The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set

by Jamie Edmundson

  The meeting before the battle made more sense to Belwynn now. Siavash’s offer of an end to the conflict. The confident grin of Galenos. Straton’s diffidence. Diodorus’s shame. They had all known about the Drobax. Known that if it came to a fight, they were going to win.

  Then she could see and hear the Knights. They made a noise like thunder, Theron’s and Tycho’s forces both returning to their original positions on either side of the infantry.

  Halt! she ordered her soldiers, keeping them in place while the Knights arranged themselves. They seemed to be spreading out much more thinly than before, leaving larger gaps between each other. She could hear shouts but couldn’t make out the words. She could hear the neighs of horses as their riders frantically turned them around, trying to get them into position. Somewhere out there, too far away for Belwynn to see, Leontios would be harassing the enemy, buying them precious time.

  Belwynn! Every message Theron sent now came as a shout. Get them ready. When the Drobax come they need to advance to meet them.

  Belwynn relayed the instructions to her soldiers, and it was just in time, because the Drobax now came into view. They howled when they saw the Kalinthians, picking up the pace from a fast march to a jog. There was little real order to their march, each creature travelling at its own pace. Belwynn could see their weapons, mostly crude wooden things, in their hands. Few wore armour. But it felt like none of that mattered, because more and more kept coming. The horizon darkened with Drobax, and yet there seemed to be no end to the numbers.

  Belwynn told the Madrians to ready themselves: lock their shields in place, point their spears ahead. The Madrians let out a roar of their own as they did so, finding strength in the shields of the men and women who stood to either side of them.

  Now! said Belwynn. The Madrians moved as one, shoving shields forwards to stop the Drobax, striking out with their spears at unprotected flesh. They had a few seconds of freedom, targeting the exposed Drobax who had arrived without the safety of a shield wall. But that was all they got, because then the Drobax coming behind hurtled towards them. The Madrians locked shields together, presenting a wall of death. The Drobax crashed into it, pushed forwards by the weight of numbers behind them.

  From Belwynn’s position it resembled a wave crashing against rocks, her Madrians arriving first, then behind them the rest of the Kalinthian infantry, following their advance. Finally, the Knights on each side moved ahead, using their height and long lances to skewer the Drobax before they got too close.

  It was a strange sensation, then, as Belwynn ignored all else and focused on her Madrians. They punched ahead with their left arms all at the same time, smashing teeth and noses with their shields, then lunged forward with their right arm, a forest of steel coming at the Drobax all at once, impossible to escape. It was like Belwynn was the queen bee, and the Madrians her workers, following her orders without thinking for themselves. No fear; no sense of self-preservation. When one of them fell, they were replaced. This sense of unity, of harmony, was enough to withstand the greater numbers of Drobax.

  Belwynn couldn’t say how long this lasted, before she was pulled out of her reverie by Philon.

  ‘My lady,’ he warned her, pointing ahead.

  Belwynn’s Madrians had withstood the Drobax attack, but the infantry forces to their left and right could hold no longer. Men were turning and running from the monsters, and once a few of them left, more and more followed, in an effort to save their lives. Staying to fight suddenly became futile, and the units collapsed, turning to flee and outrun the Drobax while they still had a chance.

  They ran in the direction of Belwynn and Philon, some dropping weapons in their haste to escape. The Drobax gave chase, though surely it was only a matter of time before some of the monsters moved around Belwynn’s Madrians and surrounded them.

  Philon gestured behind them. ‘They’re running to their deaths,’ he said, bitterness filling his words. ‘They’ll never cross the river.’

  Belwynn turned around to look. The fast flowing Pineos waited for those who made it that far. Some might gain the bridge in time, but most would face the choice of turning to face their pursuers or taking their chances in the water.

  ‘I need to get you out of here,’ he added.

  The fleeing Kalinthians were drawing the Drobax towards their position, but where could they escape to?

  Belwynn pointed towards the Madrians ahead of them.

  ‘Take me there,’ she said.

