But it was no longer. The white shield was exploded away. Then Soren buckled over, crying out in pain. He seemed to be gripped by some magic. He whined in pain and sank to his knees, head on the floor. A couple of figures approached the doorway. A wizard was concentrating on Soren, holding him down. Next to him stood Arioc, sword in hand. He peered in.
‘Well, well,’ he said, looking from the dead bodies of his soldiers lying on the floor to the group huddled in the doorway. ‘I didn’t expect to find this. I have strict instructions from Lord Erkindrix to kill every Caladri I find. But he didn’t say anything about humans.’
He put on a puzzled face, in mock consideration of the situation. Herin was standing on one side of the door. Gyrmund saw him gripping the hilt tight as if ready to take a swing. If he did, Gyrmund was sure they would all be dead in seconds.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Arioc, apparently enjoying the confrontation so much that he gave a smile. ‘You surrender now, lay down your arms and I will spare your lives. And his,’ he said, gesturing towards Soren who was still pinned to the floor.
They weren’t going to win this fight. But did they really want to be captured? Gyrmund’s thoughts went back to Coldeberg, the cell in the dungeon, the feeling of helplessness. He looked at Herin, who was no doubt thinking the same way.
Arioc looked around at them, a smile still playing on his face. His eyes finally rested on Herin’s.
‘Well? What’s it to be?’
Herin stood, still gripping his sword. My life is in his hands, thought Gyrmund. There’s a very good chance I’m about to die.
He felt strangely calm.
Herin dropped the sword onto the floor with a clang. Clarin and Moneva followed his lead.
‘Surrender,’ said Herin.
Appendix:
Who’s Who in Toric’s Dagger?
South Magnians
Soren, a wizard
Belwynn, Soren’s sister
Herin, a mercenary
Clarin, Herin’s brother
Farred, a nobleman of Middian descent
Gyrmund, Farred’s friend, an explorer
Edgar, Prince of South Magnia
Leofwin, Edgar’s bodyguard
Brictwin, Edgar’s bodyguard
Ulf, an apprentice smith
Bareva, Ulf’s wife
Wulfgar, high-priest of Toric
Otha of Rystham, magnate, Wulfgar’s brother
Ealdnoth, Edgar’s court wizard
Wilchard, Edgar’s chief steward
Oslac, Mayor of Halsham
Harbyrt the Fat, Marshal of the North
Kenward, a sheriff
Aescmar, a magnate
Burstan, a captain in the army
Hallaf, an outlaw
North Magnians
Elana, a priestess of Madria
Cerdda, Prince of North Magnia
Mette, Cerdda’s mother
Ashere, Cerdda’s younger brother
Sherlin, an earl
Middians
Brock, a tribal chief
Frayne, a tribal chief
Cordentines
Vincente the Fox, a merchant
Loris, a reeve in Vincente’s town
Fulvio, a guard in the employ of Vincente
Glanna, King of Cordence
Rosmont, a Cordentine ambassador
Barissians
Dirk, a priest of Toric
Emeric, Duke of Barissia
Gervase Salvinus, a mercenary leader
Orlin, Emeric’s chamberlain
Urval, Orlin’s servant
Curtis, a soldier
Dom, a soldier
Bernard Hat, an innkeeper
Kellish
Moneva, a mercenary
Baldwin, Duke of Kelland, Emperor of Brasingia
Hannelore, Empress of Brasingia
Walter, Baldwin’s younger brother, Marshal of the Empire
Rainer, Baldwin’s chamberlain
Decker, Archbishop of Kelland
Gustav the Hawk, Archmage of the Empire
Ancel, a priest
Kass, a Brasingian ambassador
Other Brasingians
Arne, Duke of Luderia
Ellard, Duke of Rotelegen
Coen, Duke of Thesse
Theodoric, a linen merchant from Thesse
Trevor, a Luderian woodsman
Guivergnais
Nicolas, King of Guivergne
Bastien, Duke of Morbaine
Russell, Bastien’s man
Haskans
Shira, Queen of Haskany
Koren, Shira’s uncle
Persaleians
Pentas, a wizard
Mark, King of Persala
Krykkers
Kaved, a mercenary
Rabigar, an exile
Caladri
Tibor, King of the Blood Caladri
Lorant, Prince of the Blood Caladri
Hajna, Princess of the Blood Caladri
Szabolcs, a wise man
Gyuri, a carriage driver
Marika, a carriage attendant
Dora, a carriage attendant
Emese, a carriage attendant
Vida, a carriage attendant
Joska, a carriage attendant
Elek, a carriage attendant
Odon, elder of the Grand Caladri
Agoston, elder of the Grand Caladri
Dorottya, elder of the Grand Caladri
Kelemen, a regional governor
Ignac, a wizard
Dorjan, King of the Shadow Caladri
Isharites
Erkindrix, Lord of Ishari
Arioc, King of Haskany
Siavash, High Priest of Ishari
Nexodore, a wizard with a death mask
Ardashir, a member of the Council of Seven
Tirano, a wizard, serving Emeric of Barissia
Many thanks to my family for their encouragement over the years—this book has been a long time in the making. Thank you to everyone who has read it and given feedback. Thank you to the community at worldsmyths.com for their advice. Finally, thank you to my editor, Anne Casey of Invisible Ink Editing.
