Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  “They could wait Stefn, but you should know your neighbours. Do you believe they will wait for your stone when there are hundreds of trees right nearby?”

  Stefn scowled. “Wood? That’s no way to build anything to last.”

  “I agree, but when a man has a wife and children waiting for him to provide a home for them, what is he to do?”

  “You’re right. They won’t wait, but I can’t go faster. Not won’t—can’t.”

  “Show us,” Julia said and Stefn led the way.

  “This place is good for brick making, Lady. Plenty of shale and such was dug out of the mine, but it still takes as long as it be takes. Nothing can change that.”

  Julia pursed her lips at what she found. To one side, one of the mounds had been excavated for the shale Stefn mentioned. A lot had been discarded—coal mostly—but materials seemed plentiful nonetheless. In the centre of the open space were rows and rows of kilns connected by brick tunnels so that the heat from the preceding kiln wasn’t wasted.

  “Bricks…” Julia murmured to herself trying to see a way to speed it up. “What if I used my fires to speed the drying?”

  “No!” Stefn cried in alarm. “Don’t do that, Lady. Too fast and they will shatter, too slow and they won’t be strong enough. It takes years of practise. We can’t go faster.”

  “I’ll have some men come up to help with the digging,” Keverin sighed. “That will help at least.”

  “There must be more that we can do,” Julia protested. “What about stone blocks?”

  Stefn nodded to a small pile of rock. “I do them while the bricks are firing but they take even longer. I charge more for them of course, but it won’t matter how much I charge if everyone uses wood.”

  “Precisely,” Julia said following Stefn to another area. “You found all this here?”

  “Aye,” Stefn said with pride. “It’s a good place this. The soil is thin here in the hills.”

  “How long did it take you to cut that many?” Keverin said nodding at enough rectangular sandstone blocks to half fill just one of his wagons.

  “Near on a tenday, m’lord, but we have a couple of wagons full of fired brick you can take.”

  “Nowhere near enough.”

  “No m’lord, sorry m’lord,” Stefn said downcast.

  “Not your fault,” Julia said trying to cheer the man while glaring at Keverin. He didn’t have to be so blunt. “I’m sure old West Town wasn’t built in a day.

  “Ten years,” Keverin said.

  “What?”

  “West Town took ten years to grow from a few houses into the town I burned to the ground.”

  Ten! “We can’t wait that long. What about winter?”

  “That’s not a problem. I will build wooden huts for them so that they can live, and then replace them as I can with brick.”

  “But you know what will happen,” Julia protested. “Morton will stay like that and the first fire will destroy it.”

  “What else can we do?”

  Julia picked up one of Stefn’s stone bricks. It was heavy with sharp edges and felt good in her hand—solid and strong. She wanted millions of them to build the town—the town with her name. But how?

  “How do you work? Mallet and chisels?” Julia said noting the tool marks.

  Stefn frowned. “What other way is there?”

  “Magic made Athione they say,” Julia said and Keverin looked at her sharply. “No, I don’t know how they did it, but maybe I can make more of these,” she said studying the block with mage sight.

  “If you can do that lady, you should be the mason.”

  “It’s in a good cause Stefn,” Julia chided. “Besides, any I make you get to sell.”

  Stefn grumbled about tradition being upset and the like, but he watched with the same interest that Keverin showed.

  The pattern of the block seemed simple enough. It was the same as the natural rock in the ground except the pattern didn’t flow unending. Instead, it was hemmed in by the shape of the block and turned back on itself. She dropped the brick and grasped her magic. The cleared area was the logical place to make them so she stepped onto the shelf of rock Stefn’s apprentices had cleared for him. He had cut a section near one edge and she used that as her starting point. She could see a fault line running diagonally across the shelf as clear as day with her mage sight and tried to avoid it. She was sure that crack went deep. It would ruin any bricks cut from there. Focusing her magic on the rock, Julia twisted and wrenched the pattern she found there.

  GRRrrrrrrrRRRRRrrr.

