Straton looked over at the family.
‘I’m not a monster, you know,’ he said defensively.
‘You’ve been serving one,’ said Theron accusingly.
‘Dorian?’
‘You know it wasn’t Dorian,’ said Belwynn, her anger at the prince bursting out.
Straton nodded. ‘He said he’d make me king,’ he said simply, as if that explained it all.
Theron shook his head.
‘It would have been better. Now the Isharites will come and destroy Kalinth,’ he said to Theron.
Theron looked at him, teeth gritted.
‘There’s no longer any need for you to worry about that,’ Theron declared, before launching himself at Straton. He knocked the prince to the ground, diving on to him and drawing a knife from his belt.
‘Theron!’ Belwynn shouted.
But he didn’t stop, pushing the knife into Straton’s neck, holding it there until the prince stopped struggling.
Belwynn didn’t try to stop him.
Theron rose to his feet. Straton’s blood covered his face, neck and chest. Turning to Diodorus, his fingers gripped the hilt of his sword.
‘Theron,’ said Belwynn, ‘don’t you think we’ve shed too much blood now?’
He turned to face her. ‘Too much? Maybe my mistake has been in not shedding enough.’
‘What, then? You’ll kill him in front of his children? He could still be an ally.’
Theron drew his sword and approached. Diodorus looked up at him, saw Straton’s body sprawled on the ground, then gently moved his children to one side.
‘You are pardoned, Diodorus, if you swear to serve me faithfully from now on. Not to serve the kingdom, or some other oath you can wriggle out of. Me.’
Diodorus got to his knees. ‘I swear it, on the lives of my boys. I am yours to command.’
Clouds scudded across the sky and a breeze kept them cool, as soldiers, servants and other hangers-on took the Great Road north.
Farred didn’t fully understand how his decisions were leading him to return to Burkhard Castle. He had certainly never wanted to go back there, let alone go through the misery of another siege. Edgar had offered him a wife and lands just three weeks past. He had turned the offer down. Some men might call themselves stupid for doing so. But Farred was beginning to believe that it was fate that was bringing them all back to Burkhard. And fate cannot be denied.
If his thoughts on their destination were bleak, Farred was at least relieved at the manner of their departure. Archmage Gustav had spoken privately with Inge, and Duke Walter had done the same with Baldwin. Whatever had been said worked, for the Emperor wasted no time in sending out his orders and preparing to lead his army to the fortress in person. Baldwin had given all the signs of being back to his old self, and that was surely what the Brasingians needed.
It had been an affecting scene when he departed, Queen Hannelore visibly upset as she bid her husband goodbye. The two daughters wept for their father too, though the young boy didn’t seem to understand. There was only a small chance that they would see him again.
Farred saw a figure on the road up ahead and called out a warning. The horses were stopped and men checked their weapons, just in case.
‘It’s Gustav,’ said Inge, her eyes the sharpest, or else she knew by some other means.
Baldwin and Walter nudged their horses forwards. Farred, intrigued, joined them.
Gustav stood on the road, no mount in sight. Farred knew full well how he had got there, though that was never explicitly discussed in front of the emperor. He still had that healthy appearance about him that Farred didn’t associate with his kind, but he was tired looking. There was something else too, a troubled look in his face.
‘You have news?’ Baldwin asked his wizard.
‘Yes, Your Majesty. The Isharite army approaches the border of the Empire. The Rotelegen are making good progress with the evacuation, and Duke Jeremias should arrive at Burkhard not long after you do.’
‘I sense there is something else, too,’ said Walter.
‘Indeed, you are perceptive as ever, Your Grace.’ Gustav seemed to consider his words for a moment. ‘There is no other way to say it,’ he decided. ‘The Isharite army has a dragon with it.’
About
Four weapons claimed, three still to go.
The Weapon Takers will return one last time in Book Four, The Giants’ Spear.
Follow Jamie on Amazon and/or BookBub to receive new release notifications.
Many thanks to everyone who has supported me.
Special thanks to Marcus Nilsson & Phyllis Simpson for beta reading.
Sign up to Jamie’s newsletter and get a free digital copy of the prequel story to The Weapon Takers Saga, Striking Out
Website: jamieedmundson.com
Love Listening? This book will soon be available on Audible.