  Philon looked around, his expression full of indecision. There was the bridge across the Pineos, perhaps still the safest option. He looked across the battlefield to where Theron fought. He could get her on a horse and ridden to safety from there, but they would have to get through the rampaging Drobax to reach Theron’s knights. The Madrians ahead of them were closer, but how long would they hold out?

  ‘I need to be with the Madrians,’ Belwynn insisted.

  ‘Alright,’ Philon reluctantly agreed. ‘Come, we must be swift.’

  Descending the tower steps, Belwynn found herself running after Philon towards the battle, while not much more than a hundred feet away, Kalinthians were running past them in the opposite direction. They began to attract the attention of the Drobax following the Kalinthians, some of whom broke away in their direction. However, the thought of running hard back the way they had come seemed to dissuade them, and they reverted to their original quarry.

  As they got closer, Belwynn could see her fears becoming realised. The rear of the Madrian unit was being attacked by the Drobax, who had all but encircled them.

  ‘Come,’ said Philon, urging her on, though her breath was getting ragged now.

  Three Drobax came to meet them. Philon, sword already drawn, approached them, but he couldn’t stop one of them moving for Belwynn. She drew her short sword.

  ‘It’s alright, Philon,’ she assured him, sensing his anxiousness. ‘I can hold it off.’

  She focused now on the creature, holding a wicked looking club. She had been taught enough of sword fighting not to panic. It came for her, but she used her footwork, moving to the side as it approached. It made a vicious swing in her direction anyway, but the club sailed harmlessly past. Belwynn knew that a proper soldier like Clarin would have attacked at that point, but she simply backed away, not willing to risk getting into trouble. The creature grinned at her, but she wasn’t intimidated by that. She feinted at it with her sword, making it think twice about charging at her. It moved towards her, twirling the club, perhaps ready to be a bit more patient this time.

  But it didn’t have time. Philon appeared behind it, chopping down with his sword on its skull. It dropped to the floor, where he made sure it was dead. He had already dispatched the other two Drobax.

  However, the fight had drawn more Drobax in their direction. It didn’t look like they would be able to get past them.

  Help me, Belwynn ordered the Madrians, not really thinking, just acting.

  They came at once, swiftly moving from defence to attack. The Drobax were forced to turn and meet the threat.

  Philon ran at the Drobax, using his sword to punish them for turning their back on him. Between the advancing Madrians and the knight, the Drobax were either killed or forced to retreat.

  Belwynn slipped in amongst the Madrians, safe for now.

  Hold! Fight for Madria! she ordered them.

  But they were being pressed from all sides, and Belwynn could tell that they wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer. When their defences were breached, there would be no chance of an escape to the river. They would be surrounded and slaughtered.

  22

  Reappearance

  THEY LEFT BASERNO BEHIND THEM, Clarin carrying the Persaleian Shield on his back. He enjoyed the weight of it; enjoyed being close to it.

  Would Zared and his father allow him to keep it? Allow their people’s shield to leave Persala? He couldn’t be sure. If they didn’t intend to let him have it, why take him to Baserno with them in the
first place? Unless they had somehow known that he was the one who could claim it from the old flamen, Ennius. Ennius had only given up the shield when Clarin had said Belwynn’s name. The strangeness of that stayed with him. Why Belwynn?

  Zared and his father’s champion, Duilio, were focused on leading their group to the rendezvous location with King Mark. Maybe then Clarin would get some answers.

  They soon left the Persaleian roads to cut across country, heading for one of the old places of Persala, away from the towns and prying eyes. By a track that continued on to a collection of farm buildings stood a giant old oak tree, that had perhaps served as a meeting point when the Persaleian Empire was at its height. Here they threw off packs and sat down for a bite to eat.

  Zared paced up and down, waiting for Mark and his force to arrive.

  Clarin sat with Rudy and Jurgen, watching the Rotelegen massage his leg. Jurgen had taken a spear to the calf muscle in Samir Durg and had been lame ever since.