  Julia staggered as the ground heaved beneath her feet. She heard the shouts of men and the squeals of horses over the rumbling beneath her feet. They were shouting of earthquakes and the like, but this was no earthquake. Julia watched as her magic forced the pattern to twist sickeningly. It seemed wrong, twisting nature. There was surely a better way. She managed to keep her feet as the ground heaved and vomited her bricks. Sweat was beading upon Julia’s brow as she moved across the shelf ripping and tearing at nature. Finally, she reached the end of the rock shelf and stopped her vandalism feeling a little queasy. She knew it was necessary—they needed the stone, but twisting nature was wrong. She knew it was… she felt it was. Julia shook her head at the thought and took a shaky breath. Wherever she looked, she found loose blocks of stone shimmering with heat.

  “They’re hot!” Stefn said glaring with his fingers in his mouth. “Why lady?”

  “I don’t know,” Julia said, but she did.

  Magic was a kind of energy. By forcing it to change the stone into what she desired, she had transferred some of it into the stone. The only way for the blocks to release it was by radiating heat. She knew she was doing it wrong somehow. It seemed wasteful this way. She was sure there must be a better one.

  “Are they all right?” Julia said worriedly. There were hundreds here. If they weren’t they would be wasted.

  “They seem to be, Lady. Wait a moment,” he trotted off and came back with his hammer. “Best be sure,” he said and struck the brick a hard blow.

  Clung! Clank.

  “Well I’ll be—” Stefn said staring at his broken hammer. “Never seen the like of it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Julia said.

  She hadn’t done it quite right. The pattern in Stefn’s brick was truncated and turned back on itself, but hers was whole. She couldn’t see a break or join in the flow of the pattern anywhere, and the grain seemed different than before. It no longer matched the native sandstone in pattern or appearance. If she didn’t know better, she would have said her bricks had been cut elsewhere from some other kind of stone. They didn’t look like any kind of sandstone she had ever seen. The pattern flowed evenly in one direction along the length of the brick.

  “Don’t be, it was an old one,” Stefn said with a grin. “I let the lads use it. I never let them use my good tools.”

  “I’ll have the men load them up,” Keverin said gingerly checking for heat. “They seem cool now. How many did you make?”

  “I don’t know. I just made the shelf change into bricks.”

  Keverin nodded. “Enough for our wagons anyway.”

  Julia nodded but it soon turned out differently. She had done more than she knew with her foolish twisting and wrenching. A short time after the men began loading the wagons, Keverin noted the hillside had slipped. He shrugged his shoulders and said it was the earthquake, but it wasn’t.

  “Lord!” Alvin cried. “Come look at this.”

  Keverin went to investigate Alvin’s discovery, and Julia followed feeling vaguely puzzled and upset. Twisting nature wasn’t what she wanted to do. She wanted to make things that were in harmony with it. There must be a better way than wrenching patterns out of shape. She needed to make her own patterns… or something.

  Keverin crouched down and looked at what Alvin had found.

  “I’m taking them out m’lord, but look.”

  Julia watched as Alvin continued removing bricks from the
ground. He was knee deep, now waist deep, and still the bricks went down. She swallowed sickly. The hillside had slipped because it now consisted of bricks—all the way through. The turf was the only thing stopping the hillside from sliding in a heap of bricks down the road.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Julia whispered.

  “This is a good thing,” Keverin said giving her a little shake. “A good thing, Julia. We need them.”

  “It’s not. I wanted enough to fill the wagons, not this. I can’t control what I do, Kev. What would have happened if I’d tried for this many? I might have buried us all!”

  “Calm down,” Keverin said with another shake. “We are safe, the bricks are made, and Morton will be built properly. I have faith in you. You won’t let anything bad happen.”

  Julia nodded jerkily. “I swear I won’t.”

  “No need,” Keverin said. He flicked a look over her shoulder. “Stefn is a little upset.”

  Julia turned to find the mason staring sickly at the unending stream of bricks flowing into the wagons. “Oh lord, what shall I say to him?”

