Belwynn heard a knock on the door and realised that she must have fallen asleep. After checking on Soren, she opened the door to Moneva.
‘We’ve arranged for us all to have some supper,’ she said. ‘The landlord is putting it out now. No change?’ she enquired, nodding over to where Soren lay.
Belwynn shook her head in response. Moneva waited as Belwynn splashed some water on her face to wake herself up. They had only known each other for a few days, but they already had the easy familiarity that comes with travelling together and sharing danger.
Belwynn felt guilty for having gone to sleep and allowing everyone else to organise the food and accommodation. She went over to Soren and took the money which Prince Edgar had given them for their expenses from her brother’s inside pocket. With Soren unconscious, she had to take charge of the situation. Edgar had entrusted the retrieval of the dagger to them, and so far they had failed him.
Belwynn and Moneva went down to the main part of the inn and joined the others in a welcome hot meal. Belwynn immediately noticed that most of her companions had begun drinking, and they continued to do so throughout the meal. She could understand their desire to celebrate escaping with their lives. The inn was very busy with the arrival of the group of ten from the Wilderness, and the landlord apologised that he didn’t have as much food available as he wished. The soup was watery, and the inn lived up to half of its name by providing goat as part of the main meal. It was stringy and tough to eat, and Belwynn haggled down the price of the nine meals because of it. The fact that Clarin, Herin, and the others all wore their weapons to the meal no doubt helped, and the landlord seemed very keen not to upset his guests. Belwynn was happy that he seemed to be a man who asked very few questions if he was paid promptly, which she made sure he was.
The food and drink lifted the mood of the nine companions even further, and Belwynn was persuaded by Clarin to try some of the wines available. Everyone was keen to indulge themselves after the threats they had all faced in the Wilderness, and Belwynn was surprised to see Dirk knocking back his fair share of drink, especially so soon after his injury. Elana, too, seemed to want to make the effort to join in with the group, though she drank only a little watered-down wine and took it in turns with Belwynn to check on Soren. Soon Belwynn found herself laughing at the antics of Herin and Kaved despite herself, and warming to her new companions. Their time in the Wilderness had brought them closer together.
After a while Herin and Kaved seemed eager to leave the inn to find amusement elsewhere. ‘When you get a close brush with death like that—’ Kaved seemed to be addressing everyone in the inn— ‘you realise what’s really important in life...and that’s why I intend to couple with as many women as possible tonight.’
‘And my investigations this afternoon—’ if anything Herin was louder— ‘established that Vitugia is not quite as dull as first meets the eye.’
Belwynn realised that the two of them had spent their free time looking for prostitutes and had obviously struck lucky. ‘Why is it that after any crisis men find the need to sow their seeds? Believe me, if you two had perished in the Wilderness, mankind and... Krykkerkind... would have managed quite well without you.’
‘Perhaps someone’s feeling a little bit jealous?’ leered Kaved.
‘No human woman is going to sleep with you, Kaved,’ Moneva joined in. ‘You should stick to your own species.’
‘I think they will,’ answered the Krykker, producing a few gold coins from his pockets and waving them at Moneva. ‘And I’ve found that one must take companionship wherever one finds it.’
‘Who else is coming?’ asked Herin. ‘Clarin?’
Clarin glanced sideways at Belwynn, stared into his drink and shook his head.
‘Looks like he’s got other plans for tonight,’ Kaved smirked.
Belwynn felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment and stood up sharply. The speed with which she got up made her feel dizzy and made her realise how much she had been drinking.
‘I’m going to check on Soren,’ she declared, and left the table without looking at anyone. As she made her way to her room she berated herself for going red, and berated Clarin for looking in her direction that way. She had known for a long time that Clarin was interested in her, but he didn’t need to make it so obvious to everyone else. She was sure that he had slept with plenty of whores in the past and didn’t see why he had to stop himself tonight on her account.
Belwynn entered the room and went straight for the window, which she opened, and then gulped in some night air to cool herself down. She then went over to where Soren lay and took his hands in hers.
Oh, Soren, hurry up and get better. I need you, Belwynn said.
Belwynn.
Belwynn heard her brother’s reply, but there was no movement from Soren’s body.
Soren, are you awake? Soren!
There was no reply this time, but Belwynn had heard her brother’s voice, and to her that meant he was getting better. She lay next to him for a while in the hope he might wake, but he didn’t stir again.
Belwynn knew that Soren wouldn’t have approved of the drinking downstairs. She remembered the fights he used to have with their father. Father would sit alone until late into the night, drinking and brooding. ‘There was nothing I could have done,’ he would always say, sometimes repeating the words over and over. Belwynn would agree with him. She hated that he blamed himself. He seemed to be asking for forgiveness from someone. From his children or from himself? From his dead wife? Soren would shout at him, and their father would shout back, calling Soren sinful and wicked for his dabbling in magic.
‘There was nothing I could have done,’ their father would say, until one night Soren shouted back, ‘I will become so powerful that I can stop it! I’ll be able to stop things like that ever happening again!’
