Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (158 page)

Kadar’s eyes bugged at the audacity and he spluttered, “Tobiah will never stand for it!”

“Is Tobiah chief of the Night Wind or are you?” Keverin ground out between clenched teeth. He wanted Demophon dead so bad he could taste it.

Kadar’s hand reached for his long knife but Keverin clamped the hand upon the hilt like a vice. Kadar’s eyes widened as he found himself unable to draw the weapon. He struggled briefly but it was no good.

“I am chief here not Tobiah!”

“Then
act like it!
” she hissed under her breath. “Think of your people, not your pride. Tobiah will lead us all to ruin!”

“Tobiah is chief of chiefs—”

Keverin overrode the chief. “But only in matters of the
war!
” he said in frustration, and then more calmly, “True?”

Keverin released Kadar and he flexed his hand trying to regain feeling. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Tobiah will not like it at all,” he said with a twisted smile that grew as Julia watched.

Keverin grinned. “Tobiah will have a seizure when he hears.”

“Julia of the Night Wind,” she murmured. “It has a nice ring to it.”

All three of them laughed.

Kadar left then to speak with Shelim and congratulate him. Julia and Keverin stood aside watching the exchange of gifts. Julia felt inside her medicine pouch and stroked the torque she had made for Keverin’s nameday. She felt the spell tingling against her palm and smiled. Lucius was a genius, though she would never tell him. He might get a swelled head! She was glad she had asked him to help her now. She had a feeling Keverin might need the torque in this war.

Tobiah was a fool. Worse than that, he was a dangerous fool. At every turn he had opposed the inclusion of shamen in this war and that could only lead to disaster. She wished she could make a torque for all of Kev’s men and she felt guilty about that sometimes, but there wasn’t time and Keverin was more important to her than anyone. The shield spell should stop a magical attack, but Keverin was not a mage; he could not invoke the shield himself. Lucius had foreseen the problem and had created a spell to activate the instant an magic was detected. It was not perfect, it would not stop a sword or any other mundane attack, but it was better than nothing. Maybe now would be a good time to give it to him. Tobiah had chosen Kev’s nameday to move north and Julia could already foresee it would be hectic.

Come the day, she was proven right.

Julia mounted her horse next to Keverin who was sporting his nameday present. Tobiah hadn’t liked it, as she knew he wouldn’t, but Kev loved it. It was different to a chief’s torque in that she had carved pictures on it rather than geometric patterns. She was quite proud of it. In the centre under his chin, she had carved the crossed fists of Athione. On each side of that was a panel with the citadel depicted in relief against the mountains. There were six panels in all, each with a little picture. Iden had taught her how to do it, but she had done the actual work herself.

Ignoring Tobiah’s glare of hatred, Keverin mounted Cavell, and behind him Brian and his men climbed into their saddles.

“What are you doing? I forbid it!” Tobiah said angrily.

“You do not forbid me,” Keverin rumbled angrily. “Nor my lady either.”

All around the Night Wind encampment people watched as the scene unfolded. They were wondering what was to happen. If all went well nothing was. As of last night, Julia was Julia of the Night Wind, and her adopted father was of course Kerrion. Kerrion couldn’t adopt Keverin of course—she didn’t want Keverin as her brother. Other warriors and shaman, older ones mostly, had adopted him and the others, but it was comical seeing Lucius adopted by a warrior half his age.

“We are Night Wind not Wolf!” Julia said loudly so that all might hear. “You might be chief of chiefs, but I’m no chief and you can’t order me. I will do what Kadar orders not you.”

There was a rumble of agreement from the onlookers. Tobiah looked around in fury, but Kadar was not to be found. “I will deal with you later. This will not stand!” he shouted and stormed off.

“Oh yes it will,” she whispered as they began to ride out of Denpasser.

Wherever Julia looked, warriors were mounting and riding out of camp. Keverin’s men were the only ones in armour and riding in column of twos. The clansmen did not believe in what they saw as foolishness. They rode in their usual haphazard manner. Groups of warriors talked among themselves here, groups laughed there and trotted away on their own course, still others formed and broke apart only to reform elsewhere. It looked chaotic and was, but Keverin had assured her that the warriors knew what to do. When the time came they would do it with flair. Flair wasn’t enough she knew, not against the legions. Discipline was important in war. Disciplined troops could defeat many times their own numbers if they fought as one and followed orders—Jihan said so and Kev agreed.

