Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  He estimated both group’s progress and when he judged them nearly there he led his reduced force on down the street. As he rounded the corner he encountered domain infantry making their way nervously forward. From the wounds some of them had, he assumed they had already met and defeated one of the Borderer groups. The thought that Joz and Leona might be dead enraged him, and suddenly he was running toward the enemy. Everything seemed to slow and have a clarity to it he had never seen before. He laughed as a man tried to impale him. He sidestepped and took the man’s arm off at the shoulder. It was so easy! The sword had always seemed easy to use, his strength made up for his lack of skill, or so he thought. Terriss had tried to tell him that he was good at this, and Keppel had been sure he would make a fine assassin, but he had denied his skill. He didn’t want to be good at killing people. Why couldn’t he be good at painting or sculpture instead?

  He killed and killed again before the rest of his people arrived. He had time to look up and see Dreng and Nerina emerge from the alleys and hit the Japurans from behind, but a burning sensation along his ribs shook him enough to bring his attention back to his own fight. A man wearing the plume of a force leader had managed to lunge and get by his guard. The cut was burning and bleeding profusely, but it did not seem serious. Rather than back away, Nisim moved forward and grappled the man close. His dagger found the gap in the force leader’s armour and he thrust it into the man’s armpit.

  “Slave…” the force leader said in shock as he fell.

  “Not any more,” he snarled and pulled the dagger free.

  * * *

  “No I said!” Methrym said in a rage.

  “But they’re throwing down their weapons!” Lorenz yelled over the roar of the flames.

  “What is it about the word no you don’t understand? We don’t let any escape, and we can’t hold them here! How would we guard and feed them? Haven’t thought of that have you?”

  “This is murder!”

  He shook his head in frustration. “If it is, I’m to blame not you. I order you to kill them all before we lose the rest of the city! No mercy!”

  Lorenz shook his head. “I don’t know you any more! This is madness and I want no part of it!”

  Methrym went cold. “You are refusing?”

  “Cursed right I am!”

  He thought fast. The penalty for refusing his order could only be death but he couldn’t do that. Lorenz was his best friend. Lorenz would come to his senses about this later, he was sure.

  “I’m assigning you to the south. I have reports of lancers making their way down river. They’re probably going for the ford now the bridge is gone. Stop them. Is that clear?”

  “Yes Sir!” Lorenz saluted and climbed into the saddle.

  He watched his friend lead his men out the gate. Lorenz hadn’t even looked at him as he rode out.

  “He’s soft,” Soren said scornfully. “Can’t expect anything more from House Calida.”

  Methrym rounded on Soren. “Lorenz is a good man and an excellent soldier! He will do his duty. You heard the order. I want this city cleared of Japurans.”

  “I heard. No mercy it is,” Soren said with relish and ran off to collect his men.

  Methrym watched him go. “You would do better by emulating Lorenz cousin,” he said quietly.

  Lorenz was right, the fight was already won, but he hadn’t lied to his friend when he said taking prisoners was out of the question. For one thing there were too many. It would take a city the size of Calida to house them properly. He would need another army to guard them!

  He turned on the spot. Wherever he looked he found dead men. The Japurans had rushed in to occupy Malim exactly as planned, and also exactly as planned they had been prevented from leaving. Fighting in narrow streets was a nightmare for cavalry, but the Borderers loved it. The streets had turned into abattoirs as tightly packed cavalry ran headlong into barricades set up and manned by Terriss’ bowman. Borderers were deadly with most weapons, but the bow was a particular favourite as it was so useful from hiding. They usually hid among the trees, but rooftops and barricades had worked out just fine.

