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

by Jamie Edmundson

  It was another few minutes before everyone was ready to walk the short distance to Edeleny. Dirk said he felt better, but he was still pale and fragile-looking. They connected to the road, and as they walked, Belwynn began to get a better view of the capital.

  It was smaller by far than human cities such as Essenberg or Coldeberg, but Edeleny did stretch out over a reasonably large area. The buildings were bigger and more substantial-looking than she had seen elsewhere in the lands of the Caladri. They began to walk past small, one-storey houses, made from timber with thatched roofs. They all had the same conical shape and were virtually identical in size. Kelemen had intimated that wizards would arrive here from all over the lands of the Grand Caladri to work together in its defence. Belwynn wondered whether some of the accommodation they passed was built to house visitors to the capital, rather than serving as people’s permanent homes.

  Belwynn regularly caught glimpses of the taller buildings of the settlement, which all had a central location. These were white in colour, looking as if they had been made of marble. It gave them a delicate, ethereal look. As they neared, Belwynn found that many had been constructed in and around trees. Tree trunks and branches somehow mingled with the white walls of the buildings. It looked as if the Caladri had used the trunks as central pillars for construction. The wide, strong branches were used to build the floors of the buildings. The largest had many floors, each with wide windows that allowed Belwynn to see through and get a look at the interior.

  There was little sign of habitation. Some looked like industrial buildings, with spinning machines inside. Gyrmund brushed his hand along one of the white walls, then gave it a knock.

  ‘Wooden,’ he said, when he noticed Belwynn taking an interest. ‘It looks like it’s been treated with some substance that turns it white and reinforces it.’ He gave it another slap. ‘It feels as strong as stone.’

  They began to pass other Caladri, all of whom seemed busy on some errand. Some were guiding others to various locations; others carried food, or wooden boxes.

  None of them carry weapons, or wear armour, Belwynn said to Soren.

  They seem totally confident in their magical defences, he replied. I fear it is over-confidence.

  The main road they were walking on now joined into a central square, which had three other roads running off it at parallel points. The square surrounded by the roads seemed to be a gathering place, mostly covered in grass; wooden seats and a garden were located in the middle. At its centre, a fountain sprayed water into the air in beautiful, frothy arcs. But no one talked by the fountain or walked through the gardens now.

  Kelemen pointed to a large, one-storey building roughly opposite them.

  ‘That is Onella’s Temple,’ he said. ‘Her staff lies there.’

  Built of the white wood material, the temple consisted of a number of wings connected to each other at right angles, so that it took up a large amount of space on the ground.

  ‘We are going to the Temenos,’ continued Kelemen, this time pointing to a building sited on the left-hand side of the square. This had been constructed around one huge tree, which rose up through the centre and was the tallest building in the complex, presumably consisting of many floors. It was cylindrical in shape, the white wood punctured in various places to allow certain branches of the tree to continue out of the structure. The tree, and quite possibly the building, must have been hundreds of years old. The building gave off an aura, almost as if the presence of the tree meant that the whole building was alive.

  Outside, eight Caladri soldiers stood guard. They wore brightly-polished armour and carried impossibly long pikes, at least twenty feet in length, all held at the same angle. They looked straight ahead and were perfectly still, as if they were not living creatures but statues. The spikes and blades on the end of the pikes looked viciously sharp. They were the first soldiers Belwynn had seen in the lands of the Grand Caladri, but their presence seemed as much ceremonial as practical.

  The large wooden doors of the circular building were open, and as Kelemen approached them another Caladri came out to meet them. He wore a plain white outfit and had white hair which was tied up in a ponytail.

  ‘Hurry!’ he said, jerking his arm vigorously to get them into the building. He then stopped short as he noticed the strangers in his capital.

  ‘What are they doing here?’ he demanded, sounding almost hysterical.

  ‘They are messengers from Baldwin of Kelland,’ explained Kelemen, not looking happy at how he was being addressed. ‘Lorant of the Blood Caladri sent them here.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Belwynn asked Ignac in a whisper.

  ‘That is Agoston, one of our elders,’ replied the Caladri.

  ‘...haven’t got time,’ Agoston was saying, lecturing Kelemen. ‘Whatever Baldwin and Lorant have to say isn’t going to change anything.’

  ‘I have spoken to these people myself,’ replied Kelemen, standing his ground. ‘I believe that Lady Onella has directed them here.’

  In the end Kelemen got his way. The white-haired Caladri elder waved all of them in.

  XXV

  The Temenos

  The Temenos was unlike anything Belwynn had ever seen. The whole of the ground floor was taken up by one large circular room, while a flight of stairs twisted around the wall to the next level. The great trunk of the tree rose up in the middle of the floor and carried on through a massive hole in the ceiling. Around the circumference of the trunk, a large circular table had been constructed. Nearly a hundred Caladri sat at chairs around the table. All the chairs seemed to be filled. There was a mixture of Caladri: old and young, male and female; all sat calmly, as if in meditation. Some had their eyes closed; others had their eyes fixed on the giant tree in front of them. Agoston led them around the table and took them upstairs to the next floor.

