They rode on. Afternoon was turning into evening, but it was a fine summer’s day and Belwynn knew that they wouldn’t be saved by the drawing in of the night. It didn’t seem like they would reach Kelland before the end of the day either. As each minute passed, things got a bit more desperate. When she looked back she saw that a smaller group of riders, about half a dozen, had detached itself from the main group and were gaining on them much faster. As soon as this front group caught up with them they would be forced to stop, and then the main group would be on them too.
Ahead, Gyrmund began to slow down.
‘What is it?’ shouted Herin.
‘Soldiers.’
‘Barissians?’ Belwynn asked. ‘How could they have got ahead of us?’
‘Not sure who they are,’ said Gyrmund.
They trotted forwards, unsure whether they were about to be trapped between two forces and if they should make a break for it across country.
Belwynn peered over Moneva’s shoulder to take a look. There was a sizeable force of riders spread across the track and to either side of it, at least as many as the chasing Barissians, who were now catching up fast. This second force wasn’t moving, however. They seemed content to watch.
Belwynn turned around. The leading group of six riders were very close now; she could make out their individual faces.
‘We’ve got to do something!’ she said.
‘Let’s risk it, then!’ replied Moneva.
Moneva spurred her horse on towards the waiting group of soldiers.
‘Moneva, wait!’ shouted Gyrmund, but she ignored him.
Sitting at the front, a few feet ahead of his troops, seemed to be the leader of the small force. He was approaching middle age, had close-cropped black hair and stubble. Neither he nor his soldiers wore any identifiable markings—just simple-looking leather armour—but their weapons and their horses looked expensive enough.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Moneva.
It was a little too bold an opening for Belwynn’s taste, and the man seemed to think so, too, as he reacted with a frown and a half smile.
‘I am Walter, Marshal of the Empire,’ he replied. ‘And I was wondering who you might be, too.’
‘Thank the gods!’ declared Moneva and rode the short distance over towards him.
Some of Walter’s troops moved forward, as if they saw Moneva as a threat, but he held up an arm and they stayed in position. Gyrmund and the others, hearing his reply, joined them. Meanwhile, the first six riders of the Barissians had pulled up, looking warily at Walter’s war band themselves.
Walter? Isn’t that Baldwin’s brother? Belwynn asked Soren.
Yes, he replied. We may have just been saved.
‘We’ve just escaped from Coldeberg,’ said Moneva, apparently neither shy nor hesitant about explaining the situation to him. ‘Those are Barissian soldiers after us. Did you know that Emeric has made himself king?’
‘Yes, I had heard,’ replied Walter, still finding something amusing about the encounter. ‘That’s kind of why I’m in the area.’
The rest of the Barissians had now caught up with the lead group, and they sat as their mounts drew breath, staring balefully at Belwynn and the rest of them. One of them trotted forwards from the group, stopping when he reached the halfway point between the two forces. He had a mean-looking scar from ear to chin and sat there, an air of confidence about him.
‘Salvinus!’ hissed Gyrmund.
This was the man they had been chasing? Belwynn felt almost pleased to finally put a face to the name.
‘Have you come for a fight, Salvinus?’ Herin shouted towards him. ‘I’m ready for you, if so.’
Soren had to reach over a restraining hand to stop Herin moving forwards. Belwynn wondered if Herin would have been quite so full of machismo if he wasn’t sitting with about fifty imperial soldiers. He probably would, she decided.
Salvinus ignored Herin’s invitation.
‘Walter,’ he said, nodding at the marshal.
‘Gervase,’ came the reply.
Suddenly Belwynn was filled with doubt. They were on first name terms. Might they be allies?
‘This group you’ve apprehended are escaped prisoners from Coldeberg. They tried to assassinate Emeric today. I am taking them back there.’
‘Indeed, so they tell me. Why don’t you tell me something, Gervase? Did they try to kill Duke Emeric or King Emeric?’
‘King Emeric.’
‘Indeed. That puts a rather different perspective on the situation.’
‘I don’t see what it has to do with it.’
