Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (83 page)

Shelim couldn’t let that stand. “You know I have been a shaman for only a short time, Kadar, but I was a good warrior wasn’t I?”

Kadar turned to Shelim. “Yes very good, but I was pleased to see you become a shaman. The people need more healers and fewer warriors now. I would appreciate Kerrion more if he would leave the leadership of the clan to me, and spend his time healing the sick, which is what a shaman is
supposed
to do.”

Shelim ignored Kadar’s slur to keep his thoughts on the problem at hand. “Thank you for saying that, Kadar, but if you agree I was a good warrior, would you then also agree that a good warrior must try to anticipate what his enemy will do in the future?”

Kadar frowned. “Yes of course, but we have no enemies. Unless you count the feud with Horse Clan, and I don’t.”

Shelim shook his head impatiently. “I have brought a family of the Lost into the clan. They are of the people, but are at war with the Hasians. One of their stone cities has been taken from them already. All three will be soon, I have
seen
it. Thousands of warriors will come to the clans from those cities over the seasons ahead. Who would you see gain strength from such numbers, Horse Clan or us?”

That made Kadar stop and think. Shelim took the chance to glance at Kerrion, and received a tiny nod. He didn’t see what there was to think about. Night Wind was one of the smallest clans on the plain. They could welcome thousands of the Lost and still not rival the largest clan. Night Wind had two thousand warriors. That meant almost three quarters of the clan were warriors, which was why Kadar said they needed no more. Only half of Dragon Clan were warriors, but they still had five times as many as the Night Wind did.

Kadar came to a decision. “Thank you for your council, shaman. I will tell the people to start making more tents.” He left then and Shelim slumped in relief.

Kerrion pounded his apprentice’s shoulder. “Well done Shelim! You have reached him when I could not.
Well done indeed!
”

Shelim blushed at the praise heaped upon him. “It was only because he still sees me as a child, mentor. A child cannot challenge his leadership so he didn’t feel threatened.”

“You’re wrong about that. He saw a shaman giving good council, and he saw correctly.”

His face heated even further from Kerrion’s praise. He didn’t know quite what to say. That is until Kerrion said it was his turn to make the tea.

“I made it last time!” He protested but reached for his pouch.

* * *

“He will never be a shaman, eldest,” Duren said snidely. “Darnath can’t or won’t learn the lessons. All he does is wander about the camp complaining.”

“Surely you’re exaggerating the problem,” Kerrion said. “Apprentices often have difficulties adjusting to a new way of life. Darnath will learn in time.”

Shelim was almost bursting with his need to tell Duren what he thought of him—a shaman so disgusting as to try to force his own apprentice to flee to the Lost had no honour, none! Duren had come storming into Kerrion’s tent just a short while ago angrily denouncing Darnath as a useless incompetent. Why Shelim hadn’t divined this day he didn’t know. He normally had trouble stopping the dreams not the other way around. Although Kerrion was eldest, he couldn’t interfere with another shaman’s apprentice or that apprentice’s training. Shelim knew he was technically in the wrong by training Darnath, but he couldn’t make himself care. Something just wasn’t right about Duren. He had tried to see the man in the mirror any number of times, but for some reason the mirror refused to clear, it was like looking into a cloud. At first, he had thought it was a lack of practise on his part, but that wasn’t it. He could see everyone else perfectly.

“Eldest,” Duren said. “I know you prefer to believe the best of everyone, but I must insist on my rights this time. I will not waste my teachings on one who should be with the Lost!”

Kerrion’s shocked oath was drowned out as Shelim shouted, “You disgusting,
outclanner!
Darnath is worth ten of you!”

“Be silent, Shelim” Kerrion roared.

“I’m sorry, Mentor, but that—”

“I said silence!”

He swallowed fearfully at the look on Kerrion’s. What had he done? He was still an apprentice. To call another an outclanner was almost as bad as calling him a Lost One. Duren was silent, but strangely he was smiling. He might be willing to forgive… he lost his train of thought as Kerrion bowed to Duren. He touched his forehead to the ground as if bowing to a superior. It made Shelim sick to watch his mentor’s humiliation.