‘The best way to thank an author is to write a review.’
Please consider writing a review for this book.
Turn over for a sneak preview of the sequel to
The Jalakh Bow...
The Giants’ Spear
Prologue
Siavash sat on the throne where Erkindrix had once sat. His arms rested on the carved red crystal. It was his now, and he had got more than used to that idea. Golden light shone down from the dome high up in the vaulted ceiling, bathing him in warm colours. He would have felt like a god, if he didn’t already have one living inside him.
Diis was with him: an oppressive presence, impatient for the victory over Madria that still eluded them.
His mind repeated the moment when that bitch, Soren’s sister, had struck the corpse of Prince Dorian with the dagger. There had been a blinding flash, a bang, and Siavash’s shadow was shattered, evaporating away into nothingness. It was lost to him forever—and lost cheaply, because he had not even succeeded in defeating the Kalinthians.
The doors opened and the Magnian, Herin, strode in, walking towards the throne in a self-assured way. Siavash could feel Diis focus his malevolence on the human, and Siavash could see the human’s spirit quail, though he maintained an admirable show of bravado.
‘I am honoured to present you with these gifts, Lord Siavash,’ he said, bending down on one knee in front of him. From a sack he pulled a decapitated head.
‘King Mark evaded us long enough, but he has met his end now,’ Herin said, holding the face towards Siavash so that he could see the former King of Persala’s features. Siavash had never met the man, but his informants had already confirmed that this was indeed the head of the king-in-exile.
‘My force also successfully recovered the Shield of Persala, as you ordered,’ said Herin.
Dropping the head unceremoniously to the floor, he now held up the shield, the leather exterior decorated in the gaudy colours of the Persaleians.
Siavash felt Diis stir, a mix of hatred for the object brought before him, and elation—that at last one of the weapons of Madria was in their hands.
‘You have served us well,’ Siavash admitted, ‘and will be rewarded. I need generals with the ability to carry out orders. You will be given your own host to command.’
Herin lowered his head, acknowledging the scale of the reward. ‘I am honoured,’ he said, raising his eyes to look at Siavash once more. ‘What orders will this host have?’
‘The same as three others. All four hosts will leave for Kalinth immediately.’
‘Four?’ Herin asked. ‘All for Kalinth?’
‘The Kalinthians must be crushed!’ Siavash shouted at him, letting loose the anger and loathing he had carried since his defeat. ‘Everywhere in Dalriya, and even in distant Halvia, our enemies are subdued or on the verge of defeat. And yet that pathetic kingdom still holds out. Almighty Diis demands its destruction!’
A shadow passed over Herin’s face, but he bent his head in obeisance yet again.
‘Leave your gifts here and go,’ said Siavash, tired of the man’s presence.
‘Well?’ he shouted irritably. ‘Come, then.’
Out came Peroz, servant of Diis. Siavash had reformed the Isharite military, so that every unit had at least one servant attached to it, reporting back directly to him. It imposed discipline and loyalty, reducing the chances of another such as Pentas from betraying them.
Siavash allowed himself a smile at the thought of the red-eyed wizard. He recalled the sensation as the spear, wielded by his shadow in the body of Dorian, penetrated deeply into his enemy. It hadn’t quite all been for nothing in Kalinth, he reminded himself.
‘What of him?’ Siavash asked Peroz.
‘He can’t be trusted, my lord.’
‘I don’t trust him. That’s why you have this task. But he’s able.’
‘He fought and killed his brother for the shield. But then he let the rest of our enemies leave, no doubt to return to Kalinth.’
‘There’s something I’ve learned of humans,’ Siavash explained to his servant. ‘Despite all the evidence of what Diis will do to this world, they still think they will be saved. If they show loyalty, or are useful in some way, they think we will spare them, their family, their friends. It is the way their minds work. This Herin will do as he is ordered because he thinks it will save him.’
Siavash studied Peroz, looking to see whether the lesson had been taken.
‘And if he doesn’t,’ Siavash added, ‘you know what to do.’
Also by Jamie Edmundson
Toric’s Dagger
Bolivar’s Sword
The Jalakh Bow Page 29