  As they ascended, Belwynn noted that two great branches of the tree stretched along the full length of the ceiling. She surmised that the Caladri must have shaped the growth of this giant tree over the years to suit the design of their building.

  ‘Well, this is peculiar,’ Belwynn heard Clarin mutter ahead as he reached the next floor. When Belwynn got sight of the room, she had to agree. It was set up in an identical fashion to the room below. Most of the chairs around the table were filled with Caladri sitting quietly at the table.

  Are they all wizards? she asked Soren.

  There was no answer. She looked behind her. Soren was staring at the room. She sighed. Sometimes he would nod or shake his head in answer to a question without realising that she couldn’t see it.

  Are you going to answer me? she demanded testily.

  Sorry. Yes, all of them are wizards. Some will be very powerful, some less so. I’m just wondering how many floors there are. I’ve never imagined this many wizards present all in one place.

  It looked like Soren would find out. Up they went, past the third to the fourth floor, each room identical, except that the trunk of the tree became gradually narrower and the rooms therefore slightly less cramped. On the fourth floor there was a group of empty chairs, and here Kelemen’s group of wizards, including Ignac, took their seats.

  Agoston led the rest of them all the way up to the seventh and final floor. Kelemen turned to them.

  ‘The Grand Caladri are unlike most other peoples. We have no kings or emperors to rule over us. We make our own decisions. But we do have three elders in our society: the wisest of our people who reside in Edeleny to guide our affairs. These are the people who wear the white. They must hear what you have learned about the weapons of Onella.’

  The last step brought them into the highest room in the Temenos. The tree was thinner at this height, which meant that there was a bit more space around the edges of the room. This was taken up by shelves, mostly containing books and scrolls of parchment. There were only about thirty C
aladri here.

  Two of them stood away from the table, wearing the same white garments as Agoston. They were facing the direction of the stairs, as if waiting for their arrival.

  Agoston spoke with his comrades. ‘Kelemen intercepted this group on his way here. He insists we need to listen to them.’

  One of them, a brown-haired man with fierce eyebrows, riled at the suggestion.

  ‘The attack has begun. We need to respond now.’

  ‘They should go,’ said the second, a woman who held her chin so high it gave her an arrogant demeanour. ‘They could interfere.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have brought them here if I didn’t think it was important,’ said Kelemen, holding his ground.

  ‘Very well, Kelemen,’ the first man responded. He turned to face them. ‘We still have our manners, even on a day like this. My name is Odon. This is Dorottya. We will hear your news.’

  Elana spoke to them, explaining her relationship to Madria as clearly as she could. The three elders seemed to listen to what she said. Dirk produced the dagger, and it was briefly passed around.

  ‘Clearly this information is important,’ said Odon when Elana had finished. ‘Our current situation makes it clear that we are as guilty as anyone else of underestimating the threat from Ishari. We have been deceived, or deceived ourselves. The other weapons should be found and brought together again.’

  ‘We can discuss this further after the attack,’ Agoston added.

  ‘No,’ said Elana, surprising Belwynn with her defiance. ‘There is no time to lose. We must take the Staff now, before it is lost to Ishari.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Odon reassuringly. ‘They have an army out there, but it won’t be able to get into our lands. If they try to invade, we will ensure that they wander in our forest, lost, until they drop from exhaustion.’

  ‘You are missing the point,’ interrupted Soren. ‘Erkindrix can call on far more wizards from Ishari than even you can muster on your own. I fear that your defences will not hold against a committed attack. You need to prepare your military forces as well.’

  ‘This is nonsense,’ said Dorottya. ‘Our defences have never been broken. If Ishari attacked us with all of their wizards, they would suffer as well. Wizards from both sides would perish. What would they have to gain from that? They are testing our defences, that is all. But they will find them as robust as ever.’

  ‘We have not threatened them,’ Agoston added. ‘We have remained uninvolved in their affairs for centuries.’

  ‘But,’ argued Kelemen, ‘the objective of Erkindrix has now changed. He wants all of Dalriya. Including our lands. He may well be prepared to lose some of his forces to defeat us. What if he did? Our people in the north would be totally defenceless. We must take action now. Give the order to raise an army to meet the invaders.’

  ‘Listen, Kelemen,’ said Odon. ‘Our magic is our only hope. Do you know what waits for us on the northern border? Drobax. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands. If you raised an army, you couldn’t stop them anyway. When was the last time the Grand Caladri fought in a war? We must rely on our magic. It has ever been thus, because we cannot hope to match them any other way.’

  ‘Then evacuate,’ said Rabigar. ‘Tell your people in the north to move south now. Get a message to the Krykkers. They will take your people in. But you must do something. It is your duty to protect your people.’

  ‘Don’t tell us how to protect our people, Krykker,’ said Agoston angrily. ‘You do not understand magic and so cannot understand how strong our defences are.’

  ‘This is getting us nowhere,’ insisted Kelemen. ‘Authorise me to raise an army and begin evacuations. If you can stop the invasion here, well and good. But let me put a contingency plan into operation.’

  ‘If you wish to leave we cannot stop you, Kelemen,’ said Odon. ‘Though we could do with your help here. And that of your wizards.’

