belwynn shared a little smirk with Gyrmund as they both recalled the pace at which the Archbishop moved.

  ‘Is Decker in charge in the absence of Baldwin?’ asked Soren.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, you might want to mention to him that the Queen of the Caladri is on her way here too.’

  The priest’s eyes widened at the news, but he otherwise kept his composure. ‘I will certainly tell him. Please, follow me.’

  It was a few hours until the Caladri were settled into the castle and ready to meet with the Archbishop. Outside, the sun was setting, and a chill descended, much to Belwynn’s disappointment, since she had only just got herself warm again. Hajna and Szabolcs attended, leaving the rest of the Caladri in their rooms. Theron left Evander to look after Lyssa, adding babysitting to the list of duties expected of a squire. Decker was alone. He had found them a cosy room to meet in, with a roaring fire, and while the Archbishop was best positioned to take full advantage of it, the heat spread nicely through the room. Belwynn wasn’t the only one whose eyes looked droopy, as the heat, a generous helping of Cordentine red wine, and a long day of travelling combined to make everyone feel sleepy.

  Decker was naturally eager to hear their news and mostly listened at first. But after a while Belwynn had a few questions for the Archbishop.

  ‘You did not want to go to Coldeberg, Your Grace?’

  ‘Well, I might have enjoyed it when I got there, but I don’t enjoy travelling so much these days. And a city this size needs to know that someone is in charge. Otherwise people get to thinking they might be the ones in charge.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you have been involved in the coronation?’

  ‘Dukes do not get crowned,’ explained Decker. ‘That’s what went wrong with the last one,’ he added mischievously.

  ‘Oh,’ said Belwynn, slightly confused with the politics. ‘They are just appointed by the Emperor?’

  ‘No, not that either. The duchies choose their own rulers, usually in line with the laws of inheritance. Emeric had no direct heir. In the situation they are in, the wise people of Barissia would want their ruler to be both able and, most of all, be loyal to the Emperor beyond a shadow of a doubt. I think you will agree that Walter is the perfect candidate.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Belwynn, not wishing to appear that she was suggesting otherwise.

  ‘And the not so wise people of Barissia?’ asked Soren.

  ‘Well, they are the ones who brought the duchy to its knees. Baldwin has been merciful with Barissia, placing all the blame for their treachery on Emeric’s shoulders. But neither he nor Walter will tolerate any further opposition. The Barissian rebellion nearly led to the fall of the Empire, let’s not forget. Emeric was in alliance with Erkindrix himself. And how would Emeric and his minions have treated us if Burkhard Castle had fallen and the Emperor had been slain?’

  ‘That would have been a disaster,’ suggested Hajna softly.

  ‘I agree, Your Highness,’ said Decker. ‘None of us have forgotten what Barissia did. This meeting of the rulers of Dalriya has many purposes, of course. But one of them is to affirm, for all to see, who is in charge of the duchy now.’

  Everyone was up early for the final leg of their journey. The sky was overcast, but the rain was holding off for now.

  Theron had a brief opportunity to see the sights of Essenberg, all of which held memories for Belwynn of their time in the city last year. On their left, Decker’s cathedral dominated the skyline. Ahead of them lay the River Cousel, swelled by the recent rain. They used Albert’s Bridge to cross the river. Downstream of them was the First Bridge, that used Margaret Island to cross the river. Belwynn pointed it out to Theron and Evander, explaining that they had spent a night on that island, hiding from their enemies.

  Far to their left, out of sight, was the Imps, the headquarters of the Imperial Army. It had been Walter’s to command, perhaps would be still, though surely he would be spending less time in Essenberg now that he had become a duke. It was to Walter’s duchy that they now headed, riding straight on through the Coldeberg Gate, from where a road took them directly to the capital of Barissia.

