Keverin laughed. “That’s the problem any lord faces when leading men into battle. He has to commit to a battle at some point, the hard part is deciding whether he should strike now, or wait and hope for a better opportunity later.”
Julia wished Jihan had stayed with them. Oh, she knew Tobiah would not listen to him, or anyone else for that matter, but it would make her feel better. Keverin was a strong and wonderful lord, but Jihan was simply the best soldier she knew of—the best general Deva had despite his age. Everyone agreed on that. Keverin said he was a natural.
Julia looked around. Even riding to war like this the clans stayed roughly separated by clan affiliation. Although chaotic by Deva’s standard, the warriors were only mingling within their own clan. The only ones who seemed to have cast aside that reserve were shamen. Lucius and Mathius were riding within that group, and she decided to amble over and have a word.
“I’ll be over there with Lucius, Kev,” she said.
“Ask him what Navarien is doing about water while you’re there.”
“Okay,” she said and at Keverin’s frown she added, “That means all right.”
“Why say the other thing then?”
Julia smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Keverin grumbled good-naturedly as she urged her horse between groups of warriors toward Kerrion. Mathius was talking to him, but when Julia arrived he broke off.
“Telling tales again, Mathius?”
“He asked,” Mathius said with a guilty shrug.
“I was joking. I know how nosy Kerrion is; it’s all right.”
The shamen burst out laughing at Kerrion’s splutters.
“You should have more respect for your father girl!” Kerrion grumped trying not to laugh with the others.
“I suppose I should,” she said grinning. “Especially when he’s of such an advanced age. Are you sure you can manage?”
That set off a new round of laughter and increased spluttering from Kerrion.
“I can still show you youngsters a thing or three,” Kerrion said mock glaring at her.
“I know you can father,” she said contritely. “Shelim told me about the time you set the tent on fire. Why did you do that by the way?”
Everyone howled with laughter. Shelim raised his hands and shook his head as if to say Julia had forced it from him. Kerrion gave up and laughed.
“Seriously now,” she said when the laughter died away. “Keverin was wondering what Navarien is doing about water.”
“The legions normally use water wagons,” Mathius said thoughtfully. “But this time he has the equivalent of three legions under his command. He’ll need to stay close to a river.”
“Exactly my thought,” Julia said.
“That won’t help us,” Shelim put in. “The plain has many rivers and streams.”
Damn! She had hoped to use Navarien’s reliance on the river against him. There wouldn’t be a quick fix this time around.
“Kadar has yet to show his face,” Mathius mused. “Does anyone here think Tobiah will win the argument?”
Julia looked to the Wolf Clan shamen especially. They knew their chief best. It must be very uncomfortable for them. On the one side, they believed their presence was necessary to win against Navarien, on the other they had to ignore Tobiah’s wishes to do so. Kerrion was the eldest and could order his shamen to do what he wanted; however, he always preferred persuasion to confrontation. All shamen were agreed that their presence was necessary, but not all were comfortable thwarting Tobiah.
“I think no matter what happens between Tobiah and Kadar, there will be trouble between Wolf and Night Wind over this,” Kemen said. He was Wolf Clan. “Never has an outclanner been adopted into a clan, let alone a thousand of them!”
Kerrion and the others nodded glumly, but again they knew Julia’s presence was necessary. They knew she would leave if her friends were sent away.
“Mazel understands as no other chief can,” Shelim said. “He has seen the dead piled high in Dragon Clan camps, and has fled before a sorcerer’s fire. He and his warriors have been teaching those who wish to know what to expect, but the number is low. Thankfully, not all the warriors are as bad as Tobiah—some are happy that we are here with them for healing if nothing else.”
That was true, but unfortunately the greater number was against the shamen attending. Julia was sure that their opinion would change when they faced magic upon the battlefield. All she could do was hope it wouldn’t be too late then.
She rode along for a while listening to the warriors nearby discuss the situation. Most seemed of the opinion that Navarien would attack head on and keep pushing until he broke the clans. Of course, they all said that would never happen. No one thought Navarien would divide his forces and go around them, and that worried her. How many times had she thought things were going well and then found her expectations dashed at the last moment?
Too many to count.
To hear the clansmen talking as if the war would be over in a mere handful of days was unbelievable. They really thought that nine clans united would win easily. It was the numbers involved. Navarien had almost thirty thousand men; the clans had three times that many warriors. What they failed to realise was that many of their number were untried boys all of which had been pushed through their ceremonies early. Navarien on the other hand had men full grown and trained to fight in disciplined ranks. Did fifteen years of life growing up in a warrior tradition outweigh the legion’s veteran fighters? Julia hoped so.
The clansmen were making good use of the time to put some distance between them and Denpasser. They rode for two candlemarks then dismounted and jogged to rest the horses. Julia was unused to this kind of travel, but she was strong and had kept herself as close to her peak as she could. She had no trouble keeping up. Lucius however was soon out of breath.
“I’ll be all right,” he puffed as they jogged along. “Too much sitting at the mirror I expect.”