  “Say you’ll let him keep half the profit for showing you how to do it.”

  “Half? He should have it all.”

  Keverin shook his head emphatically. “You will insult him. Pay he can accept, but not charity.”

  Julia nodded. Keverin had known Stefn the longer. She wandered over to the downcast mason. He was talking quietly with his apprentices and they weren’t happy. Julia sighed; she had gone wrong again. Whenever she used her magic to do something other than fight, she always managed to upset people or tradition.

  “…back to East Town, Da?” Bo was saying.

  “I think it might be for the best,” Stefn said grimly.

  “Don’t do that Stefn,” Julia said. “Morton is your home now, or it will be.”

  “There is nothing here for me now, Lady.”

  “Our new bricks won’t build a town, Stefn. There aren’t near enough of them.”

  “They are yours, Lady.”

  Julia tried to look surprised. “Why do you say that? We made them together.”

  Stefn looked down. “I know no magic.”

  “No, but you showed me how to do it with your bricks. I will be going back to Athione soon and you will have to continue the work we started. These new ones will help the shortage, but you know they will run out soon enough.”

  Stefn looked up hopefully. “But I thought—”

  “What?”

  “I thought the hill…” he broke of in confusion.

  Julia summoned a smile. The entire hill was made of bricks just as he thought, but even that many would run out before half of Morton was built.

  “Don’t be silly,” Julia laughed gaily. “You know,” she said in a off-hand way. “Once you sell all these to Dergan, you’ll be able to hire some more young men to keep the kilns running. You can train Bo to do the stone ones.”

  Bo looked hopeful. “Can we, Da? I know the clay already, and I never break ‘em in the kiln. Can I do the stone now?”

  “Quiet boy,” Stefn said gruffly, but his face had lightened. “They are yours, Lady. I won’t hear different.”

  “And I won’t take your charity, Stefn the mason,” Julia said trying not to laugh at the outrage on his face.

  “My… my charity! I won’t take yours, Lady!”

  “Good then. Half are yours, half are mine, but you sell them for me.”

  Stefn spluttered at the notion. “You tricked me!” he said with his lips twitching. “You’re a tricksy one and no mistake.”

  “You have no idea. My half of the money will go to Dergan for the town.”

  Stefn gaped. “But he will buy more bricks with it!”

  “I know,” Julia said smugly.

  Keverin came up to her and listened to the spluttering mason with a raised eyebrow. “Is all well?”

  “Aye,” Stefn sighed scratching his head. “Your lady is different, Lord.”

  “She is special,” Keverin agreed looking down at Julia fondly and making her squirm. “We must be off to Dergan with that little lot.” He nodded at the nearly full wagons. “You will have to work hard my friend. I want a prosperous town not a trail camp of wood.”

  “Perish the thought, m’lord,” Stefn said. “Stone is best.”

  As they were mounting up to leave, Julia noted Keverin doing something with his saddle. “What have you there?”

  “My new paperweight,” Keverin said with a grin. “A token to remember this day.”

  Julia shook her head as he secured a single brick with a piece of twine and hung it from his saddle. Keverin mounted Cavell and together they trotted to the fore. The wagons pulled into line and the guardsmen moved into position with lots of prancing horses bumping each other. Julia and Keverin trotted down the road for a little way to give the wagon drivers some space before slowing to a walk. Julia breathed deeply. She shut her eyes and smiled into the sun’s warmth. It had all worked out for the best after all.

  “…Stefn?” Keverin said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked what you did to Stefn.”

  “I split the profit as you said, but told him to give my half to Dergan to buy more bricks for the town.”

  Keverin guffawed. “No wonder he looked as if he’d been bashed on the head!”

  Julia grinned and changed the subject. “Your mine has plenty of coal in it you know.”

  “I told you it did.”

  “No, I mean I saw it down there. It’s not deep Kev. The miners went the wrong way into a seam.”

  Keverin raised an eyebrow. “You saw it with magic?”

