Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  The explosion of ancient brick as it succumbed to the heat was a surprise, but again He kept the heat focused. Heat upon heat upon heat, he sent roaring forward. The pain was incredible, but he forced himself to ignore the hurt for Julia. As he aged, Mathius thought of all the years she wouldn’t have—he drew more, he drew hard. Lucius groaned as the strain built even higher, but he did nothing to rein his friend in. Demophon could not be allowed to retaliate. His pain was nothing in comparison to what Mathius must be feeling, and he knew it. Mathius was the weaker mage, but he had insisted that he be the one to enact their revenge. No amount of arguing would gainsay him, and truth to tell, Lucius hadn’t tried that hard. Julia had been like a sister to him. Vengeance was his right to claim.

  Another shield collapsed, and Mathius screamed. The sorcerers were yelling and cursing as they tried to retaliate, but they couldn’t—not without sacrificing the strength of their shields. They dared not. Another shield collapsed and the sorcerer was turned to a pillar of fire waving his arms and shrieking in agony. He fell face down and was silent. The room was completely aflame and it threatened to drive them back, but they refused to yield even as their own robes began to smolder. Finally, it happened. The last sorcerer—increasingly losing ground to the flames—attempted to jump through the shattered wall to escape his fate.

  Craaaack! Craaaack! Craaaack!

  Three huge bolts of lightning hit the sorcerer in quick succession. It was a fitting end to Julia’s murderers, Mathius thought as he reined in his lightning.

  Lucius, took control and damped the fires. Suddenly the room cooled, and frost appeared over every surface, plaster cracked and exploded at the sudden change of temperature and more of the ceiling fell in. He had forgotten that he was linked with Mathius and had more magic at his command than he was used to. They released their magic at the same instant of course, being linked they had no choice. Collapsing to sit against the walls in tandem though seemed a bit much to Mathius, and he chuckled.

  “You don’t think they’ll make me pay for the damage do you?”

  Lucius chuckled tiredly. The room was gutted. The ceiling was gone along the far wall, and a hole big enough to ride a horse through had joined itself to where the windows had been. The furniture… well there just wasn’t any anymore. The plaster was missing on three walls where it had exploded into dust as the heat built beyond endurance, and finally everything sparkled white with frost.

  “A little paint and it will be fine,” Lucius said.

  “That’s all right then. Which one do you think was Demophon?”

  “I don’t know, but it wasn’t the last one.”

  Mathius shrugged. “It doesn’t matter I suppose, but I would have preferred him to be the last.”

  “Julia would have liked that don’t you think?”

  “Not really my friend, she hated killing. As a healer, death was her enemy.”

  Lucius plucked a scrap of cloth from Mathius’ robe. “You need a new one.”

  Their robes hung in tatters. Holes out-numbered yellow material on Mathius’s robe, and Lucius’s red one was little better.

  “I have another in my room… what?”

  Lucius was smiling. “Yellow is no good Mathius, you need a blue one. Or was I mistaken?”

  “What? I mean what about?” he said puzzled.

  “You cast lightning did you not?”

  He gaped in surprise. He didn’t feel stronger, but then after a battle like the one he’d just been through he should have collapsed. He felt tired but not exhausted.

  “I wish Julia could have seen me in blue. She always did like the blue robes the others wore when she first arrived.”

  “Blue will suit you my friend,” Lucius said sadly. “It will go with the grey in your hair.”

  They exchanged looks in silence and then nodded. It was worth it.

  * * *

  18 ~ King

  Captain Brian finished sharpening his sword, but he had no inclination to go back to his duties. He sat on the edge of the fountain and watched Julia’s fish. He smiled as he remembered the day when she ordered him to replace the cooked ones floating atop the water. He’d had a hard time finding some; everything edible had already been snapped up and devoured. In the end, he took some of the lads fishing on the lake—trawling might be a better description. Using an old net with more holes in it than Athione’s west wall, it took them all day and all night, but Julia had wanted fish in her fountain. They’d done it too, but the new fish weren’t ornamental. They were Black Tailed Barranka. Barranka were for eating, but they looked fine to Julia. She had never seen any before. She grinned at him, and said something mysterious.

