Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (35 page)

“My lord?”

Keverin shook off his distraction. “I should think Ahnao would be happy no matter what you do with your life, but you have to do what is best for her, not yourself.”

Jihan nodded agreement and lost himself in thought.

“What do you think—the armoury?” Keverin said thinking to distract the lad.

“The armour is very good. It’s much better than my father issues his men. Are there iron discs beneath like mine or—?”

“No. We use rings sewn to the first layer, and then cloth padding over that followed by the outer layer of boiled leather. It’s light and strong, and costs half as much as using solid discs.”

“That’s a good idea, but not as strong as discs I should think.”

“No, not quite, but less weight makes my men quicker. That can be a great advantage—especially in a long fight where exhaustion is a concern.”

“You know of course that your swords are not fit for a pig farmer.”

Keverin laughed. “They are not that bad! Iron is inferior I grant you, but steel is hard to come by and cursed expensive. If I could, I would halve my treasure to buy steel to make swords for all my men, but where will I get the steel and a master to use it?”

“With Chulym more or less useless, the Matriarch is the only one with the swordsmiths you need.”

“And you can be sure that she would tell me where to go if I asked to borrow one!” Keverin said with a laugh.

Jihan laughed in agreement.

It was time to do what they came here to do. Keverin had brought Jihan for a sparring match, not converse on the merits of steel over iron. He chose a wooden practise sword from amongst a barrel full of practise blades of varying lengths and weights, but Jihan hesitated before stepping forward.

“I used live blades at Malcor, my lord. I forgot where I was for a moment.”

“We use these to prevent unnecessary injury.”

“I understand, my lord. On the way here, I realised that although I hated them at the time, my tutors gave me a great gift along with their abuse.”

“Oh?” Keverin said raising an eyebrow.

“With live blades, precision is vital. As you can imagine a miss stroke could kill or mame. Wooden swords are more humane, but they invite errors in the training... Please don’t think that I criticise you my lord, I prefer not to injure you. It was an observation only.”

They walked into space at the centre of the armoury. Jihan thought he was good, but Keverin wondered if he really was. Was it just the inexperience talking? Starting slow, he tried to take Jihan’s measure. He knew the lad would do the same. Keverin was about to try an attack, when Jihan attacked first and pushed him on the defensive.

He’s good, no question.

Almost immediately Keverin realised that the youngster outclassed him, but something was wrong. Jihan had not tried for the touch. “Hold!” Keverin said and put up his blade. “You’re holding back Jihan. Why?”

Jihan grounded his sword and lent upon it. “It’s hard to explain my lord. The last time I fought blade to blade, I killed two men. It was my second real fight. I feel unable to strike at you.”

“What of the men in the village?”

“I was ambushed that time, my lord. I had to use my bow.”

Keverin frowned. “I’ve seen this kind of freezing before. It can ruin a good swordsman. We have to get you back in form before the attack. I will go at you full force. I apologise now for any bruises.”

“Thank you my lord, but I will receive none.”

He’s a cocky bastard I’ll give him that.

This time Keverin went into a furious attack. He saw startlement in Jihan’s eyes for a few precious moments and was pleased, but Jihan rallied very quickly and pushed him back again. Keverin knew what he had to do—it would hurt but he had to make Jihan strike. He went high, then low and lunged. Jihan instinctively went for the opening.

“Ooof!” Keverin gasped.

“Sorry, my lord! Are you injured?”

Keverin bent double trying to get his breath back. His cursed armour might stop him being cut, but it certainly didn’t stop the impact. He would have a smashing bruise come the morrow. He waved Jihan’s apology away. He didn’t show it, but he was pleased with Jihan’s reaction.

“You did that on purpose. Did you not, my lord?”

The boy was sharp. “Who me?”

Jihan grinned.

They started again. This time Keverin was on his best behaviour and not taking any chances at all. Again, Jihan drove him back and then hit him lightly in the ribs.

“That’s one!” Jihan called.

“Ha! You were lucky my lad. You need another two for the captaincy!”

