The Jalakh Bow
Book Three of The Weapon Takers Saga
Jamie Edmundson
The Jalakh Bow
Book Three of The Weapon Takers Saga
Copyright © 2019 by Jamie Edmundson.
All rights reserved.
First Edition: 2019
Author website jamieedmundson.com
Cover: Streetlight Graphics
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contents
Dramatis Personae
Map
Prologue
1. Cold Comfort
2. The Handmaid, The Duchess and The Queen
3. Coldeberg
4. It Takes an Assassin
5. The Battle of Simalek
6. Broken Vows
7. Red Serpent
8. Manoeuvres
9. The Grass Sea
10. In Shadow
11. Halvia
12. Joined
13. To The Rock
14. Consummatum Est
15. Betrayal
16. Exodus
17. Comeback Kings
18. The Jalakh Bow
19. Beyond the Drang
20. The Gift
21. Revenge
22. Reappearance
23. Rescue
About
The Giants’ Spear
Prologue
Also by Jamie Edmundson
Dramatis Personae
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
Brictwin, Edgar’s bodyguard
Morlin, Edgar’s bodyguard
Wulfgar, high-priest of Toric
Otha of Rystham, magnate, Wulfgar’s brother
Aescmar, a magnate
Ulf, a smith
North Magnians
Elana, a priestess of Madria
Cerdda, Prince of North Magnia
Mette, Cerdda’s mother
Elfled, Cerdda’s sister
Irmgard, Cerdda’s wife
Middians
Brock, a tribal chief
Frayne, a tribal chief
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
Ancel, Bishop of Coldeberg
Gustav the Hawk, Archmage of the Empire
Inge, Gustav’s apprentice
Rotelegen
Jeremias, Duke of Rotelegen
Adalheid, Duchess of Rotelegen, his mother
Rudy, an escaped prisoner from Samir Durg
Jurgen, his cousin
Other Brasingians
Arne, Duke of Luderia
Tobias, his son
Godfrey, Archbishop of Gotbeck
Coen, Duke of Thesse
Werner, a steward
Heike, a servant
Gervase Salvinus, a mercenary leader
Guivergnais
Nicolas, King of Guivergne
Bastien, Duke of Morbaine
Russell, Bastien’s man
Kalinthians
Theron, Count of Erisina, Knight of Kalinth
Evander, Theron’s squire
Sebastian, Count of Melion, Grand Master of the Knights of Kalinth
Alpin, Sebastian’s squire
Galenos, former Grand Master of the Knights of Kalinth
Tycho, Knight of Kalinth, Theron’s friend
Remigius, Knight of Kalinth, Sebastian’s friend
Euthymius, Knight of Kalinth
Philon, Knight of Kalinth
Leontios, Knight of Kalinth
Coronos, Knight of Kalinth
Proteus, Knight of Kalinth
Jonas, King of Kalinth
Irina, Queen of Kalinth
Straton, eldest son of Jonas
Dorian, second son of Jonas
Diodorus, Count of Korenandi
Bemus, a disciple of Elana
Lyssa, a girl from Korkis
Jalakhs
Bolormaa, a Jalakh woman, elder of the Oligud tribe
Gansukh, warrior, Bolormaa’s son
Qadan, warrior
Haskans
Shira, Queen of Haskany, member of the Council of Seven
Koren, Shira’s uncle
Rimmon, a mage
Persaleians
Pentas, a wizard
Cyprian, an escaped prisoner from Samir Durg
Zared, an escaped prisoner from Samir Durg
Mark, deposed King of Persala
Duilio, soldier
Aulus, flamen of Ludovis
Ennius, flamen of Ludovis
Krykkers
Kaved, a mercenary
Rabigar, an exile
Maragin, chieftain of the Grendal clan
Guremar, chieftain of the Plengas
Hakonin, chieftain of the Swarten
Jodivig, chieftain of the Dramsen
Stenk, a young warrior
Crombec, chieftain of the Pecineg clan
Wracken, chieftain of the Binideq
Caladri
Dorjan, King of the Shadow Caladri
Lorant, King of the Blood Caladri
Hajna, Queen of the Blood Caladri
Szabolcs, a wise man
Gyuri, a carriage driver
Marika, a carriage attendant
Dora, a carriage attendant
Vida, a carriage attendant
Joska, a carriage attendant
Kelemen, a leader of the Grand Caladri
Ignac, a wizard
Sebo, a Sea Caladri captain
Darda, a Sea Caladri soldier
Isharites
Arioc, King of Haskany, member of the Council of Seven
Siavash, High Priest of Ishari, member of the Council of Seven
Ardashir, a wizard, member of the Council of Seven
Rostam, lieutenant of Arioc, member of the Council of Seven
Harith, servant of Diis
Peroz, servant of Diis
Other
Sevald, a Vismarian leader
Gunnhild, a Vismarian
Kull, a Drobax
Prologue
ERKINDRIX IS DEAD,’ Shira said, keeping her voice steady. ‘Arioc and the other members of the Council are at each other’s throats. Now is the perfect time.’
