Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (59 page)

“It’s quiet,” Julia whispered staring around at the abandoned buildings as they made their way through the town. Many had collapsed under their own weight, but most still clung to their foundations like a stubborn old man clings to a favourite chair. “It’s scary.”

“There’s nothing to affright you here,” Keverin said, but his voice was hushed also.

The creaking of harness and the clatter of iron-rimmed wheels over cobbles was the only sound. Even the guardsmen looked warily around. Conversation lapsed as the men touched sword hilts to reassure themselves of their safety. Julia whirled to the right. She thought she'd seen someone at a window. The shadow—if shadow there had been—was gone now. A creaking door had her grasping her magic and jerking Ayita to a startled halt, but it was only the wind. She watched the door swinging playfully in the wind, and waited for her heart to slow.

God… she was shaking!

“Julia?” Keverin said reaching for her hand. “Are you well?”

“I’m well. I thought…” she shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Keverin searched the empty windows and doors and stroked the hilt of his sword. He looked back to where his men fidgeted and beyond to the deserted buildings. “No birds,” he whispered. “Scouts out forward! A dozen men on all sides of my lady!”

“It’s nothing, Kev,” Julia protested over the clip clopping of hooves. “I’m fine.”

“Something feels amiss. Best be safe,” Keverin said easing his sword in its scabbard.

Julia bit her lip and said nothing more as they waited for the men to reform the column.

“At the walk, forward!” Keverin ordered and the column, this time in battle formation, moved out.

Julia kept her head swinging, constantly looking for threat to Kev, but saw nothing. More importantly, she felt nothing now. The sensation of menace had left as it came—without explanation. She kept a firm hold on her magic all the same. Market Square came and went and bird song returned.

“Maybe the noise scared them,” Keverin said doubtfully. “That might be it.”

He didn’t sound convinced, and neither was Julia. “Might it be brigands?”

Keverin nodded. “What better place to call home?”

Dirlston was a forgotten town. No one came here. Rather, no one had come here until now. With Morton being built not far away it wasn’t inconceivable for Dirlston to be repopulated. No, what point in opening a mining town without a mine?

“Who was Dirl?”

“What?” Keverin said taking his eyes reluctantly away from the empty windows.

“Dirl’s Town,” she nodded at the buildings surrounding them. “Dirlston.”

“My many times great-grandfather. He had the gift, you know.” Kev grinned. “You have seen him.”

“I have?”

“His portrait hangs in the east entry hall of the citadel.”

Julia remembered the image of a strong man with a stern expression. He was shown holding a staff barring the way into his citadel, which was rendered in the background in perfect detail.

“That’s Dirl?”

“Lord Dirl, eighth lord of Athione and Lord Protector of the West.”

“Which are you?”

“I am fourteenth lord. My line is unbroken in lordship of Athione. Few can boast such.”

Julia smiled at his quiet pride. Keverin was a noble in every sense of the word. He was tall and strong, implacable against enemies of Deva, but just. He was beautiful.

“Why does Dirl hang in the east entry and not the west?”

“He ordered it.”

“That’s it?” Julia said in surprise. “Why did he order it, and how long ago?”

“The story has it that he commissioned the portrait to thumb his nose at Deva and her king. Dirl’s father married a Hasian woman. When he died, she became regent for her son. The young Dirl was raised by her and idolised her. She was a remarkable woman by all accounts. At that time, King Roderick had plans to strengthen the kingdom. Deva was beset almost everywhere with raiders and rebellious lords. He planned to channel their restiveness into conquest. Dirl was sympathetic with his mother’s people. He stood in Roderick’s way.”

“Dirl barred his own king’s way into the west!”

“Ironic is it not?”

Athione was built to bar the sorcerers from entering Deva. Dirl had switched things around. Talk about irony.

“If he had let them pass we might not have fought the war last year.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Keverin said. “The sorcerers had yet to invade Hasa, but would they have stayed out of it? Roderick thought so. Dirl did not. Either way, it is certain you would not be here if not for him.”

Julia went cold at the thought of losing Keverin. “I will thank him in my prayers.”

“I doubt he sits by the God, Julia. He was a bit of a rogue by all accounts. He’s probably running around down here somewhere and loving every moment.”

