Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

Keverin sat slumped in his chair atop the dais in the great hall. He had ordered the room cleared a few candlemarks ago. The mages had removed Darius to prepare him for the final journey. Darius had always said the term was silly. He said the body was like a cup, and the wine was life. When death came, the soul left the body behind after savouring the wine of life.

  A soothing balm leached the pain from Keverin’s burnt hands, but he wished they had one for his soul instead. He unconsciously clenched then released his fists and took no notice of the blood soaked bandages. The blood welled then dripped onto the dais.

  He did not notice.

  It was a habit he learned from his father who wanted to strengthen him. His sword work had been atrocious when he was a child. His father had decided his forearms needed more strength. Kevlarin had given him a ball made out of rags tightly bound together and told him to squeeze it when he had an idle moment. Keverin had idolised his father, and took the orders to an extreme. For years, he used the ball. Other children thought him a baby for carrying it, but he ignored the comments and continued to exercise with it until the string wore out. His sword work became excellent as even the largest of blades became light as a feather in his hands. Now whenever he became upset the familiar motion of clench and release eased his soul.

  Suddenly his emotions came to a head and he jumped to his feet to storm out of the hall. He made his way through the labyrinthine corridors and eventually came to the north tower steps. Climbing quickly upward, he came to the last door. Hesitating briefly, he unlocked it and went inside.

  There wasn’t much to see. A bed, a wardrobe, and a chest he knew held spare red robes. On a wall, a shelf supported a mirror and two books. He picked up the books and read the titles. The larger of the two was a book of poetry he recognised as being borrowed from the library. He replaced it on the shelf. The smaller of the two was a history entitled: The Black Isle.

  Taking it with him, he sat on the bed and began to read.

  The day progressed unnoticed while he read, then turning another page he realised there was no more. Surprised, he looked toward the window, and saw the sun was going down. He replaced the book on the shelf and was about to leave when a scroll caught his eye on the table. How he had missed it before he didn’t know, but he snatched it up as if it held all the secrets in the world. On the outside of the parchment was his name in Darius’ hand. Breaking the seal, he began to read.

  My dear friend.

  If you are reading this, events have proceeded as I foresaw. Do not blame yourself for my death, mages such as I never expect to live to a ripe old age as the founders were said to have done. Only another mage could truly understand the ecstasy of using the power to create something never seen before.

  “I never did understand my friend. How could I know?” Keverin said into the gloom.

  To me the gate spell is like a fine horse or blade is to you, it begs to be used and used wisely. I hope I am wise, but if I am not, I will not know it after today. Already the knowledge of the spell works upon me. It calls me, and I burn to use it. The founders had iron discipline to thwart temptation. Alas, I’m not one such as they.

  “You were the strongest man I ever knew,” Keverin whispered. Who else would walk into his hall, knowing he would come out an old man, or not at all?

  You must use your best judgement about whether to show the book to anyone else, but I urge you to destroy it before allowing the Hasians access to such a treasure. Uncountable harm would result should they build gates to anywhere they wished. Imagine for a moment, a gate opened into this very room, and an army of Hasians pouring through.

  Keverin was nodding. He had already decided to destroy it. Not for fear of the Hasians, but to prevent anyone else going through what Darius had. He bent his head to continue reading. The light was failing now and he could barely see the words.

  If the spell worked, you have a new guest in your fortress. Be kind to him, as you have been to me. He will be confused and will not understand our world. Teach him what he needs to know, and above all, if he wishes to try the return journey you must let him. I snatched him against his will, a crime for which I shall surely be called to account when I kneel before the God.

  Farewell,

  Your friend and servant,

  Darius.

  Keverin rolled the parchment up. He stepped outside and re-locked the door. Walking through the silent fortress, he tried not to dwell on Darius and the screaming. After walking for a time, he thought he could by thinking about the coming battle. Then he had an idea about using the mages.

  “I’ll ask Darius what he thinks.”

  The screaming came back louder than ever.

