Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  Keverin looked around and nodded. He was taken by surprise when instead of Gylaren standing to speak first as had become his custom, he allowed Halden to rise.

  Halden stepped onto the floor and walked slowly toward the throne. He gazed at it for a time until a hush fell over the seated lords. Halden turned to look at every man in the hall, no few of them sat straighter as his gaze fell on them before passing on. Halden was the oldest lord still holding his seat, and was greatly respected for his meticulous honour and wit.

  “My lords, you all know me, and I flatter myself that you know I am honest. I will not lie to you no matter the provocation.” There was a rumble of voices from the benches. The lords were surprised Halden felt the need to state the obvious. “Thank you all for that. I will come to the point of this late session of the Council in a moment, but first I would like to say a few words concerning the abduction of Lady Julia, Sorceress of Athione.”

  Shocked murmuring gradually increased in volume until a lord stood to ask the question on many lips. “Abducted you say? I heard she was killed,” Lord Robsort said and sat again.

  Murmurs of agreement arose and Halden let them continue for a moment.

  “Please my friends, quiet if you would,” Halden said with a smile, he was well pleased with Robsort. “Thank you. Foul Hasian sorcerers abducted her, Lord Robsort. Lady Julia and Bishop Gideon were making their way to attend the Holy Father this evening escorted by the Red Guard.”

  “Oh well done,” Gylaren whispered.

  Keverin raised an eyebrow in question, and Gylaren leaned in to answer in a whisper. “Halden has everyone thinking of Julia and the Holy Father in the same breath.

  “—found brutally murdered by fire. The sorcerers abducted Lady Julia leaving more of our people dead to distract us.”

  Lord Ascol stood and glared down at Halden. “Why don’t you get to the point you old fool?”

  Halden bowed mockingly to Ascol. “I will then, since you ask so politely. My point is this: voting for you, would be the same as voting for Hasian murderers, kidnappers, and sorcerous enemies of Deva!”

  Shocked indrawn breaths were heard from every side. Rowton was red with rage, so much so, he seemed unable to voice it. Adrik put a hand out to his father, but received a vicious blow to the side of the head as thanks. The boy made no outcry; he simply sat back with a hand covering the new bruises.

  Before Rowton could speak, Halden went on. “I’m sure everyone here would like to know how I dare voice such a scandalous accusation.”

  “Yes, tell us!”

  “—the man’s proof, eh?”

  “Proof! Give us proof!”

  “—accusing him of treason! Challenge him to the death if it was me, Halden or no Halden.”

  Halden held his hands high trying to regain order. “Please, hear me out my lords. Please… order I say. Quiet!” he roared and the noise decreased but it did not cease.

  “Silence!” Purcell boomed and the noise was cut off as if severed with a sword.

  “Thank you,” Halden went on. “Soon after the abduction was discovered, the wizard Lucius, and journeyman Mathius discovered six—not one—but six sorcerers in Lord Ascol’s apartments. I suppose Ascol might have mistaken them for pieces of furniture, but it does seem somewhat unlikely to me.” Halden grinned at the laughter and catcalls of the jeering lords. “The ensuing battle saw the sorcerers dead, and one apartment destroyed.”

  “Look at those bastards,” muttered Keverin.

  Jihan and the others nodded. Some of Ascol’s lackeys were distancing themselves from him by moving along to sit elsewhere. The result was Rowton and his son with twelve of the more stupid lords sitting in a desert of open bench devoid of support. Adrik made to stand, but his father shoved him back.

  “Sit down, and stay!”

  Adrik’s face reddened. “I’m not a dog, father, to stay when you say the word! Lorcan is my friend no matter what you say. I’ll not sit with you!”

  Adrik scrambled away easily avoiding the blow his father aimed at him, and sat against the wall near the guardsmen guarding the doors.

  “Lord Ascol,” Halden continued trying to ignore Adrik’s show of defiance. “I name you traitor and regicide!”

  Pandemonium erupted. The gist of which seemed to be where was proof.

  “Where is proof you say? There, sheathed at this foul traitor’s waist is the dagger my dear friend King Pergann always carried—gifted him by his beloved queen the year before she died.”

