The Jalakh Bow

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘And so, to the final purpose of my visit,’ said Gustav. ‘Baldwin has appointed his brother, Walter, as the new Duke of Barissia. There will be a formal ceremony and celebration in the spring. Baldwin would like to extend an invitation, both to Kalinth, and to the heroes of Samir Durg. He wants to meet with you and discuss the future of Dalriya. When the snows have gone, you are all cordially invited to Coldeberg.’

  The Handmaid, The Duchess and The Queen

  II

  My place is here,’ said Elana, her gesture taking in the newly built Church of Madria. Her patience, Belwynn could tell, was starting to wear thin.

  Belwynn had tried a number of times to persuade the priestess to accompany them on the journey to the Empire. Elana had stood firm, however, insisting that her role was to serve her new flock in Heractus. She had even, in preparation for Belwynn’s absence, already appointed a new disciple from among those who regularly attended on her. Belwynn couldn’t help but feel like she was being replaced.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Moneva with finality. Moneva, in turn, had declared that if Elana were to stay, she would too, since the priestess would need someone to look out for her. ‘Success breeds enemies,’ she said darkly, and Belwynn wondered what kind of conversations Moneva had overheard whilst deep in her cups in the city’s taverns.

  ‘Then I will need the Dagger,’ responded Belwynn. ‘Edgar and the others deserve to see it,’ she added, when Moneva looked like she was about to argue.

  ‘You’ve only just given it to me and now you’re taking it away,’ complained Moneva, who nonetheless unbuckled her belt before slapping the weapon into Belwynn’s palm and stalking off.

  It was, no doubt, a self-indulgent emotion, but Belwynn felt a loss at their decisions. She had always tried hard to keep their group together. Now it was to become more divided than ever. Rabigar had returned to his homeland, his exile seemingly at an end. Herin and Clarin were lost, left behind in Samir Durg. Now Elana and Moneva were staying behind, while she would travel with Soren and Gyrmund to Coldeberg.

  So be it. She wouldn’t beg them to come. She said her farewells and returned to her room in the castle to get her pack. Soren and Gyrmund were there, waiting for her, and she soon found herself in the courtyard of Heractus Castle, mounted on a beautiful mare and ready to go.

  Also staying behind was Sebastian, the position in Kalinth too precarious for him to take an extended absence. Theron would represent Kalinth in the Empire. His absence was enough of a loss, since while Sebastian was the leader of the new regime—respected and diplomatic—Theron had provided much of the energy and organisation.

  Sebastian had come to see them off. He shared some last private words with Theron, before wishing them all good luck. Accompanying him was Prince Dorian, younger son of the king, who had formed a friendship with Belwynn despite her role in his family’s diminution.

  ‘Don’t worry about your friends,’ he said, coming over to give her horse a pat. ‘I’ll keep an eye on them.’

  There was little talk as the four horses clip-clopped their way along the city streets, making for the East Gate. Gyrmund was subdued, upset at leaving Moneva behind, their relationship still not fully repaired. Soren was focused on the physical requirements of riding while clutching his staff in one hand. His condition had continued to improve, but he would now be without Elana’s help. Belwynn rode next to Theron, who seemed to have a contented expression on his face.

  ‘Looking forward to the trip?’ she asked him.

  ‘To be honest, yes. I’ve felt the responsibility of the last eight months. It’s unrelenting. It will be a pleasure not to worry about everyone else for a while. And to spend so much time with you,’ he added.

  Soren snorted behind them, but they both chose to ignore it.

  Evander was waiting for them at the gate, already opened, and as they nudged their horses through he fell in on the other side of Theron.

  ‘Have you spoken with Tycho?’ Theron asked his squire.

  ‘Yes my lord, his force is ready, they are waiting on the road up ahead.’

  ‘Very good, it’s not like him to be so organised,’ commented Theron. ‘When we were young knights I used to have to wake him up every morning, or he would sleep in ‘til noon. I suppose we’ve all grown up since those days,’ he said wistfully.

