‘He is.’
The group left the pagoda behind and joined a path that wound its way into the sacred garden. The priests stopped when they faced a giant tree that stood in the centre of the garden. They all stood facing the tree in a semi-circle, before one of the priests produced a saw and handed it to Gansukh. He approached the tree, studying it for a while.
‘This one?’ he said, pointing at a huge branch that grew out in the direction of the Jalakh tents. Gyrmund smiled as he saw that it pointed directly at the location where Moneva had climbed over the outside wall, in a failed attempt to find the bow.
‘A wise choice, great khan,’ said the priest.
Gansukh set to work, making a notch cut first, then cutting into the branch slightly further along, pushing back and forth with his saw. It was as thick as some trees, and it took him a while to cut through, as the rest of them just stood and watched. He grew red-faced and sweaty, and had to stop to rest more than once. But he cut through the last section cleanly, the branch dropping to the floor.
The three priests gathered around the fallen branch.
‘See!’ one proclaimed. ‘The Tree of Destiny has provided us with the Jalakh Bow!’
‘What?’ said Gyrmund, turning to Bolormaa in shock.
‘The priests will now use this branch to make the Jalakh Bow. Gansukh will hunt antelope, and the horn and sinew of the beast he kills will be used in the construction.’
Gyrmund found this difficult to process. ‘So, wait? The Jalakh Bow doesn’t exist? You said it was here, in Tosongat,’ he said accusingly.
‘I said it was here in a manner of speaking. The Jalakh Bow is made by order of the khan. Legends say that the Tree of Destiny grew when the original bow was planted into the ground. Or maybe the original bow was also made from this very tree. Come, Gyrmund,’ she tutted, that sly smile of hers reappearing. ‘You didn’t think the original Jalakh bow, made from wood hundreds and hundreds of years ago, would still be in existence?’
Gyrmund didn’t know what to say.
‘But don’t think we are giving you an ordinary bow. The Jalakh Bow is made from the Tree of Destiny, using methods preserved by our shamen. It will be the finest weapon in all of Dalriya.’
‘How long does it take them to make it?’ he asked.
‘Not long. But it must be allowed to properly dry. You will be able to use it in days.’
Gansukh approached him, along with his councillors and friends from the Oligud tribe.
‘You will take care of our bow?’ he asked Gyrmund.
‘Of course, Your Majesty. It is an honour to receive it.’
Gansukh nodded. ‘My first act as khan is to give away our most precious weapon. But my mother insists that we share the same enemies, so it will still be used for the Jalakh people.’
‘I will use it wisely and I promise to return it to you when it is no longer needed.’
‘So be it,’ said Gansukh, waving a hand in the air as if to be rid of the whole business.
Gansukh, his mother and the rest of the Oliguds left the way they had come.
It took all three priests to carry the branch away. They were presumably going to start work on it immediately.
Gyrmund was left alone in the garden. He looked up at the tree, at the cut where the giant branch had been. He approached, placing one hand onto the trunk.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
19
Beyond the Drang
IT HAD TAKEN TIME TO GATHER their wits after the dragon attack. Rabigar had been relieved to learn that the Krykker losses had been a few hundred. He had feared they were much worse.
The dragon had fired the Vismarian fleet, and the Caladri trading vessels, but most people had already made it onto shore. They had run into the swamps and hills of the Pecineg clan. The dragon had not pursued them, flying away over the ocean.
The Sea Caladri had not been so fortunate. Only four Caladri warships limped back to the shore of the Halvian Krykkers. They spoke of a sea battle where they had gained the upper hand over the Kharovians, until the dragon had turned the outcome of the battle, destroying ship after ship, until the Caladri that remained broke away in an effort to escape. They confirmed what Rabigar had already suspected. Captain Sebo’s Red Serpent had been in the thick of the fighting and had gone down. They held out little hope that many more than a few other ships had escaped the destruction. The Sea Caladri fleet, the greatest in Dalriya, was no more.