  The rain that had threatened them never came, and so they were content to ride along at the same pace as the Caladri carriage. Just as the light was fading Coldeberg came into view. They saw its distinctive slope, descending from the high point where the castle adjoined the city walls, down to the southern end at the bottom of the hill. The sight made Belwynn’s insides twist. Her memories told her that Coldeberg was a place of evil, but she knew it didn’t have to be, now that Emeric’s regime was gone.

  The gate into Coldeberg was closed for the night, so they had to request entry from the night watch. That would involve the soldiers finding someone with enough authority to give permission, so Belwynn expected a long wait.

  She was surprised when the gates opened after a few minutes. Waving them into the city was Rainer, Baldwin’s chamberlain, who had assembled a team of officials to expedite their arrival. As she entered the city a stable-boy ran up to grab the reins of her mare and take her away. Another boy jumped up beside Gyuri and guided him away to a suitable place to leave the carriage.

  ‘Lord Rainer,’ Belwynn greeted him.

  ‘Lady Belwynn,’ the chamberlain replied.

  She was impressed that he remembered her, but he had always seemed a man in control of the details.

  ‘May I present our travelling guests? Queen Hajna of the Blood Caladri and Count Theron of Erisina, representing King Jonas of Kalinth.’

  Rainer took their hands.

  ‘On behalf of Emperor Baldwin and Duke Walter may I extend you all a warm welcome. You are expected, and I have already organised your accommodation. Queen Hajna, Gustav insisted on taking charge of your rooms, so I will personally take you and your attendants to see him right away. As for the rest of you, I have a town house picked out for you by Duke Walter. I hoped you would be able to share it with Prince Edgar and his entourage?’

  Belwynn briefly checked with Theron, who nodded his approval. ‘Is Edgar here already?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, you are the last of our guests to arrive, everyone else who accepted our invitation is here.’

  ‘We are very grateful,’ said Theron. ‘I can only imagine the amount of work such an operation has given you.’

  ‘Yes indeed, but once I accepted the inevitability of the odd mistake here and there, I have been able to embrace the challenge. Werner!’ Rainer said, calling over a member of his staff. ‘Please take our guests to their house.’

  They said their farewells to Rainer and to the Caladri, before the six of them followed Werner on foot through the dark streets of Coldeberg. Belwynn had never felt safe in this city, and made Lyssa hold her hand as she peered down dark alleys suspiciously. In truth, however, Werner was leading them to the wealthy part of the city, where the houses were sheltered by the looming presence of the Duke’s castle. Whereas before the castle had been crawling with Emeric’s mercenaries, she knew that now it was Walter’s soldiers who kept an eye on things, and her fears subsided.

  When Werner approached the door of the building and gave a knock she almost gasped in surprise, for he had led them to one of the most expensive looking buildings she had seen. It was brick built and no expense seemed to have been spared in the choice of materials, with glass windows and clay tiles on the roof.

  The door was opened by a young woman who Werner introduce
d as Heike, before explaining to Heike who they were.

  ‘You will have a staff to attend to you here during your stay,’ Werner explained. ‘Any concerns please ask for me—I am more likely to be available than Lord Rainer himself,’ he said with a smile.

  With that said, Werner hurried off down the street and Heike took them all in to the hall of the house.

  As they gathered there, looking about them, the far door opened, and Edgar suddenly appeared in the room, flanked by Gyrmund’s friend, Farred. Farred and Gyrmund embraced; Edgar shook hands with Soren, then found Belwynn for a hug; Belwynn introduced him to Theron; and soon the hall was filled with so much talk that Belwynn couldn’t really follow any of it.

  In the end the travellers discarded their cloaks and were taken into the kitchen, where they were seated at a table. Heike began to pile the table with a cold supper and Belwynn, realising that she was famished, didn’t hesitate to begin tucking in. Soren and the others, even little Lyssa, all did the same, and so it fell to Edgar and Farred to relate their news first.

  And what tales they had to tell.