In the end Keverin felt thoroughly skewered and drubbed. He hadn’t come close to the boy. How the Malcoran guardsmen had wounded him, he would never know. He had never seen a better man with the blade, and fast—lightning couldn’t be faster!

“Well
Captain
Jihan, that was most educational. Your teachers certainly did a job on you.”

“Yes...” Jihan whispered. “Yes they did,” he said staring into space and seeing a time long ago. “I would like to find them some day and repay them,” he said in a dangerous voice.

* * *

11 ~ Battle of the Gap

Julia sighed. It was pointless. She was never going to learn how to make a decent ward in time for the attack. Mathius had sweated blood trying to show her how to control the subtle threads that made a wall out of the magic, but she just couldn’t seem to grasp it. It didn’t help that Mathius was unsurprised by her failure. He said it had taken him a year to learn how to construct his pitifully weak shield. She couldn’t even make one as strong as his!

Mathius was worried and so was she. It hadn’t been said, but they were both wondering at the differences between magic wielded by men and women. Quite often she had surprised Mathius with her gesturing and patterns that he insisted were unnecessary. What else was different for her—wards maybe? Without a shield, she would have to rely on a fast attack to do the job.

Julia winced. She was avoiding the truth. She wasn’t just attacking them, she was killing—no,
murdering
them. She shook her head and tried to distract herself with her wine. It had a nice colour, burgundy red, like blood.

No! Don’t think about it!

mind-speech had come to her eventually, but not until Mathius had tried and failed to reach her countless times. He said it was because of the turbulence surrounding her. When she asked what he meant, he was surprised she didn’t know. In exasperation, she had asked why he hadn’t told her about the realm of power. Mathius said he thought she knew. As it happened, she
had
known about the existence of a place like the one he described. She had slipped into it accidentally while trying to heal him. Although Mathius was doubtful, she knew her magic came from there, but she hadn’t realised that it was the place mages used to bespeak each other. She had entered the realm of power, as she named it, and studied Mathius’ link to his magic. She realised straight away that the turbulence he referred to was caused by magic being drawn into him. After a little experimentation, she had found a way of opening herself to the magic without causing the disturbance. After that, Mathius had succeeded in contacting her for the first time. Hoping the breakthrough would extend to other aspects of magic, he had insisted that they try warding again. With nothing else to do, Julia had agreed.

“—right,” Mathius said concentrating on her spell. “Try to extend it toward me.”

“No... it’s no good. It’s not right somehow,” Julia said in annoyance.

It was just like the last time. The light looked like a ward, it even sounded like a ward as it thrummed merrily away, but it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t somehow. It was… light, just light. Light by itself couldn’t stop fireballs.

“You need to keep practising. You might get lucky.”

Luck was no part of her life and hadn’t been since her parents died. Instead of answering, Julia released her hold on the magic and drained her wine. She reached to pour another.

Mathius’ face blanked.

How dare he disapprove of me! Hold on girl, he’s your closest friend, and he cares.

Julia felt ashamed of herself, and that made her angrier. She had nothing to be ashamed of! If a drink made her feel better about murdering thousands of people, who was he to say no? Looking at him again, she saw the worry on his face. She grasped her magic and spoke mind to mind.

*I’m sorry Mathius, but we are out of time. Keverin must be frantic.*

*I know.*
Mathius said speaking the same way.
*I’ll stand with you and ward us both. My magic is weak but it’s better than nothing.*

Julia released the link to her magic. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Mathius!” She scolded. “Without you, I wouldn’t have learned a thing. I would probably still be here unable to leave my centre.”

Mathius grinned. “You have certainly come a long way since then, I—” he broke off looking at something over her shoulder.

Julia turned to find Father Gideon standing nervously before her—Bishop Gideon she should say. He looked worse than nervous; he looked haggard as if struggling with some inner demon. Gideon straightened some non-existent wrinkles in his pristine white robe then came another step forward.

“Can you spare me a few moments to talk, Lady Julia?”