They hadn’t dallied. Rabigar couldn’t blame them. Picking up those of their race who had crossed the Lantinen, they departed south, to deliver their devastating news to their countrymen. The Krykkers were now stranded, the ships of the Sea Caladri and the Vismarians all lost in one day. More than one Krykker could be heard lamenting over their chances of ever returning home. But Rabigar had other priorities. He was here to find the Giants’ Spear, and that was his only concern right now.
His hopes, it seemed, lay in the form of Gunnhild, the Vismarian woman who had saved his life. She had lifted his sinking body from the seabed and deposited it onto the sand.
The Vismarian leader, Sevald, explained that he had led a small party north in the hopes of finding a family who had knowledge of the paths into the wild lands of western Halvia. He had returned with Gunnhild. She had agreed to take Rabigar into the west. But there was a catch. The area they needed to reach was swarming with Drobax.
So it was that Rabigar left the land of the Pecinegs with an army. It contained about two thousand souls altogether. Chief Wracken of the Binideqs led his soldiers, who would guide them through their clan-lands to the River Drang, that marked the northern border of the Krykkers. Jodivig, chief of the Dramsens, had recruited a force of Dalriyan Krykkers that matched the numbers under Wracken. Sevald came with his Vismarians, men and women who knew the lands north of the Drang. Finally, Ignac of the Grand Caladri led a small group of his exiles. Some of them, like him, were mediums. Their magic might prove useful once they entered the dangerous lands to the north.
As they followed Wracken’s force north, Rabigar fell in with Sevald and Gunnhild. The woman’s stride was huge, meaning she had to walk in an odd sort of dawdle to travel at the same pace as Rabigar.
‘Where did your family live?’ he asked her.
‘We hunted in the far north, where the cold turns your snot to ice and freezes your eyes shut in the night. Our size allowed us to survive up there, where tiny men like this would shiver and cry,’ she said, giving Sevald an almighty slap on the back. He smiled good naturedly at the ribbing.
‘We would hunt all manner of beasts, living off elk and bringing back bear and wolf pelts to trade with the lowlanders. What a life it was.’
‘What happened?’
‘The Drobax came. So we started hunting those bastards instead. But we must have upset someone, because they came for us. And I don’t mean like Drobax usually do, running around aimlessly like squirrels looking for their acorns. This was an ambush—well planned. I saw my father go down. My brothers escaped to the north, but I got cut off from them. I pray they got away, that they’re hiding in the icy wastes, somewhere too cold for the Drobax to follow. Anyway, I was chased miles to the south. That’s where Sevald found me, talking some nonsense about giants and spears.’
‘What do you know about the giants?’ Rabigar asked.
‘Oh, plenty of stories about the giants in my family. Stories that we’re descended from a giant. The truth is they left for the west. A long, long time ago.’
‘How do we find them? Or find where they went?’
‘Farther west of where the Vismarians and Krykkers live there are miles and miles of ice fields. Not much lives out there. If you tried walking that way you would fall through the ice, sooner or later. Even if you’re a lucky bastard, and all the odds are in your favour, it will still only take a few days before the ice gets you. The only way to travel west is down the Nasvarl. The source of the Nasvarl is in the northern wastes. But they say it flows west, all the
way to the edge of the world. If we head northwest from here we will reach a good spot in the river that thaws early. From there we can head downriver.’
Rabigar heard the Drang before he saw it. Chief Wracken had chosen to reach the river at sundown, when their activity was less likely to be noticed by any Drobax in the area. Rabigar looked out from the southern bank and saw the Drang was wide and full, bringing huge quantities of meltwater from the highlands of Halvia to the Lantinen Sea. A strange looking apparatus had been built in the river.
Chief Wracken sent twenty or so of his soldiers towards it and then, noticing Rabigar’s interest, approached him to explain.
‘We’ve destroyed all the other bridges across the river. So far, it’s kept the Drobax from crossing in significant numbers. This is now the only way for us to go beyond the Drang.’
As Rabigar watched, the Krykkers on the bank began to lower a drawbridge-like contraption onto a small, artificial looking island that lay about a quarter of the way into the river. Once lowered, they crossed the drawbridge onto the island, where a second drawbridge was lowered onto a larger, natural island that lay in the middle of the river. It was big enough for a few wooden buildings to have been erected on it. Rabigar could see that two further drawbridges would complete the route and allow them to reach the north side.