Julia grasped her magic and examined him, but found only tiredness. She used her healing magic and his breathing eased. She decided to keep an eye on him for the next few days just in case she had missed something.
“Do you think Gideon will reach Jihan today?”
Lucius nodded. “Today or tomorrow I should think.”
“Will it work?”
“It should.”
“I can’t wait to see their faces.”
Lucius smiled. “It should be something to see all right.”
* * *
Jihan watched stony faced as his men ran forward to the attack. Everywhere he looked men were busy training to become something they weren’t, but already he saw improvement. Firstly there was attitude.
Most, if not all, of them had come from backgrounds very dissimilar from a guardsman’s life. Many were farm hands, some were failed apprentices, others had been street toughs in Devarr. They had come to Malcor from every walk of Devan life hoping to turn a dream into reality. It went without saying that none of them had known what they were getting into. But that had changed. They most certainly did know now, and wonder of wonders, they liked it. Motivation had been a concern, especially when considering the pace required to train them in only two years. That worry had been replaced by other concerns.
Fourth and fifth battalions had been formed a maniple at a time as the recruits arrived; consequently they were the furthest behind. Surprisingly this had led to a greater sense of unity within those two units. The recruits with the most training had helped the newer ones so they would not fall too far behind the others. Competition between the battalions was high as they struggled to best each other.
Jihan walked toward a forest of wooden posts. The area was used for sword practice and was evidenced by the badly hacked posts and piles of wood chips at their bases. First battalion was practising here today. Yesterday they had cavalry manoeuvres, and tomorrow it would be bow practice. The sword drills always held a particular fascination for him, although he was expert in many differing weapo
ns, the sword was his favourite.
He watched the men in each maniple pair off and begin a thrust and parry drill. Designed to be used while afoot, it represented the quickest way to kill the enemy. Later the sergeants would introduce other variations, but not until the men became proficient with this drill. He walked among the sweating men giving a word of encouragement here, a critique of posture there. He stopped a pair of men at random and taking the wooden sword in hand, he demonstrated the correct manner to accomplish a parry without opening himself to the enemy.
“Do you see it?” he asked the men.
“You stopped the move before going too wide?”
“That’s it exactly. Keep your moves economical and while your enemy is still bringing his weapon back toward you, lunge forward and thrust the sword into his centre. Always try for the centre. If you’re off slightly you will still wound him badly.”
Jihan handed the blade to the recruit and stepped back to watch. Both men would be dead the instant they attacked anyone for real, but that wouldn’t always be so. There was a decided improvement and the concentration on both their faces said they were trying hard. With time and practise, the sword would become second nature to them.
He moved on trying to spread a little encouragement and knowledge at the same time. He was still undecided whether to teach them the lance. True, it was an outdated weapon, but it could still be deadly in the charge. The problem though was accuracy. The lance took years to learn well, and until then, a man was more likely to injure himself or his horse than the enemy. He didn’t know why he was debating really. His decision had been made for him when Gylaren stated a two year deadline for training. Time was something he had little of, and he was determined to use it wisely. The lance was out, but to be on even terms with the legions the javelin had to be in.
Second battalion was trying, and so far failing, to impress him with its expertise with the javelin. As with most things, some were better than others. A row of rings representing an enemy formation was set up one hundred yards away. The drill consisted of every man in a maniple running in a line and casting javelins aimed to land inside the circles. After the cast was complete, they peeled off to each side and the next maniple ran in and cast its javelins. Jihan had ordered the men to wear their armour and weapons so they would become accustomed to the weight. Throwing a javelin was hard to do encumbered by armour. It was well that they became used to it now.
Third battalion was practising horsemanship with the usual results. Utter chaos. The captains and sergeants were screaming imprecations and almost frothing at the mouth. When they realised their lord had seen them they became red faced with embarrassment. He made no move toward them to their evident relief. He knew it would take time.
Fourth battalion was training with the bow. The legions did not have permanent bowmen. They relied on javelins for range, and swords for close in. Jihan had learned from Shelim and others that Navarien had been experimenting with clan bows, but whether he used them or not, the Devan army would. Jihan had given a great deal of thought to the composition of this army. Sword, shield, and javelin were the basic tools necessary to fight the legions, but parity was not acceptable. He wanted the army to win its battles handily, and not by the skin of its teeth. The God forbid it should lose altogether.
Magic was the problem.
Deva had few mages as did Tanjung, and Japura had none at all. Conversely, the Protectorate had them in abundance. He had wrestled with the problem long into the night trying to see a way to beat the legion’s winning combination without success. As far as he could see, the only way to stop the legions without magic was to make their losses so high that taking Deva became prohibitively expensive. With that in mind, he set about training every man to use the bow. He wasn’t looking to make them all marksmen, but he would see to it they could at least hit what they aimed at most of the time. Ten thousand arrows in the air at one time should give the legions something to think about.