  They soon joined with Tycho’s force of fifty knights. They were too disciplined to shout out, but to a man they all smiled and grinned as soon as they saw her. It was the strangest thing, but in truth, she was getting used to it. She knew all their faces now, and could name all but a handful. She recognised the handsome face of Leontios, big brown eyes framed by shoulder length brown hair. He always beamed when he saw her, puffing up in importance, since he was the first knight whose sword she had blessed, on the road from the High Tower to Heractus, and he was ever keen to remind his peers of that fact.

  Tycho trotted over to greet them, shaking hands, kissing Belwynn’s, and giving Evander a big slap on the back. It used to be that a slap on the back from Tycho would send a shudder through the boy, but not so now. Not only had Evander grown as tall as Belwynn, he had filled out as well, after spending the autumn and winter months on the exercise yard, training to become a knight.

  ‘How far will you be travelling with us, Lord Tycho?’ asked Soren.

  ‘As far as Korkis,’ Tycho replied. ‘I have my orders,’ he added, with a sly grin at Theron, ‘to ensure the town is fully—what word did you use, Theron?’

  ‘Integrated.’

  ‘Yes. Fully integrated into the kingdom.’

  Quite right too, Belwynn said to Soren.

  Of all the dangers they had faced, the flight from Korkis somehow felt the most terrifying. It was perhaps because as a group they had been so vulnerable. Dirk had been ill, Elana and Belwynn helping him along, Rabigar was the only fighter with them, and he had recently lost an eye. If Theron hadn’t intervened, at the last minute, they would likely all be dead.

  That moment would forever be emblazoned on her memory, Belwynn thought. Theron, a lone knight, charging down the hill at the men who had been chasing them. She knew that regaining control over Korkis was politics. But she thought that a part of it might be to punish them for what they did.

  They made surprisingly good progress. Belwynn wasn’t at all convinced that spring had come yet. It was cold, and snow still lay on the hills of Kalinth. But Theron had argued that of all those invited, they would have the longest journey to Coldeberg, and would need to set off earlier than Baldwin’s other guests. Although the ground was wet, they were amongst the first to journey on the roads since the snow had melted, and they weren’t as torn up as they were likely to get in a few weeks. Their horses, kept indoors and fed on hay for the winter, also seemed enthusiastic to stretch their legs. The stark but beautiful Kalinthian countryside rolled by and as the evening of the second day drew in they had reached Sebastian’s house, Sernea, where Soren and Belwynn were allocated a room for the night.

  The next morning, they began the short journey to Korkis. As they neared the town, Belwynn recognised the countryside they passed through. Rolling hills with grazing animals, which today on horseback seemed gentle and innocuous, but last time she was here, escaping from their pursuers on foot, seemed impossibly steep and forbidding. To her right was the woodland where they had spent the night, and where the horseman from Korkis had followed them, taunting them, as his companions and their hunting dogs closed the gap to their prey.

  The wooden palisade of the town came into view, Belwynn recalling how Rabigar had known about an exit in the north of the wall, a section swinging open that allowed passage in and out for those who didn’t want to be seen. She thought about mentioning it to Theron or Tycho, but decided she liked the thought of it remaining there.

  Anyway, the Knights had arrived with a far superior force to anything the town could muster. They were content to wait patiently outside until the authorities inside reacted.

  Mo
re and more heads bobbed into view along the wall, staring out at the force that had arrived unannounced outside their town, until the gates opened, and half a dozen men walked out to greet them. Belwynn stared at their faces but didn’t recognise any of them.

  ‘I am Peros, Mayor of Korkis,’ said one of them, trying to sound confident but in truth looking more than a little intimidated.

  ‘Unfortunately for you,’ said Tycho, pitching his voice so all could hear, ‘you are mayor no longer.’

  He produced a roll of parchment from his saddle bag. ‘By order of the king, I have been appointed the new mayor of Korkis.’

  He moved his horse slowly towards Peros before holding out the document. Peros took it and began reading.

  I wonder how they persuaded Jonas to sign that, Belwynn said to Soren.

  Assuming they didn’t forge his signature, said Soren.

  ‘Under our constitution,’ said Peros, looking up from the parchment, eyes wide and anxious, ‘the townspeople choose their own mayor.’