  All eyes swung to Ascol to see him refute the statement, but instead he snarled a curse, pulled the dagger, and threw it in one motion. Gylaren flinched away and the dagger struck the man behind him.

  “Ahh! My leg, someone call a healer!” Lord Horlen cried.

  “Guards! Seize Ascol and hold him for the King’s judgement!” Halden ordered quickly before Ascol could attempt escape.

  Two guardsmen drew their swords and took custody of Ascol, but the man refused to be moved from his place in the stands. He was staring into space unseeing, as if denying the proceedings were taking place.

  “Guard him there then,” Halden said impatiently. “But take his sword and check for hidden knives.”

  The guards disarmed Ascol and searched him roughly. They discovered two knives, one in each boot top, and removed them. They pushed him down, and then sat each side ready to kill him if need be. Lord Horlen was tended by one of his friends. The wound was superficial only and a rough bandage sufficed. The dagger was examined, but it looked no different to others of its type.

  Halden pointed an impatient finger toward the knife in Horlen’s hand, and made a twisting motion. “Unscrew the pommel my lord, and you will be the first, other than myself, to see its difference.”

  Lord Horlen did as he was bid. Inside the hollow hilt was a parchment that he began to read. He blushed red in embarrassment and quickly returned the letter to its hiding place.

  “Are you satisfied, Lord Horlen?”

  Horlen nodded and stood to announce his findings to the assembly. “The parchment was a personal—a very personal—missive from Queen Alyssa to Pergann King of Deva.”

  “Thank you, Horlen,” Halden said. “I have one last thing to say. Vote for Gylaren, he is the best choice to save us from the Protectorate.”

  No one seemed sure of what to do next, that is until Adrik stood and walked toward the throne. “My Lords, I am not yet one of your number, and may never be by our new King’s decree. Be that as it may, I would like to suggest that all those in favour of Lord Gylaren for the next King of Deva, step to the right of the throne as I do now.” Adrik walked the short distance to place himself beside the dais. One by one, the lords stood and joined Adrik.

  Gylaren was the last to stand. He took a deep breath and walked silently to the dais. He looked up at the throne in silence for the longest time, but then he placed one foot on the dais then the next until he stood before the throne itself. He turned and sat.

  “Long live King Gylaren!” Adrik shouted.

  “Hail, Hail, Hail! Long live Gylaren!” the lords shouted in response.

  Gylaren nodded. “Please be seated, we have a great deal to do.”

  * * *

  Brian stormed through the palace hallways. The Lord would be pleased with his news this time, but not for long he was thinking. The guards on the door glared at him as he approached and Brian frowned wondering why.

  Ah, yes.

  “How’s the head?” he said but received nothing but twin glares for his trouble.

  Shrugging, he opened the doors to enter the hall. He quietly closed them behind him and scanned the stands for his lord, but his eyes snapped to the throne in surprise. Lord Gylaren sat upon the throne, King Gylaren he should say.

  He didn’t know what he should do now. He had never before stood in the presence of royalty. He fell back on his training and decided to pretend Gylaren was a lord like any other. As such, he was obliged to report to Gylaren first as the palace was now his
rightful seat. He strode forward glaring as two new guards edged forward uncertainly; they were Malcoran, but they backed off when they recognised him and his rank as an Athione captain. Brian looked neither right nor left as he made his way toward the throne.

  Halden, who was standing near the dais broke off his conversation—about taxes—Brian thought it was, and turned to see where Gylaren was looking. When Halden saw him, he stepped to one side to give him access to the King.

  Brian held his sword hilt and bowed deeply. “My King, I have news for my lord Keverin if you will permit?”

  Gylaren smiled and nodded in appreciation of his manners. “You have my leave, Brian.”

  “Thank you my lord, I mean—”

  “Lord is fine,” Gylaren said chuckling, not unkindly.

  He bowed again and moved to find Keverin. He found his lord as expected, sitting with Purcell and Jihan, but he was surprised to see Adrik of Ascol sitting with him. Keverin must know what he was doing so he ignored the boy and addressed himself to his lord.

