Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (179 page)
Read Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Online
Authors: Mark E. Cooper
Tags: #Sword & Sorcery, #Magic & Wizards, #Epic, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Series, #Sorceress, #sorcerer, #wizard
Keverin could easily imagine the boy sneaking around the streets of Devarr in fear for his life. What must have gone through his head? Had he been more afraid of other desperate people or more of starving? He remembered being attacked by a gang in Devarr last year. They had banded together like a troop of brigands for safety and had terrorised the city for years. They were gone now, many of them had joined Jihan’s new legion and were being trained at Malcor to oppose the Protectorate. It was not Lorcan’s fault that he had to kill to survive. It was King Pergann’s fault for failing in his duty.
“If the King had done what he should you wouldn’t have needed to steal. It was Pergann’s failure not yours.”
Lorcan shrugged the matter away. “I remember thinking about you back then. Well, the Lord Protectors I suppose.”
“Oh?”
Lorcan nodded. “I knew it was probably dishonourable to live the way I was doing back then. I was thinking of leaving Devarr, but I didn’t know anything about living outside the city so I stayed.”
“I’m glad you did, my friend. Had you not been there, Julia could have died on the street that day.”
“Not the Lady,” Lorcan said firmly. “Brian might have, but not her. She’s fast, m’lord. She killed them as quick as quick. If I hadn’t been there to kill those two, she would have used her magic to do it.”
Keverin knew how quick to kill Julia was and it saddened him. He remembered the tear-streaked face of the scared young woman she had been before she lost her innocence to the war. It was sad, but the fact remained it was necessary for her to be hard to survive. War changed a person. You either changed or you didn’t survive.
It was dark when they wearily stumbled upon the single roomed farmhouse. A cheery looking light shone out of the window and Keverin could hear voices singing—a family enjoying the evening.
He grinned. “We’re home, Lorcan. This is Deva.”
“
This?
” Lorcan stared at him, incredulous. “This is nothing but a farm, m’lord. Athione is home.”
“True, but this is a start.”
They climbed the rough fence and crossed the yard toward the house, but before they could move more than a few yards, a voice shouted out of the darkness.
“Don’t you come no closer! There’s nothing for you here but an arrow in the belly!”
“Do you see him?” he whispered.
Lorcan held a dagger in each fist. “The roof, m’lord. He’s on the roof next to the chimney.”
Keverin couldn’t make out anything in the dark, but Lorcan had a young man’s eyes. “We mean you no harm!” he shouted and the light went out within the house. Nothing stirred. “I am Keverin, Lord of Athione. I need—”
Laughter came from the unseen man. “Well,
m’lord
,” he said and laughed mockingly. “You seem to have fallen on hard times.”
He ignored the jibe. “I have indeed. We could use some food and a place to sleep. I will see you amply repaid for the kindness.”
“Don’t you take me for a fool, clansman. I ain’t been living on the border for nigh on thirty years without picking up a few things. I know what that torque means, and I ain’t never seen a Devan wearing clan leathers neither. Be off!”
Lorcan wore the leathers, not him, but Keverin took the point. He should have approached alone with his torque hidden, but it was too late for that.
“Just the food then!” he said.
Thump!
Keverin stared at the quivering arrow standing up from the ground. It was less than an inch from his boot. The door of the house opened and another figure appeared with a drawn bow. It was a young man, probably the farmer’s son.
“I’ll not come closer,” Keverin said. “I’m no threat to you, but we need food—some bread at least. You could bring some out.”
“He ain’t going to do it, m’lord,” Lorcan whispered. “We should go. I can sneak back later.”
“No. These people are innocents. We’re the invaders here.”
“Stop your whispering and get out of here before I drop you where you stand!”
“Wait pa!” the newcomer called. “The torque, it’s gold!”
“We must go!
Now,
m’lord!” Lorcan hissed and backed a step.
Keverin agreed. He didn’t like the way this was going. He backed away watching the one bowman he could see all the while feeling the other man about to loose his shaft.
“Down!” Lorcan shouted, diving aside as both bowmen fired together.
He grunted as the boy tackled him around the legs and they both fell to the ground. The arrows missed them by mere inches. Keverin was snarling in rage at the audacity of these peasants, but it was Lorcan who was in control of the situation.
“This way, and keep low,” Lorcan hissed scuttling rapidly toward the safety of a woodpile.
Keverin followed and breathed easier when the bulk of the wood was between him and more arrows. Lorcan meanwhile had disappeared into the darkness. Keverin hunted high and low for the boy. He was beginning to think the lad had run off when he heard a howl of anger.
“Fire! The bastards torched the barn!” the farmer screamed in rage.
Keverin grinned. Lorcan had taken steps to create a diversion as well as enact his revenge. The farmer and his son threw down their weapons and ran to fetch buckets. Keverin saw a flash of teeth in the darkness—Lorcan grinning madly. Moments later the two of them were running into the night while behind them the darkness was lit by a huge bonfire.
* * *
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About The Author
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Other titles by this author
Other titles by this author
The Devan Chronicles:
Destiny’s Pawn*
The Merkiaari Wars:
Incursion!*
Countermeasures*
No Mercy*
The Shifter Legacies:
Wolf’s Justice*
Rune Gate Cycle:
* Forthcoming from Impulse Books UK
About The Author
Mark E. Cooper lives in a small town in the south of England, where he writes most mornings and evenings. His background is in mechanical engineering where he spent over thirty years working for Ford. He loves reading science fiction, epic fantasy, or urban fantasy and particularly likes strong female characters overcoming dire situations and tough obstacles. He can often be found laughing to himself as he listens to an audiobook on his iPod while typing like a fiend.
His hobbies include Shelby Cobras—he built a Dax replica of the famous car with his best friend in the early 90s—reading, and maintaining his blog. He is now the author of over ten titles written in the genres he loves to read.
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Copyright
First published by Impulse Books UK October 2013
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover illustrations by Mark Brooks
Box Design by darkdawncreations.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
A CIP Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-905380-60-2
Printed and bound in Great Britain
Impulse Books UK
Acknowledgements
Special thanks go to Bobby Wells and Martin Davin for listening to my ideas. To Bob Smith for helping me believe that I could do it, and of course my father for putting up with my cries of woe when things went wrong.
Thanks everyone.
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A word on language and pronunciation