  ‘This is an emergency royal writ agreed by the council,’ said Theron.

  ‘Have I done something wrong?’ asked Peros.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tycho. ‘But if you have, you can be sure I’ll find out about it. Now, let’s get moving, I need to garrison my knights.’

  Belwynn knew Tycho as a light-hearted, friendly man. But he could clearly be intimidating when needed, and Peros and the rest of the men turned around and began leading them into town.

  ‘Come,’ said Theron to the others. ‘We will be leaving soon but we might as well get an early lunch here to send us on our way.’

  Tycho had the knights’ horses stabled and food brought out, while the people of Korkis started to organise how they were going to quarter fifty knights. He had already gone a long way towards asserting his authority over the place and Belwynn felt sure he would soon identify the corrupt members of the town guard and remove them.

  Belwynn, Theron, Evander, Gyrmund and Soren had found a place to sit and eat in the central plaza, giving their horses a chance to rest before it was time to move out.

  ‘Are you not itching to get involved yourself?’ asked Belwynn with a smile, knowing that Theron usually couldn’t help man-managing.

  ‘No. I trust Tycho. My problem is there aren’t many others I trust. With Tycho here, I hope that Sebastian has enough help in Heractus.’

  ‘Belwynn,’ said Gyrmund quietly, nodding to a location over her shoulder. ‘Looks like you have a visitor.’

  Belwynn turned around, wondering what he meant. A young girl was standing awkwardly nearby, and she startled somewhat when Belwynn looked at her. She looked familiar. Belwynn suddenly let out a gasp when she recognised who it was. She had tried to defend this girl when she was accused of stealing bread. It was that intervention that had prompted the Korkis soldiers to try to arrest them. The girl had obviously survived the winter, but she looked pale and malnourished.

  ‘Come here,’ said Belwynn, holding up a hand.

  The girl looked warily at the men sitting with Belwynn, weapons lying by their sides. Belwynn kept her hand up, smiled, and waited patiently. Hesitantly, the girl came over, then flopped down next to Belwynn.

  ‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ said Belwynn, handing her some bread and cheese. Theron passed over a drink and the others donated some food, until the girl had a mini-feast in front of her, which she tucked into with vigour.

  ‘This is the girl I tried to help last time I was here,’ she explained to the others, all of whom had heard the story, but hadn’t been with Belwynn at the time.

  The girl nodded seriously in confirmation, her mouth full of food.

  ‘What is your name, child?’ Belwynn asked.

  ‘Alyssa.’

  ‘And where are your parents?’

  ‘My mam died when I was seven,’ said the girl matter-of-factly.

  Belwynn guessed that was about two years ago.

  ‘So who looks after you now?’

  ‘No-one.’

  That explained why the poor thing was taking the bread. She would ask Tycho to make sure she was looked after.

  Alyssa looked at her. ‘You can look after me if you want.’

  Belwynn’s heart broke. She found herself thinking of how to explain why she couldn’t look after her. But why couldn’t she? No-one else in this town had done so in two years. And the truth was, Belwynn was in a far better position to care for this child than most people were.

  ‘She could come with us,’ she found herself saying.

  Don’t be ridiculous, said Soren, but she ignored him.

  She looked at Theron. ‘You have a squire attending you on this journey,’ she said to him. ‘Why shouldn’t I have a handmaid?’

  Gyrmund chuckled, Soren scowled, and Evander looked expectantly at Theron.

  ‘Should I fetch a horse for her, my lord?’ asked the squire.

  Theron looked at them all, keeping a neutral expression, before his eyes settled on the girl.

  ‘Go on then, Vander,’ he conceded.

  Evander grinned, leapt to his feet, and ran off to find Tycho.