  “Report captain,” Keverin said warily.

  Brian smiled. “Good news, mostly my lord. Sergeant Burke and I received information we felt had to be acted upon. As a result I have thirteen men under heavy guard down below.”

  “Ah? And what did they do?”

  “They posed as Red Guard and led—”

  “What!” Keverin roared bouncing to his feet.

  Lords all round the hall turned from the boring issue of taxation in hopes of a diversion. King Gylaren broke off explaining his idea to glare at them. Brian blushed scarlet, but hurried to follow as his lord trotted down the steps.

  “You do not have my leave, Lord Athione!” Gylaren called loudly.

  Keverin stumbled to a halt and turned to his King. He bowed. “May I have your leave to withdraw my liege?”

  “You may not! From your reaction I feel it would be better to hear Brian’s news myself.”

  Keverin rumbled something that sounded to Brian vaguely perverted and physically impossible. He nodded his permission.

  “My Lords,” Brian began. “I have thirteen men under guard down below. They were responsible for killing the real Red Guard squad, and the two people left in Father Gideon and the Lady’s places.”

  Gylaren raised a hand and the whispers among the lords quieted. “That was quick work, Brian, well done. Now what’s the bad news?” a chuckle swept around the hall.

  Brian wasn’t laughing and neither was his lord. He looked to Keverin who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “The bad news, my King, is that Julia and the others are being held by thirty sorcerers and nearly sixty guardsmen. All of which are making their way northward. They have almost four candlemarks lead on us and we do not know their route or ultimate destination.”

  “I see. That is bad news, but not dire. Lord Malcor has sent word to close the border and he has strong patrols heading in that direction.”

  “You know that will do no good, Gy!” Keverin burst out. “I have to get after them right cursed now!”

  “You will not!” Gylaren glared from his throne and looked around as the lords rumbled in surprise.

  Brian frowned in worry. Everyone knew the Lord Protectors were closer than brothers. Many here would now be wondering if they were witnessing a split, and if so how they could exploit it.

  Keverin was clenching his fists repeatedly in rage, but his face was icy calm. “My King, if Julia is harmed by your actions, we are finished!”

  Shocked oaths ran around the hall. Shock that a lord would have so little respect for the King, all be it one freshly minted, and shock that Gylaren did not immediately challenge the words.

  “My Lord of Athione,” Gylaren said coldly. “You were instrumental in raising me to this position. Be mindful of our earlier conversations and be silent! All my lords will be needed to make Deva great again, that task is begun here today. If you would be the Lord of Athione, shoulder the responsibility and seat yourself!”

  Keverin hissed in surprise. And Brian wasn’t far behind in voicing his shock. To think of removing Keverin… it would split the kingdom irrevocably. What by the God was the King doing!

  Keverin turned to him with frustration plain in his voice. “Take personal command our forces, Brian. Ride out within the candlemark in pursuit of the sorcerers. No matter what Gy says, I will join you no later than sunset tomorrow, you have my oath on that. Leave me five men but no more.” Then in a quiet voice, “Bring her home for me, Brian.”

  Brian saluted and turned to leave.

  “What do you, Athione?” Gylaren said.

  “What you evidently refuse to do my King, I stand by my earlier words—” Keverin was saying.

  Brian slammed the doors and hurried away. His lord had made a bad mistake in raising Gylaren it seemed. The power had gone to the man’s head! How could he treat Keverin so foully, and Julia? She had saved the fortress and the kingdom just last year. She deserved everything Deva could provide and more besides. Gylaren wouldn’t have a throne if it weren’t for her.

  “Captain! Wait for me will you?” Adrik shouted trotting toward him.

  He turned with his hand upon his sword. This was the son of his lord’s enemy, but then he remembered the King. Who was the enemy now?

  “You won’t need that I assure you,” Adrik said.

  “What do you need, my lord? As you heard, I’m a little busy for conversation.”

  “I asked permission of the King to accompany you. My father… he is no longer Lord of Ascol. I am to be the new lord, but the King agreed I am of little use here today. I want to save Lorcan. Please… he’s my friend, my only friend.”

