The Jalakh Bow

by Jamie Edmundson

  Rabigar held his hands in the air to signify his acceptance, and Maragin nodded. The two Krykker chieftains stood and made their way to the exit from the hall, followed by Edgar.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ said Theron, before following them.

  Once Baldwin and the other rulers had left, most of the assembled guests began to drift out of the hall, their participation in the day’s events over. Those who remained in the hall were those with an interest in the subject matter raised by Szabolcs. Belwynn was a little surprised to see that Walter had remained. He called everyone over to the top table and Belwynn and the other Magnians joined him there, along with Gustav, Szabolcs and Rabigar.

  ‘So, we have an idea what we are looking for,’ said Soren. ‘Can we come up with a plan?’

  ‘Szabolcs mentioned the Orias, in Halvia,’ began Rabigar tentatively. ‘It might be possible to contact our Krykker cousins in Halvia, and ask them what they know of this people, where they lived. The problem we have had is the crossing of the Lantinen Sea. The Kharovians control the waters now, they sink any ship that is not theirs.’

  ‘The Jalakhs had a bow?’ Soren asked Szabolcs, who nodded in confirmation. ‘That is perhaps the most precisely identified location. It makes sense for those of us who are based in Kalinth to travel to the Jalakh Steppe. But it won’t be easy, we would have to travel through Haskany. Gyrmund?’

  ‘There is no easy route. It would be impossible to sail past Kharovia. Overland, it may be possible for a small group to travel unnoticed, through the Dardelles mountain range, where few people live. But it would be time consuming and dangerous.’

  ‘If myself and a group of companions were to go for the bow,’ said Soren, ‘the Empire can focus on the shield, in Persala. This is the perfect time to send a force there, while the Isharites remain leaderless. The Blood Caladri are also positioned well to help with that.’

  Walter and Gustav looked at each other. ‘Don’t count on my brother sending a force north of Rotelegen.’

  ‘Why not?’ demanded Soren. ‘Now is the perfect time for Brasingia to assert itself to the north—you are unchallenged. The Drobax are gone, the Haskans have thrown off Ishari’s dominion, Arioc is fighting his rivals. Why not?’ he repeated.

  ‘I will be asking him for resources here in Barissia. Adalheid will do the same, more shrilly, for Rotelegen. Our soldiers, who sacrificed so much at Burkhard Castle, have still not been fully paid. Farred knows what it was like there, what they went through. It is too much to expect him to invade Persala.’

  ‘If he doesn’t strike at Ishari now,’ countered Soren, ‘he is merely waiting for them to regain their strength. And when they do so, they will return to Burkhard Castle. If he liberates Persala, he can create a buffer state between them. Maybe then form an alliance with Haskany against Ishari. Surely, you both see that?’ Soren asked them, looking from Gustav to Walter.

  ‘If Baldwin and I tried to raise an army to invade Persala, no-one would go. Our people have had enough of war, and your arguments won’t work.’ Walter looked at them all and sighed. ‘Look, Baldwin’s meeting with the other leaders will decide the extent of his participation. But I am warning you. Don’t expect too much from him.’

  ‘Theron will persuade him of the need for more,’ said Belwynn.

  ‘What about you?’ Soren asked Gustav.

  Gustav spread his hands open. ‘I serve Baldwin. But I will do what I can.’

  ‘And the Caladri?’ Soren persisted, turning to Szabolcs.

  ‘We do not have the power to invade Persala, with our enemies pinning us down. Further, we cannot easily enter the country unnoticed. But my queen will decide what our contribution is to be.’

  Leave it for now, Belwynn warned her brother. She knew he was angry, but if he kept pushing for more it could do more harm than good.

  ‘Then there is the cloak,’ Farred reminded them all.

  ‘Yes,’ said Szabolcs. ‘Owned by the Asrai people. I am afraid I don’t know who they are.’

  ‘What is said of them?’ Soren asked.

  ‘Virtually nothing. They are mentioned by name by two different writers, neither of whom take the time to explain who they are. By all means, Soren, I can show you my texts. But what I have told you is all that they reveal, and I have exhausted all my sources. It is possible the Grand Caladri had other books, but those are now gone.’

