Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (33 page)

He was shrinking!

His aura swirled and shrank. Smaller and smaller, no bigger than a golf ball... a marble... a blazing star in the sky... gone.

I’ve killed him!

* * *

Mathius watched Julia attempt to save Renard. There were no external signs of her work as she tried to heal the mage. No spell that he could detect, no weaving of the patterns that Julia insisted were so important—nothing but the roar of her magic and the light. She blazed with power, so much that even Darius—the strongest wizard he had ever seen—would have been burnt to a cinder. Julia wasn’t even close to what she could draw. He had seen her healing the guardsmen one after another long after other mages would have quit for fear of making a mistake and ageing. She had kept going, perhaps even unaware of how extraordinary she was. He had no doubt that she was a true sorcerer, or more properly a sorceress.

Any mage could judge the strength of another by simply being nearby when they drew upon their power. Judging how powerful they might become in the future was another matter entirely. As an initiate, he knew next to nothing of the uses of magic. He would never know until he tried just how far he might reach. Mages had aged themselves prematurely precisely because they
had
tried for a higher rank. They had reached and
overreached
.

Mages of this time believed their breed had dwindled in strength over the centuries. Before Julia’s arrival, he had no reason to doubt the theory, but now he wondered. It was possible that the only reason a mage failed to reach the rank of sorcerer was because they aged so fast that they never fully realised their strength before dying. So far he had managed to avoid that, but he was an exception rather than the rule. His father had been a mage in his time and very strict regarding the use of magic. Mathius used to think that his father was jealous of his ability to sense the magic and was unwilling to have people realise that his son was more powerful than him. It was a childish thought, which he had dismissed after watching his father call a rainstorm to help a village afflicted by a drought. That day had changed him more than any other thing. It made him proud to be his father’s son.

Mathius smiled as he remembered the years on the road with his father. They had travelled all over the kingdom selling their magic for food or a little silver. Looking back it had been the best time of his life. He realised now that his father had used the journey to teach him about magic and its dangers. It was a tragedy that he couldn’t thank him. His father died unable to avoid the fate that he had protected his son against.

“Hnnn...” Julia grunted and flinched.

Mathius stepped forward unsure what he should do. He shielded his eyes as the glow around Julia brightened even more. The light was blinding and the noise! She would overreach! What by the God was she thinking? He reached out to pull her away, but before he could touch her, the light changed again. One moment Julia was glowing fit to burn him, the next Renard was. Mathius blinked his watering eyes in stunned delight, but then he frowned in consternation. Renard
was
glowing, but it was not the pure white light of a mage linked to his magic—it was blue! As he watched, Renard moved for the first time since the battle and looked at him.

Mathius recoiled from the stare. An intense blue light shone from where Renard’s eyes should have been. Gaping like a landed fish, Mathius was about to speak when Renard smiled at him. Mathius was struck dumb and found himself responding to the smile in kind.

“Renard? Are you well?”

Renard smiled and raised a finger to his lips to shush him.

The light intensified until Mathius could no longer bear to look. He tried to shield his eyes with one hand, he didn’t want to miss anything, but the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. Tentatively he scanned the room for Renard, but his friend had disappeared.

Julia looked at him with weary eyes. “He’s dead.”

“But where is—”—
his
body?
Mathius finished silently.

Julia stepped to the door. “I won’t let any more of my friends die,” she said in exhausted resignation.

Mathius nodded and Julia left with her shoulders slumped in defeat. She was so small that he wanted to reach out and comfort her like a child. He did nothing and watched the door swing closed in silence. He should never have asked her to do it.

* * *

“He’s unconscious, does anyone know him?” Julia straightened and turned to the others in the room. Mathius shrugged and shook his head.

“It’s Jihan. He is heir to Malcor,” Keverin said but when Julia made no comment, he explained further. “Malcor holds the north.”

“One of the Four?” Julia said knowing that it was.

“Hmmm yes,” Keverin nodded. “Athlone is Lord Protector of the North.”

Keverin’s every day tone didn’t fool Julia. She knew that look only too well. Why did he hate Athlone, apart from the obvious problem with him not being here to aid them against the sorcerers? The raid on East Town was long ago, and Athlone had good reasons for those attacks. Surely, that was all over with now?