  The war wasn’t to be a clean and honourable affair. If there was such a thing as a clean war. Methrym tended to doubt such a thing existed. Talitha had lost big here. Vexin would certainly consider pushing into Japura when he heard about this battle. If Talitha was wise she would sue for peace. Reparations would have to be huge to cover the damage done to Tanjung, but Japura was rich and could afford it. Would Vexin accept a treaty? He might. He just might. Vexin was different to previous emperors. He had been planning to put a stop to Japuran raids along the border just before the war began. He was not at all happy with the way the nobles defied him whenever they felt they could get away with it either. He wanted loyalty from his nobles like a Devan King received from his lords, and he wanted Tanjung prosperous like Japura was. By taking what he perceived as the best from his neighbours, Vexin had proposed to stabilise the Empire as never before. The problem was that Japura was at his mercy now. That might not be so later. Should he push ahead and perhaps prevent future strife, or should he accept a treaty that might break down at any time? It was a hard decision, one Methrym was glad he didn’t have to make. Vexin was best equipped to deal with the question of policy, and he with carrying it out. Talking of carrying it out, he supposed he should get back to the war.

  He mounted his horse and made his way toward Vivika’s palace followed by a squad of a hundred men. He felt safe enough travelling with so few. Most of the surviving Japurans were fighting to the north well away from his current route. Roughly a quarter of Tanjung Malim was burning or had already been burned, but with a good water supply nearby he felt confident that the city would survive. Lines of bucket wielding peasants were even now fighting to ensure that. He wondered what Vivika thought about it.

  That was answered soon after entering the palace. Vivika was still in his bloodied armour directing his men toward the fighting. Every man was being sent to finish the Japurans—even his bodyguard it seemed. Methrym stood aside as the last of Vivika’s men ran out.

  “We have done it my friend!”

  “Nearly,” Methrym temporised.

  “Oh come now! The last resistance is being crushed as we speak. Did you see me? I charged the enemy just like father.”

  He smiled. He could afford one now. “He would have been very proud my lord,” he said solemnly.

  “Do you think so?” Vivika said hopefully.

  “I do my lord. I am sorry about the damage, but—”

  Vivika waved that away as soon as Methrym began his apology. “Buildings can be replaced, do not concern yourself. What is important is that most of my people survived. Evacuating the city and filling it with Borderers worked splendidly did it not?” Vivika didn’t wait for his answer. “I must admit to being very impressed with them. Don’t tell Terriss, but I was concerned about their reliability you know? One hears such ghastly things about Borderers. All sorts of ungodly things going on, but they seem like excellent people to me! I can’t see what all the fuss was about. They’re very good fighters.”

  Methrym smiled. Vivika would know what all the fuss was about if he had ever tried to trade with them, or take something they considered theirs. Even if the thing wasn’t theirs it was better to let them have it! The God only knew how much of the city they were likely to carry away with them!

  “What’s next, Methrym? Do we go after Wakiza now?”

  We?

  “Ah well… we have to finish up here and… don’t you want to stay to rebuild… and of course we have to wait for Vexin’s orders, and… you can’t come!”

  Vivika laughed at Methrym’s stuttering. “Of course I can! Vexin has already rallied the lords to his cause. Where did you think they were going? No doubt they’re already on their way here with your orders. As for the city, I have very good people who look after details for me. My beloved insisted we have the best,” Vivika said sadly. He perked up again almos
t instantly. “Besides, it will take some time for the lords to reach us. We can make plans while we wait!”

  Methrym stared at Vivika in horror. He would be saddled with the man forever!

  Oh by the God, now what do I do?

  * * *

  19 ~ Mirror Mirror

  Tears ran freely over Julia’s cheeks at the sight of Emma and Amara as they entered Kadar’s tent wearing their new tunics and leggings. The girls were beaming fit to break hearts as they marched boldly to where Kadar sat. Upon their backs, newly embroidered by their own hands, was the swirling pattern of the Night Wind Clan. At their waists they wore long knives proudly proclaiming they had chosen to train as warriors of the clan.

  “We are gathered here to welcome Emma and Amara of Calvados into the clan,” Kadar began. “At a time when war is trying to tear us apart, it is even more fitting that we as a people hold to the traditions handed down through the centuries. One such is adoption.”

