“May the God forgive me,” Gideon said as he tipped the bag toward Julia’s mouth.
Julia coughed and gagged as she inhaled the Tancred. “No… please… the end days are coming…”
“Shush Julia, it’s Gideon. Don’t be afraid. I am with you,” he said stroking her hair away from her sweaty brow.
Demophon watched as she collapsed, but this time the shaking remained—a symptom of her addiction. The priest might be right this time, but he could do nothing other than he was doing. He had wanted his prize to survive, but with this new evidence of her decline, he would have to resign himself to her death. Mortain would still reward him for removing an obstacle to Deva’s annexation, but the prestige of capturing her alive would be lost.
Ah well, nothing can be done about it now.
* * *
Lorcan shifted uncomfortably trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. His backside was numb where he sat on the hard boards of the wagon. Whoever held the lands hereabouts had a lot to answer for. The roads were little more than a string of potholes, and the wagon wheels insisted on finding every... single... one!
“Will she be all right?”
“I don’t know, lad,” Gideon said wearily.
“But you said she would be last time!” Lorcan cried with eyes stinging.
“That was before they started pouring that vile mixture into her twice a day.”
“I swear I’ll kill him for this!” Lorcan said trying to strangle his shout of grief. “If she dies—”
“Pray, Lorcan. Pray it doesn’t happen. It’s all we can do.”
“How perceptive of you,” Demophon drawled as he reined in beside the wagon.
“Come to see your evil work?” Gideon said angrily.
“Evil? What is evil pray tell? Was it evil for Julia to kill almost twenty thousand men last year?”
“Of course not!”
“No?” Demophon said cocking his head in apparent surprise. “Then how can I be evil? I have killed no one… well, not recently.”
“Julia was defending us!”
“And I am defending my people from her! Don’t preach to, me old man. Don’t tell me she’s not a danger. I know what she is better than you do! You have no idea what you clutch to your breast, old man. If you had seen her in Devarr, if you had heard it, you would run screaming.”
“No.”
“Are you so certain?”
“I am certain of the God’s love. I have faith in him and Julia. He would not have given her his power were she evil. She is good, and kind, and loving!”
“I see. That’s your answer is it? Tell me, old man, why did the God give his power to Mortain—may he live forever—if Julia was intended to fight him? Where is the logic?”
“Mortain is a blasphemous heretic! Julia is not. Mortain leads his people along the wrong path. Julia does not lead at all!”
“That is where you’re wrong. She leads, oh believe me she does. She’s subtle about it. A whisper here, a whisper there—she whispers in Gylaren’s ear and suddenly he wants to be king. People follow where she leads, never doubt it.”
“You twist everything,” Gideon said his voice thick with disgust. “Julia does what she does out of love. Mortain does what he does out of his greed for power.”
Demophon snorted and kicked his horse into a brief gallop. He took his position at the head of the column and didn’t look back.
The wagon continued crashing over the potholes and winding through the trees following the road to Anselm. The sun shone down upon Julia where she lay in the bottom of the wagon, yet still she shivered as if wracked with cold. Lorcan studied his guards and planned his escape. They would make a mistake, everyone made mistakes. When his time came, he would be ready. He needed a town. A city would be better, but Gideon said Anselm was less than a third the size of Devarr. It would have to do.
He would escape and hide. He was good at hiding, and when they gave up looking for him he would creep back and kill them one by one. He, Lorcan, would save the Lady…
The Lord would hug him and say, “Thank you, my friend. I am again in your debt. How can I repay you?”
“I am your man, lord,” he would say. “My honour to serve.”
Keverin would turn to his men and announce for all to hear, “This man is my good friend. From this day on, I call him son. Honour him.”
All the men of Athione would bow, and all the women would curtsy and say, “Hail Lorcan!”
“Are you all right, lad?”
His smile slipped and he came back to the jouncing wagon. “I am well, Father.”
Gideon nodded ahead. “There is Anselm just ahead.”
Lorcan turned and saw that indeed a town lay there. It was small with distance, but already he could see the walls surrounding it. Would Demophon insist on going to the boat right away, or would they take rooms? It could be either, but he would wager the first.
“Do you plan on taking us in there tied?” he shouted.
“Shush Lorcan!” Gideon said worriedly. “They’ll hear you.”
“Well? I don’t think the Guardia will like that!”
“Shut your hole, boy,” a guardsman snarled and swung a boot out of his stirrup to kick at Lorcan.
He ducked most of the blow. “You’re as stupid as you look then,” he spat working his shoulder against the pain of the kick. “I’ll be glad when they kill you!”
The soldier made to kick him again and Lorcan tensed.
“That’s enough, Sergeant!” Demophon snarled. “The boy is right.”
“Yes, my lord sorcerer.”
“Remove their bonds when we reach the bottom of the hill,” Demophon said and looked down at Lorcan. “No one can outrun magic, boy. Don’t even think of trying.”
He glared, but inside he was laughing. Once the ropes were off he would be into the crowds in a flash. They wouldn’t dare to use magic on him—not where people might see.