“Where is Kadar, do you know?” Keverin asked looking around as the Night Wind warriors began to bunch up around his column.

“He rode out early to avoid Tobiah. He thinks delaying the inevitable may help the situation.”

Kadar had absented himself on purpose knowing Tobiah would attempt to reverse last night’s decision. He had spoken with the other chiefs privately last night urging them to bring the shamen with them. He told them that even if the shamen weren’t needed, it didn’t hurt to have them along, for healing if nothing else. According to Kerrion, every shaman was seen packing this morning.

Keverin looked worried, Julia assumed it was Tobiah’s doing, but when she asked he shook his head.

“This war is badly planned. If Jihan were here, he would call me a fool and worse than a fool for riding to meet Navarien head on like this.

“I know you think that, but with magic on our side we should stand an even chance.”

“That’s what I mean. An even chance isn’t good enough. Jihan always says never fight unless you know you will win, and he’s right. Sometimes you have absolutely no other choice and so you fight with damage limitation in mind. You should never do anything that doesn’t lead to victory. Easy to say I know, but it’s true just the same. Fighting to contest ground is usually pointless. We should only fight when we have the advantage.”

“I can see that, but if you retreat all the time because you’re waiting for the advantage we might be fighting in Devarr come summer!”

Keverin laughed. “That’s the problem any lord faces when leading men into battle. He has to commit to a battle at some point, the hard part is deciding whether he should strike now, or wait and hope for a better opportunity later.”

Julia wished Jihan had stayed with them. Oh, she knew Tobiah would not listen to him, or anyone else for that matter, but it would make her feel better. Keverin was a strong and wonderful lord, but Jihan was simply the best soldier she knew of—the best general Deva had despite his age. Everyone agreed on that. Keverin said he was a natural.

Julia looked around. Even riding to war like this the clans stayed roughly separated by clan affiliation. Although chaotic by Deva’s standard, the warriors were only mingling within their own clan. The only ones who seemed to have cast aside that reserve were shamen. Lucius and Mathius were riding within that group, and she decided to amble over and have a word.

“I’ll be over there with Lucius, Kev,” she said.

“Ask him what Navarien is doing about water while you’re there.”

“Okay,” she said and at Keverin’s frown she added, “That means all right.”

“Why say the other thing then?”

Julia smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Keverin grumbled good-naturedly as she urged her horse between groups of warriors toward Kerrion. Mathius was talking to him, but when Julia arrived he broke off.

“Telling tales again, Mathius?”

“He asked,” Mathius said with a guilty shrug.

“I was joking. I know how nosy Kerrion is; it’s all right.”

The shamen burst out laughing at Kerrion’s splutters.

“You should have more respect for your father girl!” Kerrion grumped trying not to laugh with the others.

“I suppose I should,” she said grinning. “Especially when he’s of such an
advanced
age. Are you sure you can manage?”

That set off a new round of laughter and increased spluttering from Kerrion.

“I can still show you youngsters a thing or three,” Kerrion said mock glaring at her.

“I know you can father,” she said contritely. “Shelim told me about the time you set the tent on fire. Why
did
you do that by the way?”

Everyone howled with laughter. Shelim raised his hands and shook his head as if to say Julia had forced it from him. Kerrion gave up and laughed.

“Seriously now,” she said when the laughter died away. “Keverin was wondering what Navarien is doing about water.”

“The legions normally use water wagons,” Mathius said thoughtfully. “But this time he has the equivalent of three legions under his command. He’ll need to stay close to a river.”

“Exactly my thought,” Julia said.

“That won’t help us,” Shelim put in. “The plain has many rivers and streams.”

Damn! She had hoped to use Navarien’s reliance on the river against him. There wouldn’t be a quick fix this time around.

“Kadar has yet to show his face,” Mathius mused. “Does anyone here think Tobiah will win the argument?”

