Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  Meran had aborted his planned attack in favour of a wait and see posture. With Corbin messing around in the centre and Tikva out of position, it was all he could realistically do. Another mirror showed Bannan also in difficulty. Three thousand mounted men that had been green recruits less than two seasons earlier could mess up any manoeuvre—even the charge.

  “This is a flaming disaster!” Navarien said staring at total chaos in the mirror. “For the love of God, where is Cragson?”

  * * *

  “Where is Cragson?” Bannan screamed with spittle spraying. “He should be here!”

  “Ain’t seen him Sir!” Sergeant Ferrol said.

  It was all falling apart here. If he didn’t pull his men back, he would lose half of them. Meran was holding the centre, but what else could he do surrounded as he was? Tikva was dismounted trying to make some kind of sense of the chaos, while Nissus was leading his men on a flank attack that had some chance of success but which had no relation at all with the plan. Cragson was nowhere around and could be dead for all he knew. Corbin’s battalion had turned into an utter joke, a fact not lost on the captain. Corbin was screaming in rage as two thirds of his battalion milled around uselessly while the third composed of veterans futilely tried to attack a force many times their size.

  “My lord sorcerer,” Bannan said helplessly. “Contact the General and ask him to order Corbin out of here. If he fucks up any worse they’ll be a panic.”

  “It is my understanding that he has already done so,” Anius said in amusement.

  Bannan gritted his teeth. “Tell him again—please.”

  Anius nodded and used his mirror. “The general says to stop worrying about Corbin and start worrying about the clansmen. He says Cragson is heavily engaged and is in need of help. He says Cragson was ambushed.”

  “Where?” Bannan snapped.

  “The right flank.”

  “Signaller!” Bannan roared.

  “Sir?”

  “Sound rally and—”

  Booom!

  Out of nowhere, a fireball came in and grounded splashing fire in all directions. Horses and men screamed as the entire front line of Corbin’s battalion went down. Bannan fought his horse’s panic and tried to find the shamen. More fire came in and yet more. Men were plucked out of the saddle by unseen forces and crushed in full view of the men. Fear and panic began to spread through the battalion.

  Bannan was at a loss. He could not attack what wasn’t there; he had to concentrate on the known enemy. “Signaller, signal dismount!”

  Rahhh-ta-ta-ta! Rahhh-ta-ta-ta!

  * * *

  “No, no, no!” Navarien roared in frustration. “It’s no good. I’ll have to take personal command and—”

  “We have found the shamen.”

  “Where?”

  “Just here behind Corbin,” Wotan said. “He has not detected them.”

  “Why not?” Navarien snarled.

  “I would guess he has other things on his mind. Odelyn should have found them, but he is busy warding Corbin’s battalion. With the men all over the place, he is having trouble.”

  “Who isn’t these days?” he said wiping sweat from his brow. “All right, this is what we will do. Pass the location to every sorcerer we have please, Wotan, and order them to saturate the area with fire. Tell them to burn the ground to bedrock if that is what it takes.”

  “Crude, but effective,” Wotan said and turned to give the order.

  “Let us hope so.”

  Navarien found Cragson again and breathed a little easier when he saw Fifth Battalion under Duer marching to relieve him. Duer was a good man, he wouldn’t mess up. Navarien watched in satisfaction as Duer linked up with Cragson and turned their combined might upon the clan. The warriors were wiped out in short order as wave upon wave of javelins descended upon them in the age old response of a beleaguered legion to an attacker.

  “Good, that is good. Order Cragson and Duer to stay together and march on the camps. Tell them to threaten, but not attack them. That should relieve the pressure on Meran.”

  “Good idea,” Wotan said and gave the order to Demophon. “The shamen are destroyed,” he said a moment later.

  “So I see,” Navarien said staring at the red hot crater. “Ask your people to put out those fires would you?”

  “They should have seen the necessity,” Wotan scowled.

  “After what happened last year they should have,” he agreed. Fire on the plains was not a laughing matter. “We seem to be getting it together. I was beginning to think the idea flawed.”