  On reaching his rooms, Keverin put the scroll in a velvet bag with some other papers and put them in a hidden drawer in his desk. He crossed the study to open a cabinet. Inside were crystal decanters of wine and some glasses. He hesitated on choosing which one to take, but then he remembered Darius saying the wine from Talayan was the best.

  Keverin took out the decanter, and with a glass in hand proceeded to drink himself insensible. Strangely, it seemed to take a long time. After finishing the wine, he started on a Camorin spirit those northern people called White Lightning. He managed two glasses before losing consciousness.

  Darius...

  * * *

  4 ~ Attacked

  Keverin, lord of Athione and Lord Protector of the West, awoke with a splitting headache and a disgusting taste in his mouth. It tasted like a rat had crawled in during the night and died. He sat up—tried to sit up, but his head felt like it had fallen off and rolled down the rat hole earlier vacated.

  “By the God, I’ll never drink again. Never again,” he croaked.

  Keverin staggered to his feet and made it to the privy before the inevitable happened. Afterwards he felt a little better and performed his ablutions. He couldn’t let the men see him in such a condition. The Hasians could attack at any time. Darius said... No! He couldn’t think about him now. Renard was senior. He would talk to Renard first thing.

  Quickly donning a clean shirt, he chose a pair of well-worn leather trousers that he sometimes used on the hunt. They were a good choice for what was coming. They were comfortable but more to the point the leather was reinforced with lozenges of bone. Just the thing to help turn a boar’s tusks from his flesh... or an arrow. Keverin buckled on his armour and thrust his sword’s sheath into the sash around his waist next to his father’s poniard. Lastly, he fitted bracers and tried to pull on a pair of reinforced leather gloves, but the bandages interfered. He threw the gauntlets onto a chair and collected his helmet. Looking around to make sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself by forgetting something, he hefted his helm in the crook of his arm and strode out the door.

  Keverin made his way toward the library quarter to find Renard. They had a lot to discuss and not much time to do it in. His long strides ate up the distance with ease. Occasionally passing a sentry, he absently returned their salutes, but he didn’t pay any more attention to them. Sentries at important intersections within the citadel were commonplace. The Founders had built the citadel like a maze on purpose to confuse the enemy, and to allow the defenders to outflank him. Keverin thought it a cunning idea that would have worked perfectly but for one thing—magic. Although magic did have limits, finding the way through a maze was unfortunately not one of them.

  Keverin strode into what had once been the north quarter of the citadel. Everyone called it the Library Quarter now and was where the mages had chosen to reside. They had followed Darius’ lead in choosing accommodations and had settled close by the library for convenience. Unlike Darius though, they preferred guest suites to a room at the top of a tower. Keverin found the Library Quarter deserted. Keverin frowned and quickly ducked into the library proper hoping to find them there. The mundane section echoed with emptiness, so too did the hall housing magic section. No one was in either hall, and all the books were as they should be.

  Where are they?


  Keverin was just about to check the mundane area again, when he heard Mathius out in the corridor. He quickly retraced his steps, and found the young mage talking to Marcus.

  “Where are your brothers Mathius?”

  Mathius’s face brightened on seeing him. “I was just explaining to the Captain, my lord. Renard called a meeting this morning to witness a scrying of the enemy. We found out that the first assault is due at sunrise.”

  “That’s only moments away. Why wasn’t I informed?” Keverin said through gritted teeth. He was both surprised and angry that he hadn’t been informed about such an important matter.

  “I felt that you needed your rest, my lord,” Marcus said. “I have all in readiness. The mages are in the west courtyard and have begun to build their wards over the gate and along the towers and walls.”

  Keverin came close to an explosion—very close. He kept his face pleasant when he realised that he wouldn’t have been of any use until now. He had been lying in a stupor when he should have been on the wall. Self-recrimination wouldn’t change yesterday’s events however.

  Keverin let his anger go. “Very good. Outstanding in fact. Let us go out and see what we can see.”

