Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (46 page)

“I swear on my life, my honour, and my soul to be your man ‘till death. May the God bear witness,” Ernard said and circled his heart.

Julia frowned at him for a moment and then smiled. “He is loyal.” She said and murmurs spread among the watching men.

Jihan blinked in surprise. He had known Ernard all his life. Of course he was loyal, but how had Julia known? Was their ruse really a ruse? Could she really tell a man’s loyalties by looking at him?

Julia noticed his look. “He is loyal my lord.”

Jihan stepped forward with a smile to raise Ernard to his feet. “I swear on my life, my honour, and my soul to take you Ernard into my service—to protect and uphold you and yours in good times and in bad, and to use you in all honour. May the God bear witness,” he said and circled his heart.

One after another, the guardsmen swore their oaths until only a small group hung back. Jihan recognised some of them as his father’s captains, but all were cronies.

“You men are banished from my lands,” Jihan said with relish, and then addressed himself to his loyal guardsmen. “In a moment I will have the ward removed. I want you to choose four captains from among the best of you—you know better than I who they are. Go down to the armoury and don full armour and weapons. A hundred of you will see to it that these men are escorted off my lands, the rest will report to me in the south courtyard.” He looked toward Mathius. “Drop the ward Mathius if you would.”

Jihan watched impassively as his loyal men left for the armoury. Mathius raised the ward again leaving the dregs still inside.

Jihan breathed a sigh of relief. It was working.

* * *

Keverin was impressed with Jihan’s way of handling his guardsmen. By appealing to their pride and willingness to fight for their families, he had managed to wheedle out those with no real ties to Malcor. One surprising thing though had been the number of men too scared to swear to Jihan. The threat of Julia knowing their intentions had dissuaded many from swearing to Jihan—even those with family in Malcor Town. Although losing over a thousand guardsmen from a total of six thousand was bad, it was really no bad thing to prune away the weaker men. Malcor would benefit in the end as the younger guardsmen learned from the older ones. It was obviously better to have strong courageous men teach the young ones to be like them than to have cowards pass on their bad habits.

Keverin was no longer really listening to the speech. It was the twelfth time he had heard it. Jihan hadn’t varied it very much, and so far the reaction had been the same each time. Jihan had ordered the loyal men to escort the bad apples in small groups all over the map, so they wouldn’t so easily link up. A thousand brigands wasn’t a laughing matter, but he thought Jihan had handled it very well. The young Lord of Malcor was generous to supply a horse and dagger to each man, and they knew it. Horses were expensive as was steel. They wouldn’t be able to get into too much mischief with no armour and only a dagger.

Keverin glanced at the silent presence beside him. Julia hadn’t said much since kissing him in the armoury. It was very forward of her, but he liked it—he liked it a lot! He didn’t know what his feelings for her were really. Gratitude was one part, but a relationship built on gratitude wouldn’t last. He admired her courage immensely, and her intelligence was not in question of course. Her beauty was staggering and her—

It was the cursed book that held him back!

Although it contained valuable knowledge he had nearly destroyed it once. It was for Julia’s sake that he had not. Even if he loved her, he couldn’t deny her a way home—especially if he loved her. It was so strange. He even knew when she entered a room without turning to see. It was as if the room itself brightened with her presence, and he felt diminished when she wasn’t with him despite their arguments. Maybe it was her magic that called to him? No, he had felt it that day in Jessica’s rooms before he even knew she had magic. Even his men felt it.

Julia burned brightly—she dazzled him.

Not even Darius had been as close to him as he now felt Julia had become. She would hate him if he didn’t tell her about a way to go home, but if he did, she might suffer Darius’ fate. The book had killed Darius—he had killed Darius by allowing his friend to study it. He was damned if he showed her the book and damned if he didn’t.

Keverin glanced down at her again and Julia smiled. He smiled back as Jihan finished taking the oaths. As far as he could tell Julia hadn’t been hurt during the earlier attack, but how could he tell if she had aged herself a day or two? He wouldn’t be able to tell if she had aged a year come to that! That she had suffered at all was driving him mad with worry.

All he could think of was Darius and Julia, Julia and Darius.