  “We need more practise.”

  Navarien nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

  Corbin finally rescued his piss poor battalion from the mess it was in and even managed to contribute a little help. Meran’s battalion was battered but not severely hurt; with Corbin’s help he marched to aid Nissus. Navarien could see things were improving, but the battle was far from won.

  “Order Captains Turner and Calva to here. Tell them to wait until Cragson is in position then attack.”

  Wotan estimated the distance and direction and then gave the order. “You believe the clan will retreat?”

  “It will,” he said with no doubt. “The warriors have families to think of. They will not hesitate.”

  They watched the battle progress together, but he had no further orders to give even when he saw areas that could be improved upon. His captains needed to learn this new way of fighting a war. What better way than in battle?

  “It’s starting,” Wotan said a short time later. “You were right.”

  Navarien nodded. His face was a mask. “The camps are to remain unmolested, my lord sorcerer. I will have no sacking or rapine done.”

  “That was understood,” Wotan said in surprise.

  Navarien nodded again. He just wanted to make his position perfectly clear. The words remember Cantibria were etched upon his soul.

  “Order no quarter.”

  Wotan did that.

  * * *

  11 ~ Oaths

  “They are still fighting over it,” Shelim explained to the others sitting nearby.

  They were just a few days away from Denpasser now, but the journey had been excruciatingly slow compared with what he was used to. Horse Clan was large, not as big as Dragon Clan had been, but it had still taken a long time to collect all the tribes and strike south. The cull had been the biggest obstacle with many of the lesser chiefs balking at what they saw as an irresponsible waste. It had been frustrating for Shelim, but it was far worse for Mazel. The man looked haggard even yet, but at least the wounds no longer pained him. Larn had healed the chief, but those wounds hidden in his mind would take longer. Mazel had been challenged many times over those hectic days, but he had won through each time—barely in two cases. Mazel had no wish to kill his chiefs, but twice he’d had no choice. Those two fights had almost ended in mutual death. Mazel had barely survived with Larn throwing himself forward to save him even as both men fell. They would never know now whether they might have saved the other men. Mazel lived, and the others died.

  Horse Clan in its entirety was heading south. Not one person had been left behind. The sight of an entire clan moving was always awe inspiring, but the Night Wind was one of the smallest clans. Not so Horse Clan. They had almost twelve thousand warriors in all. Mazel had shocked everyone including Shelim when he said that children of fourteen would have their ceremony at Denpasser a full year early. Those warriors concerned were delighted of course, but Shelim hadn’t been. His girls were twelve, so they were still considered children thank the God, but by bringing forward the ceremonies Mazel had almost certainly guaranteed they would participate in the war. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t bring himself to believe the war would be a quick affair. Many had protested that such young warriors would be little use, but Mazel had only to point at the pathetic remnants of Dragon Clan to make them agree.

  The outclanners had decimated Dragon Clan just days ago. She
lim had used his mirror to show the chiefs the battle as it occurred. Navarien and many thousands of warriors had snapped up the outlying tribes one by one then turned on the clan itself. This time the warriors had fought well. Ingharr had led his warriors out of the camp and attacked with his full force. The outclanners had been surprised and had lost many men before counter-attacking. Rajnish, Dragon Clan’s shaman, had killed hundreds with his magic before he was killed, but in the end it was all for nothing. The outclanners had overrun the camp even as Ingharr fell.

  Of those warriors who had been Dragon Clan, only those who were still children were spared. Navarien had been thorough. He had stolen every bow and long knife from the warriors leaving them with spears only. Shelim was surprised at Navarien’s generosity in leaving the spears, but Mazel disagreed. Dragon Clan was no longer a threat. He was right. Spears were enough to allow hunting to feed the clan, but they were helpless against the real threat from Navarien’s men. They couldn’t fight back anymore.

  “Who is winning?” Mazel said breaking into Shelim’s reverie.

  “Hmmm?”

  Mazel sighed. “Who is winning at Denpasser?”

