The Jalakh Bow Read online

  Red Serpent joined up with the full Caladri fleet and they made a course for Halvia. The Sea Caladri weren’t taking any risks and they were right not to. Captain Sebo pointed out to the starboard side and Rabigar could just make out dark smudges on the horizon, in the direction of the island of Alta.

  ‘They’ve seen us,’ said Sebo calmly. ‘They’re following, at a safe distance.’

  ‘Will you try to intercept them?’ Rabigar asked.

  ‘No. Our orders are clear on that. We have authority to defend ourselves, but we are not to seek out conflict. If they are merely watching, we will let them.’

  ‘And what if the Kharovians are bringing all their ships to destroy you?’

  ‘Then we will be ready for them.’

  The Caladri ships cut through the waters of the Lantinen, pulled along by the powerful oars. The oarsmen worked in shifts, allowing small groups to rest and regain their strength. Farred took a turn on the oars, leaving the Krykkers to watch the coastline of Dalriya gradually disappear, before Sebo called their attention to the bow, where the Halvian coast was coming into view.

  Hakonin joined Sebo, using the maps in his clan’s possession to help find a port for the fleet. The coastline was rocky, as Krykker lands should be. But it meant that it was dangerous for such large ships to get close to shore, which they had to in order to identify the landmarks that would take them in the right direction.

  Eventually, and with a minimum of fuss, Red Serpent led the Caladri fleet to an inlet. They sailed down the channel, steep cliffs on either side, before it opened into a wide bay. Here the waters were still, and while there were jagged rocks they needed to avoid, a large section of the bay was salt marsh that was safe enough to beach the fleet.

  It took a while for all the ships to execute the manoeuvre, by which time a group of armed Krykkers had arrived, forming up on higher land that overlooked the marsh. What they made of a Caladri war fleet appearing in their bay, no-one could know for sure. Rabigar and his two companions walked off to meet them, keen to explain their appearance before the Halvian Krykkers decided that they were hostile.

  As they approached they saw that a good two hundred Krykkers were arrayed in battle formation, fully armed. It was a relief, then, when Hakonin declared that he recognised the leader of the force as a clan chief.

  ‘Crombec!’ he shouted. ‘I am Hakonin of clan Swarten, come from Dalriya. You knew my father well and you know me.’

  One of the Halvians took a step forwards from the front line. He ripped off his helmet, releasing a bush of grey hair, and squinted down at them.

  ‘This is Maragin and Rabigar of clan Grendal,’ Hakonin added into the silence.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ Crombec shouted back at them, before gesturing down to the shoreline. ‘But who the fuck are they?’

  With a bit of work, Crombec was persuaded to stand down his troops, and instead lead the three Krykkers up into the mountains of his homeland. The Sea Caladri decided that they could not stay in the bay, explaining that it left them too vulnerable to a Kharovian attack, who would be able to seal the inlet and trap them inside. They would sail back to Hakonin’s lands in Dalriya and return to Halvia in five days’ time.

  As they walked with the Halvian Krykkers, Rabigar and Maragin relayed to Crombec the recent events in Dalriya, and the significance of finding the seven weapons of Madria. When he learned that Rabigar was carrying Bolivar’s Sword he insisted on handling the weapon, eyes sparkling with joy as he gripped the hilt and squinted at the magnificence of the blade. Rabigar felt a flush of anger, a desperate desire to take the sword back, but he controlled himself, and Crombec reluctantly returned it to his keeping.

  Not so very high up they came to Crombec’s hall. It was well positioned to get a view of the sea and Rabigar deciphered that coastal defence was the key role of his clan, the Pecinegs.

  ‘I will call a Great Moot of the clans,’ he told the three Krykkers. ‘That is most likely to unearth any knowledge we may have of the whereabouts of the Giants’ Spear. Our legends say that the Giants lived in the far west of Halvia. But that is too vague a starting point for an expedition, if that is your intention. It will also give us the chance to tell you what has been happening in Halvia in the past year. You may not be surprised to learn that we are facing problems of our own.’