* * *

14 ~ Fortress Elvissa

Lucius thought they were making excellent time, but Purcell still drove them on. It was hard to blame the man. Seeing his home under attack and not being able to help was driving Purcell mad with frustration.

Keverin had loaned Purcell enough horses to mount their entire force, and had sent Captain Marcus with five hundred men as well. Keverin could easily afford the horses, he had lost a great many men in the attack, but the guardsmen were another matter. Gylaren had protested, insisting that Keverin needed them for his own venture, but Keverin had replied that a thousand men had no more chance than five hundred to take Malcor. If they were to succeed, it would be by guile and sorcery. Lucius agreed with Gylaren that it was a risk, but he had come to know Julia quite well. That woman was very determined. She had badgered him unmercifully trying to learn this thing or that. She had been especially interested in wards and shielding.

Lucius had tried to tell her that personal shields were just that—personal. She already knew that, Mathius had explained it, but she wanted to know the ways used by other mages so that she might link the methods in some manner and thereby see a common thread. He was doubtful. He had learned his own method through trial and error—lots of error!

Lucius had described walls of air, of light, of a mixture of the two. He described walls of fire that did not burn the sorcerer inside, but anything outside touching it would be destroyed. He told her of wards made of nothing but magic itself, and others that absorbed magical attacks to become stronger. To his never ending surprise, it had worked! To his way of thinking, Julia had messed about for a short while with no logic behind her experiments, but suddenly a shield appeared around her little finger. He hadn’t tried to stop her when she held the finger in a candle flame. He could already tell it would work.

Lucius shook his head in admiration. Castle Black had lost the perfect Mortain when Julia was born a woman. Thank the God she was! If a sorcerer with Julia’s strength ever became Mortain, no one would be able to resist his might. Julia was strong but ignorant; his former brothers were weak but knowledgeable. It equalled out... sort of.

Lucius looked around at the countryside they were passing through. They were on a section of road that had seen better days. Most of its stones were missing and the verges were overgrown. In some places the trees overhung the road so that the column continually moved from bright sunshine into gloomy twilight at random intervals. Deva must have quite a problem with bandits, he mused. Such stretches of road were perfect for such to ambush the unwary.

Just as Lucius was thinking it would be nice to stop for a while, Purcell called a halt. Lucius dismounted and took a drink of water giving some to his horse at the same time. Word filtered back to him through the grumbles of the men that they were stopping for half a candlemark. Most of the guardsmen walked around chatting to their mates and trying to work the stiffness out of cramped legs, but Lucius decided to check on Elvissa again. He rummaged through his pack looking for the mirror Keverin had given to him.

Keverin had been reluctant to part with it he remembered...

Lucius had been in the library trying to choose a book that he could understand. He had been a little upset to find the books for sorcerers were way beyond his limited knowledge, and even some of the so-called easier texts were causing him trouble.

Keverin had wandered in and noticed his frustration. “Whatever is the matter now?”

“It’s these cursed books!” Lucius cried in frustration. “I can’t understand half of what they say. It’s almost as if the author left out the part explaining how to understand them.”

Keverin frowned at the book and shook his head. “I can hardly read this one in any case.”

“Neither can I,” Lucius replied wearily.

“You need a rest my friend. Come with me for a while, I want to show you something.”

Lucius followed Keverin through the citadel until they came to a locked door in the north tower. He was expecting some kind of treasure, but he was disappointed to find an ordinary room with a bed and table along the walls. Keverin took a small mirror down from a shelf then retrieved a red blanket from a chest at the bottom of the bed.

“I thought you might make good use of these,” Keverin said stroking the red wool. He was obviously reluctant to part with the items.

“You treasure these things, my lord. Why are you giving them to me?”

Keverin handed them across. “Darius would want them to be used. There are a couple of books on the shelf if you want to read them. One is about the Founding.”

That was when Lucius realised the red blanket was in fact a robe—a wizard’s robe. He was reluctant to take it, but he didn’t want to displease his host.

“Try it on. If it doesn’t fit we can have it altered.”