‘Get out!’ her father had roared at him. Soren had gone and never come back.
Belwynn returned downstairs to tell everyone that Soren had spoken to her. It was now a lot quieter after the departure of Herin and Kaved. Gyrmund and Moneva were talking to each other, slightly apart from the rest of the group. From the corner of her vision Belwynn saw Dirk stumbling over from the bar in their direction. As he approached them he sank down on his knees in front of the priestess.
Dirk pulled up his shirt and showed Elana the scar where the vossi blade had punctured his body.
‘You have saved my life by a miracle of healing,’ he solemnly pronounced to the priestess. Despite being obviously under the influence of alcohol, Dirk was speaking quite clearly.
‘I didn’t save your life, Dirk. It was Madria, Goddess of this land, who healed your wound.’
Dirk nodded at this statement in acknowledgement, his head bent slightly forward, in deference to Elana, or Madria, or both. ‘Yes. Madria has blessed me in a way I have never felt before. By saving my life she has asked that I now devote it to her. This is why I have decided to renounce my allegiance to Toric and turn to the one true goddess. Elana, I submit my soul to Madria’s keeping, and ask that I become your disciple.’
‘This is what Madria wishes,’ replied Elana. ‘Dirk of Magen, you shall be my first disciple.’
Elana touched Dirk’s forehead and then raised him to his feet.
Belwynn caught eyes with Clarin, who looked as surprised about the episode as she felt. She felt that something significant had just happened, and was reminded that Elana had led an attack on the Temple of Toric to get the dagger for herself.
This softly-spoken priestess had an agenda all her own with regards to its recapture. Now she seemed to have converted a priest of Toric to her own cause.
Belwynn resolved to keep an eye on the life-giving priestess of Madria.
Belwynn’s morning was filled with joy because, when she woke, Soren was already awake and sitting up in
bed. He was still weak, but strong enough to resume the journey north. In fact, Soren looked in better shape than some of his companions that morning—many of whom were now paying for the excesses of the night before. Herin, Clarin and Kaved had spent the early hours of the morning finding ten suitable horses for the journey along the Great Road into the Empire. They had been forced to pay above the odds, but Belwynn and Soren were grateful for their efforts and only too happy to pay over a large portion of Edgar’s money in order that they renew their chase of Salvinus’ mercenaries on horseback. When Belwynn tried to express her thanks, however, her companions responded with a strange series of grunts, which was apparently the only form of communication they were capable of for the rest of the morning.
Dirk, too, seemed to be suffering from a hangover, as he rode next to Elana with slit eyes and a pale, slightly grey complexion. Sometimes keeping the horse in the right direction would prove too much, and he would veer off the track into the grassy verge by the side before awkwardly returning to the group. The whole episode between them from the previous night seemed even stranger this morning, as if it had been a dream.
Elana was involved in a running argument with Kaved. ‘Well, surely,’ the Krykker was saying, ‘if your great goddess ‘Madigar’ can heal up this man’s wound—’ Kaved gestured in Dirk’s direction— ‘she can cure me of a bloody hangover!’
Elana finally lost her patience. ‘Madria certainly does not respond to foul language. But that is not the point. Maybe I could rid you of it—but I think it is a good lesson for you not to indulge in excessive drinking in the future.’
‘A lesson!?’, exploded Kaved, and then wished he hadn’t, grabbing each side of his head with his hands as if it would split open without being held together.
‘Well, you’re both making me feel a lot worse,’ interjected Herin. ‘Let’s have some peace for a while.’
Kaved muttered something under his breath about suffering in silence, but kept relatively quiet.
Belwynn and Moneva, on the other hand, were in high spirits, and took great delight in increasing the irritability of their comrades by reminding them that they had brought it all upon themselves. Gyrmund and Rabigar rode with Soren at the front and soon connected the group onto the Great Road.
The Great Road had been built by the Persaleian Empire at the height of its power. It led from their northernmost territories in Haskany all the way south in a straight line to Cordence. It was a demonstration of power, a way of transporting armies and supplies from one region to another with great speed, and a boost to pan-Dalriya trading and communications. It remained, for many, the greatest achievement of human civilization, and now confirmed the place of the Brasingian Empire as the dominant power in Dalriya, since almost half of the Great Road lay within its boundaries. Most travelling from north to south now took place via the Road rather than by sea, and it passed right through the capital of the Empire, Essenberg.
The group had decided that Gervase Salvinus had most probably returned to his own power-base in the duchy of Barissia. There were many travellers on the Great Road, but none of those questioned could confirm whether their decision was sound.
The Road was used as the border between the two southernmost duchies of the Empire—Thesse to the west and Gotbeck to the east. The plan was to continue north along the Great Road and then take the Barissian Road west into the duchy, heading for its capital, Coldeberg, where they were sure to get some information on the whereabouts of Salvinus.
Many of the group were eager to question Soren about the events on the mound in the Wilderness, in particular his apparition which scared off the vossi tribesmen.
‘What exactly was the image you conjured up?’ asked Moneva.
