Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (16 page)

Belgard answered. “No. You still command the legion General. You see, Lucius was the one relieved. I’m lead mage of the Fifth Legion now.”

* * *

Purcell stumbled back to the fortress intent on finding Keverin, but he was nowhere to be found. Everywhere he looked wounded men were being rushed through the gates, or rather, through where the gates used to be. It must have been a terrifying sight watching those ancient walls and towers coming down—like the end of the world. Thousands lay dead, many more legionnaires than Devans thank the God, but there must have been close to two thousand dead guardsmen, maybe even twenty five hundred. It was hard to tell when they lay in such tangled heaps.

Purcell noticed one strange thing. Many of the legionnaires had died without a mark on them. No sword had killed those men. Magic, it had to be. Although they were his enemies, death by magic was a bad way to die. It felt somehow dishonourable. Purcell snorted at the thought. There were no good ways to die. If he had to choose, he would say dying in bed with his family surrounding him was the way to go.

Purcell collected two of his captains on the way to the citadel. “Assemble our boys, and settle them in barracks. See to it they get food and rest. Detail some of the stronger men to care for our dead. I might need some of the men to help stand watches and such later, but not yet. Report to me in a candlemark with the butcher’s bill.”

Both men nodded, and excused themselves.

Purcell continued into the fortress. The captain he had seen leading the defence stood near a pile of rubble directing his guardsmen. The men were digging frantically in what must be a gate tower by its location. The courtyard was a complete shambles. The towers were down, there didn’t seem to be one stone left atop another. The wall on each side was little better. It needed major rebuilding. If it hadn’t been for the new crevasse, Athione would have been lost. The captain seemed to be the only man of authority in the courtyard. Purcell approached him and asked where Keverin was.

The captain was intent on the digging. He made his salute while keeping one eye on his men. “My thanks for your timely assistance, my lord. I’m Senior Captain Marcus at your service. My lord Keverin was injured when the wards collapsed. He’s inside being tended by Lady Jessica.”

“How bad?”

“It was close my lord,” Marcus admitted. “He lost a lot of blood, but I think he’ll live. He managed to get a tourniquet on in time.”

“Good. I’ll visit him in a moment. I—” he broke off as an excited shout took Marcus’ attention.

Both men watched as a group of four guardsmen lifted a timber clear of the rubble. One man lay on his stomach and wiggled around until he had his head and shoulders in the hole. Purcell heard him say something, but was unsure what it had been.

“They’re alive, Captain!” The guardsman shouted when he reappeared.

“Right! You men grab those timbers.” Marcus turned to another group. “You lot go help them. I want those stones braced before we dig any deeper—well
move!
” Marcus roared.

Purcell was impressed with the volume of Marcus’ orders. He certainly knew how to get the job done. The guardsmen quickly braced the loose stones before clearing the lower ones. In short order they had a cave like opening cleared, and the short guardsman went in again. It wasn’t long before he came back out dragging someone in green.

By the God—a woman!

“What idiot let a woman get mixed up in this?” Purcell shouted angrily.

Everyone looked at him in a cold and angry silence.

“Back to work!” Marcus roared, though he too was looking askance at Purcell.

Purcell looked around with a frown. Any one would think he was in the wrong!

“Careful!” a short guardsman said. “She’s been hit in the shoulder—arrow.”

Purcell could see it as the men pulled the unconscious woman clear. Her dress was soaked in blood and torn where the arrow thrust through. Her beautiful face was pale from loss of blood and smudged with dust. Her hands were thick with dried blood. The guardsman went back into the hole and emerged with a fellow guardsman this time. As soon as he was clear, the young man shook off the offered hands and limped over to the woman.

“Brian, stay by me,” Marcus ordered. “Udall, take her inside to Jessica.”

An older man, a sergeant, hoisted the woman in his arms and walked away. The guardsmen followed her with their eyes until she disappeared from view. They turned back to their tasks murmuring to each other.

“Report!” Marcus said.