Julia laughed at the image of a spotty teenager getting into mischief. “You said he had the gift?”

“Apparently so. There were more mages back then. Dirl ruled Athione four and more centuries ago.”

“So long?”

Keverin nodded. “The Founding of the Black Isle was almost twelve hundred years ago. We built Athione in eighty-one AF. Eleven hundred years she has been in my family. Dirl had the gift, but there have been others.”

“Perhaps our children?”

Kev took her hand. “Gift or no, our children will be special and we will love them.”

Julia brought his hand up to her cheek and then kissed his palm. “Soon.”

“Let it be soon.”

They rode out of Dirlston and followed the road until a few candlemarks later, they found the mine. The wagons pulled off to one side near some grassy hills that didn’t look quite right to Julia. She frowned at them in puzzlement.

“Slagheap.”

“What?”

“Those mounds. Coal and rock mostly.”

Keverin dismounted and lifted Julia down to greet Stefn and his three apprentices. Stefn had lived in West Pass all his life. The son of a mason, he had followed his father into the trade. He was in his fifties now, but still strong as the stone he cut everyday. His apprentices were made of lesser stuff. One of the apprentices, Bo, was his son, the other two were volunteers from Morton. All three were young and obviously unused to the heavy labour Stefn took for granted, but masonry was a good trade. They would learn. Stefn had more work on his hands now than ever in his life. He needed the help.

“Welcome, m’lord,” Stefn said with a bow. “M’lady,” he bobbed his head again then clouted his son’s ear. Bo was gaping at Julia. The boy looked down and bowed quickly. “Have you come for the stone, m’lord?” He said looking beyond Keverin to the wagons. “I ain’t got near enough for that lot.”

“We will take what you have my friend, but we came to see what might be done to speed things up. The stocks are dwindling.”

“Aye, m’lord,” Stefn said running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I knew it would happen. I can’t do it any faster.”

“We shall see,” Keverin said. “Send your lads back to their work and show us what needs to be done.”

“You heard the lord, be off with you,” Stefn said and his apprentices trotted off.

Julia and Keverin flanked Stefn as he led them to his work. Julia looked around with interest trying to find the mineshaft. She found it easily, but it was just a hole in the ground. She was a little disappointed. She had hoped to find something worthwhile. She used her mage sight to look below the surface of reality and found what she was looking for. Below her feet, a network of interconnecting tunnels crisscrossed the entire area. They went down hundreds of yards or more. No wonder the miners had trouble with bad air. Julia followed the tunnels to the coalface. The seam of coal didn’t feel or look the same as the surrounding rock and shale. Patterns again. Coal seemed to have a grain quite unlike anything else she had seen. One thing puzzled her—the tunnels worked their way along the seam, so much was expected, but they followed a minor seam. Perhaps two hundred yards further down, there was a huge cavern excavated and a tunnel leading from it. A pocket of coal? Must have been, but why not follow the mother load? The seam they had followed was nothing compared to the one she found with ease. It didn’t make sense.

“Julia?” Keverin said.

“Hmmm?”

“I was just saying to Stefn that we could have some people up here to excavate the rock for him.”

Stefn nodded. “It would be a big help lady, no question about it, but I can’t do the work any faster. They will just have to wait.”

“They can’t wait,” Julia protested.

“Why?” Stefn said looking from her to Keverin and back.

Keverin grinned and waited for her to answer. Why couldn’t they wait? Well there was… and then… hmmm. They could wait actually, but Julia knew they wouldn’t. That was the reason. Keverin didn’t want a town made of wood. They were building for the generations.

“They could wait Stefn, but you should know your neighbours. Do you believe they will wait for your stone when there are hundreds of trees right nearby?”

Stefn scowled. “Wood? That’s no way to build anything to last.”

“I agree, but when a man has a wife and children waiting for him to provide a home for them, what is he to do?”

“You’re right. They won’t wait, but I can’t go faster. Not won’t—
can’t
.”

“Show us,” Julia said and Stefn led the way.

“This place is good for brick making, Lady. Plenty of shale and such was dug out of the mine, but it still takes as long as it be takes. Nothing can change that.”

