Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga

by Jamie Edmundson

  Once ready, they followed a well-worn track which took them deep into the trees. Midges buzzed around them, and Farred had to wave them away from his face. He was happy to let Gyrmund take the lead, and eventually they moved off the track and into the heart of the woods, where the going was tougher.

  ‘We’ll try up here,’ said Gyrmund, pointing up a heavily wooded hill, his breathing heavy. ‘We’re more likely to find a buck and less likely to run into does.’

  It was the birthing season, when does were avoided. They would either be ready to give birth or already have young fawns with them. Killing the mother would mean the fawns would die, too, and that was wasteful.

  They settled in place under a tree which afforded a good view of the surrounding terrain.

  After a horse ride and a woodland trek, Farred was hungry. He opened his sack and began to lay out the food they had brought. Bread, cheese and cold chicken had been wrapped up for them by the cook. They had also picked some blackberries on the way up. Gyrmund produced two flasks of ale from his sack, passing one over to Farred.

  ‘Cheers,’ they said, clinking their flasks together.

  ‘You look after me well, Farred,’ said Gyrmund, slicing the cheese with a knife and placing a slab on his bread. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It does me good to get out like this. If you weren’t here I’d be working all day.’ Farred leaned back against the trunk of the tree and relaxed. ‘I honestly don’t mind if we don’t see a single deer today.’

  ‘You work hard, Farred. Your estate is in good order. Where do your ambitions lie next, though?’

  ‘Ambitions? Well, I wanted to establish myself as a landowner after Father died. I think I’ve done that, now. If I want more, I’ll need to make links with the crown.’

  ‘Prince Edgar? Met him yet?’

  ‘Yes, a couple of times. He actually passed through Walsted last year, first time he’s crossed Plunder Wood.’

  ‘And? What did you make of him?’

  ‘We got on well. He’s our age. Seems like a good man.’

  ‘A good man? He won’t last, then.’

  ‘Maybe. But I hear that Cerdda of North Magnia has a similar character. Could be an outbreak of common sense amongst our rulers.’

  ‘First time in a few generations if there is, but I suppose Magnia is due. No good for you, though, Farred. If you want to get in with the Prince, you’ll need a war to fight in.’

  ‘What about you?’ asked Farred, changing the subject. ‘No doubt you’ve got some ideas about where you’re going to explore next. You’ve done virtually all of northern Dalriya now, haven’t you?’

  Gyrmund’s eyes narrowed and he held up a hand for silence. ‘I hear something.’

  He moved onto his front and crawled off to the edge of their hill, peering down. He flattened himself down and turned back to Farred. ‘You’re going to need to see this. Just be careful.’

  Farred did as suggested and moved carefully over to Gyrmund’s location, staying low.

  Gyrmund pointed down the hill and to the left. Farred had been expecting an animal. Instead, a troop of mounted figures was passing through the woods. His woods.

  They were moving through quite difficult terrain and went slowly, so it was easy to take a look at them. There were no real distinguishing items, but they were all well armed. Some wore armour, and others didn’t, though it looked like the latter group were carrying it on their mounts instead, which was understandable on a day like this. They were moving east to west and passed their location on the hill, no more than about two hundred yards away. Farred counted them.

  ‘Twenty-one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well armed. Lightly provisioned. Anything else?’

  ‘Pretty sure they’re from the Empire.’

  ‘The Empire? So they’ve journeyed across the Steppe? And now through my lands, unannounced and on into Magnia? Who are they?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Gyrmund, sitting up as the force moved out of sight. ‘But that’s our hunting trip over, I guess.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll have to follow them. I don’t like it.’

  ‘I know. I’m trying to think of a harmless explanation for it, but I can’t.’

  ‘Should I go back and raise a force?’

  Gyrmund smiled. ‘No way. An hour’s ride back to Walsted, an hour at the least to gather people up and kit them out, another hour to get back here. They’ll be long gone. We go back for our horses and follow them. Just you and me.’

  ‘You’re coming?’

  Gyrmund looked offended. ‘Of course!’

  Farred smiled, relieved to have Gyrmund with him. He was the best tracker in these lands, and Farred knew he wouldn’t lose his quarry.

  ‘Come on,’ said Gyrmund, eager to get going.

  They packed their things into their sacks, slung them over their shoulders, and set off down the hill, moving with far more urgency than they had on the way up.

  ‘Tell you one thing though, Farred. This might turn out to be the perfect way to impress your Prince Edgar.’

  IV

  Toric’s Dagger

  The midday sun beat down as the three riders entered the settlement of Ecgworth. Edgar, riding slightly ahead of his two companions, lifted his hand to shield his eyes as he peered ahead. He could make out the walls of the temple in the distance.

  He had been riding for over an hour now, in chain mail. The summer sun had made the journey uncomfortable, and he had long since broken into a sweat.

  He travelled along a dirt track, passing neat and orderly fields to his left and right. The wheat and barley already stood tall, shifting gently when a breeze tugged at them. Insects flew in and out, some filling the air with a buzzing or clicking noise. It had been a good summer so far, warm, but with enough rain as well. Ecgworth was a well-run estate, and it looked like the monks would be well supplied for the winter.

