Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (77 page)

“No way to tell. He could be here tomorrow, but he might not reach us for tendays.”

“Let’s hope it’s tomorrow,” Julia said. “We need somewhere to work. Somewhere big.”

“The warehouse district,” Jihan said. “We can empty as many as you need.”

Keverin walked back to Julia and his friend. “I’ve ordered a search of every building. I hope you don’t mind me ordering your men as well, Jihan?”

Jihan shook his head as he stared at the houses. His face was pinched as he recalled what he had found inside.

Julia took immediate charge. “The dead will be burned at once. All bedding and clothes—anything found with the bodies—must be burned with them. The sick will be brought to the warehouse district. I think there will be room there, I hope there will be.”

Devarr had a population in the region of a hundred and fifty thousand. Rather it used to have. Who knew how many still lived?

* * *

Keverin rode grimly beside Jihan with a small detachment of guardsmen at his back. He had left Julia with Mathius and Brian setting up what she called a hospital in an empty warehouse. They were all empty. His mother was helping as if she did this sort of thing everyday. Never had he been so proud of her. She hadn’t batted an eyelid. The warehouses were perfect for their needs. Those gigantic buildings would normally store enough food for every person in Devarr for two years. It seemed Chancellor Morfran had not only plundered the rest of the kingdom when he taxed everything beyond endurance, he had also sold Devarr’s grain and food reserves for gold. Keverin could hardly contain his wish to charge Cavell to the palace and confront the evil bastard.

“I’m going to gut that scum sucking…” Keverin snarled, but words failed him. Jihan jumped and looked at Keverin in surprise. “I’m not too old to lose my temper, Jihan!”

Jihan grinned. “You’ll have to wait. I have first claim,” he said nudging Jezy a little faster.

Keverin did the same, and Cavell eased into a trot. Any faster would be dangerous on the cobbled streets. He looked into the alleys as they rode by hoping not to find people in need, but he was ready nonetheless. He saw and heard nothing except the clip clopping of hooves, and piles of festering rubbish.

“My Lord!” Burke shouted in alarm.

Keverin swayed out of the way of a thrown dagger and lost his seat. He crashed to the cobbles shouting and cursing in surprise. Cavell stopped as she was trained to do, and looked back at him as if wondering what he was playing at. Roaring in fury Keverin climbed to his feet only to dive under a hasty slash from a peasant’s sword. The man should properly be called a brigand, but whatever he was, he was cursed dangerous. Bent his sword might be, but it looked wickedly sharp. The ring of good steel, and the duller clang of flawed iron, spoke of Jihan engaged. Burke was fighting his way forward, but his opponent was just as determined to stop him.

Keverin flicked his blade at the peasant’s eyes. The man moved to parry, and Keverin lunged. The scream gave him no satisfaction. It wasn’t like the fight against the Hasians last year. These men were as much Devan as he was. He left the peasant trying to crawl away dragging his guts behind him on the cobbles. There were at least twenty brigands. Keverin had eight men including himself and Jihan. It wasn’t fair to the peasants, but battle was seldom fair. He lopped a brigand’s head off in passing and then engaged another man he believed might be the leader of this little gang. He was a young man, certainly no older than Jihan. He was the only one wearing armour. Where he had found it, Keverin hated to think. Probably some hapless guardsmen from the palace, he decided. Armour didn’t make a man invulnerable, but it did allow him to take some chances that would otherwise be suicidal.

The brigand charged.

Keverin braced himself and turned his shoulder into the man as they clashed. The brigand grunted from the impact and attempted to thrust a dagger into Keverin’s armpit, but he managed to evade and draw his own dagger. The brigand backed off slightly then attacked all out. Keverin parried and slashed the man’s face with his dagger. The brigand had courage enough for two men. He ignored his cheek hanging down and flapping in the breeze. All the wound seemed to do was rile him up. Keverin feinted for the other cheek with his dagger, and as the brigand ducked away. Keverin took the opportunity the God gave him and thrust his sword into the man’s thigh; the leg buckled and he took instant advantage. He leapt forward and drove his dagger under the brigand’s chin and into his brain.