  “I have Ascol in my fountain,” Julia said laughing.

  Brian understood now, but he hadn’t then. A Barranka featured prominently on Ascol’s banner.

  In one way, Brian was looking forward to going home, but in another, he dreaded it. Marcus could be a hard man when he found something to latch onto. When he learned that he had lost the Lady he would be in a rage.

  “Captain, I need you in the stables,” Burke said upon entering the garden.

  Brian was uncomfortable with his old sergeant addressing him with such respect, and by Burke’s grin he knew it too. “What’s this about, Sergeant?” he said marching in step through the corridors.

  Burke glanced sideways at him then ahead again. “You will see in a moment, Sir, please you.”

  He shook his head and sighed. The change in his station had brought some uncomfortable things with it. “You can stop all the nonsense when we’re alone, Burke. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “No, Sir!” Burke said scandalised. “That ain’t proper. You done good, Captain. It’s only right to treat you as what you are.”

  He gave up. Burke was one of the most stubborn men he knew. “As you will then, but I be knowing where I be coming from. I ain’t forgot.”

  They laughed together at the foolishness of nobles, but it was a handy foolishness. You always knew where you stood when you heard the peasant twang from a man, and knew to be on your best behaviour when it was absent.

  When Brian entered the stables, he was surprised to find a goodly number of Athione’s guardsmen standing around doing nothing much, when they should be working. He was about to start shouting as he’d often heard Marcus do, when he saw the subject of their attention. An old man sat on an upturned bucket in the middle of the stable nervously glancing at all the swords. Brian forgot all about his yelling, and instead went to the see what was happening here.

  “Who are you grandfather?” he asked at his politest.

  Burke made to answer, but Brian’s raised hand prevented him, and the old man answered for himself.

  “I’m Dalit, always was and always will be I ‘spect.”

  “We found him making his way up to the palace, Sir,” Burke interjected.

  Brian nodded. “And why did you want to come here?”

  “I want gold for my girl. I knew you would give me some.”

  “Oh? Why would I do that?” he said intrigued.

  “Coz I saw The Lady taken. That’s why.”

  Brian was on his knees in the muck looking at Dalit directly in the eyes without memory of getting there. “Give!”

  “Me gold—”

  Brian waved that away. “On my honour, you will have gold—more than you dreamed possible. Now give!”

  Dalit eyed Brian closely then nodded. “I live with my girl on the Street of Woodcrafters. Her man died from The Hungry, so did her boy, but I held on long enough for The Lady to save me. If it was just me, I would tell you for free, but my girl—”

  He tried to hold his temper. “Yes, yes, what of the Lady!”

  “I was upstairs—my girl’s house is a good one. Her man was mighty good with the wood, and the money was good. I looked down into the street and saw them Pretty Boys in red marching down the street, ‘cept they wasn’t really—Pretty Boys I mean.”

  Pretty Boys was a slang term giv
en the Red Guard. The red uniform was pretty, but useless for real work.

  “The Red Guard weren’t real Red Guard?”

  “No,” Dalit said shaking his head in certainty. “They were street scum dressed up. The sorcerers popped up and takes the Lady by surprise. When she threatened to kill them all, they killed her two men with fire. They screamed real bad and fell down rolling around until they died.”

  There was a growl of hate from the men as they heard how Moriz and Halbert died. Dalit looked worriedly at the guardsmen, but when they made no other move, he relaxed a little more.

  “The Lady was angry, so angry I thought the street was a goner for sure, but the leader of the sorcerers stopped her by saying he would kill the boy.”

  “What boy?” Brian said puzzled. They all knew Gideon had died when Julia was taken, but there were no other bodies unaccounted for.