  She watched the ceremony raptly as gifts were given and received then listened in excitement as Kadar asked the question everyone was waiting to hear.

  “Emma of Calvados, Amara of Calvados, have you chosen who will be your father?”

  “We have,” they said together.

  “Is whom you choose within this tent?” Kadar said smiling. He knew full well he was.

  The girls grinned. “He is.”

  “Point him out so that he might come forth.”

  As one the girls pointed to Shelim who was sitting quietly looking on. The relief on his face was comic. As if they would choose someone else after he saved them from certain death. Julia shook her head at Shelim’s foolishness. It was obvious that he’d thought right until the last moment they would choose other than him.

  “Shelim, shaman of the Night Wind, stand forth,” Kadar ordered.

  Shelim stood and stepping carefully between sitting clanners he approached Kadar. He was wearing his best tunic and leggings, the one with orange flames running down his arms and legs. He was dazzling… and noisy! The beads rattled at his every move.

  “Is it your wish to accept responsibility for these children?”

  “It is,” Shelim said with an arm around each.

  Kadar nodded. “I am Clan Chief of the Night Wind Clan. I say that Shelim is father to Emma of the Night Wind and Amara of the Night Wind from this moment.”

  Everyone stood and shouted their welcome and hugged the girls at the same time as pounding Shelim roughly on the shoulders and back.

  “Congratulations you three, I know you’ll be happy together,” Julia said drying her eyes. She always cried at weddings, and the adoption was just like one.

  “We will!” said Amara.

  “That’s right!” Emma added.

  Julia moved aside to let the others reach the happy trio, and found Kadar talking to Keverin in a corner.

  “—without us!” Keverin said urgently.

  Kadar shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do. Tobiah is chief of chiefs.”

  “There is something,” she said as an idea formed. It was outrageous, but it might work.

  “I don’t see what,” Kadar sighed.

  “You do believe me when I say that without shamen the clans will be defeated?”

  Kadar grimaced, he was not entirely happy admitting it. “Maybe not defeat…” he sighed. “Yes, many will die without them. We will probably be defeated.”

  Probably was close enough, Julia decided. “Then I want to be adopted into the Night Wind along with Keverin and all the others.”

  Kadar’s eyes bugged at the audacity and he spluttered, “Tobiah will never stand for it!”

  “Is Tobiah chief of the Night Wind or are you?” Keverin ground out between clenched teeth. He wanted Demophon dead so bad he could taste it.

  Kadar’s hand reached for his long knife but Keverin clamped the hand upon the hilt like a vice. Kadar’s eyes widened as he found himself unable to draw the weapon. He struggled briefly but it was no good.

  “I am chief here not Tobiah!”

  “Then act like it!” she hissed under her breath. “Think of your people, not your pride. Tobiah will lead us all to ruin!”

  “Tobiah is chief of chiefs—”

  Keverin overrode the chief. “But only in matters of the war!” he said in frustration, and then more calmly, “True?”

  Keverin released Kadar and he flexed his hand trying to regain feeling. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Tobiah will not like it at all,” he said with a twisted smile that grew as Julia watched.

  Keverin grinned. “Tobiah will have a seizure when he hears.”

  “Julia of the Night Wind,” she murmured. “It has a nice ring to it.”

  All three of them laughed.

  Kadar left then to speak with Shelim and congratulate him. Julia and Keverin stood aside watching the exchange of gifts. Julia felt inside her medicine pouch and stroked the torque she had made for Keverin’s nameday. She felt the spell tingling against her palm and smiled. Lucius was a genius, though she would never tell him. He might get a swelled head! She was glad she had asked him to help her now. She had a feeling Keverin might need the torque in this war.

