“See to it that Gylaren and Purcell are informed of our guest’s arrival. Have Lady Julia and Lucius escorted here.”
“Yes my lord,” Marcus said and left on his errand.
Keverin read his letter silently and storm clouds appeared on his brow. He shook his head and dropped the letter on his desk with a sigh. “Bad news abounds these days. Your names?”
“Rogan m’lord.”
“Arren m’lord.”
Keverin nodded. “You saw the battle?”
“I did m’lord,” Rogan said. “I was ordered to stay back and report.”
“Describe what you saw.”
Rogan was reluctant, but a lord was asking. “It was in the foothills m’lord. Sergeant Ferris and I were scouting out wide—way off the trail we were. M’lord Donalt sent us to watch his brother’s back.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t tell me m’lord.”
“Come now, you are an intelligent man. Make a guess.”
Rogan hesitated but he couldn’t see a way out of it. “M’lord Donalt was arguing with his brother just before he rode out m’lord. Donalt was not happy with the numbers Corlath chose to take with him. M’lord Donalt thought the timing of the raids suspicious. With his father away and so many of the men here, he thought his brother should take more men in case of trouble.”
“A sensible precaution,” Keverin mused. “I take it Corlath didn’t follow his brother’s advice.”
“No m’lord. He would not hear of weakening the fortress further. He was confident that he could run the enemy off with what he had. M’lord Corlath followed the road hoping to close the pass quickly, but he moved too fast. His scouts didn’t have time to do their jobs.”
Keverin didn’t like that. Sergeant Ferris hadn’t been too happy about it either, Rogan remembered. Nothing is so urgent that running to your death is the answer, Ferris had said, and he was right.
“Foolish to move so quickly,” Keverin said.
“He wanted to close the pass and prevent the enemy from retreating m’lord. The Tanjuners burned the fields and the farms. The villagers ran away before they arrived, but not all could escape in time.”
“Women and children?”
“Dead m’lord. The Tanjuners were regulars not raiders.”
“You saw them?” Keverin said without dispute.
“I did m’lord. M’lord Corlath led his column into an ambush. Two groups, regulars—”
“Two?” Keverin said pouncing on the detail. “How did they attack? At the same moment, or staggered?”
Rogan frowned. Hadn’t it been together? “Together m’lord—exactly together. Why?”
“They attacked separately but at exactly the same moment. They have mages with them I wager. It must be that.”
“I didn’t see them m’lord,” Rogan said glancing worriedly at Arren. “M’lord Corlath rallied as best he could and tried to break out.”
“He failed,” Keverin said. It was not a question.
“Yes m’lord. He’s dead—they’re all dead.”
“This is not good,” Keverin said tapping a finger up and down on the letter. “We succeeded in destroying the force sent against us, but another aided by Lord Malcor is on the way. How by the God can we be in two places at once?”
Rogan felt sick. A Lord Protector had turned traitor—a Lord Protector! It was unbelievable. What of Malcor’s honour? Rogan felt his entire world teetering. If a Lord Protector could do this, nothing and no one was safe any longer. This news changed everything.
A short while later the door opened to admit a stunningly beautiful woman accompanied by a dark bearded man in white cotton shirt and dark blue trousers. Arren bowed and Rogan pulled his eyes reluctantly away from the woman to do likewise. Keverin introduced the newcomers as Lady Julia and the mage Lucius. A short while later Rogan was glad to see Purcell arrive with Lord Gylaren. He was relieved that he could complete his duty, which he did when he presented the letters from Donalt and his mother—Lady Isolde.
A mask of grief closed over Purcell’s face as he read of his oldest son’s death. The strong hands that wielded a sword to such deadly effect tightened on the letters crumpling them. Purcell stared unseeing into the distance.
“May I?” Gylaren asked Keverin.
“Of course,” Keverin said and handed Gylaren his letter.
Purcell seemed to collect his wits then. “Report Rogan,” he said in a choked voice.