  So that was it. Soren had volunteered to lead a perilous mission to the Jalakh Steppe. Beyond that, nothing much, except to hope that more would come from the Emperor’s negotiations than his brother expected.

  It Takes an Assassin

  IV

  MONEVA LET THE SHARP TIP of the knife slide along her neck. She had come close to shoving it in since her time in Samir Durg.

  She should have been happy to have escaped, that was the part of it she didn’t get. Why was she feeling so low all the time, so tired of it all?

  Maybe it was just as well that she’d found an enemy in Heractus. It had given herself something to focus on.

  She had noticed the same faces on three separate occasions, watching Elana. Moneva had been trained to kill people and she knew exactly what to look for. But even when I was thirteen I wasn’t as inept as these fools.

  She shifted her position on the warehouse roof, stretching her legs and then giving them a good rub to make sure they didn’t go to sleep. She then turned back to the alleyway that Elana took when she walked from her house to the church.

  She heard them first, talking to each other, then saw them. It was Elana with one of her new disciples: the big, dopey man called Bemus. He was the size of a warrior, but instead spent all of his time praying and all the rest of it. They might try it now, even with him there.

  Yes, behind them, at the top of the alleyway, Moneva made out a third figure, trailing them. Elana and Bemus were too busy talking to each other to have noticed, exiting the alleyway into the courtyard. Then, to her left, Moneva saw two more figures emerge from the direction of the Church of Madria, walking towards Elana. It was a simple trap, but it had worked, and Moneva knew she had to act fast.

  Jumping to her feet, she leapt off the warehouse roof, over a wall, and landed on all fours in the courtyard. Grabbing the knife from her boot, she stood and looked around. The two figures, a man and a woman, had drawn wicked looking long knives of their own, and were staring at her. Bemus had put himself between them and Elana. The third assailant had remained in the alleyway, ready to cut off their escape.

  ‘Moneva?’ said Elana.

  The man lurched towards Moneva.

  ‘Kill them!’ he shouted to his partner.

  Moneva made a feint towards him, making him thrust forward with his weapon, before, in one fluid motion, jumping sideways and throwing her knife at the woman. It hit her in the chest and she fell over from the force of it, dropping her knife. Moneva then drew her short sword from her hip and spun around to face the man. She sensed behind her the third assailant coming at her from the alley and knew she had to act quickly. The man was wary of her now, backing away, and she used that to her advantage. She ran at him and instead of thrusting his knife at her he tried to sidestep out of her way. But his footwork was clumsy, and she hacked the length of her sword into his neck with considerable force, knocking him to the ground in the process.

  She whirled around to see the third assailant stop in his tracks, turn around, and run for the alleyway.

  ‘Pick up her knife!’ she shouted at Bemus, indicating the dropped weapon. But where he was slow to respond, Elana was fast, darting forwards to grab it.

  Moneva saw no more as she gave chase. She approached the alleyway with some care, in case he tried something, but when she looked around he was already at the far end, running at top speed. She sprinted down the alleyway, looked in both directions, and saw that he had turned right and was running down one of the main city streets.

  ‘Stop him!’ she shouted, before saving the rest of her energy for the chase. The bystanders in
the street backed away from both of them, avoiding the blades they both carried.

  A few months ago, she might have lost him—spending her time sitting and drinking in the taverns of Heractus had left her slow and weak. But she had stopped all that nonsense now, had made herself stick to a rigorous training schedule, easy enough to follow when she had nothing else to do. So it was that she began to run him down, sticking to an even pace that she could keep up for half an hour if necessary. The man she was following, however, had been very fast at first but was now slowing, looking more and more ragged.

  She was gaining on him, and he must have known he couldn’t outrun her, because he turned around, red in the face, holding out a long knife of the same type his accomplices had. Moneva wasn’t sure, but she may have killed both of the other assailants, and so she wanted this one taken alive. She didn’t make a rash move, but stood opposite him, controlling her breathing, taking her time.

