Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Gahhh!” the sound exploded from Demophon and his eyes widened in shock. “Odelyn you bast—” he gurgled as he died.

  Lorcan stared into the dead eyes and wondered who Odelyn was. Burke was staring at the fire and the others had stopped to gape. Lorcan cursed viciously. Did he have to do everything?

  “Move, move, move!”

  Burke jumped and everyone ran. Keverin ended up over the shoulder of one of his men as they ran through the camp. Thousands of legionnaires erupted out of their tents yelling questions and gaping at the column of fire. No one stopped them, though some did try. Lorcan and Burke shoved them aside and in a couple of instances stabbed them with their daggers.

  “What’s going on?” a sentry shouted from his place on the wall.

  Lorcan didn’t have time for a chat. He threw his dagger and killed the man. Burke dragged Keverin over the wall and killed the other sentry as he tried to give the alarm. Another explosion lit the sky and camp both, and then plunged it into darkness just as quickly. Lorcan blinked his dazzled eyes and cursed. His night vision was ruined!

  “This way!” Alvin shouted and Lorcan followed the voice.

  Lorcan barely escaped impaling as he fell into the ditch. From the screams nearby someone else wasn’t as lucky. The screams died away into sobbing gurgles, which quickly ceased only to be replaced by the grunts of climbing men. Lorcan rolled over the top of the ditch and located Keverin. The lord was stumbling away from the camp, but he was going the wrong way. Lorcan dashed ahead of Alvin and snagged the wayward lord.

  Keverin swung on him and he ducked. “For the God’s sake don’t do that!” he snarled into his lord’s blinking eyes.

  “I can’t see. My… my eyes… I’m blind.”

  “No you’re not. The fire ruined your night vision—mine too.”

  Lorcan was panting with more than tiredness when Burke and the others finally caught up and surrounded their lord. Alvin took Keverin’s other arm and Valin took over from Lorcan. Lorcan stopped to stare back at the camp as more fire lit the sky followed by a lightning bolt that stabbed down into the centre of camp. The sorcerers were fighting amongst themselves; he hoped they all killed each other.

  “Where to?” Burke shouted.

  “River first,” he said panting. “My horse is there. I don’t have another, but we can put the Lord in the saddle at least.

  “You mount up and take him to the Lady.”

  “What of you?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Burke said grimly.

  “No,” Keverin whispered. “No. Together or none—”

  “Take no notice, he’s out of his head. The General will have a patrol after us any time now. As soon as it’s light, the cursed sorcerers will be using mirrors to find us. You have to go, and go quickly!”

  Burke was right, but it was hard. These men were his friends and he didn’t want to leave them. It was a sure thing his magic wasn’t strong enough to deter the Hasians, but what if…

  “Listen. I’ll take him with me, the rest of you swim across the river. They won’t bother crossing after you.”

  “No,” Burke said. “We’ll fight to slow them down.”

  “Don’t be a cursed fool! We only have three swords! Cross the river and you’ll all be safe. I can outrun them I swear!” he said putting as much sincerity into his words as he could. Of course, he was only hoping, but there was a chance at least.

  “Order you…” Keverin mumbled. “…order you to cross.”

  As the horse came into sight near the riverbank, Burke turned to his men. “Into the water lads, you heard the lord.”

  Lorcan caught the reins and held his horse as Alvin and Burke shoved Keverin into the saddle. Behind them Lorcan heard curses as men dumped their armour and jumped into the frigid water. Keverin was lying across the horse’s neck, but he was clinging on.

  “Up you go lad,” Burke said.

  Lorcan climbed into the saddle as Alvin jumped into the river with his sword in hand. It was awkward mounting like this, but with Burke’s help he finally managed to get comfortable.

  “Don’t stop for nothing lad. Denpasser—that’s where you need to go.”

  Lorcan nodded and kicked the horse into a trot. Behind him, a lone man dropped his armour and jumped into the river.