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jamieedmundson.com
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@jamie_edmundson
Turn over for a sneak preview of the sequel to
Toric’s Dagger…
Bolivar’s Sword
I
Strangers
The light of morning forced Belwynn to open her eyes and wake up. Her mind gradually returned the events of yesterday to her consciousness.
Splitting up from her brother Soren and the others, Belwynn had joined Elana, Dirk and Rabigar in a search for Onella’s Staff. They had found it in the Temple; Elana had seemed to be guided to its location. The wizard Pentas had then teleported them away from danger. They had travelled a long distance under his spell, and once they had stopped, they had felt exhausted and ill. They had fallen asleep where Pentas’s magic had dropped them, too tired to prepare a fire or even to speak.
Belwynn pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her head, which throbbed with pain. She looked around. Pentas had seemingly dropped them halfway up a hill. The trees which had surrounded them in the forest of the Grand Caladri were present, but thinner on the ground, while the ground beneath them was rocky, and large chunks of stone littered the landscape about them.
Elana and Dirk were still asleep a few yards away. Rabigar wasn’t there. Belwynn supposed that he had gone t
o collect firewood or search for food. Her stomach grumbled at the thought.
So, Soren and the others had not made it. Perhaps Pentas had failed to reach them? They could be dead. A feeling of dread stabbed at Belwynn’s insides. She tried to reach her brother.
Soren. Soren?
A few moments of silence passed, but then there was a response.
Belwynn? Is that you?
It was Soren, and he was alive. It was not easy to pick up what he was saying, though. There was some kind of interference—more than the distance which separated them.
Yes, it’s me, Belwynn replied. Where are you?
Captured…must be careful. We defended the entrance to the Temple, but Arioc himself came for us. We’re all alive, but they caught us. They’re taking us north, to Ishari or Haskany. They’ve got wizards monitoring me…must be careful.
There was a pause. Soren’s voice was thin, and Belwynn’s ability to pick up what he was saying varied, as if he were putting his hand over his mouth and taking it away again. Belwynn had experienced something similar once before, when her brother was with Delyth, the marsh witch.
Where are you? Soren continued. Did you get the staff?
Yes, we’ve got it. Pentas, the wizard with the red eyes, found us in the temple. He told us we had to escape. He teleported us away. I don’t know where we are, but we’re safe. He said he would look for you…
Thank Toric you’re safe. It must have been too late for him to get to us. You must get the weapons to safety. Contact me again tomorrow when you’ve found out where you are. But we’ll have to keep it brief. It’s dangerous. Goodbye, Belwynn.
Bye Soren, Belwynn answered.
She wanted to cry. Her brother and the others had been captured by Arioc and the Isharites. There was no way of knowing what would happen to them. Belwynn had no way to help—she didn’t even know where she was. She suddenly felt tired and alone. Gripping her head in her hands, she wiped away a tear that had started to fall with her palm. She had to control herself. She was in charge now. She would have to be strong.
A noise to her left made her turn sharply. It was Rabigar. He marched over and opened his arms, a pile of tree branches dropping on to the floor. He yanked at his belt and held up a brace of squirrels.
‘Breakfast,’ he declared.
Belwynn smiled. ‘Thank you, Rabigar. I’ve just…spoken to Soren. He and the others were captured. He said that they’re all alive and being transported northwards.’
Rabigar nodded. ‘I think that’s about the best we could hope for. If they’re being transported north, it means that Arioc wants them alive. He would have killed them otherwise. I’m sorry if that’s not much comfort.’
‘That’s alright,’ said Belwynn. ‘It’s just that the prospect of rescuing them is so daunting…we don’t even know where we are!’
‘Not entirely true,’ replied Rabigar. ‘I got a clear look at the stars last night. Pentas sent us in a north-westerly direction. I reckon we’re on the border between the Grand Caladri and Kalinth. Now, we’ll have to be careful. Sounds like the King of Kalinth is nothing more than a puppet of Erkindrix these days. But we’re not far from my homeland. If we make it there, the weapons will be safe. Then we can work out what to do about your brother and the others.’
That Rabigar had a plan, even if it was somewhat vague, was something for Belwynn to hang on to for now. He was taking the initiative, and Belwynn was grateful for that.
‘First things first, though,’ Rabigar continued. ‘We’ll get breakfast ready and try to wake those two up.’
They did not get far that day. The exhaustion caused by the events in Edeleny had not left their bodies. Dirk, in particular, was not well. He walked on in grim silence, as if all his concentration and energy were needed just to put one foot in front of the other. Belwynn gave him Onella’s Staff to lean on across the difficult terrain. Although Rabigar seemed to think that they were in Kalinth, the landscape in this region was a combination of the forests of the Grand Caladri and the hilly country of the Krykkers. When Belwynn complained about this, Rabigar would point to the distant mountains to the south-west and claim that they were real hills, not these.