Lucius reluctantly tried one of the robes on. It fit perfectly. To his surprise it felt completely right. He felt better wearing the robe of a mage again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he had been under dressed in just a plain shirt and trousers. He stared at himself in the mirror. A wizard stared back—a wizard who was at last in charge of his own destiny.

Lucius shook off the memory of that day. Retrieving his mirror from his pack, he walked away from distractions and sat on a half rotten log at the side of the road. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to trim his beard again. Turning his head and angling the mirror to see his profile better, he saw movement in the trees behind him. He wasn’t sure he had really seen it at first, but he wasn’t willing to take chances. He grasped his magic just as the rabbit scurried out of the brush and away. With his heart pounding, Lucius chuckled. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to cooking the poor thing.

“You’re getting old—” he said to himself. He didn’t have time to be surprised when a man stepped into sight and loosed an arrow.

Flinching away in shock, Lucius desperately threw a wall of fire. The arrow flamed. As it fell, more fire leapt from his upraised hand.

“
AEiii!
”

Lucius coldly watched the corpse fall to the ground. He was ready for whatever might come but was caught unawares when it came from the direction of his companions.

“Don’t turn around, Lucius,” Purcell said. “I don’t want to order your death without hearing your explanation.”

“Lord Purcell,” Lucius called loudly without turning. “If you send someone into the trees you will find my reason.”

“Very well—don’t do anything.”

Marcus walked warily into the trees. “We have a dead Tanjuner here!” he called after a moment. “He had a bow.”

“All right, Lucius, you can relax. Let us have a look at your Tanjuner,” Purcell said as he walked by.

Lucius followed Purcell and Gylaren to where Marcus was leaning over the corpse. The fireball had hit the bowman in the belly, a painful way to die, and not always immediately fatal. This time however the fire had done its work and the man was dead. The bowman wasn’t wearing armour, which was a surprise to the lords, but Marcus was more interested in the man’s weapons. Apart from his bow, he also carried a curved dagger sharpened on both sides.

“Assassin!” Marcus hissed in surprise.

The lords looked at Lucius with eyebrows raised in question. Their expressions made them look alike as brothers.

“Mortain would send a sorcerer not a bowman, my lords. Besides, he’s a Tanjuner.”

“Why is an assassin hiding way out here trying to kill you, Lucius?” Gylaren said.

“I’m surprised they even know I exist, my lord. They must be worried about what I’ll do when we reach Elvissa.”

The lords expressed their doubts, but they had nothing better to offer. Purcell detailed two men to bury the man, and then they mounted up and continued on their way. From then on, Lucius kept a wary eye on the overgrown verges of the road. He wondered how the Tanjuners had known he was coming. Scrying had to be the answer. They must have been concerned to see him riding east, and decided to take steps to stop him interfering.

He would have to arrange something fitting for a thank you. Perhaps he could try Julia’s lightning.

* * *

“Make camp!” Purcell reluctantly called. The sun had already set, and the horses were stumbling with fatigue.

He knew this area well. It was two days from home at a normal pace, but if he pushed it, they could do it in one. There was water to be had here, and plenty of wood for fires. This time tomorrow, he could be home—if he still had a home. They had ridden through the last stretch of Ariston forest in pitch darkness. That’s why he had called a halt. The rest of the journey was through open country. If they followed the river they would have water for the horses, but it would take candlemarks longer. With that in mind he had decided to cut across country at first light tomorrow. He would be in sight of Elvissa by sunset. He had vague ideas of attacking at night by surprise, but until he saw the situation, he couldn’t make definite plans.

Thinking about planning, Purcell waved Lucius and Gy over to talk. Lucius was a puzzle, he mused as he watched the wizard tuck a mirror under his arm and walk toward him. Lucius didn’t take life too seriously, which he said was due to his upbringing. Life was cheap at Castle Black and a man did well to take joy wherever he found it. He liked Lucius for that attitude. He agreed completely. Wearing the red robes of a wizard, the man looked dangerous and was. The first assassin at the roadside should have killed him, but Lucius had struck first. Purcell had thought it dumb luck at the time, but Lucius had been attacked twice more on the journey and had proved that luck had no part in it. Both attacks were from ambush, but he had survived.