The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  That was a question that did not require an answer. And though Belwynn took issue with the word ‘us’, she kept that to herself for now.

  When they entered Korkis they found a town in some turmoil. The central plaza was a mess of wagons, horses and soldiers. In amidst it stood Tycho, normally so relaxed, red-faced and barking out orders.

  ‘Thank Madria you are back,’ he declared when he saw Theron, with little humour.

  ‘What is going on?’ Theron asked.

  ‘Straton is raising an army,’ Tycho replied. ‘Sebastian has ordered me to bring a force back to Heractus.’ He looked at Belwynn. ‘Elana was attacked—she’s fine, don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘But Straton seems to be making alliances with our enemies.’

  ‘What are Sebastian’s orders?’ Theron asked him.

  ‘Bring back most of the knights and recruit infantry. I have enlisted fifty townsfolk. It means leaving a skeleton force here. I’ve put Leontios in charge.’

  Theron nodded his approval.

  ‘It’s not as simple as you might think, Theron. I’ve had reports of armies marching up and down Persala, of war in Haskany. The Isharites are on the move again. If they strike at our eastern border now, there’s nothing to stop them.’

  ‘Then we need to deal with Straton as soon as possible.’

  They rode to Heractus with all speed, leaving behind the soldiers who had to travel on foot. As they approached the capital, they saw that a tented camp had been established on the fields to the south of the city. They could see some soldiers there, being drilled on spear work. But there were not many.

  When they were admitted past the city walls, the others went straight to find Sebastian, but Belwynn had a job to do first. Little Lyssa, tired out from the ride, needed a place to stay. Belwynn took her to the room in the castle that she shared with Soren.

  ‘This is where you will stay now,’ Belwynn explained to her. ‘That is Soren’s bed and this is mine.’

  ‘I don’t have a bed,’ observed Lyssa.

  ‘You can sleep with me for now,’ said Belwynn. ‘And soon Soren will be leaving. Then you can have his bed.’

  Lyssa nodded sleepily.

  ‘I will fetch you something to eat and drink. Then I need to speak with Soren and the others. But I will come back here when I am done.’

  When Belwynn found them, in Sebastian’s office, they had already talked much of it out. Who the enemy was, where they were, what they should do. Belwynn found that she wasn’t as desperate to know all the details as she once would have been.

  Sebastian, Theron and Tycho had a map before them and a pile of letters, no doubt reports from their supporters on the situation in the different parts of the country. Gyrmund and Moneva were sitting, not far apart, both of them looking more contented than she had seen them in a long while. Soren sat with his arms folded, one hand resting on his staff. Finally, Elana was there too. She looked perfectly well despite her scare. Belwynn slipped in while Sebastian was talking and sat next to the priestess, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘You are well?’ she whispered.

  ‘Of course,’ Elana whispered back. ‘Soren tells me you know the whereabouts of the rest of the weapons?’

  Belwynn nodded. Elana smiled and returned her attention to the conversation.

  ‘So,’ said Soren, ‘you are suggesting that it won’t be a week until your army can leave Heractus?’

  ‘I would say so,’ replied Sebastian. The Grand Master looked disappointed in the delay. In fact, Belwynn thought, he looked older, more careworn.

  ‘And you are sure you won’t need my help?’

  The Knights all looked at each other.

  ‘We need to match their infantry force,’ Theron said eventually. ‘Once we do that, I am convinced of our superiority. So, thank you Soren, but I don’t think that will be necessary.’

  ‘Then it is decided,’ said Soren. ‘I don’t think we should waste any time. Gyrmund, Moneva, Belwynn and I will make plans to head to the Jalakh Steppe. If tomorrow is too early, then the day after.’

  I’m not going, Belwynn told him.

  Soren turned to her, looking unsettled, and she felt a rush of guilt for not discussing this before. He opened his mouth to say something else to the group, then closed it again. ‘Belwynn,’ he said. ‘Can I talk to you?’