Demophon kicked his horse into a trot and rode back to the head of the column. The sergeant aimed a glare at the prisoners that promised retribution, and then jerked his horse around savagely to ride to the rear.
“You have a plan, lad?” Gideon whispered as he leaned forward to dry the Lady’s sweaty face.
“I will save her.”
“Just save yourself, lad. Lord Keverin cannot be far behind. Wait for him to come, and then join him. He will need all you can tell him.”
He scowled. “No, he might be too late.”
Gideon sighed. “Just be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
When the time came for the sergeant to untie him, Lorcan was wary of angering him. He remained utterly still until the ropes were off and while Gideon was being untied he worked his hands trying to restore feeling. His wrists were heavily ridged, and rubbing them awoke pain, but he did not complain. When Demophon was satisfied that Julia was properly hidden under the blankets, he ordered the column to move on again. He gave Lorcan a look of warning before trotting off.
He was careful not to act different in any way as they entered the gates. He kept still under the curious eyes of Anselm’s guards and they didn’t stop the wagon to search. He wanted to shout to them that he had the Lady right here, but he dared not risk Demophon’s anger. He might kill Julia rather than allow her to escape—he seemed the type to do it. Gideon had similar thoughts where the guards were concerned, but Lorcan shook his head urgently and Gideon remained quiet.
He breathed a little easier once they were well inside the city. He studied his surroundings with interest. Anselm was only the second city he had ever seen. It was smaller than Devarr, he could tell that without really looking. It was quieter and smelled a good deal better. Less people made a difference, but the main cause was Anselm’s prosperity. No one had ever gone hungry here, and that was certain. People without fear for where their next meal was coming from could afford to spend money and effort on their homes. It showed. The streets were clean and free of garbage, and even th
e gutters were clean. The houses were all in good repair. He saw many people laughing and chatting on street corners doing nothing but passing the time of day with friends. This was how Devarr used to be—when he was small, before The Hungry took his mother to the God along with so many others.
The instant they entered Market Square, he was over the side of the wagon and into the crowd. He dodged this way and that heading for the most crowded part of the square. He pushed and shoved his way through, and when that didn’t work, he punched and kicked.
“—little bastard kicked me!”
“Hoy! Watch what you’re doing you little—”
Lorcan took no notice, and barged his way through. Finally, he dashed down a street not knowing where he was going, but only intent on getting there fast. He dodged down an alley that let out onto a quieter street, then into another alley.
Gasping he went to ground and watched his back trail.
“This way!”
“Where my Lord Sor—”
“Quiet fool! I sense him close by. Send two down that alley and—”
Lorcan bolted with fear in his heart. He hadn’t realised that they could track him with magic. The Lady had never mentioned spells that could do that, and the stories always spoke of fire and lightning, not tracking. He sped down a street and into a more crowded one. He didn’t hesitate as the opportunity arose. He snaked a hand onto a man’s purse but bypassed it. He snatched the sheathed dagger at his waist instead and ran like the wind.
“Stop thief!”
“Hoy, stop him someone!”
“Call out the guard!”
Lorcan would almost welcome the guard, but he had to save the Lady. He ducked into an open door and found himself in a bakery. The smell of baking bread made his mouth water, but he was more interested in his dagger. It was a good one—wide bladed and strong. He dropped the sheath and stashed the blade in one of his secret places. It felt good to be armed again.
“Get out of here you dirty little beggar!” the baker shouted and came forward with a broom in hand.
“You have a back door?”
“Get out I said or I’ll call the—”
The dagger was in Lorcan’s hand again and glinting in the sunlight. “Point to it, Baker, or feel my steel.”
The baker stepped back with narrowed eyes, perhaps calculating his chances. They weren’t good, and he backed down. He pointed to the right of the counter. Lorcan dove over the obstruction and rolled to his feet feeling the wind of the broom as it swung over him. He slammed out of the door and jumped a low fence. He darted a look around.
Alley.
He sped to the end of it, and ducked back when he recognised the surly sergeant. The Hasian was searching the doorways. He turned and sped to the other end of the alley skidding to a stop. He peeked around the corner.
Clear.
He darted across the street under the nose of a team of horses and into a doorway. He looked both ways and found himself safe for the moment. He straightened his robe and walked calmly out of the doorway and down the street as if he had nothing to worry about. He wiped his face free of sweat and followed the grade downward. The river and the docks would be that way. He needed to steal some clothes, he decided, his robe was too easily identified.
“Keep walking, boy,” a youngish sounding voice said, and Lorcan felt the prick of a dagger. “Keep walking I said!”
He moved on again and carefully retrieved his dagger.
“Down to the right.”
“Who?”
“Now that would be telling. You should know better than that. Thieving on my turf and then asking stupid questions. Where you from?”
“Ganger?” Lorcan said trying to decide whether he could take this man or not. “Are you?”
“You’re just full of questions, aren’t ya?”
“No harm in asking,” he said and turned down the alley his captor had pointed to.
“Depends on the question, I reckons. I’m a guild man, I am.”
Lorcan snorted. “Hardly.”
“Oh, it’s hardly now is it? Don’t you put on fancy airs, I saw ya swipe that purse.”
“And you want it. Do you?”