Rogan repeated his story almost word for word. Keverin, having already heard it, wandered away to stare at the flames of the fire in thought. As the report came to a close Keverin looked up and returned to his desk ready to debate the situation.
Lady Julia stood and placed a hand on Purcell’s shoulder. Rogan smiled at the sight of a child consoling his lord. She was so tiny that even sitting down Purcell was taller than she was. His smile wilted when he saw the unshed tears in Purcell’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry Purcell. If I can help you in any way…?”
“I—” Purcell started but broke off to clear his emotion filled throat. “I thank you, Lady. I must return to Elvissa with all speed. Would you accompany me?”
“I will come,” Lady Julia said simply.
Rogan was confused. A woman would slow them down badly enough, a child would be much worse. Why did Purcell want a girl child to come with them?
“Don’t be a fool man!” Gylaren said. “You can’t get there in less than a tenday at the earliest. What of Malcor?”
Rogan started forward seeing his lord badgered at such a time, but he was halted before he could take more than two steps by Keverin.
“Rogan, Arren,” Keverin said sharply. “I’m sure you would like to get dried off. Marcus will show you the way to the barracks. Your comrades will have questions.”
Rogan wanted to stay, but he had been dismissed. He bowed to the lords and to Lady Julia then left. Captain Marcus led them through the labyrinth at a fast pace, but Rogan made no complaint. He wanted to ask the others why a girl child should be brought along.
* * *
Keverin waited for Marcus to lead Rogan and Arren out of the room before turning to Lucius. “I need you to scry Elvissa for me. Can you do that?”
“Certainly. I have viewed it before.”
Keverin went to his bedchamber. The mirror Lucius used last time was hanging in its usual place above a large porcelain jug and bowl. Taking it down, he reminded himself to get another from a spare room to replace it. He laid the mirror upon his desk and invited Lucius to take his chair.
“You can keep this mirror. I think you might be using it a lot more than me in the days ahead.”
“Thank you my lord, but if you need me to scry while on the road we will need one a little smaller. One about a hand on a side would do.”
“Good idea. I’ll find one for you.”
Keverin sat nearby while Lucius worked. “Have you had any luck in your lessons Lady?”
Julia made a face. “No. It’s not for want of trying I can tell you. I can’t seem to get the correct image. Whenever I try to see Malcor I see us instead. Not the fortress I mean, but people. You, sometimes Mathius… a few others. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”
“You need to stop worrying about your friends and concentrate more,” Lucius said absently as he stared into the mirror.
“Oh Lucius!” Julia said in a weary voice. “You always say that, give it a rest why don’t you? I do concentrate. I can’t help it if other things keep popping into my head.”
“Lord Purcell?” Lucius said. “I think you should see this for yourself. It’s not good news I’m afraid.”
Keverin stood to watch over Lucius’ shoulder while Purcell leaned in on the other side. The image was from above and from the east if he was any judge. The fortress was under attack even as he watched. Perhaps a thousand soldiers were storming a burnt and broken gate.
“The gate is down,” Purcell said in shock. “Don is holding them though. He alwa
ys did have a good head on his shoulders. The Tanjuner bast… sorry, Lady. The Tanjuners haven’t bothered to burn the town. They probably want to save it for their own people.”
“I have more bad news for you my lord,” Lucius said. “At least one mage must be present—the gate was destroyed with magic.”
“How strong do you think?”
“Not very. A journeyman I would say. See here and here,” Lucius said pointing to the mirror. “The gate is whole. It was blown off the hinges, but it wasn’t destroyed. If you compare that with what is left of your west courtyard, lord Keverin, you will understand what I mean.”
“That can’t be right,” Julia protested. “To make such a mess of our gate you needed fifty sorcerers.”
The image gradually faded to black then the surface of a normal mirror reappeared. Keverin walked to the window, and looked out into the rain. He absently listened to Lucius while going over his options.