‘You don’t see?’ Walter’s tone moved from genial to outraged in three words. ‘You don’t see how that makes him a traitor?’
For the first time Salvinus looked a bit disconcerted. He tried to shrug the issue away. ‘A title is a title, to me. I know that Emeric meant no offence to Baldwin over it. He still recognises his authority as his liege lord and emperor.’
‘A subject receives his title from the emperor. He doesn’t presume to take one himself. We both know what Emeric has done, so don’t play the innocent, Gervase.’
‘Look,’ said Gervase, still all reasonable. ‘That business needs to be settled between Emeric and Baldwin. Fair enough. Our business here is about these prisoners. You’re on Barissian soil; that can be overlooked. But you don’t want to get personally involved in this, Walter. You don’t want to make a personal enemy of Emeric. Believe me.’
‘He doesn’t want us,’ said Soren. ‘He wants something we have. I think Emperor Baldwin would be very interested in it.’
Walter raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Thing is, Gervase, I’m on Imperial soil, and I’m Marshal of the Empire. Unless you want to make a fight of it, which I don’t recommend, you’ll have to run back to Emeric without your prisoners. And you can take him some personal advice from me. He better come crawling to Essenberg with an apology soon if he wants to keep his duchy.’
‘This is very stupid, Walter,’ said Gervase, at last flashing some anger of his own. ‘We’ll get what we want in the end. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’
‘Oh, you might be surprised about what I know,’ responded the Marshal.
Gervase turned his horse around and left without another word.
He passed his men and carried on back down the track towards Coldeberg. Turning their mounts around, the rest of the Barissians followed him. Belwynn and the others watched them go until they were left alone with Walter and his soldiers.
‘Thank you so much,’ said Belwynn to him, meaning every word.
‘Well, you’re welcome. This has been an unexpected end to the day. But I should warn you, based on what I’ve just heard, the Emperor and his ministers will want to hear about this. If you were planning on going to Essenberg anyway, well that’s just fine, and we can all stay friends. But if you had other plans, I have to tell you, they’ve been changed. You’re coming with me to see my brother. Whether you like it or not.’
‘It was Kaved,’ said Moneva. ‘He betrayed us to Salvinus.’
The inquisition had begun, then. And maybe the recriminations.
Yesterday Walter had taken them another two miles along the track to his camp, and most of them had collapsed into the beds he had provided for them without saying a word to each other. Belwynn certainly had. But now that they had slept and Walter had seen to it that they were provided with some army rations for breakfast, she got the feeling that the talking would start. Personally, Belwynn didn’t have much appetite for either.
Everyone had taken up a seat around a dead fire as Walter’s men broke up camp and prepared to set off for Essenberg. Herin was grim faced. Rabigar had been treated again by Elana, and she had cleaned the eye up a lot, so that it didn’t look half as bad as yes
terday. It still looked terrible, though. She wondered why they hadn’t covered it with anything. But why should he? To make Belwynn feel better?
‘How do you know?’ asked Gyrmund.
‘He came in as Belwynn was entertaining Emeric,’ said Clarin, who recounted the brief adventures of Tivian and Ariella.
Gyrmund’s eyes opened wide.
‘Yes,’ said Clarin with a chuckle, ‘you missed out on some fun there, Gyrmund.’
‘So Kaved’s still alive, then?’ Gyrmund asked.
‘Yes,’ said Herin, his voice steely, ‘but I’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done.’
‘Why did you bring him?’ asked Rabigar. His voice sounded like he looked: injured, and hurt. ‘I knew he couldn’t be trusted...’
Belwynn felt desperately sorry for the Krykker, but she felt sorry for Herin, too. He could hardly look at Rabigar, but he made himself.
‘I’m sorry, Rabigar. I swear to you: I’ll make him pay. I’ll get revenge.’
That was perhaps the first apology Belwynn had ever heard Herin make. She could tell that there was a part of him who wanted to turn around and head straight back to Coldeberg right now.
‘Why did you ask me to come with you? Why didn’t I say no and stay where I was?’
Rabigar sounded miserable. In mourning. Elana had apparently stopped the pain from his eye, but she couldn’t heal the loss he was suffering. That would take time, but right now it was raw and there for all to see.