  While the rest of them looked on, Belwynn got up from her chair and followed her brother out of the room.

  Soren walked on a bit farther and then turned to face her in the corridor.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I should have said something to you. But you did kind of assume I was going without asking me.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, looking genuinely baffled. He was hurt too, he couldn’t hide it from her.

  ‘I have people here who need me, Soren. I have left Elana for too long. You know that Theron—’ she paused, embarrassed. ‘However foolish it might be, the Knights find strength when I am there.’

  ‘Yes, but I need you too, Belwynn. I’m your brother. No-one else is doing anything to find these weapons. I need your support. I always have. You know that.’

  ‘Soren,’ she chided. ‘Gyrmund and Moneva will be with you. Besides, what real use am I going to be to you? I’m more use here. And, although I don’t like us being apart, our abilities may be useful this way. We can keep in touch with each other.’

  Belwynn thought better of mentioning one other factor. Lyssa. She really didn’t like the idea of leaving her, even though she knew that Elana would look after her.

  ‘Belwynn,’ he said. ‘I’m asking you to come with me.’

  She smiled. He knew he always got her to do what he wanted. That had been at the heart of their relationship for years.

  She took his hands. ‘And I’m telling you no.’

  It was time for that to change.

  They stood for a while, his hands still in hers, looking into each other’s eyes. Something important and unspoken passed between them.

  I understand, said Soren.

  When they returned, everyone was standing, ready to go. The hour was getting late and everyone looked tired.

  Belwynn undid the belt that held Toric’s Dagger and held the weapon out to Moneva.

  Moneva took it and then embraced Belwynn.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly in Belwynn’s ear. ‘Not just for the Dagger.’

  Belwynn smiled as Moneva released her. ‘Thank you for looking after Elana for me. I heard you did a pretty good job.’

  ‘I’m walking Elana back to her house,’ said Moneva. ‘Everyone has agreed that someone will be with her at all times. Haven’t they, dear?’ she asked the priestess.

  Elana rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine now.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Belwynn.

  ‘What was that about?’ Moneva asked her as the three women were ushered through the gates of the royal castle and began to walk down to the town. ‘With your brother?’

  ‘I told Soren I’m not going with you.’

  ‘Thought so.’

  ‘It’s not because of me, I hope,’ said Elana. ‘I am perfectly happy to carry on by myself, Belwynn. I feel that my current duty is to build this community. But getting the weapons is of the utmost importance, of course.’

  ‘It’s not just because of you, Elana,’ said Moneva. ‘She needs to stay with Theron, too, don’t you Belwynn?’ she asked with a knowing look.

  ‘Of course, how silly of me,’ said Elana, unable to suppress a little smile from hovering about her face.

  ‘Yes, the Knights need me,’ said Belwynn archly. She was damned if she was going to let these two embarrass her over Theron.

  Moneva made a face and puffed air out of her cheeks in mock outrage at this remark, but let the topic slide.

  ‘So, who is raising an army against us?’ asked Belwynn.

  ‘The head priests of the temples, who want Elana dead,’ said Moneva. ‘They’re formed an alliance with Straton, who w
ants rid of the Knights. His friend, the Count of Ampelios, escaped with Straton last week. Straton has authority as heir to the throne, Ampelios apparently has money, making them a dangerous pair.’

  ‘Sebastian’s enemies within the Order are also rumoured to be involved,’ added Elana. ‘Do you remember a knight called Euthymius, Belwynn?’

  ‘A little.’

  She remembered him from The High Tower, as the most vocal supporter of Galenos, the former Grand Master of the Knights whom Sebastian had displaced.

  ‘He is supposed to be gathering knights who are loyal to Galenos, even though Galenos himself is still imprisoned in the Tower. Sebastian is worried about it. He fears not only the force that Euthymius might raise, but also the affect it could have on the rest of the Order. Many knights may choose not to get involved on either side, for fear of having to fight their own brethren. And that could give an advantage to Straton.’