‘Ingenious,’ he said, enthused. ‘It allows you to cross but denies passage to the Drobax.’
‘Yes. I will leave a few men on the south bank and on the middle island for when we return, just in case we need to make a quick crossing.’
Wracken ordered his soldiers to cross first, securing a bridgehead, before the rest of the army followed behind.
Despite the late hour, they had attracted the attention of a small number of Drobax. By the time Rabigar got across, the brief encounter was over, a pile of Drobax bodies casually dumped next to where the latrines had been marked out. But it didn’t bode well.
They were quick to make a camp. Each of them carried a sharpened wooden stake that were used to build a defensive perimeter around the camp. Wracken insisted that the Binideqs would handle the night watch, and so Rabigar settled down to eat his rations with the Dalriyan Krykkers. He was surprised to see a familiar figure come over to join him.
‘Stenk? I had no idea you were here!’
‘Jodivig asked me to come,’ Stenk said proudly.
The truth was, Rabigar was surprised to see the young Dramsen Krykker. Stenk had fought in his very first battle with Rabigar last summer, against the Isharite army in Haskany. But, Rabigar supposed, that now made him a veteran. When you factored in the many losses suffered by the Krykkers, and accounted for the fact that Maragin had kept many of the best warriors with her in the underground tunnels of the Krykker mountains, that made Stenk one of the more experienced fighters they had left to call on.
‘We’re going to find a spear?’ Stenk asked, his brow creasing in confusion.
How many of these soldiers really understood what they were doing, Rabigar wondered. Events had moved too fast to fully explain things.
He drew Bolivar’s Sword. ‘When Bolivar defeated the dread lord of Ishari at the Battle of Alta, he had six other champions with him.’
He turned to see that other Krykkers were looking at him, listening intently to what he said.
‘There was a Lipper, with a dagger. A Caladri medium, with a staff. A human, with a shield. A Jalakh archer. And there was a giant, who wielded a great spear. We need to find this spear here in Halvia, far to the west. When these weapons are assembled, we can use them to defeat the Isharites.’
‘How?’ pressed Stenk. ‘How will these weapons rid the Drobax from these lands? From our lands back in Dalriya?’
Rabigar felt all too aware of the eyes on him. They were hungry for answers—certainties—when there were none.
‘Remember,’ Rabigar answered, making sure his voice carried. ‘My friends stole into the very heart of Ishari, the fortress of Samir Durg. Who did they kill there?’
‘Erkindrix,’ someone offered.
‘Yes, the dread lord himself. And who knows what weapons they had with them? Not our sword, for no Krykker went with them.’
‘The dagger and the staff,’ said Stenk.
‘Correct. With just two of these weapons they entered the dread lord’s own lair and killed him. And at that very time the forces of the Emperor of Brasingia were defending Burkhard Castle, that great fortress that our ancestors built. When Erkindrix was slain, the horde of Drobax, the Haskans and the Isharites, all turned around and fled. So, imagine what will happen when we have all seven weapons together.’
Rabigar’s people nodded, satisfied. None of them was so foolish as to believe that they were saved. But they believed they had a fighting chance, and that was all a Krykker should ever ask for.
Wracken woke them while it was still dark. He wanted them to move out without being seen.
Bedrolls were packed, stakes collected, and breakfast taken on the march. But they weren’t free of the Drobax. When sunrise came they could be spotted: small, grey figures, coming in and out of sight. Rabigar saw one looking at them from the top of a hill. Later, someone pointed out a small group, walking through the trees to their right, before the woodland hid them from view again. The Drobax were following them, on each flank, but keeping their distance.
Sevald and the Vismarians now led the army, choosing which route to take through their lands. They avoided the deeply forested areas, in case the Drobax were waiting for them there. But Vismar was wild terrain: heavily wooded, no roads, and full of rocky outcrops, streams and other obstacles. Each time they had to slow down to cross a stream, or their vision was obscured by knoll and hummock, or they descended into a valley, there was a threat of ambush. Scouts had to be sent out, and the constant state of vigilance began to drain energy and fray tempers.