The men in the hall didn’t look convinced. Many of the most powerful noblemen in Haskany had made the journey to Shira’s estate. She had fed them all and plied them with arak to drink. But evidently, none of that meant that they were going to commit to her cause.
These were hard looking men. Wrapped in furs that made them look twice as big as they were, they had agreed to come despite a cold snap that signalled late autumn was turning to winter.
They had served Arioc since he had become king. They would continue to serve him if necessary. But Shira knew, at the same time, that their country’s servitude to Ishari chafed at each and every one of them. They were proud Haskans, who would see their country become independent. But they wer
e careful. A failed rebellion could see them and their families destroyed.
‘Together we could raise a reasonably strong and well provisioned army,’ suggested Etan, a widely respected figure. ‘I have no doubts over your leadership of it, or that of your uncle,’ he said, nodding at Koren, who was standing to one side of Shira, arms folded. ‘But Ishari have magi. They have the Drobax. While that remains the case, we are not in a position to act against them.’
‘They are not in a position to act against us,’ she retorted, not willing to give in. ‘Arioc, Ardashir and Siavash all fight each other to succeed Erkindrix. Not one of them has the resources to take on a united Haskany, and who knows how long their conflict may take? Even if one of them should emerge victorious, how likely is it that they will have the same power and reach as Erkindrix did? Would you cower in your halls, year after year, waiting until the Isharites return to claim our throne?’
There was anger at that—murmurs and whispers filled the hall. Maybe she had pushed them too far. But she knew that she needed to win these men over now. Should they drift aimlessly into the spring and summer months, divided and purposeless, a year would go by and they would have done nothing.
She looked at the faces in front of her. As many were against her as with her. And most weren’t in either camp, unpersuaded and reluctant to commit to any path.
A knock at the door to the hall. Koren walked over to investigate. A whispered conversation followed. The attention of Shira’s guests shifted in that direction. Uncertain, Shira turned to look.
Koren pulled the door wide open.
‘Lord Pentas,’ he announced in a strong voice, that gripped the attention of those in the hall.
Pentas sauntered in. It was the first time that Shira had ever been pleased to see him. He surveyed the hall, his red eyes fixing on the key figures in the room, making eye contact, a half-smile playing on his lips.
The atmosphere in the hall switched instantly. Pentas possessed powers that none of these men could understand or measure. Shira was their Queen, a member of the Council of Seven, yet Pentas exuded an authority she could never possess. It galled her, and yet she knew it might make the difference between success and failure.
‘So,’ Pentas said, drawing out the syllable, and raising his arms to encompass everyone who had gathered in the hall. ‘Here are the new rulers of Haskany.’
And that, Shira said to herself, as she observed her countrymen, is that.
Cold Comfort
I
WINTER HAD SMOTHERED THE NORTH of Dalriya.
Belwynn, raised in the temperate south, had never seen anything like it.
She thought that the city of Heractus, capital of Kalinth, was made for winter. Here the snow that fell in the streets turned to a dirty slush, complementing the grey walls of the city and its castle. The citizens of Heractus stoically endured the freezing conditions.
These people love being miserable, Belwynn told her brother. Cold days and winter rations make them happy as pigs in shit.
It was a slow time of the year. The Kalinthians had worked hard from spring to autumn, brought in their harvest, and most people had full enough larders to see them through comfortably enough. They flocked to the inns of the city, drank strong beer, told tall stories and sang old songs. For all she tried to resist it, Belwynn found herself liking the people here a little bit more each day.
Travel seemed to be virtually non-existent. On the occasions she ventured out beyond the city limits, accompanied by Theron, or sometimes Gyrmund, she never tired of the spectacle of a land blanketed in white. Thick snow crunched underfoot. Streams and lakes were frozen, some hard enough to walk across, others dangerous, with quick flowing, icy water beneath a thin top layer.
Otherwise, she spent her time in Heractus. She helped Elana with her work. She slept; she ate; she drank. She talked with her brother and her friends. It was a slow time of the year, and that was exactly what they all needed.
Belwynn and Gyrmund stood before Dirk’s grave.