‘I’m sorry,’ repeated Herin, his mouth dry. ‘What else can I say?’
There was a horrible silence. Eventually Soren filled it.
‘So, you know what happened to us; our meeting with Emeric. What about the rest of you?’
‘Moneva freed us,’ began Gyrmund, ‘she won’t tell us how...’
Moneva shrugged. ‘Getting into places without being seen is what I do. Carry on with the story.’
‘Then Dirk found us,’ continued Gyrmund. ‘He told us you were upstairs and that he knew the way to a postern gate on the north side of the castle. We agreed that some of us needed to get out and pick up the horses or we’d never get far, even if we did make it out of the castle. We had to risk going back to the Boot and Saddle.’
True enough, considered Belwynn; without the horses they would almost certainly be dead by now. They would also have needed to get Rabigar out at that point. She shuddered to think what state he would have been in.
‘He then saw this soldier he recognised,’ said Gyrmund, handing this part of the story over to Dirk.
‘Do you remember the soldier who took us to Orlin’s rooms?’ asked Dirk.
‘Yes...Dom, wasn’t it?’ said Belwynn. ‘A funny little chap.’
‘Well,’ said Dirk, ‘Gyrmund had put on a soldier’s uniform, so I told him to ask Dom to help him take some prisoners back to see Salvinus.’
A soldier’s uniform taken from some dead soldier Moneva killed, no doubt, Belwynn said to Soren.
She got them out, didn’t she? he replied.
‘He was a very helpful fellow,’ said Gyrmund. ‘We walked straight out through the gatehouse entrance; Dom did all the talking for us. When we got to the Boot and Saddle we went straight for the stables. I don’t know if Salvinus or his men were still there, in the building or out the back. Didn’t seem like it. No-one came out to challenge us, anyway. We simply rode out and carried on through the West Gate.’
‘What about Dom?’ asked Belwynn. She was soft, she knew, but she didn’t want them to have harmed him.
Gyrmund smiled and shook his head. ‘We gathered up six of the horses. I told him that they were the prisoners’ horses and that Salvinus would want to inspect them. When we rode off we left him standing there, a puzzled expression on his face.’
‘Well, thanks for coming back for us,’ said Belwynn.
‘Yeah,’ said Clarin, ‘and at least we know we can trust Dirk now after the dagger thing.’
‘What dagger thing?’ asked Gyrmund, frowning.
Clarin shook his head. ‘I clean forgot,’ he said, ‘most of you still don’t know!’
‘Don’t know what?’ said Herin through gritted teeth.
Belwynn suddenly had a bad feeling.
‘Dirk had it all along!’ said Clarin, seemingly oblivious that this might not go down too well.
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Herin, his voice getting loud, ‘what do you mean he had it all along?’
The two brothers both looked at Dirk.
‘I...I stole it from Toric’s Temple before Salvinus got there. He never had it.’
Herin slowly stood up. ‘You mean all this,’ he said, waving his arms around, ‘all this happened because they knew we had the dagger? You let us blunder into Coldeberg unprepared when you knew they would be after us?’
He began walking towards Dirk and slid his sword from its sheath as he did.
‘Herin, that isn’t getting us anywhere!’ shouted Belwynn.
Clarin quickly shot up and moved between Dirk and his brother.
‘Get out of my way, you idiot!’
‘No, Herin.’
Herin pointed his sword at him.
‘Get. Out. Of my fucking way.’
Clarin drew his own sword. ‘You’re not getting near him.’
It was said in a matter-of-fact way, but Belwynn had rarely heard Clarin deny his older brother anything. The two men stared at each other.
‘This is ridiculous,’ began Gyrmund.
‘Shut up,’ Herin interrupted him.
‘I told him not to tell anyone,’ said Elana, quietly.
Everyone turned to look at her.
‘You knew all along, too?’ demanded Herin, still brandishing his sword.
‘When Dirk told me, I wasn’t sure if we could trust everyone. He has kept it out of the hands of Ishari. That’s the most important thing.’