Brian braced to attention, and began his report. Purcell listened in stunned disbelief. Everyone stopped to listen, allowing Purcell to scan their faces. He had expected to see outright shock at the young man’s words, but instead they were nodding to each other. He could even hear a few comments that verified some points of the report. Purcell shook his head. No woman could do what Brian insisted she had done. Calling lightning and killing men—it was impossible. Only men wielded the God’s gift of magic. It had always been so.

“All right, Brian,” Marcus said kindly and clasped Brian’s shoulder for a moment. “Get some rest.”

“Yes sir.”

Purcell watched the young man limp away. Then after Marcus had detailed some men to watch the Hasians, and some others to continue tidying up, he followed him into the citadel.

“You are injured, Marcus,” Purcell said noticing the blood and the limp.

“It’s nothing my lord, a mere scratch only. My lord is with the rest of the wounded in the great hall. Lady Jessica is tending them with some help from the town folk.”

Purcell dodged a group of boys running toward the courtyard carrying buckets of bloodied water. Purcell stared after them for a moment before continuing with Marcus.

“All our mages are dead except two. Mathius is dying, the other... well.” Marcus shrugged. “Renard is unconscious, but his eyes are open—like in a trance my lord.”

Purcell hissed in dismay. After all the work to assemble the library and attract mages to study in it, they were all dead. Mortain had set them back years. Worse still, although the road was closed, the sorcerers could still use their magic to attack Athione from a distance. There was no doubt the crevasse protected the fortress as well as the gate did, better maybe, but it also meant a counter-attack was impossible.

Purcell entered Athione’s great hall and stopped still in shock. Wounded men lay in dozens of rows on the floor. Men were groaning or screaming in pain. Many lay silent—unconscious. There were hundreds of men here, and more being brought in all the time. If too many more arrived, they would spill out the door into the entry hall. Marcus had stopped when Purcell did. He was too polite to show his irritation, but Purcell was aware of it in any case. He knew how busy the captain had to be, especially now. Marcus had the entire fortress in his charge.

Purcell moved on through the door and along the rows of misery. Jessica was tending to the injured girl. The torn dress had been replaced with a clean white nightgown. The dirt and blood was gone, and she looked much better, but the arrow had yet to be removed.

“Lord Purcell would speak with you, my lady.” Marcus bowed and excused himself to attend important matters in the courtyard.

Purcell looked for Keverin while Jessica stepped over the girl’s legs to approach him. He couldn’t see him anywhere. “How’s Kev?”

Jessica’s face crumpled, and tears welled up. Purcell stepped forward and clasped her in his arms to comfort her. She cried almost silently and beat her fists on his armour. He held tight so that she could let it out.

“He’s dying,” Jessica mumbled with her cheek pressed against his armoured body.

Oh by the God, not Keverin too.

“I’m so sorry. I thought he stopped the bleeding.”

Jessica pushed Purcell away a little, he didn’t resist. “He did, but he has a fever. I think he lost too much blood. There’s nothing I can do.”

“What about your healers, surely there’s something...” Purcell trailed off as she shook her head.

“We always relied on Darius for healing. He’s dead, and Renard is... I don’t know, but he is not himself.”

Purcell looked around at the wounded. He could see dozens from Elvissa within just a few yards of him, and he knew there must be others. He should have brought healers with him! Why hadn’t he thought to bring some?

“Is Keverin awake, can I see him?”

Jessica wiped her eyes on a piece of bandage and nodded. “You can see him, but he’s been unconscious since they brought him in.”

There was no point. He needed to know who was to command, with Kev dying childless, the question was ultimately the king’s to answer, but they were at war. Something had to be done now, not in a season or more.

“I’m sorry to ask, but I have to. Did he name an heir?”

She shook her head. “Marcus commands all our forces while Keverin is—recovering.”

That at least was something. “That’s fine. I need to talk to him about the defence. I don’t know what we can do about the sorcerers, but we have to try.”

“They can’t get in now—surely?”

Purcell shook his head. “Not easily. Maybe not at all, but they can still attack using magic. I’d better go see Marcus. I’m sorry about Keverin, truly sorry.”

Purcell left Jessica staring at nothing. He hoped she would be all right. When Kevlarin died in a stupid riding accident she had been devastated, but she’d had Keverin to comfort her. Now with Keverin dying, she didn’t even have grandchildren to ease the blow. He thanked the God for Isolde and their children. He never wanted to be alone like Jessica would soon be.