Lastly, there was Fifth Battalion. Fighting unarmed seemed a strange thing to be teaching men who would be up against the Protectorate in a few years, but Jihan felt the exercise was worth it for all of that. Besides, he didn’t have enough horses or bows to teach the fifth those things just yet. The battalion would have to wait its turn. In the meantime, they were learning the best way for an unarmed man to defend against an armed opponent in various situations. He thought the idea of unarmed combat a good one. The clans had given him the idea when he saw a boy practising with his father. War had been a stranger to the clans—well mostly anyway. Feuds and raids were common, but nothing that came close in scale to real war. Clan warriors liked fighting, and they often contested with each other. The victor gained honour while the vanquished gained valuable lessons and a good story. Contests between clans were a little more serious. Challenges could lead to blood or even death, but with shamen on hand to heal injuries deaths were rare.
“They’re looking good my lord.”
Jihan nodded absently and turned to see Captain Echion watching the sword work.
“Better than I had hoped certainly, but they have a long way to go.”
“I have a message from lady Ahnao, my lord. She said you should come at once.”
“The babe!” Jihan said already trotting to his horse.
“No! I’m sorry my lord. I should have said. The lady is well. We have visitors at the fortress.”
Jihan throttled the anger that suddenly blazed up at Echion. He was angrier with himself for losing control than he was with Echion. He never lost control. Being impassive was useful to a lord; it was something he had needed badly as a child. His perceived lack of emotion had set back more than one would-be tormentor.
“Visitors?” he said taking Jezy’s reins from one of his recruits.
“Bishop Gideon with escort, my lord. He insisted he speak with you and lady Ahnao.”
“I see.”
It would be good to speak with Gideon again, but where was the urgency? Surely Gideon could wait until this evening? Whatever the reason he had better see to it.
“Stay here and take charge,” Jihan said pulling himself into the saddle. “Third battalion needs watching. Their horsemanship is atrocious.”
Echion grinned and nodded.
Jihan turned and rode through the gate. The fortress wasn’t far so he contented himself with a canter. No need to gallop, and besides it would give the impression he was worried. Thinking about worrying seemed to conjure it forth. What if Keverin was in trouble and needed him? His duty was clear; the King had given him a commission to train his armies. To fail in that would be dishonourable and therefore unacceptable, but Keverin was his friend. Maybe he should send Echion with a strong contingent of cavalry. Yes, he could do that. Malcor’s resources were stretched thinner than usual—he had guardsmen training the recruits, and strong patrols further out than normal keeping prying eyes away from the camp, but he could still send two thousand. Yes, two thousand fully equipped guardsmen would see Keverin safely out of Camorin.
Upon entering the fortress, he found Athione guardsmen caring for their mounts. All came to attention when he entered the courtyard until their sergeant ordered them back to work. It was obvious they had orders to continue on their way. None had yet washed the dust off themselves.
Jihan dismounted and handed his reins to one of his men. He recognised many of Kev’s men, but the sergeant wasn’t one he knew. The man was perhaps fifty if he was any judge. Wide in the shoulders yet short with it, he still managed to lead men twice his height and half his age. A good man to have around was the thought that went through his mind as the sergeant came forward to report.
“I hear you delivered Bishop Gideon to me,” Jihan said. “Is anything amiss, sergeant?”
The sergeant looked as if he wanted to spit but he restrained himself. “I’m Mikkel, m’lord. I was ordered to say that all is going well, and you’re not to be worrying.”
“Ah? And what is the truth of the matter?”
By our side, Mikkel meant attacking using tactics such as night assaults on the legion camp by stealth, or any number of other things that smacked of sneaking and subterfuge—anything but head on.
“Have the clans engaged yet?”
“Not before I was ordered out my lord, but it will be any day now.”
Jihan nodded. If not today, it would be soon he had no doubt. Mikkel would not have been sent if things weren’t about to come to a head. “From your preparations, I assume you’re headed back out. Where to?”
“To Athione, m’lord. I have orders for Captain Marcus and some packages to deliver. Gideon has a present for him and a few others.” Mikkel grinned, “There’s one for you from the Lady as well m’lord.”
“Oh?”
“I can’t tell you, m’lord, it’s a secret.”
A secret? Trust Julia to swear the man to secrecy. It was probably a new bow.
“Carry on then,” he said and made his way into the citadel.
Jihan thought he should change before anything else so he made his way to his rooms. As he walked, he absently wondered what his present was. Clan bows were rare away from the plains. They were the perfect weapon to use from a charging horse, which is how the clans used it more often than not. He remembered that grim night in Brai almost three years ago. That night had been full of blood and pain. If he had owned a clan bow, he might have come out lighter than he did. He was struck twice by arrows and nearly died. Then again, if he hadn’t been injured so seriously he might not have come to know Ahnao. Pain was a small price to pay for his lady and child.
Thoughts of Ahnao and the babe had him smiling as he strode through the citadel. He didn’t notice, but the guardsmen reacted to that smile with one of their own as he walked by. They knew their lord in all of his moods; many had known him as a child when he had haunted the citadel like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. His smiling was good to see, especially so considering its rarity.
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 125
