Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (128 page)

Snow began falling again at mid-morning reducing visibility to just a few yards. Everywhere had turned solid white, and when he looked back most of the column was lost to sight. Cavell was turning white also, as the slowly falling flakes settled. They arrived as Petya promised at noon, not that he could tell at first. If the chief had promised him it was dusk, he would have accepted the man’s word. There was nothing to see but snow and then walls suddenly looming up out of the ground. The ruins were a shock coming as they did out of nothing. Athione was gigantic, and Denpasser was tiny in comparison, but as the only stone building anywhere on the plain, it was still impressive. A gaping hole in one side showed where massive doors had once been. The doorway was easily big enough for a dozen guardsmen to enter walking side by side. Athione’s gates were larger, but that was to allow a strong sallying force to charge out. Wide the doorway might be, but the height of it was ridiculous! The thing was taller than it was wide! Why make something without reason like that? The windows in the sides of the building seemed small in comparison.

Was it a chapel to pray to the God, or was it for something else? Petya claimed not to know. He said Denpasser had always been here, and that the clans used it as a gathering place. As the only fixed location on the plain, it really was the only good place to meet with outclanners.

Petya led them around the ruin and the first tents became visible. There were not many people abroad in this weather, but there were some. They stared at the outclanners then hurried away to tell family and friends of what they had seen. The chief eased his mount to one side letting his warriors go back to their families.

Keverin and his friends pulled out of line with Petya to talk. “Where do you suggest we set our tents?”

“Tell your men to follow mine and they will see a large empty space on the right. They can use that for now.”

He turned to give Brian his orders and then watched him lead his men into the snow and disappear. “Where is Julia?”

Mathius and Lucius leaned in from the side to hear what Petya would say.

“We need to arrange some things first,” Petya said.

“What things?” Keverin said trying to hold his temper. How many times would he be diverted from going to his lady?

“The chiefs are meeting to discuss the situation with the outcla—err hmmm. With the monster in the north… with Navarien,” Petya said stumbling over the fact that he was talking to outclanners right now.

“What has that to do with me? As soon as I see Julia, I’ll be taking her home.”

“Not until you speak with the chiefs and tell them what you know of Navarien.”

“Conditions Petya?” he said fuming. “All right! If I have to then I have to, but immediately after this council of yours, I see Julia or we’ll be fighting. You have my word on it!”

“I’ll look forward to showing you how to fight, but important business first.”

Jihan and Adrik chuckled at what they saw as a jest, but neither Petya nor Keverin were. They were quite serious; a fact Jihan realised when both men failed to understand their amusement.

Jihan leaned in to whisper. “Be careful. Jolon was taught by the best, and Petya is his father. What chance that he taught his son?”

“Do I look like a child, Jihan?” Keverin said in exasperation.

“Of course not, it’s just—”

“Then why are you treating me like one!”

Petya laughed. “It’s good to have friends who care is it not?”

Keverin smiled, and then laughed. It was good. “Sorry.”

Jihan waved the apology away.

One of the warriors led the horses away to be cared for by Brian, and Petya showed them the way between the tents explaining things as he went. Every so often people would stop and stare at the outclanners, but as far as Keverin could see, there was no animosity toward them.

“—Cricket Clan, they’re one of the smallest you know. And here we have Night Wind, Kadar is chief, and… you do know that tribal chiefs are subordinate to the clan chiefs?”

“I had heard that,” he said with a nod.

“Kadar is Clan Chief of Night Wind, he’s a good man. I think you’ll like him. That’s his tent there with the white bison and the maiden on the side, see it?”

“Yes. Do the sigils mean anything?”

“Not really. The shamen always use something distinctive so we know where to find one. Lightning bolts at the top are popular for some reason, but most of us use a picture that means something to us personally. I have a wolf attacking a warrior on it. I was lucky that day I can tell you! Talking of wolves,” Petya said waving a hand at his surroundings. “This is Wolf Clan. Tobiah is Clan Chief. A hard man, but honourable for all of that. You won’t like him much I’m afraid, he doesn’t like outclanners.”

Keverin raised an eyebrow at that. No clansman liked outclanners. This Tobiah must be a terror if Petya made a point telling him about his prejudice.