It happened when they were climbing out of a valley. Screams behind them signalled that the Drobax were finally attacking. Wracken’s Krykkers at the rear turned to face them. Meanwhile, streaming down the valley slopes on either side of their position, more Krykkers came.
‘Up!’ Sevald shouted. ‘We need to take the high ground.’
The Vismarians moved forward at pace, aiming to climb out of the depression. Jodivig, leading the Dalriyan Krykkers, followed the Vismarians. Rabigar went with them, slipping and sliding on the muddy path as he tried to get purchase. They rounded a corner where they stopped, running into each other. Ahead, the Vismarians had come up against a force of Drobax who had been waiting for them. Logs had been placed along the path to block their progress. Drobax hurled stones and rocks down on the Vismarians, who backed away from the trap.
They were surrounded on all sides. But what sent a chill down Rabigar’s spine were the voices. He saw them. These Drobax were taller and broader than any he had seen before. They were shouting out instructions to the rest of their kind.
‘Hold!’ some of them shouted, keeping the Drobax behind the logs where they held an advantage.
There was something so unnatural about seeing Drobax opening their mouths and speaking that Rabigar stood rooted to the spot, unable to react.
Meanwhile, the Vismarians turned and retreated, Sevald leading his warriors back down the path. Rabigar could see Gunnhild at the back, her giant frame a target for Drobax rocks, battering them away with her shield.
Jodivig ordered the Dalriyan Krykkers to move back down again, to make room for the descending Vismarians.
The Drobax on the flanks now reached them. Rabigar grabbed his shield from his back, drew Bolivar’s Sword and met them. He slashed at one, too quick for it defend with its club, his blade crunching into its shoulder and sending it sprawling to the ground. A second he smashed into with his shield, shoving it backwards, then thrusting his sword forward so that it slid into the chest cavity of the creature. Yanking it out, he saw that a group of Krykkers had come with him.
‘Pull back!’ came a voice above them.
&nbs
p; Rabigar looked up to see one of the larger, new breed of Drobax some distance up the slope, shouting out commands. It looked straight at him, and its sharp face made a vicious grin. It knew the Drobax had the advantage so long as they kept Rabigar’s force surrounded. All it had to do was contain and wait for reinforcements.
Rabigar turned to see that Sevald had arrived and was talking with Jodivig. The Krykker chieftain’s eyes were wide, close to panic. Rabigar joined them.
‘Rabigar,’ said Sevald. ‘They’re too entrenched up there. We need to break out the way we came in.’
Rabigar looked down to where the Binideqs were engaged with the Drobax who had come at them from behind. More Drobax were descending the sides of the valley.
‘Alright,’ Rabigar said.
It seemed the only option, but it would cost lives. And once they moved, the Drobax at the head of the valley would leave their enclosure and come at them from behind, squeezing the door shut in their trap.
‘Rabigar!’ came a shout.
It was Ignac. Together with a group of his Caladri he was trying to get to Rabigar, but the path was too congested.
‘We can protect your backs while you break out!’
‘Agreed!’ Rabigar shouted back.
He held Bolivar’s Sword aloft, trying to get the attention of those around him, before pointing it back down the valley, to his target. Without waiting any longer, he moved, Krykkers and Vismarians following him down the path.
Rabigar led his force off the path and up the side of the valley on his left. Here, they could present their shields, held in the left hand, to the Drobax descending to meet them. The first Drobax swung down at him using all its strength. He braced himself, taking the blow that rattled up and down his arm, before swinging out with his sword, chopping away the legs of the creature. It came to earth with a crash and as it sprawled there Rabigar was free to pick his spot, pushing the tip of his blade under the chin and into its head.
He kept moving, circling around the rows of Binideq Krykkers who stood on the path, before coming at the Drobax on their flank. Two of them moved out of position to meet him and he charged them, flinging all his weight behind his shield at the first, knocking it to the ground and barely staying on his feet. He whirled around, sword and shield in front of him in the hopes they would take the expected attack from the second Drobax. The strike came, a short spear glancing off his shield and striking him on the chest, leaving nothing more than a scratch on his tough, armour-like skin.
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 92