* * *

Julia awoke to find herself covered by blankets on the floor of the great hall. She stared up at the huge chandelier in puzzlement. What was going on? There was a man asleep next to her on the right. She stared at him silently. He was dead.

To her left a man was whimpering in pain. “They not be taking me hand, they not be taking me hand,” he mumbled over and over.

Julia tried to sit up and help him. “Hnnn!” She slumped back as the pain pounded her down. She barely stayed conscious as she fought against the black tide. It receded reluctantly. “Somebody...” she called weakly. “What’s happening? It hurts.”

Jessica knelt by her side. “Shushhhh Julia. We’ll get it out of you don’t worry.”

Julia groaned as she remembered the courtyard. “I’m a killer. Oh God I’ve killed people—lots of people.”

Jessica wiped the sweat from her brow, and stroked her hair soothingly.

“Shushhhh Julia. You did what you had to do. You saved us all.”

“Keverin... is he... I had to leave him. I’m sorry... sorry Jessica. The enemy were in the gate, I had to try.”

Jessica started crying. Julia looked over the distraught woman’s shoulder at a man in armour. She knew his face, but she couldn’t remember his name.

“Lord Keverin is dying, lady. He lost too much blood. Our mages are dead or dying. They can’t heal him.”

Julia felt sick. The pain was a throbbing fire in her chest. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. Trying to think was difficult. What was that about mages? How could they heal? Magic was only for killing wasn’t it?

“Magic is only for killing people,” she whispered wearily.

The guardsman looked shocked. “Darius healed many people. All healers used to be mages. Now, only strong ones can do it.”

“How did they?”

“Who can say? Maybe the books tell the way of it, but if they do, I don’t know it. I can’t read them.”

“Jessica? Jessica!” The grief stricken woman looked up at Julia in a daze. “Please Jessica, I might be able to help Keverin if I can learn what I need quickly. I can’t do it with this damned thing sticking in me,” she said laying a hand next to the arrow.

“Do you think so?” Jessica asked with sudden hope.

There was no chance if she didn’t try, and damn little if she did. All in all, Julia preferred trying to help over listening to the screams. There were some she couldn’t escape—they were in her head, but the ones here in the hall might be silenced if she could learn enough.

“All I can do is try. Now the arrow please, it hurts.”

Jessica brightened. “Yes. The arrow has to come out first. Of course—yes!”

Jessica ran out of Julia’s sight and came back with another helper. He was an older guardsman, perhaps one too old to fight or stand watches on the walls. He quickly helped Julia to sit up. That was agony in itself, but she felt better after. Leaning forward didn’t seem to hurt so much. One of the men pulled her gown down to get at the arrowhead, and mumbled an apology at the liberty of exposing her breasts. Julia would have laughed if it hadn’t hurt so much.

“This will hurt, Lady. Please try not to move.”

He gently grasped the arrowhead and pain crackled through Julia’s chest. A red hot poker of agony lanced through her. “
AEiii!
”

Julia tried not to move as he asked, but it was no good. She arched her back at the pain. Someone grabbed her flailing arms to prevent her pushing him away.

“
AEiii!
” Julia screamed at the top of her voice. “
AEiii!
” She screamed over and over without pause for a breath. Finally the pain ebbed away. Panting and sweating, Julia looked down at her chest to see the arrow still there. Oh Christ what was he playing at! “What are you doing? Get... it...
out!
” She said through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry!” The old man seemed close to tears with the pain he had put her through. “Truly m’lady, I am very sorry, but I had to cut the head off first.”

“Oh God. All right.”

“Brace yourself,” the man said before nodding to his companion.

A guardsman behind her yanked the arrow out in one hard pull. This time Julia screamed fit to bring the roof down. Crackles of lightning danced at her fingertips as she involuntarily grabbed for something,
anything
, to stop the pain.

Darkness sucked her down.

Julia came back from the dark place to feel the man bandaging her chest. Tears streamed over her cheeks, and she sniffled. She wasn’t crying exactly, but her eyes seemed not know that.