“I most humbly apologise for my apprentice’s words, Duren. He will be suitably punished I assure you. It is your right to banish Darnath to the Lost, but I implore you to think carefully before doing so.”

Shelim closed his eyes and groaned silently. Oh no, this was a complete disaster. He had played directly into Duren’s hands. Darnath was a Lost One now for sure and there was nothing anyone could—
wait!
There was
one
thing he could do.

Duren was speaking, “—this course eldest. Darnath is of the Lost from this moment. I’m sorry, but our traditions dictate my actions. I have the right to banish one of the people if I think the situation warrants it, and I do.”

Shelim sent a prayer winging its way to the God and took a calming breath. He spoke very clearly and precisely lest Duren try to wriggle out. “I Shelim, shaman of the Night Wind Clan, do call you vile outclanner not worthy to care for an apprentice!
I challenge!
”

“I said be silent!” Kerrion roared.

“I’m sorry ment… Kerrion. Darnath is a good friend to me and the people. I will not allow his banishment to stand unchallenged. Please understand…
please
,” he begged.

Kerrion slumped in defeat and nodded. It was anyone’s right to challenge. Shelim had never heard of two shamen challenging each other… perhaps it had never happened before, but whether it had or not the words had been spoken and there was no taking them back.

Duren was grinning openly. “You young puppy, I spit on you and say we fight!”

Kerrion nodded as the challenge was accepted. “So be it. Tomorrow two shaman will do battle with magic. The prophecy will not be denied it seems,” he said wearily.

Duren left, and Shelim was hustled out a moment later. Kerrion refused to discuss the challenge, and was obviously hurt by his actions. He decided to leave his mentor alone for a while. He sought out Darnath and told him what had happened, but his apprentice wasn’t surprised. Looking into the distance at nothing Shelim could see, Darnath seemed calm… too calm.

“So he finally did it. I’m a Lost One,” Darnath said in wonder. “I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel like an outclanner now?”

Shelim wrinkled his nose. “Who knows what one of
them
feels like? You’re not a Lost One until I lose the challenge.”

“You shouldn’t have challenged him, Mentor, but I thank you.”

“Will you do something for me?” he said, and Darnath nodded. “Tell Kerrion everything that’s been going on. He was hurt when I disobeyed him. I would like him to think kindly of me.”

“I’ll tell him Mentor. I’ll tell him everything about that disgusting pustule on a dog’s arse. Everything!”

Shelim nodded.

After his visit with Darnath, he returned to speak with Kerrion, but Kerrion refused to hear him. He watched in disbelief as his mentor moved all of his possessions out of the tent and secured the flap barring him from entering.

The next day dawned bright and clear, but Shelim awoke in strange surroundings. His parents had made the tent for him when they thought he would be a warrior, but unknown to him they had changed the sigils since then. Instead of a tent with stitching showing a warrior riding to the hunt, it now had a shaman healing a child on one side.

His challenge had caused a great deal of upset, and maybe that was a good thing. His people needed to be shaken out of their old thinking. Warriors were strong and shaman were weak, they thought. Well if this was to be his last day in the world, he would show them what a shaman’s magic could do! At least one good thing would come from his death.

The prophecy of The One mentioned a battle between shaman, but Kerrion had believed it meant between a clan shaman and a Hasian sorcerer. The truth was that one brother would kill another this day. It was a heavy blow to Kerrion, who felt responsible in failing his apprentice. Shelim had tried to tell Kerrion that he was a great teacher, but he wouldn’t listen. It was a mentor’s responsibility to teach and guide his apprentice. If he went astray, it was the fault of the mentor not the apprentice.

Nothing he could say would dissuade the old man.

Shelim prepared himself for the day with his usual routine. He used his mirror to look for danger, and was pleased to see none anywhere near. He ate a little food, and drank a little water making sure both times not to take too much. His stomach felt knotted, and too much food might upset him at a crucial time. He grasped his magic and heated a little water to wash the grease off his hands and face then cooled it again before throwing the water outside. He hung his medicine pouch from his shoulder, and his long knife at his waist then left the tent.

He walked through the camp trying to ignore the whispers and shocked stares. He couldn’t help but smile at some of the comments.