Occasionally the hills would give them a glimpse of the Plain of Kalinth stretching away to the north, and though Belwynn had to disagree with the Krykker that such a view made the climb worthwhile, she had to admit that it was a fine sight.
What they really missed were horses. On various mounts, they had travelled over half the length of Dalriya in the past two weeks. By comparison, walking pace seemed slow and laborious. Belwynn suspected that they had barely covered ten miles when they stopped to make their camp for the night.
When she woke the next morning, Rabigar was again the first up. A small fire was already burning and chestnuts were being slowly cooked.
‘Are those edible?’ asked Belwynn suspiciously.
‘Yes. Sweet chestnuts. Horse chestnuts are the poisonous ones. Here,’ he said, pointing at them. ‘They have a little tail on the bottom. That’s how you tell you’ve got the right kind.’
He sounded more than a little pleased with himself.
‘I’ve been thinking about our position,’ Rabigar informed her as she sat up. ‘There is a trading town called Korkis; it should be about five miles west of here. I know it quite well. It picks up trade between Kalinth, the Krykkers, and Persala. We could do with picking up some supplies and utensils. If I’m right, we should get there by lunchtime.’
Belwynn nodded. She was happy for Rabigar to make the decisions at the moment. Last night she and Soren had a very brief conversation, partly because he was worried they would be caught, partly because neither had anything new to say. Her brother and her friends were still being transported northwards. Part of her wanted to turn around and follow, but Soren insisted that she find a secure place for the two weapons before she did anything else.
‘Then what?’ she asked Rabigar, leaning over to the fire to inspect breakfast.
He pointed out a couple. ‘When the shell splits, they’re ready.’
Belwynn grabbed one. It was hot, too hot for her fingers, and she juggled it around in the air before letting it drop into her lap. She sucked on her fingers to cool them down. Rabigar looked on with a disappointed expression on his face.
‘Then we head south-west for my homeland. I don’t know what kind of reception I will get. But they will keep the dagger and staff safe, at least. They may do more to help.’
He paused, studying her face, as if unsure whether to continue. ‘I’ve mentioned this to Elana already. The Krykkers have another of these weapons. In our Great Hall, in the mountain of Kerejus. Bolivar’s Great Sword, which he used in the Battle of Alta.’
Belwynn nodded. She wondered why Rabigar hadn’t mentioned this before. She could tell that a part of him still had a loyalty towards his people, despite his years of exile. No doubt this sword was a great treasure.
‘How many years has it been since you left?’ she asked.
Rabigar seemed to think about it.
‘Thirty. And then some.’
‘Do you ever miss it?’
‘I will always miss my home.’
It was said with such feeling that it stopped Belwynn from asking her next question. Why was he exiled? But Rabigar knew her thoughts.
‘You’re curious to know what happened?’ he asked her.
She shrugged. ‘A little.’
‘I will not tell you, Belwynn. It is no disrespect to you: it is a question of honour to me. It is a matter for my people only—not a story to be discussed by others. I have kept it to myself for all these thirty and more years. That is a long time. But I would have you understand one thing. I was a very different man then than I am now.’
His gaze drifted to the mountains of his homel
and, and a faraway look came to his face.
When Elana and Dirk were ready, they set off for the town of Korkis. They walked mostly in silence, everyone seemingly content in their own thoughts. For Belwynn, though, the morning walk began to make her feel lonely.
She missed her brother. But she also missed the sharp asides of Herin, and Clarin’s calm, protective presence. She had come to value her three current companions, but none were great talkers. Belwynn began to dwell on her captured friends. She wanted to try to talk with Soren again, but since it could be dangerous for him, she resisted.
It was a long morning, made worse by grey clouds that blew in and deposited a constant drizzle; but by midday they were on a path heading towards Korkis. The town had been built on top of a hill, and they could make out a wooden palisade encircling it. As they made their way up, Belwynn could make out the individual wooden stakes, buried into the ground and sharpened at the tip to make an effective barrier against an attacking force. The entrance to the town was through a formidable looking wooden gate, perhaps fifteen feet high, from where defenders could fire down at the enemy.
Today, the gate was wide open, and there was a single guard on duty, who looked out at their approach with a lazy expression.
‘We’re here to buy provisions,’ Rabigar shouted up.
The guard simply waved a hand to let them through, apparently more than used to strangers arriving.
Once through the gate, there was an open plaza. A log-built road led straight ahead towards the centre of the town. A statue of a knight on horseback marked the central square. Because they had arrived at midday, the town was busy. Wooden built shops and stalls were positioned on either side of the road.
‘The number of people here makes it safer for us,’ said Rabigar, speaking under his breath as the four of them began to mingle with the crowd. ‘But there’s no point in staying any longer than we have to. I’ll get the cooking utensils, clothes and any other extras we need if you three get the food. We’ll meet up by the statue.’
Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga Page 36