“I haven’t seen any Malcorans here—have I?” she said hoping to draw him out.

“No,” Keverin said shortly.

“Nor will you,” Mathius added. “Athlone doesn’t—”

“Mathius,” Keverin warned and Mathius fell silent. “Athlone regards himself my enemy—my entire family’s enemy.”

“I know about his father and brother, and about the raiding, but surely the invasion is more important?”

“I think so, but Athlone sees things differently. He would watch Deva burn if it meant seeing me fall.”

Julia winced at the acid dripping from Keverin’s words. With that attitude it would be best if he and Athlone never met face to face. She turned back to her patient. The young man, Jihan, had ridden up to the east a short while ago, but rather than ask entrance he had sat slumped in the saddle holding an unconscious girl in his arms. Jihan’s horse had walked around aimlessly while the gatekeeper informed Keverin of his arrival. Keverin, of course, had asked her to come down and have a look. He had actually
asked
her, rather than order her as he usually did. It was a great improvement.

“What about the woman?”

“A village girl by her clothes. How is she?” Mathius said.

“Tired, but her leg has healed well. She should be up and about in no—” Julia broke off as the door opened to admit the subject of their discussion.

The woman wore a blue cotton dress that made her look even younger than her years. She glanced around the room but didn’t appear to notice Mathius standing near the door. Her eyes locked upon the injured lord. She marched forward and felt Jihan’s forehead before looking worriedly at Keverin.

“Please, sir wizard, heal him.”

“I’m afraid you have me confused with somebody else lady…” Keverin said. “What is your name?”

“Ahnao,” she said not taking her eyes from Jihan. “He needs help. I don’t know all of it, but he was desperate to escape his da’s guardsmen and tell Lord Athione something.”

Julia gasped. Jihan’s own father had done this? Ahnao glanced at her then back to Keverin waiting for her answer.

“I am Keverin, Lord of Athione. This is Lady Julia.”

It was Ahnao’s turn to gasp. She quickly curtsied to Keverin. “Will you help us? His da will kill him if you send us away.”

“Of course you can stay. Both of you can. Come Lady, stand here with me and explain how you came to my gate in the condition you did. Lady Julia will attend your friend.”

“Oh please! Call a healer if you won’t call one of your wizards. He needs one badly.”

“You misunderstand, Ahnao. Lady Julia is a healer, and a mage.”

“But!” Ahnao protested but then lowered her eyes. “Yes Lord, if yer says.”

While Julia worked on Jihan, Ahnao told Keverin her story. Jihan had two infected arrow wounds and a bad slash on his leg—from a sword if she was any judge. The wound in his upper arm was bad, but she had seen worse too many times. She went to work and by the time Ahnao had finished her story, Jihan had begun to rouse. Julia stumbled tiredly across the room and sat in a wooden backed chair to rest for a few minutes. It felt as if she’d just finished a day of training in the gym. Was it because she drew too much magic too often, or was she doing something wrong? Drawing deeply worked best—did it not it? The more she drew, the quicker the healing, and that was fact not a guess. Surely a speedy healing was good. Julia rubbed at her shoulder where the arrow had struck. It ached on cold days. It had healed well, but her peak of fitness attained over many years of hard work was losing way to poor eating and little sleep. She was beginning to lose weight, but what could she do? She had to heal people if she could. Anything else was just not right.

Jihan tried to sit up when he realised where he was. Ahnao’s face lit up like a beacon, but when Jihan noticed her she deliberately blanked her face and scowled at him.

“So yer awake then,” Ahnao said, in an uninterested voice. “Typical of you, running off and leaving me in a stranger’s hands.”

“Now Ahnao, you know it wasn’t like that!” Jihan spluttered.

Mathius and Julia exchanged quick smirking grins. Jihan had his hands full with this one and Julia approved.

“Lord Jihan, may I present Lady Julia and the mage Mathius?” Keverin said.

“Honoured,” Jihan said inclining his head to all present. “I thank you my lord. I am in your debt.”