  Edgar went first. He began with the worst of it, recounting how Gervase Salvinus, Emeric’s Isharite wizard, Tirano, and their former friend turned traitor, Kaved, had broken into his camp, killing Soren’s mentor, Ealdnoth, before attempting to kill Edgar himself. His bodyguard, Leofwin, had died in the desperate fight, but not before killing Tirano. Belwynn took a look at Soren on hearing the news, who had bowed his head in grief. The others looked to her and she shook her head, indicating that Edgar should carry on with his account and let her brother be. Edgar then filled in the bare bones of the campaign in Barissia, which had ended with the surrender of the very city they were now in, and Salvinus emerging free from Coldeberg in return for the head of his former master.

  ‘This was Salvinus’s house,’ added Edgar, with a wry smile. ‘Walter thought it apt that we should be the ones to enjoy it.’

  Next it was Farred’s turn, whose story was no less dramatic. He had taken a force of South Magnians to the Brasingian Empire where, led by Ashere of North Magnia, they had engaged with the invading Isharite army. The idea of this small force taking on an impossibly large army sounded like it should be made into a song. Farred’s story had its own share of tragedy, when Prince Ashere died of the wounds inflicted on him. Farred then found himself, along with Emperor Baldwin and the imperial army, under siege in Burkhard Castle. They had been surrounded by the huge Drobax army that had descended the Great Road, having to defend their position from daily onslaughts. When Farred explained that the Isharites had suddenly and unexpectedly retreated north, he and Edgar looked at them quizzically, and it was time to tell their story.

  Before that, Belwynn insisted on putting Lyssa to bed, whose eyes had glazed over, despite her best attempts to stay awake. Gyrmund ended up carrying her to her bed, where she was too tired to resist and went straight to sleep. When they returned to the kitchen, they had a glass of wine waiting for them. Heike had cleared the table.

  ‘Please, Heike, there’s no need to stay up,’ said Belwynn. ‘We can sort ourselves out.’

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ replied the young woman, ‘I asked if I could stay and hear your story.’

  Soren and the others gave a smile, and so Belwynn took a seat and helped her brother and the others relate their adventures since leaving Edgar’s court at Bidcote in Magnia. It was less than a year ago, but seemed so much longer, and at times during the telling it felt like the events had happened to someone else and not to her at all. The chase through the Wilderness; Kaved’s betrayal in Coldeberg; Arioc’s invasion of the Grand Caladri; Belwynn’s escape to Kalinth; Soren and Gyrmund’s imprisonment in Samir Durg. When Gyrmund finally told how Erkindrix had died, betrayed by Arioc in his own throne room, the hour had grown late, the wine had been finished, and everyone looked eager for sleep.

  At the end, Belwynn produced Toric’s Dagger and handed it to her cousin, who drew it from its new scabbard and studied it carefully.

  ‘So this blade killed Erkindrix?’ he asked wonderingly.

  ‘We brought it back,’ said Belwynn. ‘It just took a little longer than expected.’

  ‘I had total faith,’ said Edgar, grinning. ‘But what to do with it now? From what you say, returning it to Toric’s Temple isn’t the wisest move.’

  ‘I hope we will gain some answers tomorrow,’ said Soren. ‘Szabolcs has been researching the history of the weapons. He tells me he has more substantial information than he did in the summer.’

  Edgar nodded, returning the weapon into Belwynn’s keeping.

  ‘Then I for one am looking forward to what tomorrow brings, a day that was already threatening to be very busy. But now my bed is calling me.’

  The early morning event of the day was a service celebrating Walter’s elevation to the duchy. After a quick breakfast, they left the house to walk the short distance to the cathedral, leaving Evander and Lyssa behind.

  Mingling outside Coldeberg Cathedral was a veritable who’s who of the Brasingian aristocracy, not to mention representatives of states beyond the Empire’s borders. Between Edgar and Farred, there were few individuals their group were not familiar with, and they found themselves greeted by a bewildering array of powerful figures, Theron struggling to keep up with so many new faces.