  Striding away and forcing Marcus to hurry to catch him was a petty kind of revenge, but it made Keverin feel better. He slowed when he heard Mathius panting. He felt guilty about including him in his annoyance with Marcus.

  “Where have you put the people from the town who were sheltering here?” Keverin said glancing along empty hallways.

  “Some in the lower part of the citadel my lord, but most preferred to find places in East Town,” Marcus said.

  Keverin nodded. They would be safer in East Town in any case. “Whatever makes them happy is fine. After this is over, I’m going to insist that West Town not be rebuilt. If they don’t like East, I’ll build them a new one if that’s what they want. Where’s the sense in having a town in the pass?”

  Mathius answered the rhetorical question. “According to the Histories my lord, the towns on both sides were settled at different times. East was first, but the traders moved to West Town to take advantage of better prices.”

  Keverin sighed. “I know that, but we’ve had precious little trade through the pass over the last twenty years. Now with the Black Isle ruling Bandar, I’m thinking the days of making money from western trade are over. I suppose we should rename East Town now that it’s the only one.”

  Upon entering the courtyard, Renard approached and escorted Keverin to the other mages to explain his strategy. “We have five mages my lord, and the Hasians have fifty ready to oppose us. That sounds bad and it is, but not as much as it sounds. A mage cannot continuously use his magic without tiring and making errors. We all know where errors lead. I believe the reason for bringing so many sorcerers into the pass is that they will take turns at assaulting the gates—literally shifting from one group to the next. That way the Hasians can keep up a constant attack without exhausting each shift.”

  Keverin nodded. Darius had theorised the possibility. “Well reasoned Renard, but what is your solution?”

  “We must try to duplicate the effects of their shifts with only five mages. I believe that I may have a way to do that. You may not know my lord, but maintaining an existing ward is much easier than creating one. Each of us has built a ward large enough to cover both towers and the gates in the shape of a straight wall—”

  Keverin nodded in understanding. That was an obvious choice as Athione was under siege from only one side. He imagined each ward covering the one behind it completely. Each layer would then strengthen the others at the same time protecting the curtain wall behind.

  “—then one of us will maintain all of the wards together,” Renard was saying. “The mage on duty should be able to last three candlemarks before becoming even slightly tired. Another will take his place without dropping the wards, and so on.”

  That’s the God be blessed brilliant!

  Keverin beamed. “Outstanding Renard! Truly outstanding. If the wards hold long enough, Gylaren and Purcell might reach us in time.”

  “Yes my lord,” Renard said beaming his pleasure at the praise. “The one problem I can foresee is that we can only defend, not attack. The wards work both ways. Even if we could find a location to attack from, my brothers will not be able to sustain it and our defence at the same time.”

  “Hmmm, I see. What of the newcomer?” Keverin said looking around the courtyard, but he couldn’t see an unfamiliar face anywhere.

  “Lord?” Renard said puzzled.

  “Surely he could handle a credible offence while you handle defence?” He said frowning around the courtyard looking for the man. The mages glanced sidelong at each other. Something was wrong, but none of them wanted to be the one to tell him. “What is it man?” Keverin said addressing himself to Renard. “I know he arrived safely, I heard him in the great hall.”

  “Her,” Renard said sadly. “You heard her.”

  No! Please don’t let me have killed Darius for nothing!

  Keverin looked from one man to the other, and saw the truth. He paled when he realised what it meant. It was all over. Athione would fall without a strong mage to face the sorcerers. He was already outnumbered. A sally was impossible, but doubly so now.

  It was all over.

  Struggling to keep his thoughts from showing, Keverin nodded. “Ah, I hadn’t heard.” He scanned the courtyard again hoping for inspiration to strike, but the God’s voice was silent. Nothing came to him. “Well. You’re doing a fine job out here Renard, I think we can—”

  BOOOM!