  The peasants were busy at work in the meadow, hacking down the grass with sickles to make hay. It was a family affair; the children tasked with spreading out the grass so that it could bake dry in the sun. A few of them looked up as Edgar rode past, but they soon returned to their work. Visitors to the temple were not rare. If any of them recognised their prince, they showed no sign of it.

  The track arrived from the west and joined on to the main road, heading north, which took Edgar into the centre of Ecgworth. He now rode past the homes of its inhabitants, simple wooden houses, but well-maintained.

  The temple complex dominated the rest of the settlement. It was a large, rectangular site with a central location.

  As he approached, Edgar could see the modest earthworks, on top of which the walls, made from thick planks of wood, had been driven in and tied together. In time of war, the walls could be manned, and the inhabitants of Ecgworth, and most of their livestock, sheltered behind them.

  Edgar had visited the temple a number of times. It was an adequate defence, but could do little to stop a serious force from gaining entry. Edgar had asked for improvements to be made, and he was annoyed to see that nothing had been done.

  The road took Edgar to the southern gate of the walls. Ecgworth was located in a flat plain, and the site of the temple gave little benefit in natural height. The priests had tried to compensate for this by digging a ditch around the site and using the excavated earth to create a raised surface on which to build. Nonetheless, when the prince stood in his stirrups, he could almost peer over the top of the wall.

  Edgar’s two bodyguards joined him at the gate. Leofwin had served Edgar for the last four years and had served his father before him. His nephew, Brictwin, was a few years younger than Edgar, and was learning the job from his uncle. Wordlessly, Leofwin drew his sword from its scabbard and banged on the gate three times with the pommel.

  Edgar coul
d hear movement on the other side of the gate, but there was no reply. Leofwin rolled his eyes at the delay, and began banging again. After another few seconds, he was rewarded with a voice.

  ‘Who is there?’

  ‘Prince Edgar demands entry,’ boomed Leofwin with authority.

  ‘Oh,’ came the voice, before a head popped up above the wall. The guard was a young man who looked a little nervous at having to talk to Edgar directly. ‘Please wait a moment, Your Highness. I will fetch Lord Wulfgar right away.’

  Edgar nodded, and then the head disappeared again. He heard the noise of the gatekeeper jumping down from the wall and scurrying off in the opposite direction.

  Wulfgar was High-Priest of the Temple of Toric. Edgar’s father had given him the position, though not entirely out of choice. As well as being the leader of one of the richest religious communities in the kingdom, he came from a very powerful family: his older brother, Otha of Rystham, was one of the wealthiest landholders of South Magnia. Edgar knew both men well, and did not particularly like either of them. They were both arrogant and greedy, but their position of power meant that they had to be tolerated.

  It was not long before Wulfgar came marching over to greet them.

  ‘Get the gates open,’ he demanded, in a voice used to authority.

  The gate was slowly swung open, revealing Wulfgar, standing with his hands on his hips. To one side of him stood a small group of priests, simple brown robes belted at the waist. Although slightly red and out of breath, Wulfgar did not betray any other signs that he might be unsettled by Edgar’s unannounced visit. He was a self-confident man, roughly the same age as Edgar’s father would have been. He was broad-shouldered and, despite being the high-priest, was dressed in the fine tunic and hose of a nobleman.

  ‘How was your journey, Your Highness?’ he asked Edgar as the prince and his bodyguards dismounted.

  ‘It was fine. A little warm,’ replied Edgar.

  ‘Good, good,’ said Wulfgar, walking over and clasping hands. ‘Dirk, see to the horses, will you? If you’ll follow me, my Prince?’

  Wulfgar led them over to his hall, which had been built on the eastern side of the temple site. It was a typical single-storey nobleman’s hall, similar to the one that Edgar had left that morning.

  On their way they passed the temple itself. Beyond its entrance chamber, the main building was circular, with a domed roof. It was originally built some time ago, but its wooden exterior must have been replaced many times since then. It was decorated in a pleasing style. A large carving of Toric’s sign of the sun faced them on the curving main chamber. Elsewhere were the buildings necessary for a settlement of this size to function: a stables, a smithy, a granary to store the food.

  Edgar followed Wulfgar into the hall. A fire, located against one wall, created a welcoming, smoky environment. Two long tables with benches stretched along the centre of the hall, demonstrating Wulfgar’s ability to feed a sizeable number of followers. Wulfgar could also afford to decorate his hall well. Tapestries covered all of the walls. The largest showed the rays of Toric’s sun hitting the earth and giving life to the land, producing cereal crops, fruits and vegetables, animals and men.

  Wulfgar gestured over to the top table. Edgar nodded to Leofwin. It was to be a private conversation. While Leofwin and Brictwin gravitated towards the fire, Edgar and Wulfgar sat down together.

  ‘There was an attack on your Temple,’ began Edgar.

  Until now, the prince had given his host no clues as to the purpose of his visit. For his part, Wulfgar had not shown the least bit of surprise or curiosity at Edgar’s arrival. Now, however, with the cards seemingly about to be laid on the table, he could not help leaning forward and stroking his beard in a much more animated manner. He seemed to consider his response carefully.

