“I don’t know anything about honour, Mathius. Some people live for the now and don’t think about such things. They want riches and power and damn everyone and everything that gets in their way. I feel sorry for Jihan.”
Mathius nodded. “The dishonour stains him, even though he is not to blame.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant the beatings and the abuse.”
Mathius shrugged. “That’s nothing.”
“How can you say that?” Julia said in surprise. “Athlone used the guardsmen to attack his own son. They hounded him through the fortress. They even killed his mother!”
Mathius was unimpressed. “My father was very strict. All good fathers are.”
“Mine wasn’t. He was wonderful.”
“If he was wonderful, I’m happy for you Julia, but you must realise that discipline is important. Your world might be different,” Mathius said doubtfully. “But if a child lacks discipline it can lead to death and worse.”
“What is worse than death?”
“Dishonour is worse,” Mathius said firmly. “In my case burnout and dishonour are about equal.”
“You can’t mean that! You mean to say that you would rather lose the gift than be dishonoured?”
“No...” he said thoughtfully. “I would rather not do either, but having the choice I would rather die.”
Moriz and Halbert both murmured in agreement. “No man would let dishonour stain him lady,” Moriz said.
“The God would turn his face from him,” Halbert said.
“No,” Mathius said firmly. “The God would never do that, but He would send you back. Dishonour stains the soul. None such could abide the God’s majesty.”
The three men circled their hearts and Julia felt shut out at that moment. She hadn’t been to church for more than a year and missed it. She would have asked Father Preston about honour and dishonour if she could, but she was afraid she knew the answer. Killing people was dishonourable, it was wrong, and she had killed thousands.
“What did your father do?” Julia said into the silence.
“He was a journeyman mage in the old tradition.”
“Old tradition?”
“Before Lord Keverin’s library, a mage travelled and learned the craft simply by using it. Sometimes an exchange of information could occur, but meeting another mage was rare. My father was a great man. I didn’t know it then, but he saved me.”
“The strictness you mentioned?”
Mathius nodded. “He taught me that my magic was not to be used for frivolous things. Because of him, I have a real chance at wearing the red robe someday.”
“How come?”
“It’s a theory of mine,” Mathius said as they turned down the last corridor. “Hasian sorcerers are not truly sorcerers—not as the Founders were. They wear the black robe like a guardsman wears his lord’s sigil on his chest.” Mathius cocked a thumb at Moriz where the crossed fists of Athione decorated his chest. “There hasn’t been a true sorcerer since Martaninn. He died over a century ago. Nowadays, a wizard is a rare sight indeed. Everyone knows the magic has weakened—but what if it hasn’t?”
“Tell me,” Julia said.
“I think the reason mages no longer reach the black robe is that they age too rapidly. I think they die before getting the chance. The more a mage uses his power, the greater he becomes, but the risk of ageing is greater also.”
“How does your theory accommodate me?”
“It doesn’t,” Mathius said ruefully. “You violate all the rules concerning mages. At least on this world you do. Without our magic we are hollow and empty. Without it we live only half a life. The more a mage uses his magic, the more he craves it—just like the drugs a Camorin shaman uses to see the future. Discipline is the only thing that prevents us from attempting to draw too much. You are the same age as me Lady, but you hadn’t used your power before your arrival here. You aren’t addicted to using it for everything—just like me.”
Julia nodded, but she privately thought that she might already be addicted. Maybe it was the reason she felt the need to draw so hard while healing. Something else was puzzling her though.
“What about the different ranks then?”
Mathius seemed glad she had asked, just like a teacher pleased with a particularly bright student. He was her teacher, but they often taught each other how to use the magic. Their relationship was special to her, much more than the usual student to teacher relationship. It was more like sister to brother.
“That’s the problem,” Mathius said oblivious to her thoughts. “If a mage has discipline enough not to over use it and age too fast, he has time to develop his talent. The more he uses his magic the stronger he gets—like lifting heavier and heavier weights. The problem is you again. You definitely rank as a sorceress in raw power, but you are only apprentice level in experience—It makes no sense.”
When they reached the library, Moriz and Halbert silently took their places either side of the door. Julia stepped inside and felt the power of the place sweep over her.
Use me, and know your destiny.
Every time Julia came here it seemed to say something different. She knew it was her own subconscious, but it always made her stop and think when she heard its latest proclamation.
“I’ll choose some books for you to read. We can go over them together. You never know, I might learn something as well.”
“That’s fine Mathius, but wards first then mind-speech. I can always attack with lightning. I don’t really need anything else.”
Or want anything else, if the truth were known.
* * *
The armoury was a large hall on the ground floor of the sprawling fortress. It was where generations of Athione defenders had spent their days practising their skills. There were no frills here, just racks of swords, pikes, daggers, and armour. Even a few lances stood in a neat row along the wall. They had escaped destruction when lance work became unfashionable. Their brothers had been burned as firewood years ago. No one practised the lance charge anymore. What point in trying to charge out from Athione in a column of twos bristling with lances? They would be stabbing each other in the back. Deva’s lords had long since given up battles on open fields where lance charges worked, and had instead turned to small group tactics that patrols of a hundred men could execute. Well they did have the Four to protect them, what else did any kingdom reasonably need?