  The route from Korkis to the Brasingian Empire wasn’t straightforward. The fastest way was to head due east into Persala, and then south down the Great Road. But that involved heading into territory that was, they suspected, still controlled by Ishari. While Gustav had suggested that Ishari had withdrawn from their more southerly conquests, no-one was really sure what the situation was, and so it was deemed safer to avoid that option. The alternative was to head south-east, to the border with the Grand Caladri, and follow it east all the way to Trevenza, avoiding population centres. It was a more difficult route to navigate, but Gyrmund was confident of leading them, and they were in no rush. Borderlands could be dangerous places, but Soren’s powers seemed enhanced, especially with Onella’s Staff, and Belwynn had few concerns that they would face a threat that this company couldn’t handle.

  More of a problem was Alyssa. Belwynn’s spur of the moment decision to bring the girl immediately looked foolish when they discovered she had never ridden a horse before. She therefore had to ride with Belwynn, gripping her tightly around the waist and screaming with alarm when they went too fast. As soon as she got used to the sensation of riding, she developed saddle sores, and spent two days crying, both on and off the horse, until she toughened up.

  After a miserable few days with her, they had a go at teaching her to ride, short stints at first. Theron spent a lot of time with her, since Gyrmund was often way ahead of them, scouting the route. But she liked Evander best, would listen intently to everything the squire said and never moaned, which she did with the adults. Like most children, she was a fast learner. The short rides gradually got longer, until Belwynn found herself riding alone again, and much to everyone’s relief, the crying and whining stopped.

  Perhaps because of Alyssa’s presence among them, everyone made an effort to entertain when it came time to sit around the fire. Soren would tell stories of the past, Gyrmund would tell stories of his travels to strange places, and Belwynn would sing for them. If there was enough light, Theron and Gyrmund would give Evander weapon training. At such times it was up to Belwynn to keep Alyssa occupied, especially after Soren’s attempt to teach her how to read ended badly. The girl liked having her hair plaited, and so one night Belwynn let her practice on her hair, Alyssa sitting behind her by the fire, quietly working away. It was a peaceful, contented moment.

  ‘How is it going, Alyssa?’ asked Belwynn, not able to turn to face her because the girl had her hair in both hands.

  There was a pause before the girl replied.

  ‘My mam used to call me Lyssa. You can call me that if you want.’

  Belwynn swallowed, and decided it best not to turn around.

  ‘Thank you, Lyssa. I will.’

  She shared a look with Soren across the fire, his expression unreadable, before he returned to his book.

  In this way they spent the
ir days and nights, until Gyrmund announced they had left the borderlands and had entered the province of Trevenza. Along with Grienna, Trevenza had declared independence from Persala so that they could join the Brasingian Empire, only to find themselves conquered by an army of Haskans and Drobax. They were likely to find a ravaged country, and Gyrmund felt more comfortable riding straight for the Great Road. They had sufficient provisions and the horses remained in good condition, so there was no need to stop.

  As soon as they set foot on the road Belwynn felt more relaxed, since all they now had to do was follow it due south to Grienna and then to Rotelegen, the most northerly of the seven duchies of Brasingia. The temperature was milder than when they had set off, and it was easy travelling compared to the first part of the journey. Their horses ate up the miles. Despite the warmer weather there was very little traffic on the road. The people they did meet were groups of travellers heading south like them, but at a slower pace, with wagons full of possessions and sometimes livestock accompanying them. When Gyrmund asked, they explained they were heading to Rotelegen to start a new life in a safer part of the world. Belwynn wondered whether they would be welcomed in the Empire, but they all seemed convinced they would be.

  In Grienna Belwynn was reminded of their journey from the lands of the Blood Caladri to those of the Grand Caladri. When crossing the Great Road, they had encountered the corpses of the Drobax who had died on their march south to invade the Empire. Presumably, similar casualties were suffered on their retreat north. But there was no sign of either now, and Belwynn speculated that the birds and other creatures of the forest, that ran either side of the Road, had feasted on the remains.

  There had once been a sizeable settlement on the Brasingian side of the border with Grienna, giving the dukes of Rotelegen the opportunity to inspect and monitor the people and goods leaving and arriving in their duchy. But there was little left of the buildings and it was empty of people. Gyrmund had planned to spend the night there, and so that was what they did, making a small camp amongst the unclaimed debris. Their mood was sombre, as if they were sharing the land with the ghosts of the settlement.