  Julia nodded. “There’s a large cavern almost directly below Stefn’s kilns. The tunnel continues on from there, and it goes very deep, but if they had dug westward, they would have found a huge seam much nearer the surface.”

  “Why didn’t they then?”

  “Maybe they didn’t know it was there?” Julia said doubtfully. “You did say the mine is old. Dirl must have been long dead when that cavern was created. Did they have a mage to point the direction?”

  “I don’t know, but probably not,” Keverin said. “You know what this means?”

  “I have some idea.”

  “It means Morton will have trade. This is wonderful news Julia. You know I have worried about that side of things.”

  Julia nodded, so had she. “Morton is too far from the mine though isn’t it? Dirlston is closer.”

  “True, but you know Dirlston was always badly placed. The ground is too stony, and the only water is a single well that goes down a hundred yards or more. The farms will have to be leagues away to find good soil and water. Dirlston is safe from flooding, I grant you, but the well runs dry every other summer. And then there’s the river to consider.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing is wrong with it but its distance from here. Morton sits astride the high road to the south, but it also sits close to a bend in the river. It’s the perfect place. The river is like a highroad too, but it’s faster than any road.”

  “But the mine is way up here,” Julia protested.

  “True, but that’s good in a way. Wagoners will come and bring more trade with them. Merchants will come to buy the coal, and their money will attract others here. It will take time. Dirlston wasn’t built in a day, nor will Morton be, but it’s a good start for a new town.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Keverin smiled.

  They entered Dirlston and Keverin sent scouts out forward. They had seen no sign of brigands but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Keverin was unwilling to take chances. The first they knew of an attack was Ayita rearing and falling with an arrow standing out of her neck. Julia landed hard and grunted as the horse crashed to the ground squealing in pain. Her head cracked against the cobbles in an explosion of pain. A light seemed to flash in her eyes and she saw stars for an age of time. The pain in her head was terrible, but the thought of Keverin
being hurt was worse. Julia staggered to her feet only to fall again. Her head was bleeding and the world was spinning.

  “Athione!” Keverin roared in rage. “Charge!”

  “Athione!”

  “Athione and Julia!” Keverin responded to his men’s shout as Cavell slammed into a troop of brigand three-score strong.

  Julia tried to grasp her magic, but it was elusive and she was unable to hold it. She swore and raged at herself, but no matter her desperation, she could not grasp the medallion glittering in her mind’s eye. She watched the fight as the world spun about her. She was sinking into the cobbles, or were they rising up around her? There was nothing she could do but watch.

  “Oh, God…” Julia groaned trying to stop her rebellious stomach from emptying itself over the cobbles.

  * * *

  Keverin hewed a man out of his saddle and then another. His rage was incandescent. Keverin didn’t feel the wound the brigand dealt him, but the brigand felt his. He screamed as his arm fell to the cobbles, but only for a moment. Keverin’s sword found the man’s throat.

  “Athione!” Keverin roared into the dead man’s face as he fell from his horse.

  “Athione!” Alvin shouted with his voice cracking. Young he might be, but Alvin knew his duty. He cut a man down who was intent on killing his lord from behind, only then did he raise his shield and block another chop aimed to kill him. The blade careened off the top edge of his shield missing his face by mere inches. He didn’t give the brigand a second chance.

  Keverin threw himself out of his saddle and dragged a man attempting to bypass him from his. The brigand was going for Julia. He was as certain of it as he was of his own name. Why didn’t matter, that he die, did. On the ground fists and feet hammered him, but Keverin shrugged them off to stab the man to the heart with his father’s dagger. The man was another Tanjuner!

  What by the God is a Tanjuner doing here?

  Back on his feet, Keverin slammed a gauntleted fist into a horse’s face. The horse went down kicking and squealing. A quick thrust ended its rider’s life. It was another swarthy-faced man. He spun around. They were too well equipped to be brigands. He didn’t know what he had here. They were too far west to be Tanjung Regulars. Purcell had fought them last year, but that was to be expected. Purcell was Lord Protector of the East, and Tanjung was in the east.