What else indeed, Keverin snorted in annoyance. “Not you Jihan. I was just thinking how peace can breed stupidity. Even I am guilty of it.”
Jihan stroked the wood of the lance and patted it fondly. “I know what you mean. I wasn’t happy when they forced me to learn how to handle one of these monsters.”
“You know the lance?”
Jihan nodded. “My... tutors were most insistent. If you follow me?”
At Keverin’s nod, Jihan moved on inspecting the swords and armour. Keverin followed watching his reactions. Jihan obviously liked the armour, and the daggers were just daggers as they were anywhere, but the swords were another matter. Jihan drew one from the rack and inspected the edge. Usually someone on punishment for some minor infraction of the rules would be detailed to the armoury. Alvin wasn’t here right now, but it was his punishment along with Galen the idiot gatekeeper to hone all these weapons. Jihan nodded at the sharpness, but he grimaced when he tested the balance. He re-racked the blade to try another.
“You know,” Jihan said. “Deva lost more than prestige and revenue when the Chulym masters left. I don’t wish to offend you but—” he hesitated torn between telling the truth and telling politic lies.
“I prefer truth in all things, Jihan,” Keverin said. “A man always knows where he stands with an honest man. Don’t fear to offend me. My skin is thick and Julia would say my head is also.” He grinned at Jihan’s look of surprise.
“I know how that is. Ahnao is... and then she’s...” Jihan sighed. “Might I ask some advice of you, my lord?”
“O
f course my friend, but I warn you. If it regards women, I might not be the one to ask. Come to think of it, no man understands them!”
Jihan laughed politely, but he was itching to ask his question. Jihan played with the sword hilt a moment before shrugging and racking the weapon. “Ahnao risked herself for me twice. The first time she snuck out under the nose of my father’s guardsmen to point out a target on a roof for me. If she hadn’t done that, I would have died for sure.
“Then, after I left her to journey here she sold her house for a nag of a horse to chase after me, and shielded me when I charged two men intent on killing me. Her leg was badly broken. She did all this for me, but when we arrive here and all is well again, she starts yelling and carrying on—” Jihan looked at Keverin in puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”
Keverin laughed and clapped Jihan on the shoulder. “How do you feel about her?”
“I do not know, I mean...” Jihan blushed and set himself as if facing an ordeal. “I have never held a woman before Ahnao, and I have never… you know... at all. I think I would like to with Ahnao very much, but she sees a rich lord when she looks at me, and I’m not—not anymore.”
“You can get that out of your head right now Jihan,” Keverin said sharply. “You were unconscious when Julia healed Ahnao, but if you had seen her, you wouldn’t have said what you did. She was delirious and in great pain, but she was begging Julia to leave her and heal you instead. She loves you, Jihan. I promise on my honour it’s true. You must think carefully how to proceed.”
Jihan looked stunned.
“She’s not a noble, Jihan,” Keverin warned the smiling boy.
Jihan was obviously taken with the idea that someone other than his mother loved him. “I don’t care about that.”
“Your father will, and Ahnao will have a hard time adjusting to life at Malcor—if the others will even let her try.”
“Being a noble has caused me nothing but grief. I swear I would be happy as a forester. I’ll have to tell you about the time I lived alone in the woods sometime, but will Ahnao be happy with a simple forester?”
Keverin tried and failed to see Jihan as anything but what he was. If there was a man that looked less like a forester and more like a lord he did not know him. Everything about Jihan shouted his birth. He would believe himself a blacksmith before he believed Jihan a forester!
“My lord?”
Keverin shook off his distraction. “I should think Ahnao would be happy no matter what you do with your life, but you have to do what is best for her, not yourself.”
Jihan nodded agreement and lost himself in thought.
“What do you think—the armoury?” Keverin said thinking to distract the lad.
“The armour is very good. It’s much better than my father issues his men. Are there iron discs beneath like mine or—?”
“No. We use rings sewn to the first layer, and then cloth padding over that followed by the outer layer of boiled leather. It’s light and strong, and costs half as much as using solid discs.”
“That’s a good idea, but not as strong as discs I should think.”
“No, not quite, but less weight makes my men quicker. That can be a great advantage—especially in a long fight where exhaustion is a concern.”
“You know of course that your swords are not fit for a pig farmer.”
Keverin laughed. “They are not that bad! Iron is inferior I grant you, but steel is hard to come by and cursed expensive. If I could, I would halve my treasure to buy steel to make swords for all my men, but where will I get the steel and a master to use it?”
“With Chulym more or less useless, the Matriarch is the only one with the swordsmiths you need.”
“And you can be sure that she would tell me where to go if I asked to borrow one!” Keverin said with a laugh.
Jihan laughed in agreement.
It was time to do what they came here to do. Keverin had brought Jihan for a sparring match, not converse on the merits of steel over iron. He chose a wooden practise sword from amongst a barrel full of practise blades of varying lengths and weights, but Jihan hesitated before stepping forward.
“I used live blades at Malcor, my lord. I forgot where I was for a moment.”