  “Sorry, I was thinking about the Dragon warriors.”

  “Nothing can change the past. You have to look to the future.”

  He nodded at the truth of those words. He would journey tonight in dreams to see what he might discover.

  “Tobiah will be chief of chiefs,” Shelim said. “I have seen it. Cadell might have been, had it not been for Kadar’s lucky hit.”

  Mazel nodded.

  Cadell was the best man with a sword among the clan chiefs. Luck had turned against him though when Kadar had taken advantage of a slip on uncertain footing. Skill and courage were important, but luck did play its part.

  “Kadar will never beat Tobiah,” Mazel said. “So it’s decided. Wolf Clan leads.” There were grumbles, but this kind of selection was fair. The best warrior must lead this fight. “I might be able to take him,” Mazel mused. “But should I even try?”

  “You must try, Mazel!”

  “Horse Clan should lead—”

  “…cursed wolves!”

  Shelim took the time to think about the question. Was Mazel the better man? That was the question. The best fighter was not always the best man to be chief, but they didn’t need another chief. What they needed was a… a war leader. The clans had never needed such a thing before, but they desperately needed one now. Being chief was more than fighting and raiding. A chief had to be able to soothe arguments and persuade people to his way of doing things, but a war leader would need to be obeyed instantly just like Navarien. A chief could not just order his people; he had to make them do the right thing by convincing them it was right. Mazel was a thinker as well as a good warrior, but was he the better man to fight this war?

  “I think it might be best to leave things alone,” Shelim said uncertainly. “If Tobiah leads well, then fine, but if he leads badly he must step down or be forced.”

  Mazel was not completely happy with that. “If he leads badly many of our people will die.”

  “True, but can you honestly say you can beat the outclanners and Tobiah cannot? If so, you must challenge him. It matters not who among the clans leads us to victory as long as it is victory he leads us to.”

  “No, I cannot say I would win, but battle is always uncertain. Where did he find so many new warriors? He only had four thousand, now the number is closer to thirty thousand!”

  “They had to have arrived by sea from Protectorate, there’s no other way. The clans outnumber him though; we must have four times his number.”

  “You are counting the young ones as well, Shelim. It’s closer to three times now that Dragon Clan is gone,” Mazel said, and the other chiefs nodded.

  Dragon Clan is gone. Such a simple thing to say, but the reality was something else. Dragon Clan is gone, twenty thousand warriors dead—at the least twenty thousand. Many of the younger ones had fought and died with their families on those occasions that Navarien had not held his men back. Why did he do that? Why do it on some occasions and not others? It was almost as if he was two different people. He was ruthless against warriors one moment, then ruthless against everyone the next. It didn’t make sense to Shelim, but it didn’t have to. He would work against Navarien no matter how the man chose to lead his men, or what he chose to do with them.

  A few days later, Mazel’s decision to allow Tobiah to lead was put to the test when they reached Denpasser. Shelim was riding Nyx beside Larn as he had most days. They had fallen naturally into the habit of riding together on the journey to Denpasser, but a strange thing had evolved. Shelim wasn’t sure how it had happened, but over the time spent with Horse Clan he had found himself falling into the role of Mazel’s councillor. He had become a leader. He had tried to push Larn forward instead, but Larn said he was happy where he was—one step from his right hand.

  He glanced at Larn who was chatting quietly with some of the others, uncomfortable with the subject of their discussion. Larn was praising him, and retelling the story of their battle with Navarien’s shaman. He supposed it didn’t matter now they were here. Kerrion was the eldest; let him put a stop to this nonsense.

  “Who is Kerrion, father?” Amara said from where she rode her own horse nearby. She had heard him muttering to himself.

  “He is my mentor—my teacher. He is very old and very wise.”

  “You love him,” Emma said, it wasn’t a question. “Is he our new grandfather?”

  “We are not related except in clan and calling. Kerrion is my best friend and my mentor. My father is your new grandfather. His name is Tomik.”

  “Oh. Is he a warrior like us?” Emma said.