“Yeah, I wants it—you took it on my turf.”
“Have it then,” Lorcan spun and rammed his blade to the hilt in the man’s belly.
“Gah!” the dirty-faced man said with eyes gone wide in shock. “Why did you have to do that? You kilt me…” he sighed and dropped to the cobbles dead before he hit.
“Stupid question,” he mumbled as he searched the corpse.
He found another dagger, a purse of silver, and a pair of dice. He took it all. The dagger went into his boot. The silver and the dice went into one of his secret pockets. The clothes were too big for him, so he left them. He cleaned his dagger and made it disappear before leaving the alley and returning to his original task. He found the docks quickly enough and secreted himself nearby. He didn’t know how he was to free Julia, but he would think of something—he had to. Could he sneak aboard the ship in the darkness? Maybe, but there were many guardsmen with Demophon. What he needed was—
“There you are,” Demophon said walking around the corner. “How very disappointing. I thought we had an understanding, you and I.”
Lorcan turned to run but suddenly he felt his legs jerked out from under him. He crashed to the cobbles cursing. He tried to rise, but he couldn’t, his legs were held in a vice of nothing, and a moment later his arms were bound similarly.
“Don’t struggle so, boy.”
He spat at the sorcerer and struggled harder.
“Oh well, go ahead then if it makes you feel better. My—” Demophon lowered his voice to a whisper. “My magic will out last you, boy. Terribly sorry.”
The surly sergeant came around the corner and with a word from Demophon threw Lorcan over his shoulder. Lorcan cast around desperately for help, but the sailors just laughed to see him carried like a sack of oats.
“Drunk again,” Demophon said loudly. “He’s a great disappointment to me, but his mother does dote on him so.”
“Ha! Looks like skin and bones to me. Should fatten him up some!”
“—he all in white? He going to be a priest or what?”
“Ha, ha! Look at him glare. Blister paint off your door he could!”
He cried tears of rage at the laughter, but when he tried to shout, he found his breathe stopped in his throat. He struggled to yell, but nothing came out. He couldn’t breathe!
“You see how it is, Lorcan,” Demophon said bending to look him in the eyes. “You do see the futility now I trust?”
He glared and turned blue.
“You may take a breath, but if I hear one word from you from now until we are safely on our way, I’ll kill Gideon. Not you, but Gideon—understand me?”
He gasped and nodded.
“Good, good. Glad that’s sorted out. I can’t wait to see you enrolled in our school. You might even give your instructors pause. I would really like to see that.”
The sergeant carried him up the ramp and onto a boat and then dumped him roughly on the deck. He grunted with the impact but did no more than that. He took Demophon at his word and stayed silent.
“Cast off forward!”
The sergeant bent toward him and searched his robe roughly. The sergeant grunted in surprise when he found the silver and the dice. He took both items and added them to his own purse.
“Cast off aft!”
The sergeant came up with the dagger next, and his eyes narrowed. “Intending this for me, were you?”
Lorcan glared, but gave the man a nod.
The sergeant tested the edge with his thumb and quickly stuck the bleeding member in his mouth. The dagger was of the finest quality and razor sharp.
“A very fine gift. I thank you,” the sergeant said and chortled at his own wit. “Hold out your hands.”
He did so and was bound tightly—tighter than on the wagon.
“Get up and
go down below. Move!”
He struggled to stand, but managed it finally. He had time to see Anselm receding before descending into the dark. He allowed his shoulders to droop, but inside he was thanking the God for the sergeant’s stupidity. He hadn’t found the second dagger.
“Hello again, Father.”
Gideon nodded to him sadly, before turning back to his care of Julia.
* * *
20 ~ Dream World
Julia stood amidst the wreckage, and glared. She was just a little bit upset. Well, closer to exploding like a volcano with rage would be the best way to describe her feelings at this moment. She was standing in the burned out remains of Fortress Meilan—Gylaren’s fortress—and this wasn’t the first time she had found a reality where Deva was destroyed by war. Dozens of attempts to find a peaceful resolution to Deva’s problems always led her to something like this—war on a scale that would see the entire kingdom destroyed.
Demophon had forced her to drink Tancred dozens of times, too many to remember clearly. She had been confused, disorientated and stumbling from one future to the next never remembering what she had learned in each, but that had changed now. She was learning. She not only remembered what she saw, she was able to direct her course through the realities. What she wanted was a course of action leading to peace, but so far she had failed to find even one. All of them led to this kind of destruction.
Deciding on a new plan, she frowned in concentration and the world dimmed rapidly. In the blink of an eye Meilan was restored to its bustling self. She watched a troop of cavalry making their goodbyes and wondered where they were going. She listened to three men talking at the head of the column.
“Three thousand is too many, Dylan! How am I to see the border secure with you taking two-thirds of my strength?” A young man of about twenty-five years said.
Dylan laughed. “It didn’t take you long to take my place, little brother.”
“Never would I!” the younger man said in outrage.
The third man had a striking resemblance to the others, and Julia nodded to herself. These were Gylaren’s sons. The outraged youngster was Niklaus, Gy’s second son, and that meant the silent one was Gydrid his youngest.
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 95