It was easy to find, since it was the only plot in a brand-new cemetery in Heractus. It was connected to the new Church of Madria, where Elana performed her healing. The land had been paid for by Elana’s many supporters. The rich and powerful men of Heractus had contributed: Theron and Sebastian, and many other Knights of Kalinth—even Prince Dorian, second son of King Jonas, had supported the project. But so too had the ordinary men and women of the city. Elana’s reputation had followed her from the High Tower, the seat of the Knights of Kalinth, where her earliest miracles had been witnessed. She had accompanied the Kalinthian army into Haskany, and there, word of her powers grew further.
Now everyone knew about her. She was visited daily, with ailments from the most serious to the most petty, to the purely imaginary. The Church of Madria had become the most visited in the city, and a source of envy from the other temples who had seen their congregations diminish. But with powerful protectors like Sebastian, the new Grand Master of the Knights, whose army still occupied Heractus, there was little they could do.
‘I am sorry I wasn’t able to speak with him before he died,’ Gyrmund murmured, staring down at the tombstone. ‘He helped to rescue me from Coldeberg prison. I never thanked him properly for that.’
‘He died at peace, Gyrmund,’ Belwynn said. ‘With no regrets. You should have none too.’
Gyrmund nodded, looking up at her. ‘And how are you and Soren?’
Both twins had been in a bad way for a while, not that Belwynn herself had known much about it. The wizard, Pentas, had spirited them out of Samir Durg, all the way to the Kalinthian army and Elana. Belwynn had been knocked unconscious by Rostam in the Throne Room of Samir Durg, shortly before the assassination of Erkindrix and their miraculous escape. She had remained in and out of consciousness for some time.
‘I’m fully recovered,’ she assured him. ‘Soren isn’t, though.’
Her brother had been tortured in Samir Durg, in ways she did not fully understand. Moreover, the Isharites had kept him in a box, never letting him out until Gyrmund and Moneva had found him. Never physically strong, his body seemed irreparably damaged from the ordeal.
‘His back still troubles him, and he tires easily from physical exertion. His eyesight hasn’t recovered, either. Elana thinks it never will. He clutches that staff all the time now, it’s the only way he can see properly—he’s virtually blind without it.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, don’t be too sorry. I thought I would never see him again. And you and Moneva rescued him. So, for the thousandth time, thank you. And I remind myself of how desperate I was to see him again, every time he moans at me, which is at least half a dozen times a day.’
Gyrmund smiled at that, something he rarely did these days.
‘How is Moneva?’ she asked, already knowing the answer, but knowing that it was a subject that Gyrmund needed to talk about. Moneva had been remote and uncommunicative ever since their return from Samir Durg, and it was Gyrmund who suffered the most from it.
‘No change,’ he said. ‘She won’t speak to me properly. I know that she suffers, but she won’t share it with me. I was wondering if you could try talking with her?’
Yet again? thought Belwynn. She and Moneva had built a friendship during their weeks together. But since Moneva, Soren and the others had been captured in Edeleny, and taken to Samir Durg, while Belwynn had escaped to Kalinth, their paths had been very different. There didn’t seem to be much of that friendship left.
‘Yes. I’ll try,’ Belwynn found herself saying. She knew that she should.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Gyrmund said, ‘of what I should do once this snow melts. I’ve been treated well here, and I get on with Theron. He has asked me to stay for a while, help to train new soldiers, that kind of thing. But I don’t think that’s me. I can’t stop thinking of Herin and Clarin. I bear a huge guilt that I left them to their fate. I feel like I should go back.’
Belwynn nodded. She h
ad spoken with Gyrmund a number of times about the two brothers. Once they had broken out of the slave pits in Samir Durg, Gyrmund and Moneva had gone to find Soren, while Herin and Clarin had remained behind, occupying a tower of the fortress along with a ragtag band of escaped prisoners. Anything could have happened. Clearly, the most likely outcome was that they had all been slaughtered. But the chaos engendered by Erkindrix’s assassination may have given them a chance of escape. And she knew that the two of them weren’t easy to kill and there was a chance, however slim, that they lived.
‘I will talk with Soren about Herin and Clarin. Though I’m not sure what we can achieve without Pentas. And I will talk with Moneva, too.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gyrmund, and he smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry I’ve passed on all my problems to you.’
Eudora’s Tavern was a small place, centrally located in Heractus; not too rough and not too expensive, either. It was where Moneva had chosen to spend her time.
The brief hours of daylight were already disappearing, and the inside of the establishment was dim, meaning Belwynn had to search before she saw her, sitting at a table by herself. A plate of food sat in the middle of the table, seemingly untouched, while Moneva had clearly begun drinking. As Belwynn sat down next to her, Moneva gripped both handles of her cup and tipped it back, guzzling it down.