Belwynn and the others were now standing up, the deaths around them becoming unbearable.
‘Let’s get out of here now,’ advised Gyrmund. ‘They’re losing and there’s nothing we can do to help.’
Belwynn felt that he was right. Up to a quarter of the Caladri magicians on their floor were either dead or broken. She sensed that the situation was even worse on the floors below. As each magician fell, their ability to resist Ishari must surely be diminishing.
Then there was a sudden burst of power. The whole building was rocked by it. Some of the Caladri were thrown backwards from the table. Others shouted at each other or screamed in terror. Agoston, the white-haired elder who had led them upstairs, stood up.
Bolts of magic shot out from his outstretched hands, striking the ceiling and the walls of the room. His face was stuck in a grimace as he began to stagger around the room, with no control over his movements. Those Caladri who could were standing up and moving away from the table.
It looked like they had lost. Ishari had broken through the defences and had killed about half of the Grand Caladri’s best wizards in the process.
Then Soren leapt forward. Agoston’s magic was still draining out of him in an uncontrolled way, fortunately not striking anyone since his hands were in the air. Soren rushed over and seized his hands.
Belwynn looked on in dread. Soren cried out in pain as the magic entered his body. His body began to shake. But after a moment, his expression gradually changed, until it was one of exultation.
‘Yes!’ he cried out, ‘oh, yes!’
Agoston’s magic continued to pump into him. Soren must have been able, somehow, to control and direct the magic into restoring his own powers.
He shouted out again, a wordless cry of delight as his eyes shone with ecstasy. Belwynn was a swirl of emotions, deeply disturbed by what she was witnessing and only too aware that the others were watching it too. She felt like she no longer recognised her own brother: his facial expression, his voice, were somehow different. At the same time, she knew how much this meant to Soren and a part of her could be happy for him.
Agoston’s body fell to the floor, a discarded husk that her brother had sucked dry.
Belwynn looked around. The others were staring at her brother, fear and even loathing in their faces at what they had seen. Even Clarin looked at Soren with something approaching disgust.
Elsewhere, those Caladri magicians who had kept their sanity and their lives were rushing down the stairs to evacuate the building. Others lay dead, or twitching, or still sat in their chairs, screaming out their madness.
‘Let’s go,’ Belwynn shouted desperately.
The others reacted to her voice, and they all made their way to the stairs. Belwynn went over to grab Soren and pulled him along.
The defeat of the Grand Caladri had engendered a sense of panic in the building. Surviving wizards scrambled down the stairs in a hurry, tripping over each other to leave. The feeling spread to Belwynn and her companions as well. Herin and Clarin barged ahead at the front, while Belwynn and Soren brought up the rear. It was silly, really, thought Belwynn. The defences had been broken and the Ishari army of Drobax could now invade. But that army was miles to the north. On the fourth floor she looked for Ignac, but couldn’t see him. Perhaps he had left with Kelemen. Then a thought struck her.
Soren, she said.
Yes, he replied. His mind still seemed foggy with euphoria.
The forces of Ishari can now enter the forest. Does that mean that they can teleport into Edeleny like we did?
Soren paused while he thought about it. When he replied, the fogginess had left his thoughts, as if he had been suddenly sobered up from too much drink.
Yes. They have more magic users than the Grand Caladri. Although the battle will have been draining, some of them may still be strong enough to teleport. They may even have kept a fresh force of them ready for such a purpose.
Nexodore knew we had the dagger, said Belwynn. They might know that the staff is here.
You’re right, said Soren. We need to get it and get out of here as soon as possible.
They reached the ground floor of the Temenos and ran for the exit. Caladri wizards lay dead or broken on the floor.
They rushed through the front doors of the building, still guarded by the eight Caladri pikemen, before nearly crashing into the others who had come to an abrupt stop.
Belwynn’s worst fears were already realised. In the distance, on the far side of the city square, a small force from Ishari was gathering. Perhaps forty of them. They had already arrived and would soon be heading their way. The Grand Caladri wizards were running in the opposite direction. Their clawed feet allowed them to sprint away at an incredible speed. All of them had decided to run, except for Odon the elder, who faced the invaders alone.
He turned around to look at them. ‘Flee. Everyone must flee. We cannot win this battle now. You cannot be captured with the dagger in your possession.’
‘Onella’s Staff,’ said Soren. ‘It must be made safe.’
Odon nodded. ‘Dorottya has gone to get it. She will take it away from here.’
Only Odon and the eight pikemen remained to defend Edeleny. Those who still could were running into the forest. These survivors would be needed to defend their people. But Belwynn was in no doubt that the forces of Ishari would hunt them down and the Drobax would come. Whatever makeshift army Kelemen could raise wouldn’t be able to stop them.
‘To the Temple,’ Soren said to the group.
For a moment, they hesitated. Soren’s performance in the Temenos had lost him the unquestioning trust of the group. But Belwynn followed her brother, as did Elana and Dirk, until the whole group began to follow the path around to the left, where the Temple stood.
Soren looked across the square behind them and took a sharp inhale of breath.