  ‘I would advise you to drop that,’ she told him.

  He said nothing, his breathing still heavy from his exertion.

  Footsteps came from the left. Two men were running over. Young knights, she was fairly sure she recognised their faces from somewhere or other, but had made a conscious decision not to bother learning any of their names. There were so many of them, and they all acted the same.

  ‘Moneva?’ said one of them, obviously perfectly aware of who she was. ‘What’s happening here?’

  ‘This man tried to kill Elana,’ she said.

  The eyes of the knights grew wide and they both drew swords, turning to the accused.

  Now facing three opponents, he knew he had no chance, and threw his knife to the ground.

  As it happened, Moneva had only killed one of them. As well as the man she had chased, the woman was alive, and they were both now in the process of being interrogated. Two adjoining cells had been found for them in the castle dungeon, so that when one screamed, the other could hear.

  Moneva had to admit that this Sebastian, Grand Master of the Order of Who Cares, had a much more robust approach than she had imagined he would take. She had been worried that it might all be polite requests, but he was quite willing to use threats and violence, attested to by the row of sharp instruments he had deployed. Yes, much of it was for show; they had barely used them. No, it wasn’t anything close to the savagery inflicted on Rabigar by the jailers at Coldeberg. But it was getting quick results, and that was what Moneva was concerned with. The people who wanted Elana dead were still out there, after all.

  They had ascertained from the woman, the more talkative of the pair, that they had been hired by a representative of the temples of Heractus. When they had put this to her colleague he had confirmed it. These were the people whose flock, and funding, had largely been taken from them by the success of the Church of Madria, and their motive was clear. Neither was Moneva surprised; she had picked up on this source of animosity herself. But neither she nor Sebastian were convinced that this was the full story, and so the questions continued.

  ‘You know that I will happily use this,’ Moneva said to the woman, holding a scalpel just close enough to her face to be uncomfortable. Arms and legs bound, and strapped to her chair, there was little the woman could do to avoid it. ‘These knights wouldn’t do it to a woman, but you know I would. As a fair punishment for trying to kill my friend. It would require a lot of work, however. You’re so ugly in the first place I’d have to make quite a few changes so that people would really notice. Cut the ears off for a start,’ she said, walking slowly around to the side and then behind the woman, so that she couldn’t see her any more. ‘Give you a big sad smile,’ she continued, walking back around to the front and miming cutting either side of the woman’s mouth.

  ‘Gods, what do you want?’ said the woman.

  ‘Your accomplice has told us who else was involved,’ came in Sebastian, voice hard. ‘Confirm it and we’re done.’

  ‘He wasn’t involved with us, with our orders. But I saw him speaking with my elders.’

  ‘Him? Who?’

  ‘Straton.’

  Even Moneva knew who Straton was, the king’s oldest son. Sebastian’s expression went cold. He jerked open the door of the cell. Moneva saw him speak with one of the young knights who had helped her to apprehend the man. When he was done, the young man turned and ran off down the corridor.

  Sebastian gestured to her. She left the woman in the cell and shut the door.

  ‘Let’s check with him,’ said Sebastian quietly.

  He opened the door to the second cell and they entered, staring at the man. He had said little, even when under torture, but it had been enough.

  Moneva smiled at him.

  ‘We know,’ she crowed. ‘Straton.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘We know he’s a part of this.’

  ‘He wasn’t involved.’

  ‘But?’ asked Sebastian, his voice loud, full of authority.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what his role is. But he wasn’t involved with us. I never spoke with him.’

  But you’re not denying he was there, in the background, Moneva said to herself.

  ‘We’ll find out if you’re holding something back,’ she said.

  ‘That’s it. They don’t tell me anything.’

  Sebastian nodded, and they left the cell, waiting in the corridor.

  It wasn’t long before the young knight returned, his face flushed.

  ‘Well, Philon?’

  ‘Straton’s not in his chambers, he’s not been seen by anyone since yesterday evening. He may have left the castle last night.’

  Sebastian banged his hand into the wall.