“You are most welcome here, Lord Jihan,” Keverin said equally formal. “There is no debt between us.”

“I claim no title, my lord. My father is a traitor. I do not want, nor do I need, anything from him.”

“Harsh words, Jihan. Ahnao has told us her story. Why not begin from the beginning?”

“Not too long ago,” Jihan began. “We had a visitor at Malcor. The first time my father met with him alone, but it was obvious what the man was, if not exactly who.”

“How was it obvious?” Keverin said.

“He was wearing his black robe as bold as you please.”

Keverin stiffened and turned reflexively toward Julia. Julia bit her lip at the look of betrayal on his face. She wanted to reach out to him, but his face changed again in that moment. He was being the Lord Protector again now. It was as if a mask had closed over his features.

Blank faced, Keverin turned back to Jihan. “What did he want?”

“I have no clue for the first meeting, my lord, but the following one was an offer from Mortain. My father has been conspiring with Morfran and diverse others for years—”

“This I know. What of the offer?”

“Let him tell it, Kev,” Julia said.

“Lady—” Keverin began hotly but he stopped himself. “Lady Julia, if you will leave matters that do not concern you to me, I would be grateful. You have made your decision, now leave mine to me.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Julia said.

“That might be best.”

“Sorry, can’t do that,” she said sweetly. “Jihan might need me.”

“I feel fine—” Jihan protested.

Julia glared. “I’m the healer. I’m staying!”

“About the offer?” Mathius said stepping in.

“Yes, the offer,” Jihan said looking faintly puzzled at Julia’s insistence on staying. “The first was simply to refrain from aiding Athione. In exchange, my father was to rule Deva as a province of the Protectorate.”

Hisses of shock went around the room. Malcor was one of the Four. More than that, it had thousands of fresh guardsmen. What if Malcor marched on Athione? Julia felt sick at the thought. His losses had badly weakened Keverin. If Malcor marched, Athione would fall.

“You said the first agreement, my lord.”

Jihan nodded. “The second was to allow a legion through the northern border to attack you here.”

“How could he do it?” Mathius whispered in horror. “His honour—”

“My father is evil!” Jihan cried. “He hounded my mother and beat and beat her—she threw herself from the battlement to escape him! He’s disgusting! He ordered the men to attack me in the dark of night and my tutors—”

Once Jihan started he couldn’t stem the tide. Julia listened to all manner of vileness his father had committed. She was horrified when he spoke of his mother’s betrayal and eventual suicide, and felt for the seven year old Jihan having to live with the monster as he was systematically brutalised. Jihan was panting from the effort the flood of words had taken when his story wound down into silence.

“I must take council with Purcell and Gylaren on this,” Keverin said worriedly. “We have a serious problem. A legion waiting in the pass and another on the way from the north. We might soon be under attack from both sides at the same time.”

“I would offer you my skills for the defence,” Jihan said. “If you will allow it, I will join your guardsmen.”

“How good are you?”

“I would not wish to seem immodest, my lord, but I can best any at Malcor—including my father.”

“Hmmm, that good?” Keverin said faintly amused. “You and I will spar when you are more rested. If you beat me two out of three, I will take your oath as a captain in my guard.”

“Very well,” Jihan said simply.

“Do you want to know what I want if you lose?”

Jihan smiled grimly. “I never lose.”

Julia ignored the by-play. She was thinking of what she had said to Mathius after she killed Renard. It seemed fate had called her bluff. Julia stood to leave with Mathius as escort. Keverin followed a few paces behind.

“You idiot!” Ahnao growled at Jihan as they left. “Lady Julia healed the mess you made of yourself last time, now you go and accept a challenge from Lord Keverin! Are you daft?”

“Now Ahnao please, it is not like that—”

The door closed and cut off Jihan’s plea.

“I need to have a few words with Keverin. Can I meet you later?” Julia said as they walked.

“Of course,” Mathius said and inclined his head to her before leaving.

Keverin offered his arm when he heard that she wished to speak with him, but she shook her head and settled with walking by his side. He wasn’t happy. Moriz and Halbert followed them both a few paces back not wanting to intrude. They would be back dogging her heels again when Keverin went off to wherever he hid himself these days.