  ‘You may have received a somewhat exaggerated report, Your Highness. The night before last a rabble appeared outside the main gates. They demanded entry, but in all honesty seemed confused about their reasons. We dispersed them easily enough.’ Wulfgar sat back in his chair. ‘There was no bloodshed,’ he added, in a reassuring manner.

  Edgar suppressed a smile. It was common, in his experience, for priests to exaggerate threats to themselves, in an attempt to extract more funds. It was much rarer to hear one dismissing a threat.

  ‘I have also heard that you have taken a prisoner?’

  Wulfgar looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Yes, Your Highness…a woman, possessed by some evil spirit, somehow made it past our gates and tried to steal Toric’s Dagger from us. She was caught inside the temple itself! This group from the other night was connected with her in some way…amongst other demands, they wanted her released.’

  Edgar nodded, thinking over Wulfgar’s words. The high priest had tried to hide the fact that he had the prisoner, but he was probably not lying outright.

  ‘Look,’ continued Wulfgar, ‘maybe you’ve had a complaint from some of these madmen, and perhaps you feel it’s necessary to come here and find things out for yourself. But I can assure you that the matter has been dealt with. She has already been judged according to the laws of our community and has been condemned to death. I’m sure I do not need to remind you that, in all matters relating to Toric’s Temple, the crown has ceded jurisdiction to me.’

  Edgar suddenly didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Wulfgar was puffing his chest out and jutting his chin forwards. He was trying to pre-empt any interference from Edgar in the woman’s case, but the Prince was not to be brushed aside so easily.

  ‘I am aware of your rights, Wulfgar, and I fully support your decision. I would, however, like to see the woman before the sentence is carried out.’

  For a brief moment, the priest allowed a flash of anger to show on his face, but he soon controlled himself.

  ‘The funny thing is, Your Highness, the woman says that she has already met you once before. She has, in fact, been demanding to speak to you, although I have explained to her that it is not in your power to overturn the decision.’

  Elana was her name. She had come to Edgar’s court about two weeks before, and he had spoken to her briefly.

  Before then, rumours had already reached the Prince of a priestess with unique powers who had been healing people across his kingdom. However, she had not come to court to heal, but to persuade people of some great threat to Dalriya.

  Edgar remembered that she claimed the Dagger of Toric was somehow vital in averting this threat. She was certainly persuasive in her own way, and although she spoke passionately, she also spoke calmly, and was not, in his opinion, completely mad.

  But she had no real evidence to support her claims, and Edgar had explained that, in such circumstances, he was not about to entrust the most holy relic in Magnia into her keeping. When, as Wulfgar had suspected, some of her followers brought her case to him yesterday, it was easy for Edgar to put two and two together and work out that she had decided to take matters into her own hands.

  Wulfgar was right: the law said that Elana was his to try and to punish. So Edgar avoided that subject and pursued his request.

  ‘That is correct,’ Edgar confirmed in response to the priest. ‘She has been at court once before. I would like to speak with her again, however. Where is she being held?’

  Wulfgar did not answer the question immediately. He glanced over at the two bodyguards who had taken up residence by his fire. Edgar followed his eyes, and could barely believe that Wulfgar was considering resisting his request. He tried to control his anger. He had calculated that he could get what he wanted today with a casual personal visit and without creating a fuss.

  If he wanted to, Wulfgar could refuse his Prince’s request or even have him ejected. Edgar would then ensure that he faced the consequences, but by that stage, people would begin to ask difficult questions about his interest in the matter.


  To his relief, Wulfgar relented and ordered one of the priests in the hall to fetch Elana.

  After what seemed an unduly long amount of time, in which the prince and priest sat in uncomfortable silence, Elana was brought into the hall.

  Edgar found her to be just as striking as the first time they had met. He had seen women who were more beautiful. But she had strong features and an intensity which drew attention to her. Her pale skin and blonde, almost white, hair gave her an ethereal look.

  As she was led to the table where Edgar awaited her, he noticed red marks around her wrists, which Wulfgar must have had tied. Still, that was likely the full extent of her injuries. Female prisoners could suffer much worse elsewhere.

  Elana’s eyes connected with Edgar’s, and she nodded towards him, as if she had been expecting his presence. Considering her situation, she looked remarkably calm.

  Wulfgar gestured to where she should sit and she did so, still without speaking.

  ‘Elana,’ began the Prince, ‘you are aware of the sentence passed on you?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Your Highness,’ corrected Wulfgar.

  ‘Well...what is your defence?’

  Elana looked at him quizzically, as if she were trying to work out the meaning of the question.

  ‘She has already been tried in the relevant court, Your Highness,’ interjected Wulfgar.

  ‘I am aware of that,’ responded Edgar roughly. He now returned his attention to Elana, who was beginning to annoy him just as much as the priest. Despite the fact that the prince had obviously travelled all this way to intervene in some way in her case, the condemned woman was acting as if the idea of making an appeal to him was somehow unnecessary. Edgar had begun to suspect that Elana was one of those pious people who expected their god to save them from trouble without doing anything much about it themselves— and in his experience, such people usually didn’t survive for very long.