Keverin turned just in time to see Jihan finish the last one, and an eerie silence fell. Nothing stirred in the houses along the street. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what they would find behind those doors and windows. He had no wish to investigate now, especially not after spewing his guts earlier. He’d never envied Julia her ability until that moment. If he’d had a shield like hers, he might have been able to enter the house without throwing up, but he wasn’t certain. Julia seemed so fragile sometimes, like a child quite often, but today she had handled the experience with a calm beyond her years. She had seen many more and worse things since her arrival at Athione, it was no wonder a few corpses didn’t affect her any longer. It was sad that a gentle woman like his Julia could see something so grisly and not cry.

Jihan was finishing off the fallen brigands with a dagger thrust and a whispered prayer to ease them on to the God. Keverin looked around for one that needed attending to. The man had dragged himself quite some distance, but had left most of his gizzard behind him in long ropes of intestine. He was still alive but in shock. Keverin gave him the grace with a dagger thrust to the heart.

“May the God watch over and comfort you at journey’s end,” Keverin whispered. He cleaned his sword and dagger on the body before sheathing them both. Cleaning a scabbard was an impossible job. “Burke, any injuries?”

“None m’lord,” Burke said cleaning his own sword likewise.

Keverin was pleased that his men had taken no hurt, but they shouldn’t have needed to fight in the first place. “That is good. Mount up, we’re heading for the palace as before.”

They mounted and rode on leaving the bodies for Brian and his men to find. They hadn’t left the swords of course, not that there seemed to be anyone around who would steal them, but you never know when a dropped weapon might come back to haunt you. The last thing he wanted was Brian’s men attacked with a blade he had let lie.

They rode into the palace grounds unhindered. Keverin dismounted and entered the stable. Nothing. Not one horse was in evidence and there were no stable hands to be seen. He didn’t know why this should bring home the situation more forcefully than the fright they had received upon entering the city, but it did. No guardsmen on the palace walls, and none on the gate. He doubted he would find the Chancellor still here. Morfran had probably robbed the place blind and then run for Japura. At least the man had the decency to send word of the King’s death before leaving; it was about the only decent thing he’d ever done.

Keverin signalled Burke, and the sergeant trotted over to him. “Send pairs of men through the palace. Check every room for the Chancellor. Leave no place unchecked. I’ll do the same with Jihan.”

“Yes m’lord,” Burke said then turned to his men. “Right you lot, you heard the lord.”

They stabled their horses and began searching the palace. Keverin could tell straight away the place had been looted by the mob. Beautiful and ancient tapestries were strewn over the floors. Many were soiled with what looked like human excrement and others were torn and ripped. Tables and chairs in some rooms were little more than kindling, where other rooms hadn’t been touched.

The dragon throne was unharmed, but every single banner hanging from the walls, including Athione’s, was shredded. He shook his head at the vandalism, and dropped what was left of his banner.

“Let us head for the King’s apartments and the women’s quarter. If anyone is still here that’s where they’ll be,” Jihan said eyeing the remains of Malcor’s banner.

Keverin kicked the rubbish aside. “Good idea. This means nothing in the long run.”

The women’s quarter was deserted just like the rest of the palace, but they finally found Chancellor Morfran in the King’s own study still sitting at his desk. He was very dead. Jihan quickly opened the windows behind the mummified remains.

“He killed himself, see the wrists?” Jihan said.

“Hmmm, I didn’t think he had it in him. Why did he do it? He could have taken the treasury and run.”

Jihan didn’t answer. He was carefully trying to retrieve a piece of parchment from the desk without moving the corpse. He managed it finally and whistled when he read it. “Listen to this,” Jihan said and began reading aloud.

“I Morfran, chancellor of Deva and regent for Pergann King of Deva, hereby set pen to parchment in the hope that whoever may find my body will not look too unkindly upon me.

“Pergann has been getting worse the last few days. He was raging this morning about traitors amongst his lords and going to war with Tanjung, which is utter folly. I tried to reason with him, but he was determined to carry out his threat. I fear me he is mad. If you are reading this, then you already know that I have killed him. I have my dagger here while I write this and will use it tonight.”

“Is that it?”