  * * *

  25 ~ Retreat

  “Absolutely not captain!” Navarien said. “You will wait until Bannan and Duer reach you. Is that understood?”

  “Yes Sir, but I can see the place is deserted even from here. There’s only one building. Admittedly it’s big, but not big enough to hide enough warriors to inconvenience me.”

  “Hmmm, you are positive?”

  “No doubt at all Sir!”

  Navarien looked at Wotan in question, but the sorcerer ceded the decision to him with a shrug and a shake of the head.

  He nodded after a moment. “Move in and hold Denpasser, Captain. Push out scouts from there but do not advance until your reinforcements arrive. Clear?”

  “Yes Sir!” Corbin saluted with a grin. The mirror cleared and Corbin’s image was replaced by that of a sorcerer.

  He handed the mirror back to its owner with thanks, and turned to study his maps. “If Denpasser truly is deserted we can move forward and use it as our next camp.”

  “That was a good idea someone had. I wouldn’t have thought of it,” Wotan said in admiration.

  Navarien nodded in agreement. Denpasser was completely shrouded in a ward preventing it being seen by mirror. He had thought, wrongly it turned out, that the clans were using it to shield some kind of trap, but with Corbin’s latest communication he was beginning to think the clans were trying to be too clever.

  “They used it to slow us down,” he said sweeping his hands forward on the map. “They knew that being unable to see would make us cautious and slow our advance.”

  “But now we know what they’re up to we can quicken the pace,” Wotan said with a glance at Magar.

  Before Navarien could refute that, Magar did it for him. “Not so. We could be wrong, or worse we could be right and become over confident.”

  Navarien nodded in approval. “Yes exactly. When we scry ahead and find a ward, it is natural to hold back and be wary. Do that a few times and we’ll be jumping at shadows, but if we don’t do it we could fall into a trap.”

  “I see. When we don’t detect a ward we still have to be wary lest the clans have something tricky hidden in the grass.”

  “Exactly so. Corbin will find Denpasser empty I have no doubt. What I do doubt is that the clans will allow us to advance uncontested.”

  A short while later Navarien again spoke with Corbin and had his supposition confirmed. Denpasser was indeed abandoned. Navarien immediately resumed the march with the intention of consolidating his forces at Denpasser before proceeding on.

  As he rode he absently wondered if Lord Athione had survived and secretly hoped that he had. He admired the man. Anyone who could aspire to have the bitch sorceress for his consort deserved respect! Seriously though, he doubted the lord was a threat any longer. Without Keverin by her side Julia might become completely uncontrollable. It was better that Keverin, crippled or not, was returned to her.

  The night of Keverin’s escape was still very fresh in his memory. The overwhelming image that came to him was of fire climbing into the sky as Magar deflected Odelyn’s strike upward, followed quickly by his lightning. Seeing the lightning stabbing down had brought his campaign against Athione surging back to him. He had thought Julia had come to take her revenge upon him. He had gone straight away to retrieve Keverin for use as a hostage. Not very honourable he now thought, but if it saved his men from Julia’s wrath, so be it. Only it hadn’t happened that way. He had found the prisoner’s tent empty and a trail of corpses, including Demophon’s, leading over the east wall and away across the plain. With so much confusion it had seemed inadvisable to order a search, especially when the darkness could have hidden every clansmen on the plain with ease
. Wotan had since offered to search with the mirror but Navarien knew that Keverin’s torque would prevent that. Rather than explain his now aborted plan for Keverin, he had declined the offer.

  It was noon the following day when they arrived at Denpasser. Corbin and the others were waiting for him. As soon as he had a moment to spare, he listened to their reports.

  “The patrols are still out, Sir,” Bannan began and the other two captains nodded. “Reports so far seem to agree that the clans are heading straight south.”

  “Any encounters with their warriors?” Navarien questioned.

  “None Sir. The tracks are the only reason we know we’re not alone out here.”

  So, it was true. Curse them!