‘But we were supposed to be taking the dagger back to Magnia,’ said Soren. He looked angry himself now, just in a more controlled way than Herin. ‘That was what the rest of us were trying to do. You weren’t, though. Were you ever going to tell us you had it, I wonder? I don’t see how you dare talk about trust.’
Elana nodded. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. If you had found out that Dirk had the dagger, you would have insisted on taking it back to the Temple. It wasn’t safe there. Ishari would have just come back for it.’
There was clearly something in what the priestess was saying, Belwynn had to admit.
‘So where should the dagger go?’ she asked Elana, intrigued.
‘I don’t know where, exactly, for sure,’ began Elana apologetically.
‘I’m not listening to any more of this,’ said Herin. ‘She’s either got a screw loose or she’s lying. If you were a man I’d have given you a smack in the teeth by now.’
Herin’s temper tantrum was really irritating Belwynn now, but she held her tongue.
‘Madria doesn’t tell me everything!’ Elana tried to explain. ‘She speaks to me in visions, in instinct. I know that Dirk should have the dagger. I know that we should be going to Essenberg, not back to Magnia. I don’t understand everything that is happening, though.’
It sounded heartfelt enough, but it left everything totally in the dark nonetheless.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Belwynn.
Everyone looked at each other; no-one seemed to have a quick answer. Soren puffed out his cheeks and let out a deep breath.
‘It looks like we’re going to Essenberg, anyway. It may not be a bad thing that the Emperor hears about all of this. After that...we’ll have to wait and see.’
‘In the meantime, are we trusting this little shit with the dagger?’ demanded Herin, pointing his sword at Dirk.
�
��He hasn’t behaved as if he’s working for Ishari, Herin,’ Soren said mildly. ‘In fact, quite the opposite.’
‘No, not at all,’ responded Herin sarcastically. ‘He’s only robbed our nation’s treasure and taken it to Coldeberg.’
‘Well,’ said Soren, losing patience, ‘do you want it?’
‘I don’t particularly want the thing,’ snarled Herin, taken aback a little, ‘I just don’t want him to have it a moment longer. You take it, Soren.’
‘Shush,’ said Moneva, flicking her eyes over to the side.
Belwynn looked over and saw Walter approaching. He and a few of his men were leading some horses over. Nine in all.
‘Morning,’ he said, looking around the group. That faint smile hovered at the corner of his mouth again. Had he heard any of their conversation? Belwynn wondered what he was thinking.
‘I’ve brought over your mounts for the ride to Essenberg, plus three spares.’
He seemed to be the kind of person who never went anywhere without spares of anything. Belwynn guessed that probably made him a good general.
‘We owe you thanks,’ said Soren. ‘Not only for the horses.’
‘Well,’ replied Walter, ‘when we got word of Emeric’s coronation, my brother sent me off to investigate and bring back intelligence. Potentially a dangerous mission. We’re both lucky that one of my scouts spotted you when he did. You’re my intelligence. So thank you for showing up when you did. Are you all ready to ride?’ he asked, his eyes lingering over Rabigar and his damaged face.
‘Aye,’ said the Krykker. ‘I think we’ve done enough blathering here.’
They had a full day’s ride ahead of them to reach Essenberg. It was another clear day, and everyone seemed confident that they would be sleeping indoors tonight. Everyone seemed to have had enough talk for a while, and they mostly rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and not necessarily the cheery ones. Herin brooded over Kaved’s betrayal, and Clarin, who had stood up to his brother earlier, was unusually quiet. Rabigar was distant and withdrawn. Soren was dealing with his own inner demons over the loss of his magical powers since the fight in the Wilderness—an issue that he had kept from everybody except Belwynn. Dirk, who for now still kept Toric’s Dagger in his possession, also looked troubled. Gyrmund and Moneva were perhaps the only exceptions, talking quietly to each other every now and again. No doubt Gyrmund felt some relief at no longer having to think about where they were going or worry about enemies behind or ahead. Walter was in charge today, and the marshal seemed happy enough to leave them alone as long as they didn’t cause him trouble.
Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga Page 21
