Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (21 page)

Marcus looked grim as he reported. “I think he went over the wall my lord.”

Over the wall was a way of saying Kinnon had left his post without permission. “Kinnon’s family live in East Town do they not?”

“Yes my lord. I will visit them and—”

“No, leave them to their grief. I would speak to Galen.”

Marcus nodded and walked by his side. Keverin rounded the citadel to enter the east courtyard. There was no sign of anyone. The stamping of hooves in the stables and an occasional voice speaking to calm the beasts broke the quiet.

Keverin had lost a great many horses in the attack, but he had more than enough for his men. It was a grim fact that although the west stables were completely destroyed in the attack, he had lost more men than horses. He wished it otherwise, but at least his men wouldn’t be afoot when a charge became possible again. If it ever did.

The gates were Galen’s only responsibility. He should be at his post within the leftmost tower. Keverin entered and blinked trying to accustom his eyes to the darkness. He found Galen whittling a doll’s face for his youngest daughter.

“Have you seen Kinnon today, Galen?”

Galen gasped and shot to his feet already saluting.

“Relax man,” Keverin said but Galen remained at attention. “I’m looking for Kinnon. Have you let anyone out today?”

“Yes m’lord. I mean I let the bishop and them Pretty-Boys out a while back, but Kinnon... I ain’t seen him m’lord.”

The term Pretty-Boys was a common and disparaging name for the Church’s Red Guard. They did look pretty in their uniforms, but they were useless for real work. Even a half decent guardsman could chop them into dog meat.

“Hmmm, I need him for something. Any ideas?”

“I heard tell his little brother died, m’lord. He’s probably praying in the chapel.”

Keverin hadn’t thought of that. “Good thought,” he said and turned to leave, but stopped as an idea came to him. “Lock the gates and don’t open for anyone. Send someone to either Marcus or myself. Clear?”

“Yes m’lord, but what if them Pretty-Boys come back?”

“This is for them especially, Galen. Them and the bishop.”

“I’ll take care of it m’lord.”

“Good.”

Back outside he asked if Marcus had checked the chapel.

“I didn’t think of it, my lord,” Marcus admitted.

Keverin led the way and found that indeed Kinnon was in the chapel. Keverin told Marcus to go back to his duties; he would talk to Kinnon alone. Marcus bowed and left.

“I’m sorry to intrude Kinnon,” Keverin said as the door clicked shut behind him.

Kinnon stood. “I swapped duty with Danil m’lord—”

“That’s fine,” Keverin said and indicated they should sit. “I didn’t come about that.”

Kinnon was ill at ease speaking to his lord alone. Keverin understood that and sat first hoping to make him feel better. Kinnon sat next to him looking at the statue of the God.

“Ged was my only brother m’lord.”

“I know. I’m sorry this happened.”

Kinnon didn’t appear to have heard. “The Lady tried for more than three candlemarks to wake him from his swoon. I sat with her holding his hand, but he slipped away without waking. The Lady was so tired after we had to carry her to bed.”

Keverin squeezed his eyes shut trying not to see the scene but it was no good. He could imagine Julia working silently in the great hall with ease. He had seen her there only a few short candlemarks ago. That she had worked herself to exhaustion worried him. What if the sorcerers attacked again? He felt guilty thinking those thoughts, but someone had to. He should go to her and order that she rest.

He did nothing.

“I need you, Kinnon.”

“M’lord?”

“I’m sorry for your loss, but The Lady is in danger.”

“What danger?” Kinnon asked sharply.

Keverin calmed him with a hand on his shoulder. “Peace my friend she is safe for the moment. What I tell you must remain between us.”

“I swear to tell no one m’lord.”

“The lord bishop visited with me earlier. He accuses Julia of witchcraft and would put her on trial for heresy.”

“The Lady is no witch!” Kinnon said angrily. “She saved me. She saved all of us!”

“I know. That’s why I need you to take these letters to Devarr,” Keverin said waving the letters briefly. “This one is for the King or his Chancellor and no other. But
this
one is the more important of the two. I want you to give it to the Holy Father... No, give it to Patriarch Dugan. He will see it safely to the Holy Father.”

“I can do that, but so could many. If I might ask m’lord—”

“Why you?”

“Yes m’lord.”