  ‘You two must be tempted to head south from here, to your homeland,’ Clarin commented.

  The two cousins looked at each other. ‘We’ve discussed it,’ Rudy admitted. ‘Don’t know what we’ll find there if we do, with Isharite armies heading every which way. And from what you say, finding yon shield could do more good for our people than anything else. But home does call to me. We have family who would be surprised to see us alive, that’s for sure,’ he said, grinning at the thought.

  ‘I appreciate your help and loyalty,’ said Clarin, ‘and I’d be honoured if you stayed. But I’d understand if you didn’t.’

  Jurgen nodded. ‘I can’t go on walking like this for much longer. My body needs rest. But like Rudy says, two of us marching south, into only the gods know what kind of mess? You’ve kept us alive this far, Clarin. Against the odds. I’m not keen on doing something hasty and throwing our lives away after what we’ve lived through.’

  Shouts disturbed their talk. Clarin jumped to his feet, Rudy pulled Jurgen up to his.

  ‘Soldiers!’ came the warnings. Presumably they weren’t Mark’s.

  Duilio’s men pointed to the east, from the direction of Baserno. Tamir and the Barbarians pointed to the fields that stretched to the north. Disciplined ranks of spearmen marched towards them from both directions, supported by cavalry. They numbered in the hundreds, too much of a match for their group of twenty-eight.

  Cyprian ran back to their camp from the direction of the farm.

  ‘Soldiers coming!’ he declared, then looked at their faces. ‘What?’

  ‘There’s soldiers coming from every direction,’ Zared said, a sad smile on his face.

  They stood together, weapons drawn. No-one asked Clarin what they should do. They knew there was no answer.

  Clarin pulled the sackcloth off the Shield of Persala, inspecting its decorated leather surface, before putting the strap around his shoulder. If it came to a fight, at least he would get to use the shield once—get to see exactly what it could do.

  The three forces closed in on them, in a perfectly executed trap.

  ‘They must have known we were coming here,’ murmured Tamir, the tall Barbarian chief hefting a long spear.

  The Barbarians were ready to go down. So too were Rudy and Jurgen; the Dog-men; and Zared’s Persaleians. Men who had suffered and weren’t scared of death if it was coming. Duilio’s ten men looked more nervous, but held their weapons at the ready nonetheless.

  The first two divisions stopped some fifty yards away, but the third, from the farm, kept coming closer, until they too came to a halt.

  Four figures detached themselves from the front line and strode farther towards them. They were strange companions, but all Clarin could really focus on was one of the men in the middle of the group.

  Because it was his brother. It was Herin.

  Shock slammed into Clarin at the sight of his brother. Herin caught his eye, smiling sardonically at him. But Clarin pushed the shock away. Maybe it was because he was holding his sword, Cutter, and his new shield, ready for battle, that he was able to do so. Some of the others: Rudy, and Cyprian, called out to Herin in greeting. But Clarin knew better. He knew Herin too well to mistake the look on his face, to mistake what this was.

  ‘Hello brother,’ Herin said.

  ‘I looked for you. For weeks. We all did,’ Clarin said, waving his sword at his friends.

  ‘I knew you would,’ said Herin. ‘I’m sorry. But I knew you would leave me in the end. And you did.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘Because while I was stuck in the mines with all of you, I realised a truth. The Isharites are going to win this war. And, so the old saying goes, if you can’t beat them, join them. I knew none of you would be willing to follow where I had to go. You would have tried to stop me, Clarin. You would have come with me, and tried to change my mind. It was better this way.’

  Clarin shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe I would have. I’m glad you’re alive, by the way. But you’re wrong. Very wrong. We’ve already killed Erkindrix. We’re going to destroy the Isharites. And that means we’ll destroy you, too.’

  ‘With that shield?’ Herin asked, a smug look on his face.

  He turned to the creature next to him and nodded. The creature was Drobax-like, but larger. It reached into a bag it was carrying and dragged out a bloody mass, holding it by the hair. It took Clarin a moment to process what he was looking at, before the creature presented it to them, holding it out for them all to see. It was a decapitated head—Mark’s head.