“He still carries his long knife, never should have been a shaman”

“…warrior not a shaman.”

“…always was… never should have—”

“—not worried… look—”

He was both a warrior
and
a shaman. Fifteen summers as a warrior, weren’t erased by a mere two summers of training as a shaman. He might have felt differently after another ten, but he would never know now. He wasn’t concerned about his death, but he was worried for his apprentice. Darnath would be banished when he was defeated, unless he could somehow take Duren with him into death. He was determined to do that somehow. Kerrion would become Darnath’s mentor and would teach him all he needed to know.

He took a deep breath before scratching on the flap of his parent’s tent. His father looked out and beckoned him inside. He seated himself with his mother and brother while his father tied the flap down. His brother didn’t say anything, which he appreciated, but his mother was close to tears. She was a strong person, she wouldn’t let herself cry.

“My son,” his father began. “Why did you challenge?”

“Darnath has been training with Duren for as long as I have with Kerrion, yet at the last Gathering he had learned nothing! Duren was deliberately holding him back and now he has threatened Darnath with becoming a Lost One.”

Tomik sat back with a hiss of shock. There was no worse punishment than banishment. Most would prefer death rather than leave the clan, which is why some preferred becoming a renegade. A renegade was one of the people who had been banished but refused to leave the plain. They were rare, as was banishment, but it did happen.

“I became Darnath’s mentor and taught him what Duren refused to teach, but yesterday Duren finally pronounced banishment for Darnath’s supposed failure to learn. I challenged to prevent that.”

Tomik was shaking his head in denial, not at what he was doing, but rather at what Duren had already done. “Why would he treat his own apprentice so badly? It makes no sense. Can you win?”

He shrugged a little guiltily and nodded. “I think I can prevent the banishment, yes.”

“I didn’t ask that. Can you
win?
”

He shook his head.

“I want Torin to have Nyx and my weapons. Give my pouch to Kerrion and tell him I’m sorry for disappointing him. My tent… give that to Darnath, or if he’s banished give it to Betsia.”

Torin’s face remained blank. “I will do as you ask, but I’m sad to see how weak you’ve become.”

Selima gasped at the disgust in Torin’s words. “Torin! How can you say that to your brother? Apologise!”

“I say it because it’s true! Not two summers ago he was one of our best warriors. Now he comes here defeated before the challenge even begins!” Torin turned angrily toward his brother. “You should be planning how to win, not lose!”

With that Torin untied the tent flap and left.

“He didn’t mean that, Shelim. He loves you and…” Selima began.

“He’s right though,” he said. “I should be trying to find a way to win.”

“You need to think about how you would attack if you were Duren,” Tomik said seriously. “Then you need to think of a way to turn his strength against him.”

He nodded. Kerrion had taught him all he needed to be a shaman, but Duren was older and more experienced. He must have learned a few tricks in that time. There was no way for him to know what those tricks might be, so turning them back against him was unlikely. What he needed was a way to surprise him, and then hit him as hard as he could all at once.

Torin ducked back into the tent. “Duren is ready.”

Shelim hugged all three of them before leaving the tent to face his enemy.

“Shelim…” Torin said uncertainly.

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry about…” Torin took a deep breath. “I love you brother.”

“And I love you,” he said and hugged Torin. “We will see each other again.”

Torin nodded at the words He didn’t say they would see each other again in the Other World where the God dwelt.

Hundreds watched him walk out of the camp and into the open. Common sense said that throwing magic around where flammable tents stood was foolish. He walked a good distance from camp and stopped. Duren, though small with distance, was well inside his range. He hoped that Duren was close to his own limit, but didn’t know what it might be. He knew the man was weaker than he in raw power, and hoped he might have less stamina because of that. It was his only advantage. Shelim was ready for any attack, but he didn’t grasp his magic. He was hoping to unsettle Duren by waiting. He listened to the sigh of the wind, it was a beautiful day, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. The smell of cook fires and curing hides wafted his way on the breeze. The sun was directly overhead giving neither of them an advantage. He was expecting Duren to attack with fire, and he was ready for that, but the man just stood there as if he had all day.