  Baldwin himself was there, accompanied by his queen, Hannelore. It was the first time Belwynn had ever seen Hannelore. She was tall and full-figured, her brunette hair elaborately piled on top of her head, making her appear even taller. Their children accompanied them: two daughters about to enter adolescence and a younger boy. The children seemed somewhat shy and stood to one side of the gathering, until someone familiar approached them and engaged them in conversation.

  Hannelore’s father was Arne, Duke of Luderia, and his son and heir was Tobias. The whole family had the same, large framed look to them, but whereas the men, Belwynn felt, ended up looking corpulent, Hannelore looked shapely, turning the heads of those present. Arne had been a defender at Burkhard Castle, and came over to talk with Farred and to introduce himself and his son to everyone else. He was friendly, down to earth, and proud of his family.

  Most of the other great men of the Empire were also here with their entourages. Duke Coen of Thesse, energetic and bald headed, spoke at length with Edgar. Archbishop Godfrey, ruler of Gotbeck, had the kind of voice that could be heard wherever he happened to be standing. And, of course, Walter himself came over to see them, enquiring about the house he had chosen for them. There was a touch of humour in his eyes as he asked, all of them recalling the first time when they had met, on the road from Coldeberg to Essenberg, when he and his soldiers had intervened at the last minute and saved them from Gervase Salvinus.

  ‘Any news of him?’ asked Edgar, a hungry look in his eyes, as if he could not wait to hear that the man was dead.

  ‘Possibly in Cordence, last I heard,’ said Walter. His humour had disappeared. ‘Unfortunately, men like him can always find new work.’

  From beyond the Empire had come a collection of chieftains from the Midder Steppe. They strolled around in their flowing kaftans, with their distinctive long hair tied behind them. There was a delegation from Guivergnais, and one from Cordence. Queen Hajna was there, along with Szabolcs, talking quietly with Gustav, the Archmage of the Empire. They, of course, attracted the most stares. For the vast majority of guests, this was the first time they had lain eyes on a Caladri, and their clawed feet, bird-like head swivels, and delicate frames marked them out as something alien and other.

  The last group of guests to emerge onto the cathedral precincts, guided by Rainer the chamberlain, were three Krykkers. Once Belwynn’s group had been seen they came striding over in their direction, swords strapped to their belts, as if they were marching to war rather than attending a church service.

  Belwynn smiled, for the Krykker in the middle wore an eye patch: Rabigar. He smiled too, giving her a rough hug when he reached them
. Flanking him were Maragin, chief of Rabigar’s clan, the Grendals, and Guremar, the stern faced chief of clan Plengas. They made a bee line for Theron, each clasping his arm in greeting, a mark of their respect for him as a warrior who had fought by their side. Belwynn could tell that he was pleased: finally, Theron was the one with connections. Meanwhile, many of the other guests were staring at the Krykkers as a curiosity. With the armour-like skin covering their torsos; Rabigar’s eye patch; the fact that Maragin was carrying a sword as large as the men’s; and the confident, bordering on superior way in which the Krykkers stared back at the humans, there was something slightly menacing about them.

  Now that everyone had assembled in one place, Rainer was keen to press on with the programme, and began politely coercing people into the cathedral. Belwynn’s group filed through two sets of doors into the nave, which stretched before them, a huge space both length-ways and in height. The vaulted ceiling of the cathedral must have been thirty metres high, and the myriad conversations taking place echoed around the vast space.

  Wooden pews filled out the space, with a clear path down the centre. Ushers were on hand to take the guests to their seats. The Magnians were allocated to one of the pews in the middle of the nave. Belwynn looked about, watching as the seats quickly filled. She didn’t envy Rainer the headache of organising such an event. Not only did he have to decide who made the guest list in the first place, but then where they should sit. Not everyone would end up where they felt they deserved to be. Did a count from Kalinth outrank a chief from the Midder Steppe, for example? There was surely no definitive answer, but somehow everyone was seated without incident and the ceremony could begin.