  They had reached Elana’s house. They had told Belwynn enough to make her realise that the threat was serious. But while she acknowledged it, she felt too tired to worry about it until tomorrow.

  They said brief farewells to Elana, before Belwynn and Moneva retraced their steps back to the castle, where the guards saw them coming and had the gates open for them.

  Saying goodnight to Moneva, Belwynn made her way to the tower where her room was. She quietly opened the door and peered in. Soren lay asleep in one bed, and Lyssa in the other. The thought of an uncomfortable night squeezed in next to Lyssa didn’t appeal. She let the door shut, then padded back down the tower stairs.

  Without really thinking about it, Belwynn found herself outside Theron’s room. She raised her hand to knock on the door. Maybe she should think about this. She knew if she did, she would leave, so she knocked on the door before she could talk herself out of it.

  The door opened slightly, and Theron peered out. He opened it fully when he realised who it was.

  She had got him out of bed. He was half dressed.

  ‘Belwynn, is everything alright?’ he asked.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ve just lost my bed, that’s all. So I came here.’

  ‘Come in,’ he said.

  She entered his room and he shut the door behind her. Her stomach was swimming with butterflies. What did she think she was doing here?

  She turned to face him. He was looking at her and she looked back at him, feeling her heartbeat race, her breathing getting shallow.

  We both want this so much, she told herself.

  ‘Can I sleep with you tonight?’ she made herself ask him.

  ‘What are you saying—’ he began.

  ‘You know what I’m asking,’ she told him.

  He moved in close. ‘Belwynn,’ he murmured, his voice sounding husky. ‘You know I have my vows.’

  ‘I don’t care about them,’ she said.

  He put his arms around her, pulled her into him. She looked up at him, parting her lips, putting one hand around his neck, and then his lips were on hers, his hands on her body, and she knew that his vows were broken.

  Nineteen of them had made it through the winter. Nineteen had come down from their camp in the Dardelles mountains, and the irony was, that was when they had come closest to death. Hordes of Drobax were crossing the mountain range into Haskany, and they had nearly got trapped. They had hidden in a cave and had to wait out an entire day before it was safe to move.

  The original plan to cross into Persala was dead. Each time they made an attempt they had encountered armies, or scouting parties: if not Drobax, then Haskans or Isharites. So they had hugged the mountains, gradually heading south-west, getting hungrier and weaker every day.

  Nineteen emerged onto the Plains of Kalinth. Eight Barbarians; six Persaleians; two men of Rotelegen; two Dog-men; and a Magnian.

  Clarin, worn down by the burdens of leadership, prayed to Toric, Madria, and every other god he had ever heard of. If the Drobax hadn’t crossed into Kalinth, they had a chance.

  They had left the mountains behind them but Kalinth remained a rugged landscape, and their progress was painfully slow. They walked at the pace of the slowest, which was the pace of Jurgen, the Rotelegen. He had a permanent limp, the result of a spear wound he sustained in the fighting at Samir Durg. He used a stick to help him balance. The Dog-men carried his possessions. His cousin, Rudy, was always by his side, usually by the end of the day with Jurgen’s arm around his shoulder, taking his weight, encouraging him. But still, Jurgen was the slowest.

  At the worst times, when he was tired and fed up, Clarin had thought about killing him. Just thoughts, crossing his mind, when there was nothing else to think about except putting one foot in front of the other. He’d sometimes see the same thoughts in other people’s faces, but no-one had talked of it, Clarin hadn’t seriously considered doing it. If they killed Jurgen, would they then turn on the second slowest? What if Clarin himself got injured? Would they finish him off? No, they had survived this far by sticking together. As unlikely a group as you would find in the whole of Dalriya, but they all shared the experience of slavery in the mines, had fought their way out of Samir Durg together, and they weren’t going to turn on each other now.

  Kalinth was a sparsely populated land. There were few villages like they had in Magnia. Mainly isolated farms and hamlets, with more sheep than humans. They avoided contact. Clarin was certain that the local population, tough border people, would see them as a threat, and he didn’t fancy getting stuck with an arrow by an anxious farmer. They didn’t—couldn’t—avoid the sheep, however. On an evening they got a fire going and ate roasted lamb; Clarin genuinely believed he had never tasted anything so good.