Julia looked to the Wolf Clan shamen especially. They knew their chief best. It must be very uncomfortable for them. On the one side, they believed their presence was necessary to win against Navarien, on the other they had to ignore Tobiah’s wishes to do so. Kerrion was the eldest and could order his shamen to do what he wanted; however, he always preferred persuasion to confrontation. All shamen were agreed that their presence was necessary, but not all were comfortable thwarting Tobiah.

“I think no matter what happens between Tobiah and Kadar, there will be trouble between Wolf and Night Wind over this,” Kemen said. He was Wolf Clan. “Never has an outclanner been adopted into a clan, let alone a thousand of them!”

Kerrion and the others nodded glumly, but again they knew Julia’s presence was necessary. They knew she would leave if her friends were sent away.

“Mazel understands as no other chief can,” Shelim said. “He has seen the dead piled high in Dragon Clan camps, and has fled before a sorcerer’s fire. He and his warriors have been teaching those who wish to know what to expect, but the number is low. Thankfully, not all the warriors are as bad as Tobiah—some are happy that we are here with them for healing if nothing else.”

That was true, but unfortunately the greater number was against the shamen attending. Julia was sure that their opinion would change when they faced magic upon the battlefield. All she could do was hope it wouldn’t be too late then.

She rode along for a while listening to the warriors nearby discuss the situation. Most seemed of the opinion that Navarien would attack head on and keep pushing until he broke the clans. Of course, they all said that would never happen. No one thought Navarien would divide his forces and go around them, and that worried her. How many times had she thought things were going well and then found her expectations dashed at the last moment?

Too many to count.

To hear the clansmen talking as if the war would be over in a mere handful of days was unbelievable. They really thought that nine clans united would win easily. It was the numbers involved. Navarien had almost thirty thousand men; the clans had three times that many warriors. What they failed to realise was that many of their number were untried boys all of which had been pushed through their ceremonies early. Navarien on the other hand had men full grown and trained to fight in disciplined ranks. Did fifteen years of life growing up in a warrior tradition outweigh the legion’s veteran fighters? Julia hoped so.

The clansmen were making good use of the time to put some distance between them and Denpasser. They rode for two candlemarks then dismounted and jogged to rest the horses. Julia was unused to this kind of travel, but she was strong and had kept herself as close to her peak as she could. She had no trouble keeping up. Lucius however was soon out of breath.

“I’ll be all right,” he puffed as they jogged along. “Too much sitting at the mirror I expect.”

Julia grasped her magic and examined him, but found only tiredness. She used her healing magic and his breathing eased. She decided to keep an eye on him for the next few days just in case she had missed something.

“Do you think Gideon will reach Jihan today?”

Lucius nodded. “Today or tomorrow I should think.”

“Will it work?”

“It should.”

“I can’t wait to see their faces.”

Lucius smiled. “It should be something to see all right.”

* * *

Jihan watched stony faced as his men ran forward to the attack. Everywhere he looked men were busy training to become something they weren’t, but already he saw improvement. Firstly there was attitude.

Most, if not all, of them had come from backgrounds very dissimilar from a guardsman’s life. Many were farm hands, some were failed apprentices, others had been street toughs in Devarr. They had come to Malcor from every walk of Devan life hoping to turn a dream into reality. It went without saying that none of them had known what they were getting into. But that had changed. They most certainly did know now, and wonder of wonders, they liked it. Motivation had been a concern, especially when considering the pace required to train them in only two years. That worry had been replaced by other concerns.

Fourth and fifth battalions had been formed a maniple at a time as the recruits arrived; consequently they were the furthest behind. Surprisingly this had led to a greater sense of unity within those two units. The recruits with the most training had helped the newer ones so they would not fall too far behind the others. Competition between the battalions was high as they struggled to best each other.

Jihan walked toward a forest of wooden posts. The area was used for sword practice and was evidenced by the badly hacked posts and piles of wood chips at their bases. First battalion was practising here today. Yesterday they had cavalry manoeuvres, and tomorrow it would be bow practice. The sword drills always held a particular fascination for him, although he was expert in many differing weapons, the sword was his favourite.