  ‘Damn it. If he’s out there recruiting an army we could be in serious trouble.’

  Farred clasped hands with Edgar.

  ‘I hope to see you before too long,’ said the Prince.

  Farred smiled, a little nervous about his new mission.

  ‘I hope so.’

  Edgar said his farewells to the others, giving his cousin Belwynn a hug, before climbing onto his horse. Brictwin was waiting for him, and without further ado they trotted away to meet up with the Middians. They would travel with them through the Steppe before returning to Magnia.

  They left behind a sombre looking group. The decisions taken at Baldwin’s meeting had not been to the liking of Gyrmund and his new friends.

  ‘What now for you?’ Gyrmund asked him.

  ‘Rainer says he will bring the Queen here, then we will set off.’

  Gyrmund nodded, unhappy about it. He had hoped that Farred would accompany him back north, but that wasn’t to be.

  ‘Visiting with the Sea Caladri may be very helpful,’ said Soren, the wizard, a tone of complaint in his voice. ‘But we’re leaving with too many things unresolved. Most of all, no-one is taking responsibility for the shield, in Persala. I’m in two minds about what we should do.’

  ‘Well, Edgar is doing his part, don’t blame him,’ Belwynn reprimanded her brother.

  ‘I don’t enjoy saying so about your cousin, but he was on Baldwin’s side in everything,’ said Theron, the Kalinthian knight, nodding in the direction Edgar had departed to. ‘All he could say was how much sacrifice his people had already made.’

  Farred bridled at the arrogance of the knight, who had won a single victory with the help of the Krykkers and thought himself superior to everyone else. Magnians had spilt blood fighting the Isharites and the Barissians—fighting other people’s wars.

  ‘And what would you have Edgar do?’ he demanded. ‘Send an army across the Lantinen to go looking for giants?’

  ‘It’s the Brasingians,’ said Theron. ‘They have the resources of an Empire at their disposal, the largest army of all of us, and what was decided yesterday? That they would do nothing. My people are surrounded by enemies and all we have received from anyone is good luck wishes. Why call this meeting in the first place? It has been a waste of time.’

  ‘The last time t
hey sent an army north,’ countered Farred, ‘it was destroyed to a man, leaving the whole of Rotelegen defenceless. The only reason the Empire still stands is because they threw everything into defending Burkhard Castle. It’s unreasonable to expect them to change that strategy.’

  ‘Unreasonable?’ repeated Theron.

  ‘Stop it!’ said Belwynn. ‘This isn’t helping. Look, the Caladri are here.’

  Farred turned to look. The Caladri carriage, pulled by the strange horned creatures, was ambling down one side of the street. On the other, Queen Hajna and two of her companions were riding horses, accompanied by Rainer. They seemed ready to go. It was time to leave. Gyrmund was already offering his hand.

  ‘I wish we could have had longer,’ said Farred.

  ‘The times won’t allow it, it seems. I wish you all the luck in your mission.’

  ‘Thank you. I wish the same for you, whatever you decide to do.’

  The squire, Evander, was already leading his mount over. They had these boys well trained, the Kalinthians.

  ‘Thank you, young man,’ he said as he climbed into the saddle.

  ‘I appreciate your offer to ride with the carriage,’ Hajna said.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Belwynn replied for her party.

  ‘Take care of Onella’s Staff,’ she said to Soren. ‘My husband, Lorant, asked me to bring it home with me. It does, after all, belong to the Caladri. But you will be putting yourselves in danger if you are heading for the Jalakh Steppe. I will explain to him that you need to keep it a while longer.’

  ‘You should perhaps explain to him,’ Soren replied, ‘that I will be keeping it permanently. I have suffered for this weapon, and it is now mine, whatever its history.’

  It was an unnecessarily rude response and, to Farred, seemed typical of Gyrmund’s new acquaintances. But in the end, that was his friend’s lookout, not his.

  ‘I will pass on your words,’ said Hajna. ‘I do not keep anything from him.’

  She nodded at the rest of them and turned her horse around. Rainer followed her lead and led them off, heading for the eastern gate.