Julia blinked in surprise. Gideon sounded like the humble priest he had first named himself when she discovered his chapel. She hesitated to agree. She didn’t want or need another argument, especially before going out and facing the sorcerers.

“Please, I beg you.”

Julia hesitated a moment longer, but then she nodded. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard, Mathius.”

Mathius bowed to them both and left.

“Would you care to sit, Father?”

“Thank you.”

They settled themselves on opposite sides of a table and Julia waited for the priest to gather his courage. She didn’t know what was bothering the man, but something was biting at him.

“I want to say that I am sorry, and that I was wrong,” Gideon burst out in a rush. “Darius was a good friend of mine. I warned him not to try breaching the barrier, but he ignored me to bring you here. That he died for it said to me that I was right to condemn you.”

If Julia hadn’t known better, she would have said Gideon was ashamed. That couldn’t be right, not after calling her an abomination in the eyes of God. She listened quietly as he poured out his words to her and wondered if he spoke from the heart or was just saying what she wanted to hear. She couldn’t decide which.

“No woman has ever been chosen by the God to use his power, but Lord Keverin insisted you were sent here to save us. I know the truth of his words—”

Julia frowned. Keverin had insisted. When?

“—Darius said the God helps those that help themselves, and I forgot that simple truth in my stupid indignation over the spell he was about to cast.”

Julia heard sincerity in his words—she was sure she heard it. Kindness cost her nothing she decided. What would it hurt to put his mind at rest?

“I appreciate you coming here, Father, but I wasn’t sent by God. I was stolen away from my world by Darius. It was my bad luck that he grabbed me.”

Gideon smiled in relief at her acceptance of his apology. “I know he did, but it wasn’t any kind of luck—bad or otherwise. If it wasn’t your destiny to be the one, Darius would have chosen someone else. The God made all things… you do understand this?” he said uncertainly.

“I believe God made the world—all worlds, but he gave us free will. He wouldn’t compel us through what you call destiny.”

“He doesn’t compel, that is true. We have free will and learn, or not learn, by our own choices. The God made the worlds, and the Other World where He dwells. When we die, we kneel before him in judgement. Those who need more time are reborn again and again to learn what He wishes us to know. Those of us that are ready will stay at His right hand to live with Him forever—life without end.” Gideon spoke with utter certainty.

“I understand your beliefs, Father, but what has this to do with me and destiny?”

“The God sent you to learn something by living this life with us. That’s what I mean by your destiny. That which the God wishes you to learn is here and will be revealed through the years ahead. Your destiny is
here
Lady.”

Julia liked it that Gideon’s faith was absolute. It was so rare to hear someone who believed with all his being. That he had overcome his confusion about her presence was wonderful. She could visit the chapel to pray. She had missed the serenity of Father Preston’s church. She had been using her room to pray all the while imagining that Preston was with her. Mostly she prayed that God would take the dreams away, but so far He hadn’t. She wondered what Preston thought about her disappearance. It was certain he would never guess the truth.

She had little time now, but what she had she gave to Gideon. She reached out to take his hand. The priest seemed surprised at the strength of her grip but didn’t try to break away.

“I am...
troubled
Father. I believe evil people go to hell. I must be very evil to have killed so many.”

“What is hell?” Gideon said.

“I was taught that when we die we go to heaven and live with God forever, but only if we have lived a good life. Evil people go to a different place called hell. My parents are waiting for me in heaven, but I have killed people,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I... I will go to hell and suffer torment for my sins. I will never see them again.”

Gideon gasped, horrified by the thought of such a place. “You believe the God punishes mistakes for eternity?”

“That’s what I was brought up to believe. Be good or go to hell.”

Saying it like that made it sound stupid—like a mother warning a child not to hit his brother or his father would smack him when he came home. She wished Preston were here. He could explain it much better than she ever could.

Gideon squeezed her hand. “He loves us Julia. There is no hell but what we make for ourselves. Living on this Earth, or any other I suppose, without God in our lives would be your hell.”