“What else were you expecting?” Jihan asked dropping the parchment back to the desk.

Keverin shrugged. “I don’t know, it just seems… well, so unlike the man. He was a coward through and through, yet this makes him seem a hero.”

“Who can know a man’s mind when he’s faced with this kind of decision?”

“I suppose.” He moved to look out of the window into the overgrown gardens below. “Where is everyone? They should have been here waiting for us.”

Jihan chuckled. “You have a positive knack for asking unanswerable questions. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yes really. As for the lords, Meagan and his friends will be here soon enough.”

“Maybe they knew the situation better than we did and wanted us to fix the mess.”

Jihan shrugged. “It’s more likely they expected the pestilence to take care of us.”

“You might be right at that.”

* * *

“Your Grace!” a voice hailed Dugan.

He turned to find Father Mignon hurrying toward him. “What is it?”

“A boat has come, your grace.”

Dugan sighed sadly. They could barely feed those already here. The gardens had been turned over for growing food, but there wasn’t enough. Never enough. They couldn’t take any more people in… but how could he turn them away?

“Tell them to come ahead. I’ll find somewhere to put them.”

“I’m sorry, your Grace, but you misunderstand. There are guardsmen in the boat. They ask that we start running the ferry again.”

“Guardsmen? Which lord?”

“Malcor and Athione, your grace. Will you come?” Mignon said hopefully.

“Yes, yes indeed I shall!” Dugan said excitedly. “Lead on.”

Mignon hurried away and Dugan followed him outside to the landing stage. A crowd of gawking people were standing nearby but were being held back by a Red Guard squad. The centre of attention was a group of three men in armour, and indeed, they were from the fortresses Mignon mentioned.

One man stepped forward and bowed. “Lady Jessica said we should come, your Grace.”

“Jessica is here?”

“In the city, your Grace. The Lady said that Jessica should come with us, but Jessica wanted to help with the city folk.”

The Lady?

Could he mean Julia? The man sounded respectful in the extreme. The other two guardsmen were Malcorans and had yet to speak. Dugan addressed himself to the Athione Captain.

“Your name?”

“Captain Brian, your grace.”

“I am Patriarch Dugan. Your lord has come?”

“Yes, your grace. Lord Keverin and his friend, Lord Jihan, have taken up residence at the palace. They have come to await the other lords so that a new king might be chosen.”

“At last!” Dugan breathed. The nightmare was ending. “This is excellent news! Your lord wishes the ferry to resume the run to the city?”

“Yes, your Grace, but not only that. The people need help. The Lady has ordered a warehouse used to house them all, but there are too many for her alone. She asks for priests to help feed them, and others to help care for the young ones.”

“We have little food here, but what we can spare will be provided,” Dugan said. “I will inform his Holiness of your arrival and the ferry will be re-opened immediately. I will send my priests to help.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Brian said with a bow.

* * *

7 ~ Conquest

The wind howled through the rigging as the ship plunged from the crest of a huge wave. The storm had come up out of nowhere. It had taken even Master Sacherval, an old hand at the northern trade route, completely by surprise.

“
Get those rags down, damn you!
” Sacherval roared over the keening wind. They had to relieve the stress on the masts or lose them. He hated to do it, but the storm was beyond anything he had weathered before. Canvas could be replaced, the ship and those she carried could not. “
Cut them down!
”

Old Warrin gaped at his Captain, and then spun to his mates. “You heard the Cap’n! Pass out them axes!”

Sacherval watched Warrin and the others frantically chopping at lines and prayed they would be in time. Eleven ships had left port at Banswara with him as Master of the flagship. The weather had been fine with a good north easterly to speed them on their way. They had made excellent time. He had been certain that Lord Mortain—may he live forever—would reward him handsomely. But now his fleet was scattered. He had no idea how many of his ships had survived.

How could his luck turn so fast?

The ropes hummed and sang like harp strings. The masts groaned with the strain. Down below, his crew was frantically pumping and bailing as fast as abused muscles would allow, but they were losing the battle. He could feel it in every roll and shudder of the deck beneath his feet. He clung to the wheel desperately trying to keep his feet.