  “Don’t know,” Dalit shrugged. “But the Lady was scared for him. The boy was brave though. He pulled a dagger and tried to kill the leader, but then he shouted and dropped his knife when a sorcerer hit it with lightning.”

  It had to be Lorcan! No one had seen the boy. Brian had assumed Lorcan was hiding somewhere. He was a tough little bastard, but everyone knew the lad loved the Lady. He would wish to grieve for her privately.

  He listened as Dalit told the rest of his story. He was almost blind with rage when he heard they had forced the Lady to strip, and he was deathly afraid he knew what they had forced her to drink. Julia had almost died from Tancred poisoning not long ago—he could still hear her screams all this time later. It had taken a long time for the evil stuff to let her go, but she had survived. She would this time too… he was almost sure.

  “Where did the traitors go after they took the gold?”

  “I could show you.”

  “Good,” he growled and stood. The men were eager—a little too eager to his way of thinking. “You all listen to me! These traitors know where the Lady is, and I want to know that real bad. If any one of you bastards kills a one of them, I’ll kill you!” he put sincerity into every word, which wasn’t hard at all. There was a brief indignant rumble from the men, but they knew why they couldn’t kill the traitors, and they subsided after a moment. “Burke, you and this lot are volunteers.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Burke said delighted that his luck was in. “Should we tell the Lord?”

  “After,” Brian said.

  Dalit needed help. He was still quite frail from the bad days he called The Hungry. Two men took turns carrying him as he directed them toward the waterfront district. The area was mostly warehouses. Julia’s hospital was here, merchants had once sold things from premises all along the quay—various things brought to Devarr via the rivers supplying and draining the lake.

  “That’s the one see?” Dalit whispered.

  Brian nodded as he studied the shop. It had once been used for selling rope and supplies for the boats that plied the rivers. He didn’t have much to do with boats, so he couldn’t judge if the location was a good one for its proper purpose, but he could see the leader of this scum was as stupid in his choice of lair, as he was in his choice of employer. The shop had wide alleys either side of it—perfect for wide-bodied wagons carrying stone loads of rope, but those alleys would give the men access to all sides as well. He was more than pleased. None would escape his sweep, he would see to it.

  “Burke,” Brian said gesturing the sergeant closer. “I want half the men to ring that shop. No one gets away, but remember no killing. Rap them upside the head or something, but no killing… understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Burke said and staying low, he led half of the men to secure the area.

  Brian watched the sergeant go. “Dalit, you stay here in the shadows. Once it’s done I’ll see to your gold.” Dalit nodded, but Brian was already leading his men toward the shop and didn’t see.

  He drew his sword and kicked the door in. As the wood exploded inward, someone dove out the window smashing the glass in passing. The fat man tried to run, but was taken down by four guardsmen piling on top of him. Brian ignored the thuds of fists repeatedly striking flesh, and the screams that came from the fat man as he was beaten bloody. He had given his orders; he had no doubt they would be carried out. He charged into the room as men were bolting out of doors and windows. His men yelled in glee and dove after them. Brian stood in the centre of the room and looked around as twelve men were beaten and restrained in various ways.

  On a table was a set of cards and a large pile of gold. He quickly scooped everything up and dumped it all into the pouch that he found on the floor. He didn’t bother counting it, but by the weight, there were two hundred or more gold coins in the pouch. There wasn’t enough money in the world to buy the Lady, but this would cover Dalit’s reward.

  “Take them back to the palace, and give this to Dalit. Detail two men to carry him home. He’s done us proud.”

  Burke grinned and took the heavy pouch. “Yes, Sir. The Lord will be right pleased I reckon.”

  “That remains to be seen. If these men know where the Lady is, then he will be. If not…”

  Burke nodded grimly and left the room. Brian took a last look round, and then followed.

  * * *

  Keverin growled a curse. “She needs me now! I can’t wait!”