  Rabigar, Maragin and Hakonin travelled with the Pecinegs to the site of the Halvian Great Moot. Unlike the Great Meeting Chamber of the Dalriyan Krykkers, an underground cavern carved into the mountain Kerejus, Crombec led them to an open-air building. It was circular, surrounded by high stone walls. The walls contained three arched entrances, one for each of the Halvian clans.

  Clan Chief Crombec led the Pecinegs through their entrance. Steps led them up to a seating area that belonged to their clan. Crombec sat Rabigar and the others on the front row with him, while the rest of his Krykkers took their places on the tiered rows behind. In front of them was a platform, raised above ground level, where a speaker could address all of the clans at once.

  As the Pecinegs took their seats, a second clan began filtering into the building. Crombec identified them as the Vamorins. He explained that they manned the Western Walls, a series of towers that marked the Krykker border with the untamed, western half of Halvia.

  They waited until the third and final clan arrived. Finally, the thud of boots on steps could be heard and the Binideqs appeared. Rabigar stared at this third group. There was something wrong.

  ‘Humans!’ Maragin hissed.

  Mingling with the Binideq clan were human men and women. They took up a good third of the seats, between the Binideqs and the Vamorins.

  ‘They are Vismarians,’ Crombec explained. ‘Refugees. Some of them have lived in our lands for two years now. We have given them a voice at the Moot.’

  Rabigar shared a glance with Maragin and Hakonin. Such a thing would be unthinkable in Dalriya. It was a reminder that they were not in Dalriya anymore, and that the Halvian Krykkers, for all their shared ancestry, had led different lives since they had been separated by the Lantinen Sea.

  Once everyone was ready, Crombec took the floor. He explained to the Moot why he had called it, introducing Rabigar and the others. Rabigar went next, explaining in more detail the events in Dalriya so that the Halvian Krykkers could understand why the search for the Giants’ Spear was so important. He proudly held aloft Bolivar’s Sword, letting the Halvian Krykkers see the weapon they had only heard stories about. He gave way to Wracken, chief of the Binideqs.

  ‘Our guests have brought us news from Dalriya, which we were ignorant of, and for that we give them thanks. Now they must know about events here in Halvia before we can proceed. They should know that the Drobax have become a mighty force on this continent, ferried across the Lantinen in huge numbers by the Kharovians. The Drobax have run amok in the north of Halvia, relentlessly attacking Vismarian settlements. This has been a war of destruction, with the massacring of whole communities. While the Krykkers have fought with our allies, it has not been enough to stop it. The majority of Vismarians now live here in our lands, contributing to our society with their skills. Those that remain beyond the River Drang are those that have found shelter in the most remote and hidden locations. The West of Halvia is a largely wild and unknown land. It is the Vismarians who have explored the western reaches in the past. They are the ones who will know the most about the Giants, if they are willing to share this knowledge with us. I therefore invite Sevald of the Vismarians to speak.’

  As Wracken left the stage, this Sevald took his place. He was tall, strong, long-haired like all his people, and if he had any doubts about speaking at a Krykker Moot, they were well hidden.

  ‘I once again take the opportunity to thank all of the Krykker clans for their help to us in our time of need. To the Krykkers of Dalriya my people say this: we understand you arrived here by Caladri ships. Please, the Kharovians outnumbered and overwhelmed our fleet. But we did not give it up. Here, and in othe
r places, our ships are ready. Let us join with the Caladri to defeat the Kharovian menace, that threatens both Dalriya and Halvia.’

  He looked at them then. It wasn’t desperate, or pleading, but it was a look that demanded a response. Rabigar found himself nodding in agreement, even though he had no control over what the Sea Caladri did.

  ‘As for this question of the Giants. Our stories say the Giants lived far to the west. Where exactly, and how to get there, none of us here know. It is a dangerous land, which none of us have ventured very far into. There are Vismarians, of an adventurous nature, who have journeyed into the west. Nothing good has ever come of such expeditions. In particular...’ Sevald paused. He looked reluctant to continue. ‘There is a family whose home is in the north west. They—’ he paused again, ‘they claim to be descended from Giants. They are an eccentric group, even by Vismarian standards,’ he said, allowing himself a smile. ‘No-one has heard of them in months. They may have been killed by Drobax. The probability is that they have. But I am willing to lead a group back into Vismaria to try to locate them. If anyone can offer you a specific location, or route, it is them.’