  It was only a matter of time before they were challenged. When the Kalinthians arrived, there were only ten of them. They looked good, though. Fine horses, fine clothes, tall lances, armour polished and shining in the mid-morning sun. Clarin had heard all about the Knights of Kalinth, supposedly the best heavy cavalry in Dalriya. He was sure he was looking at them now.

  ‘They’re keeping their distance,’ observed Cyprian, the Persaleian, as the riders drew up a hundred yards away.

  ‘They’re outnumbered two-to-one,’ said Clarin. ‘And we must look like mean sons of bitches by now. And not just them,’ he added, indicating the Dog-men, which got some laughs, easing the tension a little. ‘I’ll go and talk to them.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Zared. Zared was a young man, only in his early twenties, yet he was clearly the leader of the Persaleians.

  The two approached while the Knights sat astride their horses, waiting for them. They were an intimidating sight, and Clarin couldn’t help feeling nervous as he approached.

  ‘Well met,’ he began. ‘I should explain our presence in your lands. We are men from all over Dalriya—from Persala, the Empire and elsewhere.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked one of the knights, interrupting. He was a young man, perhaps Zared’s age. But he presented himself as the leader and so that was who Clarin addressed.

  ‘We have escaped from the prisons at Samir Durg. We have been on the run since last summer. We tried to head through Persala, but it’s impossible.’

  ‘Samir Durg?’ repeated one of the other knights. ‘Leontios,’ he continued, talking to the leader, ‘isn’t that where Lady Belwynn went to rescue her brother?’

  ‘Wait,’ said Clarin, looking from one knight to the other, not quite believing what he had just heard. ‘You know Belwynn?’

  Leontios, to his credit, loaded them up with precious supplies before sending them on their way to Heractus. Perhaps that was his way of ensuring they weren’t tempted to butcher any more sheep. He couldn’t spare horses though. Indeed, it turned out that those ten knights were all that remained of the garrison of a town called Korkis. Furthermore, from what Clarin could tell, that garrison was the only one anywhere near the Persaleian border. If—more like when—the Isharites turned their attention here, Kalinth would be in terribl
e trouble.

  The reason, Leontios had explained to him, was a civil war brewing in the country. Even the Knights themselves were divided in their allegiances. It was a strange and confusing situation for Clarin’s group to find themselves in. The idea of fighting a civil war, when the Isharites and Drobax were on the march, seemed to Clarin the height of lunacy.

  Be that as it may, his group found themselves walking again, albeit with the permanent, exhausting fear of the previous weeks now gone, and enough food in their packs to get them to their destination. It wasn’t such a long way in the end, and two and a half days after leaving Korkis, the city of Heractus appeared before them. It was a sizeable settlement, with grey stone walls surrounding the main city and a camp to the south. Once they got closer, Clarin could see that it was an army camp, well-made tents set out in organised rows. More evidence of the threat of war, though the camp looked new and the soldiers cared for.

  Another good sign was that they were challenged promptly upon approaching. Clarin handed the wary looking soldiers a letter written by Leontios, which Zared had assured him vouched for who they were and asked that they be taken to one of two men, either a Theron or a Sebastian. Once the soldiers had found someone to read it, they agreed to let them enter the city, on condition that they handed in their weapons.

  Clarin’s group balked at this demand. These were men who had sworn never to let themselves be taken captive again, and so persuading them to disarm was nigh on impossible. In the end, it was agreed that the group would be found spare tents in the camp and Clarin would go into the city alone.

  Heractus had a solid, if unspectacular looking castle, made with the same grey blocks of stone as the city walls and many of the houses. It was to the castle he was taken, and at the gates the letter did the trick once more, a castle guard leading him into the main hall where he was offered a place at the fire and told to wait until someone fetched him.