  Tobiah was a fool. Worse than that, he was a dangerous fool. At every turn he had opposed the inclusion of shamen in this war and that could only lead to disaster. She wished she could make a torque for all of Kev’s men and she felt guilty about that sometimes, but there wasn’t time and Keverin was more important to her than anyone. The shield spell should stop a magical attack, but Keverin was not a mage; he could not invoke the shield himself. Lucius had foreseen the problem and had created a spell to activate the instant an magic was detected. It was not perfect, it would not stop a sword or any other mundane attack, but it was better than nothing. Maybe now would be a good time to give it to him. Tobiah had chosen Kev’s nameday to move north and Julia could already foresee it would be hectic.

  Come the day, she was proven right.

  Julia mounted her horse next to Keverin who was sporting his nameday present. Tobiah hadn’t liked it, as she knew he wouldn’t, but Kev loved it. It was different to a chief’s torque in that she had carved pictures on it rather than geometric patterns. She was quite proud of it. In the centre under his chin, she had carved the crossed fists of Athione. On each side of that was a panel with the citadel depicted in relief against the mountains. There were six panels in all, each with a little picture. Iden had taught her how to do it, but she had done the actual work herself.

  Ignoring Tobiah’s glare of hatred, Keverin mounted Cavell, and behind him Brian and his men climbed into their saddles.

  “What are you doing? I forbid it!” Tobiah said angrily.

  “You do not forbid me,” Keverin rumbled angrily. “Nor my lady either.”

  All around the Night Wind encampment people watched as the scene unfolded. They were wondering what was to happen. If all went well nothing was. As of last night, Julia was Julia of the Night Wind, and her adopted father was of course Kerrion. Kerrion couldn’t adopt Keverin of course—she didn’t want Keverin as her brother. Other warriors and shaman, older ones mostly, had adopted him and the others, but it was comical seeing Lucius adopted by a warrior half his age.

  “We are Night Wind not Wolf!” Julia said loudly so that all might hear. “You might be chief of chiefs, but I’m no chief and you can’t order me. I will do what Kadar orders not you.”

  There was a rumble of agreement from the onlookers. Tobiah looked around in fury, but Kadar was not to be found. “I will deal with you later. This will not stand!” he shouted and stormed off.

  “Oh yes it will,” she whispered as they began to ride out of Denpasser.

  Wherever Julia looked, warriors were mounting and riding out of camp. Keverin’s men were the only ones in armour and riding in column of twos. The clansmen did not believe in what they saw as foolishness. They rode in their usual haphazard manner. Groups of warriors talked among themselves here, groups laughed there and trotted
away on their own course, still others formed and broke apart only to reform elsewhere. It looked chaotic and was, but Keverin had assured her that the warriors knew what to do. When the time came they would do it with flair. Flair wasn’t enough she knew, not against the legions. Discipline was important in war. Disciplined troops could defeat many times their own numbers if they fought as one and followed orders—Jihan said so and Kev agreed.

  “Where is Kadar, do you know?” Keverin asked looking around as the Night Wind warriors began to bunch up around his column.

  “He rode out early to avoid Tobiah. He thinks delaying the inevitable may help the situation.”

  Kadar had absented himself on purpose knowing Tobiah would attempt to reverse last night’s decision. He had spoken with the other chiefs privately last night urging them to bring the shamen with them. He told them that even if the shamen weren’t needed, it didn’t hurt to have them along, for healing if nothing else. According to Kerrion, every shaman was seen packing this morning.

  Keverin looked worried, Julia assumed it was Tobiah’s doing, but when she asked he shook his head.

  “This war is badly planned. If Jihan were here, he would call me a fool and worse than a fool for riding to meet Navarien head on like this.

  “I know you think that, but with magic on our side we should stand an even chance.”

  “That’s what I mean. An even chance isn’t good enough. Jihan always says never fight unless you know you will win, and he’s right. Sometimes you have absolutely no other choice and so you fight with damage limitation in mind. You should never do anything that doesn’t lead to victory. Easy to say I know, but it’s true just the same. Fighting to contest ground is usually pointless. We should only fight when we have the advantage.”

  “I can see that, but if you retreat all the time because you’re waiting for the advantage we might be fighting in Devarr come summer!”