“Ah... hmmm. Although we all wear black robes, it doesn’t mean we are the same strength. I was strongest among those in Fifth Legion, Belgard was the next strongest, but he was apparently only average over all.” Lucius frowned at something but shook his head at the distraction. “The next strongest wouldn’t equal Mathius. I think Mathius will reach my level in a few more years, and I doubt he’ll stop there. I’m a strong master mage, perhaps a weak wizard. We knew Darius was strong, but we didn’t know he was the strongest you had at Athione. Why do you think Mortain sent fifty of us?”
Keverin remembered his last conversation with Darius above the west gate, and turned to Lucius. “Darius thought the Protectorate had sent strong mages. That’s why he brought Julia through the gate.”
“Our strongest mages are never put into danger. They are for keeping the rest of us in line, and for siring a new generation. It was hoped that true sorcerers would result from the union, but so far nothing exceptional has come of it.”
“Oh? And what do the women think of being Mortain’s battery hens?”
“Lady... sometimes I think that I almost understand you, but then you say something from out-world like that. What by the God is a battery hen?” Lucius said in annoyance.
Keverin winced to here the deceptively calm and sweet voice from Julia. She had used it to flay him more than once. Most notably the times he had ordered her not to go to town. She didn’t understand that even East Town had dangers—not as many as other towns true, but no town was completely free of crime. Moreover, there was Jymis to consider—though he should be in Devarr by this time. All he wanted to do was protect her, but the last time he had ordered her not to go, she had turned red and nearly struck him. She had barely stopped herself before telling him just what he could do with his orders.
Keverin grinned out into the rainy evening.
No child should know such language, especially not a girl child. Jessica insisted that Julia was a woman grown, but still! It was a little much being berated by someone barely two thirds his size. She had called him an idiot and insisted that he was speaking out of Cavell’s rear end. What had she called him again? A horse’s arse, that was it. Keverin choked back the laugh that threatened. Now was not the time for it. He could feel her behind him radiating that strange warmth she had. It filled any room she entered. Was it her magic that affected him so? Why was he so acutely aware of her presence whenever she entered a room? He had no magic like Mathius to sense her coming. What was it about her?
“It’s nothing,” Julia said with a weary sigh. “What I meant was, what do the woman think about being used for creating new mages?”
“Why... nothing,” Lucius said in surprise. “They’re not forced to marry a sorcerer. We aren’t complete barbarians you know! Sorcerers are sought after. Of course, we do make fine husbands—and our position in the Protectorate is an enviable one if seen from the outside. I never married. I didn’t want my children taken from me and put through what I went through in the halls below Castle Black. No woman will ever tell me what’s what.”
Keverin winced again, but Julia didn’t explode. Lucius was a lucky man indeed. He could only wish for the same kind of luck where Julia was concerned.
Keverin sighed and turned back to problems old and new. “As I see it, we have two basic choices. One, we collect up all of Purcell’s men and all of Gy’s and march them with a thousand of mine to Elvissa. We will have close to twenty five hundred men so we should easily destroy a thousand Tanjuners. The problem is it will take fourteen days to get there.
“Two, we march on Malcor instead. We somehow take the fortress, kill Athlone, and replace him with Jihan. Then we march to Elvissa, and hope Jihan can hold the Protectorate off while we march back.”
“Both plans are insane!” Gylaren cried and jumped to his feet. “Elvissa will fall before we can get there!”
“I don’t care how long it takes. Elvissa is mine, and my youngest is counting on our help!” Purcell raged.
The lords argued back and forth trying to find the answer to an impossible situation.
“Excuse me… I said excuse me!” Julia yelled over the noise and it cut off as if with a knife. “Thank you. I don’t know your world very well yet, but it seems to me that you need two armies.”
Keverin pressed his lips tight to stop himself from saying something he was sure to regret. It was just like Julia to be snarling one moment then jesting the next, but there was no time for it here.
“This is no time for jesting. If I had two armies, don’t you think I would use them both?”