  The Moot continued until everyone who wished to had their say, but no more progress could be made. They had succeeded in getting the support of the Halvian Krykkers, and of their allies, the Vismarians. But the more they had learned, the more the recovery of the Spear sounded like a challenging and problematic task.

  It was time to return home. Crombec took them back to the bay where they had arrived, for the rendezvous with the Caladri fleet. The ships were already there. The whole fleet had made the passage, testament to their concerns about a Kharovian attack. Bidding Crombec farewell, they spotted Red Serpent and made for Captain Sebo’s ship.

  They were welcomed aboard. Farred had made the journey again, though he and Sebo both wore grave faces.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Rabigar, sensing they had news to tell.

  ‘The Isharites have invaded the lands of the Grand Caladri,’ said Farred. ‘The Caladri who had resettled their lands were forced to retreat all the way back into the Krykker mountains.’

  ‘We had expected the Isharites to return, possibly to move against us,’ said Maragin grimly. ‘We must prepare to defend against them.’

  ‘There’s something else,’ said Sebo. ‘The Caladri who escaped say the Isharites had a monster with them.’ He exchanged a worried look with Farred. ‘They say they had a dragon.’

  Straton and Ampelios travelled under armed guard in one of the supply wagons as the army made its way back to Heractus. Diodorus and his soldiers left to return to his estates, while the rest of the army began the return journey to Heractus, making a camp in the open a day’s march from the capital.

  The mood was low. Theron and Sebastian had ensured they remained in control of Kalinth, but it had been an empty victory; an unnecessary loss of life. Theron was drained, physically and emotionally, and went to sleep as soon as he got the chance. So Belwynn decided to seek out Clarin. She had barely had a chance to spend any time with him since he had returned from Samir Durg.

  She found him sitting with the rest of the escaped prisoners outside their tents. With no need to worry about enemy scouts any more, the soldiers were building their fires high to keep off the night chill, and drinking up the last of the ale and wine in the army’s supplies. Clarin and his friends were no different, but in other ways they stood out. They were an intimidating looking group, scarred men with grim, thin faces. Then there were the two Dog-men, former servants of Ishari who had become Clarin’s loyal hounds. With their powerful, protruding jaws, and their clawed hands, they had a monstrous appearance in the flickering light of the flames. These were Clarin’s people now. They had all changed since they had left Magnia nearly a year ago, Belwynn knew that. But she felt that Clarin had changed more than most.

  He saw her standing a few feet from the fire and hastily got to his feet. He came striding over, his long legs making up the distance in no time.

  ‘Hello Belwynn,’ he said. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. ‘Would you like a place by the fire?’

  ‘I’m fine. I just wanted to say hello. I feel rude, like I have been ignoring you. But we’ve all been so busy the last week. I’ve good news, too. Soren spoke to me from the Jalakh Steppe. He got ill on the journey there, but he says he’s recovered now.’

  ‘That’s a relief. I’m glad you came, Belwynn. I’ve been wanting to talk to you. How about we take a walk to keep warm?’

  They strolled slowly around the camp, the fires of the soldiers lighting their way in the darkness.

  ‘Sebastian told me that you broke through the enemy line. You’ve really won his respect, he said they needed men like you. You could have a place here in Kalinth if you want. A valued place.’

  Clarin gave a nod. He seemed unimpressed with the compliment and the offer. No doubt he had other things on his mind.

  ‘I know how hard it is for you,’ she said. ‘With Herin. I had the same thing when Soren was captured. It was the not knowing that was the worst part.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s not easy. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, though.’ He paused, thinking, as if trying to choose his words carefully. ‘When I was a prisoner in Samir Durg I faced the very real possibility that my life would end there. We all did. It makes you think about your life—makes you look at yourself. I asked myself, if I was ever going to get out, what did I want from life? And the answer was you, Belwynn.’