“Why are there two empty areas there?” Jihan said pointing to the right.

“Dragon Clan is largest, but they haven’t come,” Petya said grimly. “Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t think we will see them until spring. They need so much food to survive it’s a real chore for them to leave the herd. The other area is Horse Clan’s place. They won’t come for fear of what Dragon Clan will do. They have a feud going and their ranges are near each other.”

Jihan raised an eyebrow at that and glanced at Keverin who nodded that he understood the implications. Feuding between clans was bad news, especially now. Navarien was north. They needed to work together to face him.

“This is Eagle Clan,” Petya was saying. “We are about middle of the trail in size. I’m chief of Jaralk tribe as you know, and my Clan Chief is Allard. He’s a bit young, but he’s a good warrior. He was chosen when his father was killed in a stampede. The warriors chose him to honour his father, but I think he’ll surprise them. In any case, he’s unlikely to be challenged unless he does something stupid.”

“Your authority does not pass from father to son?” Adrik said.

“No,” Petya said and laughed at the idea. “We vote for the best warrior. If there’s more than one after that, they fight for it. It has always worked well for us. The chief must be a warrior as he has to lead in battle, but he can be old or young. I’ve always thought the only qualification needed is to be a warrior and still breathing, but our people are sensible when all is said.”

Keverin could hardly argue with that. The clans were already old when the Founders decided to make Deva their new home.

Petya named the rest of the ten clans and their chieftains as they walked. Keverin filed the names away but he wasn’t paying too much attention to the anecdotes attached to each man. If he needed the names, he was sure he would remember them, or he could ask Mathius who was listening raptly.

Julia was in one of these tents, but which one? He had to get this meeting over with so he might see her again. Would she still be in pain? The thought that she might be made him want to hurt someone, preferably a sorcerer. He forced his thoughts onto more pleasant things. As soon as they reached home, he would be married. No more waiting, he decided. He smiled imagining her in her wedding finery with Purcell near, his sword bare and standing as Sword Brother. Who would stand as her father? Mathius would have to do it… unless Gylaren would come, but if he did they would have to delay the wedding! Curse it, he would have to wait for Purcell in any case, his friend would be hurt if he wasn’t invited. He sighed at the realisation. There was always something that seemed to get in the way. It was as if they weren’t meant to marry. The bad omen chilled him. No! He wouldn’t accept that. They would be married and have lots of children and be very happy—
they would!

“This is the council tent,” Petya said. “Let me do the talking. You’ll need to be accepted before you can do anything else, so
please
don’t upset anyone.”

“Whatever it takes to see Julia again,” Keverin said impatiently.

The chief nodded and entered the tent with Keverin and the others on his heels. Inside was dimly lit by shielded torches not lamps. He wondered about that and whether lamps and oil would sell here. He knew some people in East Town who would like to know. All around the huge tent, men were lounging on the rugs talking amongst themselves, but sitting in a circle in the centre were ten men separated by a space left clear. He remembered Petya’s explanation; these ten were the Clan Chiefs.

Petya indicated they should wait just outside the circle, and singled out a man who Keverin thought must be Allard of Eagle Clan. His surmise was confirmed a short time later when Petya gestured him forward for introductions.

“This is Allard, Clan Chief of Eagle Clan—” Petya began and then introduced the others one by one.

Thank the God Petya wasn’t introducing the tribal chiefs as well, Keverin thought. He would never remember this many. He frantically committed their names and faces to memory admonishing himself to remember courtesy. Although they didn’t have lords among the clans, he considered these men to be the equivalent.

“—and this is Kadar of the Night Wind,” Petya concluded.

Keverin and the others bowed. “I am Keverin, Lord Athione and Lord Protector of the west. My friend to my right hand is Jihan Lord of Malcor and Lord Protector of the north. To my left is Adrik Lord of Ascol. My friend in red is the puissant wizard Lucius, and my friend in blue is the puissant master mage Mathius.”

There was silence while the clansmen tried to make sense of what they had heard.

Petya coughed in amusement. “He means that he and the other two warriors at his side are chiefs of the Devan people, and the two in bright colours are shamen of Deva.”

Oh! Why hadn’t he said that then?