  Zared let out a bellow of rage, but his men acted quickly, grabbing him, pulling him to the ground before he could run at Herin.

  ‘Someone’s upset,’ said the creature.

  Gasps of horror met this statement. Clarin couldn’t help but stare in revulsion, bile rising to his throat. A Drobax that could speak?

  ‘What kind of abomination is that?’ Duilio demanded.

  ‘That’s not very nice,’ said the creature, casually dropping the head onto the ground.

  ‘This is Kull,’ said Herin. ‘Did you ever wonder why there were just men in the mines in Samir Durg? Well, now you know why. Your womenfolk were busy breeding with the Drobax to produce a superior stock. Something Ardashir had been working on apparently—Diis protect his soul. Drobax with the strength of humans, who can talk, and think. The new officer class of the Drobax army.’

  Now it was the turn of the Barbarians to curse and rage, moving forward threateningly. It must have been their tribes who had been used by Ardashir in such a hideous way.

  Herin held a hand up. ‘Please. Gods, I’m not saying I approve. No offence to you, Kull, but the whole thing disgusts me.’

  Kull put on a hurt face, his expression and mannerisms oddly human.

  ‘But it takes me back to my original point,’ Herin continued. ‘The Isharites are going to win. It doesn’t matter what I think about it. They’ve already destroyed the Krykkers, destroyed the fleet of the Sea Caladri. Kalinth is about to fall. There’s really no-one left to stop them. I’m not going to die trying. Neither should you.’

  ‘They should all die,’ said another voice.

  Clarin turned his attention to the other two men standing with Herin. Next to him was a flame haired human. At the end of the line was an Isharite, who stared at them with hatred under the hood of his black cloak. He was the one who had spoken. Neither man wore mail. Both, Clarin suspected, could be wizards. Herin had not just brought an army with him, but magic users too.

  ‘What do you want?’ Clarin asked reluctantly.

  ‘Mark and his men are dead. No-one is coming to help you. All I want is the shield. You can all walk free. Now, I know you’re not going to agree to that. I can see it in your eyes, all of you. This is what will happen. I will send my Haskan soldiers and Drobax against you, Rimmon and Peroz here will use some pretty terrifying magic, too. You’ll fight well. Clarin, we’ll all get to see what that shield does. No doubt it will turn you into an even mightier killing machi
ne than you already are. But you’ll die in the end. And between you, you’ll kill, let’s be generous, a hundred of my soldiers. But I don’t care about them. I don’t even know their names. They won’t be missed. I’ll be more upset about your deaths, to be honest.’

  Clarin glanced at his men, back to Herin and his lieutenants. Nothing Herin had said was untrue. Where was he going with this?

  ‘So, here’s my offer. I swear on our father’s life that it is a faithful one. No-one dies here but you or I. We fight one another for the shield. You don’t get to use it in the fight, of course,’ Herin said with a smile. ‘That would be unfair. The winner gets the shield. The losing army walks away. If I lose, my forces leave and let all of you go free, to fight another day. If I win, I let your men leave Persala in peace.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ said Peroz, spitting with fury. ‘I order you to kill them all now. You will be punished severely for this.’

  ‘See,’ said Herin, turning to the Isharite, ‘I don’t think so. If I win, I’m giving Siavash the Shield of Persala and the head of King Mark. I don’t think he’s going to care about my methods. If I lose, all he’ll have to punish is a corpse.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Clarin!’ Zared, surrounded by his men, was crouching on the ground, his face raw with anger and grief. He’d only been reunited with his father three days ago. Herin had taken Mark from him. ‘We’re ready to die.’

  ‘How did you know we were here?’ Clarin asked his brother.

  ‘Siavash knew as soon as you left Heractus.’

  All this time? Clarin said to himself. They’d let them get the shield from Baserno, just waiting to take it from them.

  ‘Like I said, Kalinth is about to fall, if it hasn’t already.’