Julia pursed her lips at what she found. To one side, one of the mounds had been excavated for the shale Stefn mentioned. A lot had been discarded—coal mostly—but materials seemed plentiful nonetheless. In the centre of the open space were rows and rows of kilns connected by brick tunnels so that the heat from the preceding kiln wasn’t wasted.

“Bricks…” Julia murmured to herself trying to see a way to speed it up. “What if I used my fires to speed the drying?”

“No!” Stefn cried in alarm. “Don’t do that, Lady. Too fast and they will shatter, too slow and they won’t be strong enough. It takes years of practise. We can’t go faster.”

“I’ll have some men come up to help with the digging,” Keverin sighed. “That will help at least.”

“There must be more that we can do,” Julia protested. “What about stone blocks?”

Stefn nodded to a small pile of rock. “I do them while the bricks are firing but they take even longer. I charge more for them of course, but it won’t matter how much I charge if everyone uses wood.”

“Precisely,” Julia said following Stefn to another area. “You found all this here?”

“Aye,” Stefn said with pride. “It’s a good place this. The soil is thin here in the hills.”

“How long did it take you to cut that many?” Keverin said nodding at enough rectangular sandstone blocks to half fill just one of his wagons.

“Near on a tenday, m’lord, but we have a couple of wagons full of fired brick you can take.”

“Nowhere near enough.”

“No m’lord, sorry m’lord,” Stefn said downcast.

“Not your fault,” Julia said trying to cheer the man while glaring at Keverin. He didn’t have to be so blunt. “I’m sure old West Town wasn’t built in a day.

“Ten years,” Keverin said.

“What?”

“West Town took ten years to grow from a few houses into the town I burned to the ground.”

Ten!
“We can’t wait that long. What about winter?”

“That’s not a problem. I will build wooden huts for them so that they can live, and then replace them as I can with brick.”

“But you know what will happen,” Julia protested. “Morton will stay like that and the first fire will destroy it.”

“What else can we do?”

Julia picked up one of Stefn’s stone bricks. It was heavy with sharp edges and felt good in her hand—solid and strong. She wanted millions of them to build the town—the town with her name. But how?

“How do you work? Mallet and chisels?” Julia said noting the tool marks.

Stefn frowned. “What other way is there?”

“Magic made Athione they say,” Julia said and Keverin looked at her sharply. “No, I don’t know how they did it, but maybe I can make more of these,” she said studying the block with mage sight.

“If you can do that lady, you should be the mason.”

“It’s in a good cause Stefn,” Julia chided. “Besides, any I make you get to sell.”

Stefn grumbled about tradition being upset and the like, but he watched with the same interest that Keverin showed.

The pattern of the block seemed simple enough. It was the same as the natural rock in the ground except the pattern didn’t flow unending. Instead, it was hemmed in by the shape of the block and turned back on itself. She dropped the brick and grasped her magic. The cleared area was the logical place to make them so she stepped onto the shelf of rock Stefn’s apprentices had cleared for him. He had cut a section near one edge and she used that as her starting point. She could see a fault line running diagonally across the shelf as clear as day with her mage sight and tried to avoid it. She was sure that crack went deep. It would ruin any bricks cut from there. Focusing her magic on the rock, Julia twisted and wrenched the pattern she found there.

GRRrrrrrrrRRRRRrrr.

Julia staggered as the ground heaved beneath her feet. She heard the shouts of men and the squeals of horses over the rumbling beneath her feet. They were shouting of earthquakes and the like, but this was no earthquake. Julia watched as her magic forced the pattern to twist sickeningly. It seemed wrong, twisting nature. There was surely a better way. She managed to keep her feet as the ground heaved and vomited her bricks. Sweat was beading upon Julia’s brow as she moved across the shelf ripping and tearing at nature. Finally, she reached the end of the rock shelf and stopped her vandalism feeling a little queasy. She knew it was necessary—they needed the stone, but twisting nature was wrong. She knew it was… she
felt
it was. Julia shook her head at the thought and took a shaky breath. Wherever she looked, she found loose blocks of stone shimmering with heat.

“They’re hot!” Stefn said glaring with his fingers in his mouth. “Why lady?”