  Brian huffed. A boy lord would be little help, but also little harm. “All right, my lord, you may accompany us. We leave within the candlemark.”

  “Before you go, I have a suggestion to make.”

  He was regretting his decision already! “What would that be?”

  “Steal remounts from the other lord’s men, and don’t forget the mages!” Adrik said as he ran off, to get his armour one supposed.

  Brian gaped after the young lord, and then spun on his heel to find Mathius. He hadn’t thought about scrying ahead, but he didn’t need telling twice. He stormed through the hallways and dispatched every Athione guardsmen he came across to the stables and storerooms. He didn’t bother knocking, but burst into the room to find both mages staring intently into mirrors.

  “Lucius I need—”

  “Shush! I’m concentrating, see Mathius.”

  “Mathius I—”

  “Shush! I’m busy can’t you see?”

  Brian drew his sword and slammed the blade down with all his might against the edge of Lucius’s table. The table split with a crash as both mages snatched up their mirrors to prevent damage. He glared at the surprised faces and directed his words to Mathius.

  “Our lord orders a general pursuit of the sorcerers.”

  Mathius snapped his mouth shut and glared. It was a very effective glare usually, but Brian was beyond such petty worries as being blasted by a mage. Julia needed him.

  “That’s a good idea isn’t it, Lucius?” Mathius said scornfully. “Without any idea where the sorcerers are, we are to pursue!”

  Before Lucius could say anything, Brian spoke just as scornfully. “Despite you idiots killing the most likely people to give us the Lady’s whereabouts, we—my men and I—have found where they are. At least we know where they’re going to be!”

  Mathius gaped in surprise, but it was Lucius that asked the obvious question. “How?”

  “I don’t have time! If you two want to come with us, be on your horses in a candlemark!”

  He spun and stormed out ignoring more questions from the mages as he tried to think of everything at once. In the dungeons, he walked in to find a group of his guardsmen gawking at the traitors.

  “All of you get your yourselves up to the courtyard. Full kit and an extra horse each! We’re going after the Lady, and I don’t give a sh
it if you ride out on the King’s own horse, now move!” Brian glared into the cells at the prisoners as his men ran out in a clatter. “You bastards will stay in here and rot!”

  Brian stormed out of the dungeon and slammed the door in passing. The King knew where the traitors were, but he had a lot on his mind. With luck, by the time Gylaren remembered the traitors were down here, the bastards would be rotting in truth.

  * * *

  19 ~ Escape

  Demophon handed Gideon the water-bag. “Make sure she swallows all of it.”

  Demophon rode by the side of the two-wheeled wagon, while his brothers in front and back kept continuous watch on Julia. The flow of their magic constantly pounded upon his senses, but he had to put up with it. There was no way he was risking his life any more than he absolutely had to just to take Julia to Mortain as a trophy. They were making good time, but the sorceress was throwing off the Tancred—again! Every time Julia so much as twitched, he wanted to kill her. He couldn’t allow her to wake, not when she could destroy everything for leagues around without half trying.

  “I won’t! Don’t you realise how dangerous Tancred is? She nearly died last year because of it!”

  Demophon watched Julia writhing and shaking and grimaced in distaste. She was filthy from lying unwashed for days, but what worried him the most was the drug. To keep her under every day she needed more of it each time. Somehow, she was becoming immune to the stuff. He prayed to Mortain and the God that he had enough ingredients to keep her under until they reached their destination.

  Lorcan glared at him, but that was all he could do. It had soon become apparent in Devarr that the boy could link to his magic, but not yet use it for anything worthwhile. The little fool had tried to use it to escape soon after he was taken, but a club to the head had quieted him down—for a time. He had a bad attitude where discipline was concerned. Mortain’s school would take care of that little problem for him, but for now, the ropes would hold him.

  “No…” Julia mumbled. “They’re coming… Athione… Malcor… all gone. No one to save us… the end times…”

  “Pour it down her, Gideon, or I swear I’ll kill her before she wakes! Do it… do it now!” Demophon yelled as Julia started to come round.