  Keverin’s world flashed blue as the sound exploded into the courtyard. The wards were shivering and groaning under the impact. The air vibrated and the ground leapt with the shock as the wards rebounded against each other. Even the ground was shaking in sympathy.

  Keverin was on the ground. Rolling over he saw Marcus and one or two of the mages getting back up. He did likewise. Marcus was saying something, but he couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears.

  “WHAT?” Keverin yelled. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU, SHOUT IT MAN!”

  “IT’S STARTED MY LORD!”

  Keverin nodded. I noticed.

  Gradually his hearing returned and he was able to question Renard. “How are the wards holding?”

  “No damage at all. It’s working—it really is!” Renard said shaking his fists in the air.

  Keverin couldn’t help grinning at the mage. The man was almost dancing with joy. “Don’t sound so surprised my friend. You’re a master mage, and a damn good one at that! I need to leave for a while and arrange some matters. Can you contact me if something happens?”

  “Not directly my lord, but if you take young Mathius with you I can bespeak him. He can pass things along.”

  “Good enough. Come along Mathius.”

  Keverin started back to the citadel then stopped when he thought of something. “I won’t be long Marcus, but keep an eye on things. If it seems advisable, have the men out of harms way and under cover. We better get the duty mage put somewhere safe to work as well. If he’s injured the wards will come down, and that’ll be the end of us.”

  “You can rely on me my lord,” Marcus said snapping off a salute.

  “I know I can, Marcus,” Keverin said and entered the citadel with Mathius in tow.

  Booom!

  The sound came again, but it was muted by the walls of the citadel. Keverin had ducked in reflex, but he straightened immediately when he saw that Mathius was unconcerned.

  “The wards are holding my lord.”

  Keverin nodded and moved on. In a strange way he felt somewhat relieved now that he knew the newcomer wasn’t going to save Athione. For the last five years he had known his time was running out. Now that it was over he found the worry and tension had suddenly disappeared. He felt a wonderful sense of release. He was more carefree than he’d been in a long time. He would fight hard to take the enemy with him of course, but the fate
of the kingdom was no longer his concern.

  Keverin kept to an easy pace and found curiosity eating at him in spite of himself. For Darius’ sake he would try hard not to dislike this newcomer—this woman Darius had died to bring.

  “What’s the newcomer like, Mathius? Did she say anything?”

  Mathius blushed scarlet. “Yes she did my lord. She ordered me to reverse the spell I placed on the boots of your guardsmen.”

  Keverin chuckled ruefully. “Sorry, I was busy being mobbed at the time. What did you do?”

  Mathius grinned. “I stuck them to the floor my lord! She must have spoken with the guardsmen because as bold as you please she ordered me to give them their boots back.”

  Keverin bellowed laughter. It was a sound he’d not heard in ages. It felt good to let it out. “So! A bold one at least. What else can you tell me?”

  “She’s only a child my lord, but even so she’s very beautiful. She has green eyes and jet black hair, and she looked amazing in that strange garment she wore.”

  A child! How could Darius mistake a child for a sorcerer? Keverin remembered the terrible screaming and knew what had happened. His poor friend. Darius must have snatched her in desperation hoping to get lucky. Keverin prayed the God would understand and not judge Darius too harshly.

  “What was strange about her clothes?”

  Mathius blushed again. “There wasn’t much of it. I mean it was so... and she was so... I didn’t know where to look my lord! It was never meant to be seen outside of a bedchamber.”

  Keverin wasn’t as impressed as Mathius evidently was. This girl with her amazing looks was probably as empty headed as those in the town. Oh, they were nice enough in their way, but he wanted more from a woman than bedroom games. He had always wanted someone with wit as well as good looks, but so far he had not found the one. In a few days, the point would be mute. His father’s choice of bride had influenced him too much, but there it was. Jessica was the most intelligent person he knew, including Darius. His father had confided to him once, that he treasured Jessica for her mind even more than for her great beauty. Kevlarin had told him that no one believed him when he boasted that Jessica’s council was always good.