‘It’s Arioc himself,’ he said.
XXVI
Onella’s Temple
Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked in the same direction. Striding ahead of the group of Isharites who had been transported into Edeleny was Arioc: King of Haskany, member of the Council of Seven, second in command to Erkindrix himself. Tall and powerful, he wore gleaming black armour. Black shoulder-length hair framed his features. Even at this distance, he exuded power like no one Belwynn had seen before. More even than Pentas or Nexodore. It was an alien power, as if he did not truly belong among mortals, and it struck Belwynn with fear.
Arioc was marching his troop directly towards Odon. The sword he carried did not have the glint of metal but was black like his armour. He reached the path which took a route around the central square of Edeleny. The grassed recreation area in the middle was desolate, save for the solitary figure of Odon.
But then Belwynn felt something stir from behind her. She spun around. The eight Caladri soldiers. They stood so much like statues that Belwynn had forgotten about them. The presence of the Isharites on the path had seemed to trigger a reaction. Moving in perfect unison, the eight soldiers lifted their pikes and marched to join Odon in the defence of their city.
‘Come on,’ said Soren, as the pikemen crossed past them. ‘We don’t have much time. Some of them will be wizards, not just Arioc.’
Soren sprinted towards the Temple, and everyone else followed at the same pace. Clarin and Herin barged open the white wooden doors.
A scream echoed around the square behind them. Belwynn turned back to look. Odon was hanging in the sky, suspended four feet from the ground with an orange light surrounding him. Belwynn traced the light back in a line to Arioc’s outstretched hand. Another burst of power, and Odon’s body turned black and the screaming stopped. Arioc withdrew his hand and the body fell to the ground.
A few of the Isharites looked in their direction. The Caladri pikemen had formed a li
ne on the grass of the central square and were taking most of their attention. Their long pikes whirled around them, making a ghostly whirring noise as they cut through the air. The main group of Isharites looked at the pikes warily, unsure how to tackle them. A small group of Isharites detached itself and headed towards the Temple.
‘What do we do?’ asked Belwynn. She wanted to run.
‘Some of us are going to go inside and get the staff,’ said Soren. ‘Some of us are going to hold out here for as long as possible. I am staying here. Belwynn, you go in so that I can communicate with you. Dirk, you go in because you have the dagger. Everyone else, do what you think is best.’
Separate? Belwynn didn’t want that. ‘But…’
‘Hurry up, now. Just do it, Belwynn. And take this. Just in case.’
Soren reached into his cloak and handed her Edgar’s bag of money.
She entered the building. Dirk and Elana went with her. Everyone else drew a weapon and waited with Soren.
‘Rabigar,’ said Soren. ‘Will you go with them? They might need protection.’
Rabigar looked at Soren for a moment. Belwynn thought he might argue, but he nodded and followed them in.
The entrance chamber to the Temple was large but poorly lit. Before Belwynn had time to look around, Elana had opened a door at the far end of the room and was beckoning everybody through.
Belwynn took one last look behind her. Moneva and Gyrmund were talking to each other hurriedly. They kissed once. Gyrmund and Herin knocked arrows to their bows. Soren and Clarin turned to look at her. Soren looked at peace. Clarin lifted a hand in farewell.
Belwynn turned around and left them behind.
There were four of them. Gyrmund noticed their swords. They weren’t made of metal, but he couldn’t put his finger on what they were made of. In fact, they were different colours. Two of them had swords which looked more like clear glass. Another was yellowish, another light blue. Crystal. They were made from some kind of crystal.
The Isharites advanced further.
‘Now!’ shouted Herin.
They drew back their strings and let fire. Both hit their mark. One of them went down and did not get up. The three that remained ran at them. Gyrmund discarded his bow and drew his sword.
Clarin charged at them, supported by Moneva. Gyrmund and Herin followed close behind. They backed away from Clarin’s lunge, but two then moved in on him, lashing in simultaneous blows. He blocked them both, on sword and shield, but was forced to back away.
The third took on Moneva. He avoided her first blow and met her second with his yellow crystal sword. He smashed her sword out of her hand and moved in for the kill. Gyrmund arrived just in time. The Isharite had to back off, and now faced both Gyrmund and Moneva, still grasping her second sword. He feinted towards Moneva and then launched a savage blow at Gyrmund. Gyrmund blocked it and they held for a while. The Isharite seemed stronger. He suddenly raked his sword down the length of Gyrmund’s towards his hands. Gyrmund pulled away. Moneva lashed in with her sword held in both hands, but her blow was sidestepped. The Isharite moved straight into the path of a blow from Clarin. It was too late for him to change his momentum, and Clarin’s sword entered his chest and came out the other side. The big man yanked his weapon free. He and Herin had dealt with the other two. They backed up towards the door of the Temple.
Gyrmund looked up at the fight in the central square. There were only three Caladri soldiers left. They were being pressed backwards and were moving towards the Temenos, backing up one pace at a time while trying to keep in touch with each other.