  He needed a battle and a decisive victory to bring this campaign to a happy resolution. Without that, he would be chasing the clans all over the plain for years to come. Unfortunately, someone had taken steps to deny him the encounter he needed.

  “Follow me to the maps gentleman,” he said and led the way.

  The now common sight of an awning covered table was set not far from the ruined building. It was unfortunate the roof was no longer intact; it would have made a fine map room. By the time he reached the table, all of his captains and sorcerers were assembled. He was coming to think of these men as a command staff. With the good offices of the sorcerers here present, he could order any battalion to move and could therefore control the battlefield—in theory at least, and that was what he needed to discuss.

  “I think we can all agree that the clans are not simply running,” he said. “That being the case, what are they doing?”

  “Planning an ambush?” Corbin said.

  Bannan shook his head. “It’s more likely they’re trying to manoeuvre and get behind us.”

  Navarien listened to various schemes that the clans might be hatching, some had merit; others were outlandish. Tikva was the only one not taking part.

  “What is your opinion, Captain?” Navarien said expecting he already knew.

  Tikva looked at the map and began pointing out various features of the land. The plain was for the most part flat and well drained grassland. There were patches of trees too small to call forests dotted around, but by far and away flat grassland prevailed. Not so the lands along the Devan border.

  “I believe they intend to use these hills, Sir,” Tikva said. “The clansmen are used to fighting in the open, but we all know the tales of warriors being able to hide behind a blade of grass.”

  “Cursed little we’ve seen of it,” Nissus said.

  “Not so,” Navarien interjected. “What of the march to Calvados? I doubt anyone here could forget that march so soon.”

  The captains winced at the reminder of that time and nodded grimly. They remembered very well and were not eager for a repeat performance.

  “As I was saying,” Tikva continued. “These hills represent the only decent terrain for leagues around. One could say they represent the only terrain. The plain does not lend itself to creative tactics.”

  “I agree,” Navarien said. He was pleased that Tikva saw it as he did. “They will use the hills in an effort to split our formations—”

  “And they will succeed,” Tikva said finishing the sentence.

  “Precisely. They cannot help but succeed when I dare not allow them to get behind me. I need a battle gentleman. I cannot win without one. The clans however do not need to fight to beat us; all they need do is make us chase them. Lucky for us, they do not seem to know that. I have no doubt the clans will fight to the death rather than be pushed into Deva, which is fine by me.”

  Everyone chuckled; even the sorcerers were amused. Wotan had forged his people into an integral part of the legion just as he had promised. The ease with which his men now mingled with them was a good indication of how successful he had been.

  “Suggestions?” Navarien said.

  Corbin was first. “Flush them out with cavalry.”

  Tikva and the others disagreed and so did Navarien. The obvious reason was that eight thousand cavalry would find themselves overwhelmed in short order by the full weight of the clans.

  “Magic,” Wotan said once the others ran out of ideas.

  “Magic will play an important part,” Navarien agreed. “Warding the men and bombarding the enemy when the chance arises will be important in the hills. Just as the clans will try to break us up, we must do the same to them. This will primarily be an infantry battle gentleman. It has to be that way. The hills will tend to obscure the battlefield, and charging into the unknown is not my idea of fun.”

  Corbin didn’t agree. “I like charging!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “So do I, but only when I know what I’m charging at, and that I will win.”

  “Agreed,” Tikva said and the others nodded.

  “If you will all turn your attention to the map?” Navarien said doing the same. “These hills, of which there are hundreds, vary in height widely. Some are little more than mounds; others are decent sized hills even by legion standards. There is no way to be certain short of the engagement just how the clans expect to stop us, but regardless of what they intend to do, I want these hills here,” Navarien circled an area with a finger near the centre of the hilly area. “And here,” another hill south of the first was circled, “Under our control.”

  Tikva nodded. “These are the highest I assume,” he said and without waiting for confirmation, he went on. “They will control much of the surrounding terrain.”