  “He is a very great warrior,” he boasted with justifiable pride. “My brother Torin is as well.”

  Amara rode her horse closer. “What does grandmother do?”

  “Selima is a weaver. You’ll like them all I promise.”

  Shelim could see the tents of the people clearly now. There were many thousands of them, but two areas were conspicuous in their emptiness. One would be filled shortly when Horse Clan took its customary place at the Gathering, but the other was for Dragon Clan and would remain empty. Would Dragon Clan recover someday to take its place again, or if not that, at least a part of its previous greatness? He shivered, not if Navarien had his way.

  “I will be leaving you here, Larn. I have things to see to.”

  Larn nodded smiling and winking at the girls. “Tomik and Selima are in for a surprise. Kerrion too!”

  Amara and Emma giggled in excitement.

  “My parents will be, but not Kerrion he will—”

  *That’s right my boy! Welcome back. We have much to discuss, but I’ll come to you. Go see your parents first.* Kerrion said from nowhere.

  “Shelim? Are you well?” Larn said in concern.

  “I—”

  *You’re not mad my boy. I have learned a few things since we last saw each other. Julia calls it mind-speech. Good name yes?*

  Shelim nodded at Kerrion’s words, but realised the others had not heard them. “I’m fine Larn. I was just thinking that Kerrion likely knows everything already. You know how nosy he is!”

  Larn and the others coughed and tried not to laugh. Calling the eldest nosy was accurate, but a little close to the mark.

  *Nosy am I? It’s a good thing I’m nosy, eh Julia?*

  *There’s nothing wrong with curiosity, Kerrion. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Shelim.*

  Shelim felt them leave him. Julia was here—The One was here! He frowned; what did she mean see him again? They had never met. The sooner he found out what was going on the better.

  “Follow me you two,” he said to the girls. “We’ll go visit my parents first then I’ll introduce you to Kerrion.”

  Emma and Amara grinned and edged their horses out of the group to follow him.

  “I’ll see you at council,” Shelim called back to Maze
l and the others.

  Mazel waved.

  Shelim managed to avoid all the fuss as the other clans realised Horse Clan had finally come. He manoeuvred Nyx around the tents, as people rushed by to greet Mazel and his people. Finally, he reached the camp of the Night Wind.

  “We are home,” he said with pleasure.

  The girls were looking around and talking excitedly about this or that tent. He listened as Amara insisted the lightning bolts at the top of Kerrion’s tent were the best, and Emma insisted the bison on Kadar’s tent was best.

  “I have a shaman healing a child on it,” he said when Emma asked what his sigils were.

  “Why?”

  “Because the first time I healed someone was very special to me,” he said grunting as he strained to release Nyx’s girth.

  He succeeded finally, and helped his daughters with their mounts. He gave the animals a brush down then released them into the Night Wind’s herd. He nodded to Honovi who was guarding this section, and then walked back to collect the girls.

  “Mentor!” Darnath shouted as he ran toward Shelim.

  Emma and Amara almost pulled their weapons free when Darnath cannoned into him and began pounding him on the back in welcome. Shelim waved a hand at his would be protectors and they subsided to watch.

  “—missed you!” Darnath was saying.

  “It’s good to see you too, Darnath. Here let me introduce you to my daughters,” he said trying not to laugh at Darnath’s bulging eyes.

  “Daughters!”

  He pulled the girls in front of him. “This is Amara,” he said with a hand on her shoulder. “And this is Emma. Girls, this is my very dear friend and apprentice, Darnath of the Night Wind.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Emma and Amara chorused, but Emma continued, “Can you do magic like father?”

  Darnath shook his head. “Not yet, but he’s teaching me. How can you tell them apart mentor?”

  Both girls shook their heads; everyone said that.

  Shelim smiled down at them mischievously. “Simple. Amara is the pretty one!” He laughed at the gasp of outrage from Emma, but Amara was laughing, and it wasn’t long before Emma was too. They were twins after all. Shelim started them all toward Tomik’s tent while listening to Darnath’s news.