  Kelemen nodded. ‘I will give them a free choice. They may stay here or come with me.’

  Odon spread open his hands, as if there was nothing more he could do or say.

  ‘You are free to go, Kelemen. But these visitors and their weapon must remain. We cannot afford to let it leave. It must be properly examined.’

  ‘You can’t keep us here!’ shouted Herin, his hand moving to his sword hilt.

  Odon turned to him. ‘This is the safest place in Dalriya. Until we decide what should be done about the dagger you have, here it stays. You are guests here, not prisoners.’

  Belwynn and the others looked to Soren for a lead. He shrugged. ‘Very well, we stay.’

  Herin didn’t like it; nor did Gyrmund and Moneva. But they trusted Soren enough to follow his lead.

  Soren turned to Kelemen and held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

  Kelemen took his hand. He nodded to the others. ‘I wish it hadn’t turned out this way. But if the worst should happen and Ishari breaks through, know that your coming here will have helped to save some lives.’

  With that, Kelemen turned away and left. Belwynn watched him go, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She then turned back to the Caladri elders. Agoston was instructing a couple of Caladri to fetch something from a corner of the room.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘that this room is not very comfortable for you. But it is the best place for you to stay for now. We do have some refreshments, however.’

  A couple of Caladri men brought over some trays containing biscuits, fruit and jugs of water.

  ‘We must resume our places at the table for now,’ Odon explained.

  Soren sat down on the floor. Reluctantly, Belwynn and the others did the same, though Herin muttered darkly about their predicament. Belwynn herself was worried about the turn of events, though curious about what they would see take place in this room. She knew that Soren’s curiosity would be tenfold. She also knew that he still hoped for a magical healing of his overextension. He would never get a better chance than this, in the presence of hundreds of Caladri wizards. Soren was clearly happy enough to stay here for now, but the threat from Ishari hung heavy in the air.

  Others weren’t so happy to stay.

  ‘This building might become the site of a battle,’ Gyrmund whispered to the group, ‘and the fact that it would be a magical one doesn’t make me feel any better, since Toric only knows what that will involve.’

  ‘Let’s see what happens,’ Belwynn whispered back. ‘We can always try to escape if we need to.’

  They sat in silence, watching the wizards on the top floor prepare the defences of their realm. Belwynn wondered whether this group somehow channelled the power of everyone else in the building and sent it out to hold up the barrier around the forest.

  After a short period, perhaps only half an hour, the Caladri around the table began murmuring to themselves. Belwynn sensed an intensification in the atmosphere throughout the building.

  ‘It’s started,’ said Soren quietly, but so that the whole group could hear. ‘The forces of Ishari must have decided to try to break open the barrier and let their soldiers in. I suspect that they have gathered a large group of their own wizards together somewhere in order to do so.’

  The Caladri were now in full concentration on their purpose. Odon sat still, palms flat on the table and eyes open, staring forward at the tree in front of him. Other magicians held a different pose. Some had eyes closed, some leaned forward, and some muttered chains of words under their breath. Belwynn felt goose pimples on her skin as the magic being deployed in the building rose to new heights. Her companions sensed it, too. Their expressions ranged from disapproval on Rabigar’s face to exhilaration on the face of her brother.

  Somebody began shouting on one of the floors below. It didn’t stop, a lone Caladri voice wailing and crying out.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demande
d Herin, his voice on edge.

  ‘They will soon start to suffer,’ said Soren. ‘The longer this goes on, the more casualties will be taken on each side. Clarin, have a look below, will you?’

  Clarin stomped off down the stairs. Belwynn studied the faces of the Caladri magicians around the table and could see the strain starting to show. Sweat began to run down the side of Agoston’s head. Others frowned in concentration or clenched their teeth. A number looked like they were in pain. As the minutes went by other noises from below added to the wailing. Shouts of pain, muffled grunts, and bangs. The magic battle did not seem to relent, however.

  There was a sudden bang on their floor. Belwynn looked for the source of the noise and saw that it was the head of one of the wizards, cracking onto the table. He now sat there, not moving at all.

  ‘What happened to him?’ asked Moneva, fear plain in her voice.

  ‘Most likely dead,’ said Soren, a strange tone to his voice. ‘They’re starting to get drained of all they have. I think they should stop. I’m not sure that they can keep Ishari out.’

  Clarin re-emerged from downstairs. ‘It’s worse down there.’

  Soren stood up. ‘Stop!’ he shouted in Odon’s direction. ‘You are taking too many casualties.’

  For a few seconds it seemed that the Caladri elder was too involved to reply. But then his voice rasped out, ‘Then so are they!’

  It was impossible for Belwynn to know whether Odon was right about the Isharites, but she could tell that the pressure on the Caladri did not seem to relent. Individual wizards continued to fall, now on the top floor as well as below. One of them suddenly started screaming, her hands gripping the sides of her head and her eyes bulging out. Another jerked backwards as if physically pushed. He fell back in his chair to collapse in a heap on the floor. Yet another simply crumpled down, head resting on arms as if he had suddenly gone to sleep.