  They both stopped walking. Belwynn felt taken by surprise, hadn’t seen this coming. She didn’t know what to say, just stood there gaping at him.

  ‘I love you,’ he continued into the silence. ‘I always have, but I was too young and stupid to do anything about it before. But I’m not that man anymore. I want you, Belwynn. I want to make a life with you.’

  ‘Clarin, this is so sudden. I didn’t know. It’s difficult, I—’

  ‘Theron?’ he asked, his mouth forming a sneer when he said the name. ‘I’ve seen how you look at him. But I don’t trust him. And he doesn’t know you like I do, doesn’t love you like I do.’

  ‘Clarin, stop. Stop for a second. I can’t think.’

  He grabbed her arm in his hand, holding it tight.

  ‘I don’t want you to think, Belwynn. Gods, I need you. I need you to say yes.’

  He was scaring her now. How much had he had to drink? How much of this was his emotions from Samir Durg, repressed for so long, now pouring out?

  ‘Let go of me, Clarin,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, letting go immediately and looking ashamed.

  What do you want from me, she wanted to say, feeling angry. Why now? When it’s too late? If you had said this sooner. If you had arrived in Kalinth even a day earlier, and said all this, I might never have gone to Theron’s bedroom. But you didn’t, and I did. But she wouldn’t say any of that, because it would only make things worse.

  ‘Clarin, I’m glad that you’ve told me. But you must understand, I wasn’t expecting it. You need to give me some time.’

  He nodded, a mournful look on his face. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. It didn’t come out right.’ He sighed. ‘I’m a clumsy fool.’

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Walk me back to my tent.’

  When they returned to Heractus, Belwynn and Elana made straight for the Temple of Madria. Elana had to speak to her flock, who needed to be told about the outcome of the battle. The Church of Madria was busy, especially so after Elana’s deal with Sebastian that it should be the only recognised Church in Kalinth. They had already taken over all the religious buildings in the capital. Now they had plans to expand into the local settlements and to the larger towns.

  Belwynn was keen to spend some time with Lyssa, and escape from the business of war and politics. The girl had been looked after at Elana’s Temple while Belwynn was on campaign, her time filled with chores, and she was happy enough. Belwynn had begun to teach her some basic reading and writi
ng skills, for she was completely illiterate. It was a struggle. She didn’t really show much interest in it. Belwynn found herself wondering what to do with Lyssa. Other children her age were already learning a trade. Was that best for her? Should Lyssa be treated as Belwynn’s own daughter? And what kind of life would that lead to? Because what am I, exactly? she asked herself. Apart from the Lady of the Knights?

  Lyssa was a town girl, and Belwynn resolved to teach her something of country life. They spent a pleasant afternoon on a walk, just the two of them. Lyssa was captivated by everything, from a gurgling stream to a patch of wild flowers, from the birds signing in the trees to frogspawn in a pond. She talked nonstop, and they both felt disappointed when it was time to return to Heractus.

  It was remarkable how easily and completely she had withdrawn into this little world, and so it was a jolt to find Clarin pacing about outside the Temple upon their return.

  ‘Do you know what he’s doing?’ demanded the warrior.

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘Come see.’

  ‘Alright Clarin, but let me see to Lyssa first.’

  She entered the Temple and made sure that Lyssa was suitably supervised before returning outside.

  He led her into the city centre. A crowd had gathered and Clarin had to take her closer before she could see why. A man knelt there, hands tied behind him. He shivered, face pale.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Count Ampelios, the nobleman who surrendered to Theron in the battle. They’re killing him anyway.’

  Theron approached the crowd.

  ‘No, Theron,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘Why do you have to carry out every unpopular task?’

  ‘Count Ampelios, you have been convicted by the royal council of treason. Your sentence is death.’

  An executioner approached, holding a large two-handed sword. Belwynn didn’t recognise him. She was sure he wasn’t a knight. If he was an official executioner of some kind, it looked a little better than the Knights doing it themselves.