“Well split the one you have! Look, send me with Gy and Purcell to Elvissa, while Lucius goes with you and a thousand men to take Malcor. Simple!”
Simple she says. Malcor was stronger than Athione. It had to be. Keverin knew the terrain quite well. Low rolling hills turning to low stony hills with Malcor in the middle of a flat plain leagues across didn’t provide protection like a mountain pass did. Athione needed four thousand men in time of war, but he could get by easily with two thousand when at peace. Malcor on the other hand was huge. It needed five, perhaps even six thousand in war and not many less when at peace. How could Lucius and a thousand men take it?
“You don’t know of what you speak, Lady. Malcor is huge. There must be five thousand men in there—at the least five thousand. If they see me strolling up to their gates with only a thousand men at my back they would storm out and butcher us all.”
Lucius looked thoughtful. “Julia and not me should accompany you, Lord Keverin. I must confess that I would prefer to fight Tanjuners rather than my own people. Perhaps you can devise a way to enter Malcor by stealth?”
Keverin frowned. By stealth? Hmmm, by stealth...
* * *
13 ~ Fortress Malcor
Julia wasn’t a happy woman. Her back was killing her and her legs were cramping. She gave no outward sign. Nothing could be done about it, but she doubted she would be able to walk when they stopped. She was riding through open country on a tall roan beast, laughingly called tractable, on her way to Malcor. Back home, she had never even seen a horse in real life let alone tried to ride one. Keverin had been nonplussed when she told him she had never ridden in her life. His face had assumed a look of pity that she had not understood at the time. She did now, only too well.
The first few days they had kept to an easy pace, and Julia had wondered what all the fuss was about. A little nudge with her heels made it go. All you did was sit on top and steer. What could be easier than that? How do you make it stop, should have been her first question, and not how to make it go. When her companions stopped to make camp that first night her horse had kept walking on into the night. The guardsmen had thought it hilarious, but she hadn’t. The flaming beast wouldn’t stop no matter what she said, so all she could do was turn back. After circling three times like an airliner coming into land, she had threatened to zap their arses with her magic, unless someone stopped the damned thing. The next day she was given a lesson in horsemanship and learned how to make her horse do what she w
anted.
They were well on their way to Malcor now. The land hereabouts was desolate, and she had been a little worried to see Jihan load his horse with two large water bags and not just one. He said something about a promise he had made to himself, but she didn’t know what the promise was. Seeing the desolate hills and lack of towns, she realised extra water was a good idea.
They kept riding until well after dark.
At Keverin’s order they stopped to make camp. Julia sat atop her horse and stared wearily at the ground trying to decide how she was going to get down without collapsing.
“Do you need some help, Lady?” Ahnao said.
“I don’t think my legs will work. If I can just get them to cooperate, I might be able to get off this flaming torture machine.”
Ahnao laughed, but there was concern in her eyes. “I’ll get Jihan to lift you down.”
Ahnao swept away. How Julia envied her ability to ride without pain.
The girl returned and Jihan lifted Julia down in his strong arms. Rather than set her on her feet, he took her into a tent the guardsmen had hastily erected for her. She was grateful for their thoughtfulness. She didn’t want them to see her fall and have to crawl. Ahnao helped her to undress. Each night they went through a similar routine. Ahnao helped her undress and then applied the balm to her sore thighs and backside. It warmed her muscles as if she were in a sauna.
Julia sighed as the pain was replaced by a warm numbness. “Thanks Ahnao. That feels much better. I hope I’ll be all right when we reach Malcor.”
“You’ll fine. It always feels like it will never end at first. You must be very strong with all these muscles. I thought ye were from Camorin when I first saw ye. Jihan says even women are warriors there.”
“Pretty strong I guess,” Julia said as she dressed. “I wish I could ride like you though.”
Ahnao looked down and spoke in a small voice. “I ain’t that good. I’m just a peasant. Anyone can ride a horse—been doing it since me ma took me in. Never had fine horses like them out there though. We use plough horses for most everything.”
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 33