‘When the vossi were reluctant to approach us at first, it made me realise that we had stumbled onto a vossi burial ground. The vision I created was one of their gods, Riktu, who is lord of the vossi underworld. I made him berate them for making war on his sacred site. He eventually persuaded them to leave.’
‘Well, I think we all owe you one,’ she replied.
‘I used to think that all wizards were con-artists,’ interjected Kaved, ‘but you’re different. Where does that kind of power come from?’
‘I have always had magic within me, Kaved. The Caladri have long used and accepted magic, while the Isharites control powerful yet terrible sorcery. For my part, I have been blessed with some power which I had to learn how to use and control. I’ve spent my time learning from masters of the craft, just the same as you have spent yours learning how to fight and to use your weapons in battle.’
‘I find it interesting, Soren,’ said Rabigar, ‘how you distinguish yourself from the likes of Elana. It is obvious to us all that you both have special, extraordinary powers at your disposal. Elana freely admits that her powers come from a superhuman being, her goddess Madria, yet you say your powers all come from within. We Krykkers have long held the belief that there can be no such distinction. Whether you know it or not, your powers have been given to you by spirits not of this world, in just the same way as Elana’s. I do not agree with allowing interference into our world from unknown forces outside it, however well-meaning your intentions. It is dangerous.’
Kaved made one of his smirks at this statement. ‘All that rather depends on what you call extraordinary powers, does it not, Rabigar?’ he asked enigmatically.
Rabigar shrugged the question off.
‘Well, it is certainly dangerous,’ Soren replied to Rabigar. ‘You have all witnessed that. As for the powers coming from outside forces, that is very far from the truth. They come at a considerable cost to myself.’
Rabigar didn’t reply, and the group rode on in silence for some time.
Elana insisted that, for Soren’s sake, it would be best if they had a brief rest for lunch, but they were all soon back in the saddle again. The nature of the Great Road meant that they were eating up the miles, and Gyrmund suggested that they might even make it to Barissia by the end of the day.
It was mid-afternoon when the group came upon the lone rider sat on his horse by the side of the road. Up to now travellers on the Great Road had done their best to politely avoid coming into contact with the strange mixture of heavily-armed men, women and Krykkers. Belwynn could sense them speculating about what business she and her companions were up to, but it seemed that none of them wanted to find out. Merchants would do their best to avoid looking anyone in the eye, and noble retinues, using the Great Road to travel from one estate to the next, would grudgingly allow them space on it.
As Gyrmund and Rabigar approached the stranger, it seemed that, contrary to previous experience, this man was actually waiting for them to arrive. He had a stunning appearance, jet black hair down to the nape of his neck, a black silk cloak which reached to his knees, and the most expensive-looking stallion Belwynn had ever seen.
What really drew attention, however, were his eyes. They were red.
Belwynn had never seen anything like it. Deep red eyes, as if they were on fire, and they were looking at the approaching group with an unreadable expression. Belwynn sensed power in this man.
He’s a wizard, Belwynn almost hissed to Soren, as if, by thinking too loudly, Red-Eyes would hear it.
Yes. A powerful one. We’re going to have to be very careful here.
‘Well met, friend,’ Gyrmund greeted him nonchalantly, as if he had already met a dozen red-eyed travellers on the road that day. It was a neutral welcome, except for the fact that Herin, Clarin and Kaved had all ridden from the back of the line to the front, hands stroking the inches of air separating them from the hilts of their weapons.
The man smiled, a friendly smile, revealing white, polished teeth. ‘Well met, friends,’ he began, his voice strong, resonant and confident. ‘I saw you approaching and wondered if I might accompany you along the road for a short
while. I fear it can be dangerous to travel on one’s own these days.’
The words raised Belwynn’s concerns higher. It seemed that little in this world could provide much of a danger to this man.
‘We travel alone,’ said Herin coldly, not fearing to stare into those red eyes for signs of dissent.
Before the stranger could respond, however, Soren contradicted Herin’s decision. ‘I think in this case we could make an exception, Herin. It will not cost us anything to travel with an extra companion for a short time.’
Herin looked at Soren. Belwynn knew that her brother was probably the only person that Herin might allow to overrule him. With a raised eyebrow, he conceded to his wishes.
‘If you think so, Soren,’ he said.
‘You are all most gracious,’ said Red-Eyes, inclining his head, as if he were oblivious to any undercurrent of tension in the group. ‘My name is Pentas. I am pleased to meet you all.’
Soren introduced himself and his companions, using their real names, which raised further eyebrows, but no comment from the rest of the group. ‘Where are you headed?’ he enquired of Pentas.
‘To Persala,’ he replied, ‘I felt that I must return to my home there, because of all the recent troubles.’
‘What troubles are those?’ asked Belwynn. ‘I’m afraid we’ve heard little of events to the north in recent days.’
Pentas nodded, though Belwynn thought he looked a little surprised. ‘Well then, I must report to you that Trevenza and Grienna have broken away from Persala in a pact of independence. I fear that war must be inevitable. Of course, such a situation will be of more concern to myself than to a Magnian.’
Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga Page 13