“We use these to prevent unnecessary injury.”
“I understand, my lord. On the way here, I realised that although I hated them at the time, my tutors gave me a great gift along with their abuse.”
“Oh?” Keverin said raising an eyebrow.
“With live blades, precision is vital. As you can imagine a miss stroke could kill or mame. Wooden swords are more humane, but they invite errors in the training... Please don’t think that I criticise you my lord, I prefer not to injure you. It was an observation only.”
They walked into space at the centre of the armoury. Jihan thought he was good, but Keverin wondered if he really was. Was it just the inexperience talking? Starting slow, he tried to take Jihan’s measure. He knew the lad would do the same. Keverin was about to try an attack, when Jihan attacked first and pushed him on the defensive.
He’s good, no question.
Almost immediately Keverin realised that the youngster outclassed him, but something was wrong. Jihan had not tried for the touch. “Hold!” Keverin said and put up his blade. “You’re holding back Jihan. Why?”
Jihan grounded his sword and lent upon it. “It’s hard to explain my lord. The last time I fought blade to blade, I killed two men. It was my second real fight. I feel unable to strike at you.”
“What of the men in the village?”
“I was ambushed that time, my lord. I had to use my bow.”
Keverin frowned. “I’ve seen this kind of freezing before. It can ruin a good swordsman. We have to get you back in form before the attack. I will go at you full force. I apologise now for any bruises.”
“Thank you my lord, but I will receive none.”
He’s a cocky bastard I’ll give him that.
This time Keverin went into a furious attack. He saw startlement in Jihan’s eyes for a few precious moments and was pleased, but Jihan rallied very quickly and pushed him back again. Keverin knew what he had to do—it would hurt but he had to make Jihan strike. He went high, then low and lunged. Jihan instinctively went for the opening.
“Ooof!” Keverin gasped.
“Sorry, my lord! Are you injured?”
Keverin bent double trying to get his breath back. His cursed armour might stop him being cut, but it certainly didn’t stop the impact. He would have a smashing bruise come the morrow. He waved Jihan’s apology away. He didn’t show it, but he was pleased with Jihan’s reaction.
“You did that on purpose. Did you not, my lord?”
The boy was sharp. “Who me?”
Jihan grinned.
They started again. This time Keverin was on his best behaviour and not taking any chances at all. Again, Jihan drove him back and then hit him lightly in the ribs.
“That’s one!” Jihan called.
“Ha! You were lucky my lad. You need another two for the captaincy!”
In the end Keverin felt thoroughly skewered and drubbed. He hadn’t come close to the boy. How the Malcoran guardsmen had wounded him, he would never know. He had never seen a better man with the blade, and fast—lightning couldn’t be faster!
“Well Captain Jihan, that was most educational. Your teachers certainly did a job on you.”
“Yes...” Jihan whispered. “Yes they did,” he said staring into space and seeing a time long ago. “I would like to find them some day and repay them,” he said in a dangerous voice.
* * *
11 ~ Battle of the Gap
Julia sighed. It was pointless. She was never going to learn how to make a decent ward in time for the attack. Mathius had sweated blood trying to show her how to control the subtle threads that made a wall out of the magic, but she just couldn’t seem to grasp it. It didn’t help that Mathius was unsurprised by her failure. He said it had taken
him a year to learn how to construct his pitifully weak shield. She couldn’t even make one as strong as his!
Mathius was worried and so was she. It hadn’t been said, but they were both wondering at the differences between magic wielded by men and women. Quite often she had surprised Mathius with her gesturing and patterns that he insisted were unnecessary. What else was different for her—wards maybe? Without a shield, she would have to rely on a fast attack to do the job.
Julia winced. She was avoiding the truth. She wasn’t just attacking them, she was killing—no, murdering them. She shook her head and tried to distract herself with her wine. It had a nice colour, burgundy red, like blood.
No! Don’t think about it!
mind-speech had come to her eventually, but not until Mathius had tried and failed to reach her countless times. He said it was because of the turbulence surrounding her. When she asked what he meant, he was surprised she didn’t know. In exasperation, she had asked why he hadn’t told her about the realm of power. Mathius said he thought she knew. As it happened, she had known about the existence of a place like the one he described. She had slipped into it accidentally while trying to heal him. Although Mathius was doubtful, she knew her magic came from there, but she hadn’t realised that it was the place mages used to bespeak each other. She had entered the realm of power, as she named it, and studied Mathius’ link to his magic. She realised straight away that the turbulence he referred to was caused by magic being drawn into him. After a little experimentation, she had found a way of opening herself to the magic without causing the disturbance. After that, Mathius had succeeded in contacting her for the first time. Hoping the breakthrough would extend to other aspects of magic, he had insisted that they try warding again. With nothing else to do, Julia had agreed.
“—right,” Mathius said concentrating on her spell. “Try to extend it toward me.”
“No... it’s no good. It’s not right somehow,” Julia said in annoyance.
It was just like the last time. The light looked like a ward, it even sounded like a ward as it thrummed merrily away, but it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t somehow. It was… light, just light. Light by itself couldn’t stop fireballs.
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 27