  “Listen!” Purcell roared. “You don’t know where she is! Those flaming idiot mages killed the only ones who could tell us! Calm yourself and think man! Put Gy on the throne in the morning and we’ll have the entire kingdom searching for her!”

  “You’re not putting me anywhere!” Gylaren protested angrily. “When… if, I’m to be king, then I will be the King, and I’ll do what I think is right.” Gylaren was steaming mad. He paced the room like a caged animal. “Julia put this on me, and you two backed her on it, now you can flaming well reap the benefits of your foolishness and listen to me when I say something!”

  “All right, your Majesty. What do you say?” Keverin said holding his temper barely in check. He had to ride out after Julia. Her kidnapping was candlemarks old now. The longer he waited, the further away she got.

  “Gy is fine thanks,” Gylaren said with a shaky smile; he was not a happy man. “After dark or not, I say we call the lords back into session right flaming now! We settle the question of who’s to be King once and for all, and then we start setting the kingdom to rights and that includes finding Julia.”

  Keverin growled in frustration.

  “Purcell, you have the biggest mouth, why don’t you go and call the council.”

  “Yes your mightiness,” Purcell said with an exaggerated bow almost touching his brow to the floor.

  Purcell left the room to call the lords into session.

  Keverin paced wondering if Ascol would dare to show up.

  “He will… show up I mean,” Gylaren said.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Simple, the man’s a cursed maniac!” Gylaren collapsed into a chair with one leg over the arm kicking back and forth with nervous energy. “If Ascol had any sense at all, he would run for Japura where we can’t get to him, but he won’t do that. You wait and see, he’ll be there trying for the throne as if nothing untoward had happened.”

  “I doubt even he can ignore his room turned into a Chulym master’s furnace!”

  Gylaren laughed and nodded. “We should be going.”

  They left the room and marched in step toward the throne room passing many other lords on the way. One such was Halden and his son Davida. The two men joined their party, and at a slower pace, a concession to Halden’s advanced age, they entered the hall and found their places in the stands to the right of the throne. Purcell entered the hall shortly after that, and Keverin waved him over.

  “You almost have to admire the man,” Purcell said hooking a thumb at the doorway as he sat next to Keverin.

  Lord Ascol and his son entered the hall and made their way to seats opposite Gylaren’s party. The positioning was no accident on Gylaren�
��s part—he had chosen his place with care to demonstrate his opposing view.

  “Don’t glare at me!” Purcell said with a chuckle.

  He glared harder. “There’s nothing to admire about that man!”

  “Of course there is,” Purcell went on oblivious to Keverin’s rising temper. “Who else do you know that’s stupid enough to come within reach of our three swords after doing what he’s done?”

  “Four swords,” Jihan said catching the end of the conversation as he sat next to Gylaren.

  “Did you send them?” he said instantly.

  Jihan nodded. “I have two hundred men on each of the roads moving fast for the borders. I sent couriers to all four fortresses with orders to turn out the men and close the borders tight.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m not so sure, Kev. The couriers won’t reach the fortresses for a tenday even galloping the entire way, but it’s the patrols that worry me. Robsort says there are thirty sorcerers, but Mathius only killed six. If the others have Julia, our men won’t stand a chance.”

  “What good are they if they won’t fight?!” he snarled, looking at Jihan as if betrayed.

  “I didn’t say they won’t fight, damn you, Sir!” Jihan said eyes flashing. “They will find her and die! How does that help us or her?”

  Keverin blinked and the others looked away in embarrassment. “Sorry Jihan, but what else can we do?”

  Jihan just shook his head.

  Sorcerers could only be killed by other mages, unless they could somehow be taken by surprise. At night perhaps, when most were asleep it could be done… maybe. How they took Julia was unimportant now, but how they were holding her was. Knowing her as he did, Keverin was surprised he hadn’t heard the explosion from here. They might be using threats against Devarr and him… yes that would hold her, for a time at least.

  “They’re all here,” Gylaren said as the doors boomed shut.