  “Not only that, they will give us advanced warning of clan movements. They do have effective wards, but assuming we successfully take and hold these hills, scrying will not be necessary to find them.”

  There were appreciative murmurs, but Tikva had reservations. “Holding these areas will tie up men Sir. The clans still outnumber us and—”

  Navarien broke in. “Not too many. Once taken, each outpost will be left with two maniples and a strong contingent of mages. At the first sign of attack they will call us so that we can hit the warriors even as they attack the outpost.”

  “Hmmm. Bait as well as observation post? I like it!” Tikva said with enthusiasm.

  Pointing to the map Navarien continued his planning. “The river here will bear watching. It’s the only convenient water supply for the clans, but it could also provide them with cover if they try to move between our observation points. I want some of your fastest scouts patrolling along its course with orders to run at the first sign of trouble. Reporting is more important than killing a few warriors.”

  “I have some good men in mind Sir,” Corbin said.

  “Fine. That just leaves the final disposition of the men to discuss. I won’t jog your elbows regarding your tactics in battle. You’ve all been with me long enough to know what I like and don’t like, but don’t forget we have Deva to deal with once this is done. Our men are precious. There certainly won’t be any more where they came from. Not for a long time to come.”

  That was an understatement. Wotan had explained the reason for the greenness of the recruits at Calvados. The bulk of them had been recruited as Third Legion’s replacements. Every spare man had been assembled and shipped to Calvados including the sergeants tasked with training them. That meant back home there were no more recruits and no one to train them even if there had been! Mortain had made sure that this campaign did not fail as the Protectorate had failed last year. It was just one sign of how important he considered this war.

  “I would like to add something to that if I may?”

  “Of course Wotan, go right ahead.”

  “I just wanted to say that I agree with your words and that my sorcerers will be on hand to help. They will ensure losses are light.”

  “I thank you for that Wotan, but that may prove difficult. We of the legions know only too well how easily circumstances can change for the worse. Doing your best is all we expect, but knowing you as I do I’m sure it will be enough.”

  A rumble of agreement swep
t around the table. Wotan nodded pleased with all the support.

  “Now then,” Navarien began. “I want Captains Corbin, Bannan, and Duer to take and hold—”

  As he gave his orders, his thoughts reached out to the battle to come. It was more likely to be battles than a single confrontation. In his mind’s eye, he saw clan warriors attempting to flank him, but being spotted by the observation posts atop the hills. Sorcerers spoke into mirrors, and a battalion split away to chase down the warriors and deal with them before casually rejoining the main body ready for the next fight.

  Navarien smiled. Fifth Legion was about to march into history as the first Protectorate legion to enter Deva.

  * * *

  Interlude V

  Talitha sat slumped in a chair staring at nothing. The parchment lay discarded on the floor and she was alone. The Matriarch was never alone, but she had screamed in rage and ordered Tymek and his men out of the room. They had obeyed in fear for their lives.

  Ranen was dead.

  They had been married less than a year and he was dead. She hated him! No she didn’t. She loved him and that was worse. It felt like she had died with him. When the letters arrived, she had sat here to read them full of a strange excitement. Ranen had been overwhelmed with her news. He loved her more than life—

  Talitha closed her eyes as the tears welled up and spilled over again. He thought the name Armina was perfect for their daughter, a daughter without a father now! The letter was like him, full of excitement, but it had just stopped in mid-sentence. Then she had opened the second scroll from Prince Bevyn and her world ended. A cowardly assassin had killed her love, killed her heart, and taken away the most important thing in her life.

  At the knock on the door, she looked up to see Nekane standing white faced in the doorway.

  “Get out,” she snarled.

  Nekane shook his head wordlessly.

  If Tymek had been here, Nekane would have been thrown out by now but Talitha had sent everyone away yesterday. “Get out or I’ll—” she sighed and left it at that. She had no energy to reprimand him let alone order his execution.