The pikes were swung wickedly around their heads. The length of the pole and speed and power they generated kept the Isharites at a distance. One of the Isharite attackers got too close and the passing blade sliced open his neck. Gyrmund saw him stagger back and grab his neck, but the wound was far too big, and he collapsed to the ground.
Ultimately, however, the fight was not even. One of the Isharites blocked a swinging pike and three others pounced in, making quick work of the soldier once inside the pike’s arc. Another Isharite launched a blast of magic at a soldier’s feet at the same moment he swung his pike. He toppled over forwards and was quickly finished. One soldier remained. He backed up closer and closer towards the Temenos. Arioc and his men drew closer, crystal swords in hand. Gyrmund dropped his sword to the floor and picked up his bow. Moneva handed him an arrow. He notched it onto the string.
Belwynn and the others put their faith in Elana, hoping that she knew where she was going. She raced along the corridor from the entrance chamber. The Temple was deserted and eerily quiet. When they got to the end of the corridor they passed through another door. They found themselves in what must have been the central place of worship. It was a circular room with seats, capable of holding about two hundred people, facing the centre. Here there was a dais, from where ceremonies could be conducted. The treated wood with which the Caladri had built the Temple shimmered brightly, illuminated by the sun shining in through glass skylights in the roof.
They stopped. Elana stood by the dais, still and silent. Belwynn wanted to ask her how she knew where she was going, but the priestess seemed to be concentrating. She swung to her right and moved to the far end of the chamber. Another door was opened, and Belwynn found herself chasing Elana down a second corridor.
The end of the corridor opened into a small circular antechamber. Inside, a woman’s body lay face down on the floor. Rabigar knelt and gently rolled it onto its back. It was Dorottya, the elder who had greeted them at the Temenos. There were no obvious signs of physical injury. Rabigar put a hand to her neck, checking for a pulse.
‘She’s dead.’
Belwynn looked around nervously. Wooden shelves, from floor to ceiling, lined the wall. Most were filled with objects: metal chalices stood next to wooden bowls; jewelled rings and decorated knives shone out in greeting.
‘It’s here somewhere?’ hissed Belwynn.
Elana nodded, but seemed unsure.
‘Looking for something?’
A voice behind them.
Belwynn whirled around. Standing in the corridor was Pentas, the wizard who had joined them on the Great Road and who had fought with Nexodore.
He was holding a staff.
His red eyes surveyed them, inscrutable.
Belwynn looked from Pentas to the body of Dorottya on the floor.
‘We had an argument,’ he explained. ‘Unfortunate,’ he added.
Rabigar took a step to stand between Pentas and the others, sword in hand. Pentas took a step back and held out one hand.
‘I’m not here to kill you or take the dagger you have in your possession. You must know I could if I wanted to,’ he added, studying them again with a light smile. ‘I am wondering, in fact, whether I owe any of you a word of gratitude. Last time we met, you will recall, I ended up in a fight with the dread Nexodore. I came off second best in the end, found myself trapped underground by one of his spells. Thought I might live out my days buried alive. Then, all of a sudden, I was able to break free. I assumed, at first, that I would be too late, that Nexodore would have found you and killed you. But he didn’t?’
‘Dirk killed him,’ said Elana after a pause.
‘Then thank you for saving my life. I will now return the favour. Arioc is outside. We can’t let him get his hands on either of these weapons. I’m going to teleport you away. If you help me rather than resist, the easier it will be for all of us.’
A riot of thoughts swirled around Belwynn’s head all at once. Could they trust this wizard? Did they have a choice? Who was he? But one thought shone through clearest of all.
‘Soren and the others. They are at the Temple entrance. They need your help.’
‘Very well. I will do what needs to be done. The quicker we do this, the sooner I can get to
the others. Here,’ he said, passing Belwynn the staff, which she reluctantly took. It was an ordinary enough piece of wood to her, with some runes carved into the side that were similar to those on Toric’s Dagger. ‘You can look after this for now.’
Belwynn nodded in compliance.
We’ve found it, she said to Soren.
Good. Don’t come back this way, came her brother’s quick reply. Find another way out.
Pentas got them to link hands. Then it happened again. A swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach, the senses dissolving away, and Belwynn was moving.
Gyrmund witnessed the fall of the last Caladri defender of Edeleny, surrounded and brought down by the Isharite attackers. Herin told everyone to retreat into the Temple. If they took their stand inside, the Isharites couldn’t surround them and would have to force their way in through the small opening.
Of course, that was without adding magic into the equation. The Isharites approached. Gyrmund could see them gather outside. Then one of the wizards sent a blast of magic towards the door. Gyrmund grabbed at Moneva to shield her, but a sudden burst of white light in front of the door blocked the attack.
Soren. Gyrmund had no idea what had happened up in the Temenos. He hadn’t liked it one bit. But obviously, the result was that Soren had his powers back.
Soren put a shield up in front of the door, made up of the same bright white light.
‘Get into the Temple and find the others,’ he said. ‘They’ve got the staff. I’ll hold this for as long as I can.’
Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga Page 35