Keverin could almost hear the thought race through their heads. He was impatient to get this over with so he might join Julia, but he refrained from telling them to hurry it up. Courtesy, he must be courteous!

“Why have you brought outclanners here? You know the situation we are in!” one of the chiefs said and the others rumbled agreement.

Petya waited for quiet with a small smile on his face. “I did not exactly bring them, Tobiah, rather they brought me with the thousand warriors they had along. They come to visit you, Kadar.”

Keverin saw the surprise on Kadar’s face. The man obviously had no clue what this was about. The other chiefs were more interested in why a thousand outclanners had been allowed on the plain to begin with.

Petya was explaining, “—killed him stone dead the fool. I could have told him, but he wouldn’t listen. Anyway here we are.”

Kadar looked to Keverin. “I am Kadar, Clan Chief of Night Wind. What have you to say to me?”

“Thank you comes immediately to mind,” Keverin said. “Your warriors saved my lady when mine were unable to reach her in time. For that, you have my gratitude and undying friendship. I have come to bring her home with me.”

Kadar’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I did not save her. My shaman and some of my warriors led by Tomik saved her. They did so without my permission or even informing me! I would have challenged Tomik for the insult, but Julia made me promise not to.” Kadar sounded puzzled, as if he couldn’t understand how he had ended up agreeing.

Keverin grinned; he knew how that felt.

Mathius was less politic. He burst out laughing. Kadar scowled angrily but Mathius waved an apology. “I am sorry Kadar, truly, but it is a vast relief to me to hear that she is unharmed and unchanged by her ordeal. She has always been one to tie men in knots.”

Kadar laughed. “That describes every woman I know!”

All the chiefs nodded in agreement. Keverin had to agree with them. Whenever he was with her he found thoughts of other things suddenly less important than they had been.

“I asked these outclanners to the council because they have fought Navarien and won,” Petya explained.

Keverin ignored Petya’s white lie. He had not asked, he had demanded. “Julia won that battle with her magic, not me.”

The chiefs whispered among themselves at Keverin’s words.

“We will be fighting a war with Navarien very soon. I would like to hear about your war with him,” Kadar said.

He nodded and the Clan Chiefs moved apart to give him and his friends a place to sit. He sat cross legged with Jihan and Adrik on each side. The mages opted to sit along the tent wall where they could keep an eye on everyone.

Keverin kept his voice low, and the chiefs leaned forward to hear the tale. “Navarien led ten thousand legionnaires and fifty sorcerers through the west pass of the Athinian Mountains two summers past. Legionnaires are warriors the like of which you have never seen. The sorcerers are like shamen, but they do not heal—they kill! The sorcerers used fire to destroy the gates of my home. You have to realise how powerful these people are. The gate of the fortress is perhaps three times bigger than the gate would have been in the ruin outside.”

That caused a shock. The chiefs were murmuring and muttering in disbelief.

“I swear it’s true,” he said over the noise and the chiefs quieted once more. “More than this, my gate was twice the thickness of a man and clad in bronze, or rather it was. I had a strong fortress, seven mages, and four thousand guardsmen when Navarien came. After his sorcerers were finished, I had less than two thousand guardsmen, one mage and no gate or wall to hang it on.”

Keverin let the uproar die away before continuing. “I was badly injured, near death, but Julia climbed a tower that was just one breath of wind away from falling to blast Navarien’s legionnaires. She was struck by an arrow, but she kept fighting until in her desperation she destroyed a road of solid rock to prevent him reaching us.”

There was stunned silence before Kadar said, “What happened next?”

The chiefs laughed. Kadar had sounded like a boy asking for a story at bedtime. The chief scowled and shoved the man next to him, only to be shoved back in turn. Finally, he laughed along with the others and the noise quieted.

“Mathius was the only mage still alive, but we had Julia and the gap in the road. My men held Navarien’s men off with arrows and he was unable to build a bridge to cross the gap, but the sorcerers were gradually recovering from their mighty spell. Julia went down that road with Mathius, the two of them alone against perhaps five or six thousand legionnaires and fifty mages. She attacked with lightning and killed all the sorcerers. After that, Navarien was unable to reach us. He was worried that she would kill what remained of his men, so he marched home.”