“The reason is that I don’t trust the lord bishop.”

Kinnon burst out laughing. “All know it m’lord! I can’t blame you after what he said about The Lady.”

“I want you to go to Devarr as fast as you can, but I want you safe. I’m not saying the bishop would try to stop you, but...” Keverin shrugged leaving his fear unsaid. “The letters are vital, but I value you as I valued your brother. I don’t want you taking risks with your life. You must reach the King and the Holy Father before Jymis can poison them against me. You know what will happen if they take Julia from us.”

“That won’t happen,” Kinnon growled and accepted the letters into his keeping.

“Let us go down and find you a pair of good horses. I want you away from here as soon as possible. I expect the bishop will be sending his own letters before long.”

“I know all the trails m’lord. I’ll not take the roads.”

They made their way to the east stables and Keverin watched as two horses were brought out. Marcus had foreseen the need for supplies and arranged for them to be waiting.

Kinnon mounted up and rode out the gate with his remount on a lead rein.

“Lock her up tight,” Keverin ordered and the gates boomed shut.

Bang... clunk!

The sound echoed with finality as the locking bars drove home.

* * *

8 ~ East Town

Julia was at the top of the gate tower staring down at thousands of soldiers. They were looking up at her, but when she made no move, they attacked her friends. Mathius died and then Keverin. Udall fell protecting Jessica—Halbert and Moriz died side by side as they had lived.

This isn’t right... this didn’t happen.

“This is wrong!” Julia screamed. “It didn’t happen this way I tell you!”

Julia blinked in sudden surprise. She was at the top of the gate tower staring down at thousands of soldiers. They were looking up at her, but when she made no move they attacked her friends.

No, not again!

Julia attacked relentlessly with her magic. Bodies flew in all directions and she laughed to see it. There was blood everywhere—she was covered in it. She laughed when she saw more of the enemy coming.

“I’ll kill you all!” Julia screamed at them.

“Thou shalt not kill, Julia. It is not our place to take a life. Not even our own.”

Julia spun and backed hard against the wall. Father Preston stood on the broken steps. He was exactly how she remembered him, totally unstained by the blood that she was drenched in.

“This isn’t real!” She screamed at him.

“I know it’s hard Julia, but you will accept this in time—you will,” he said with his kindly smile.

“No... you didn’t mean this, that was before.”

“You will accept this,” Preston pointed.

Julia didn’t want to look but she couldn’t help herself. Turning she looked down and screamed...

“NOOOOO!”

Julia collapsed back to the bed and cried silently. That had been the worst one yet. God how she needed to sleep, but she was too frightened to close her eyes. She had followed Preston’s pointing finger and saw Athione burning. In the ruins all her people lay dead. Not Hasians,
Devans!
She stood upon the gate tower that seemed to float above the ruins and—

“Don’t think! For God’s sake don’t think about it.”

Julia kicked the covers away and padded to the chair near the window. She slumped into it and through blurring eyes watched the sentries on the North Link walking their assigned posts. It was well after midnight by her guess. The night watch would be handing over to the day watch soon. They would have a little breakfast and then be off too bed to dream of their sweethearts. How she envied them their ability to sleep. The stars were bright, the constellations...

Julia stood and pressed her cheek against the cool glass. She had never noticed that before. She snorted. What reason would she have for walking around looking at the sky at night? The shapes in the heavens were wrong, but the moon looked normal to her eyes. The face was there and everything. Was it bigger than the old one or was she imagining it?

“I have to get home before I forget what home is,” Julia whispered trying to decide if the moon was right or not. “This is not Earth right?”

That’s right miss Morton. I must say you’re doing remarkably well.

“Thank you, I do notice things when they hit me over the head with them you know.”

Julia’s imaginary voice didn’t answer that. The voice was her form tutor from school. He had taught her history for three periods a week just a few years ago. She frowned, why choose Mister Frey?

“This is not Earth, those are not my stars, and that’s not my fucking moon either!” she said harshly.

Very good Julia, but why does it look like your moon then?

Julia slumped back into the chair. She was weighed down with weariness, but she wasn’t going back to sleep. Every night it was the same—nightmares about her murdering thousands of people. Sometimes she would strike and then find it was her parents she had killed, other times it was the Hasians, but they weren’t soldiers—they were just people like any other. Tonight was the first time she had seen Athione destroyed along with her new friends. The dreams were getting worse.

“Don’t think about it,” she said angry at the way her thoughts wandered and prodded at the pain like a tongue probing a bad tooth. “What’s going on with the moon?”

Julia sat slumped in her chair thinking and watching the stars fade...

A banging sound brought Julia awake with a start. The light streaming through the window announced a new day had dawned. She must have fallen asleep after all. If she had dreamed she didn’t remember it. She was sitting in the chair and her neck ached something fierce. She hoisted herself out of it—and that was another thing. Her backside was numb. She groaned. She felt worse than when she didn’t sleep!

Bath... right now!

Julia spent an hour dozing in the tub, which was foolish of her. Being so small she could easily slip under the water. She didn’t care. She dozed and awoke to find herself wrinkled like a prune and shivering. The water had grown cold, but that was easily fixed. Rather than climb out only to refill it with hot water, she grasped her magic and gently applied her flames to the stone. It took a while for the heat to penetrate and warm the water, but it worked. With flames all around the tub but still safely confined by her magic, Julia felt like a white hunter in a cannibal’s cooking pot. It was a strange experience, and she laughed. She enjoyed it, and did it again. Her mood began to lighten and she looked forward to a new day. Just because she had bad dreams every night since the battle, didn’t mean she would tonight.

The room was full of steam when Julia doused her flames. The feeling of the magic roaring inside her was so sweet she failed to release it. Humming to herself as she washed, she revelled in the feeling that her magic imparted to her. This was the way it should be, the way it had been when she won a competition. The feeling of completeness was fleeting back then, but here was different. She didn’t have to let it go here. As long as she held onto her magic she could feel like this all the time.

Julia towelled herself dry and dressed, but finally she had to release her link or have Mathius nagging her about the dangers of using it for too long. She wasn’t using it. She was just holding it, but Mathius must be wondering what she was doing and why she hadn’t let go yet. With a sad sigh, Julia released the magic and staggered to her knees as weariness hammered her down. This was the real Julia. This was how the real Julia felt all the time, and she hated it! If it weren’t for Mathius, she could hold her magic all day and none the wiser. It was his fault that she felt like this... but he was her friend. One of the very few she now had. It was not his fault that she didn’t know how to use magic properly. Maybe when she learned more she wouldn’t feel like this.

Julia climbed tiredly to her feet. She felt worse than when she had awoken in the chair. She poured herself a large glass of wine hoping that it would help. After drinking two glasses of the deep red wine she felt a little better—more able to face the day. Her collapse had been nothing to worry about. It was just her stupidity of releasing her link so suddenly.

That’s all it was Julia was sure.

At least her shoulder felt better this morning. It was still a little stiff, but as long as she kept it in the sling she could move about free of pain. She was pleased by that. She had a lot to do today.

Julia made her way through the citadel. As she approached the sentries she nodded or gave them a quick smile. She was relieved to see that no one had noticed her tiredness. If they had they would make her go to bed. She wasn’t a child to be coddled all the time, and besides, the dreams were waiting.

Julia reached the barracks and stepped inside. Athione used three like this for her guardsmen, but this was the one she needed. She knew that certain men were to be found here—those with injuries that Jessica had deemed trivial. Julia was careful to enter quietly. She didn’t want to wake anyone. The barracks was in semi-darkness. The beds and those asleep in them were shadows within shadows. Julia took a firm hold of herself and approached the first bed.

The first man was burning with fever. His wounded shoulder was festering from days in the same dirty bandage. Julia shook her head at this fresh evidence of neglect. She knew Jessica had been wrong to send these men off without first seeing her. She quickly healed him and he didn’t even wake. The next one was easy and so was the man that followed. Julia soon fell into a rhythm. She didn’t notice until the end that there were more men in the room than when she’d started. She finished the last one and stood to stretch her aching back. All the guardsmen were awake and silently watching at her. Then she saw the crowd near the door. There were dozens of guardsmen staring at her—perhaps waiting for her to leave so that they could go to bed. They were the night watch and tired. When they realised that she had seen them, they came to attention and saluted her—right hand over heart and a small bow of the head in her direction.