Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (82 page)

Darnath’s work with the mirror was going slowly, and Shelim had a good idea why that was. While living at Denpasser with Kerrion, there had been few distractions—he had learned quickly because of that, but life in the clan was full of them. He, unlike Darnath, had no trouble learning to use his mirror because he had learned the way of it while living separated with Kerrion at Denpasser. But when Darnath used the mirror, one image after another would flash by without steadying down to what he wanted to see. Today was going to be different. He had divined something last night that he was going to use to help Darnath. That was the reason he had chosen not to ride too far ahead of the clan today. The lesson would be cut short partly because of that, but he was determined the day wouldn’t be wasted.

“Let’s stop here Darnath,” Shelim said as he slowed Nyx to a walk.

Darnath looked around. “Why here, Mentor? We haven’t come nearly far enough.”

Shelim dismounted, and after a moment, so did Darnath. He walked a short distance away from the horses and sat cross-legged. When Darnath was sitting opposite, Shelim told him to retrieve his mirror.

Darnath groaned but did as he was bid. “Do we have to practise the mirror again Mentor? You know how much trouble I’m having with it.”

“That is why you will practise.”

“All right,” Darnath said with a put upon sigh. “What do you want me to find?”

“We haven’t tried this yet, but I’m sure you will succeed Darnath. I won’t tell you why, but I
know
you will succeed.”

“How?”

Shelim smiled and shook his head not willing to say more.

Darnath looked puzzled for a moment, but then his eyes widened. “
Divining?
” he squeaked.

He laughed at Darnath’s shock. His friend had obviously forgotten that he didn’t need Tancred to dream. “I said I wouldn’t tell you, Darnath. I want you to find us in the mirror and hold the image steady. Then when I say
now
, I want you to widen the view to look at the plain in a big circle with us at the centre.”

Darnath wilted at the complexity of the task. “I won’t be able to find
us
, let alone the rest you wanted.”

“You will. Remember when I made you imagine your friend with the dog?” He waited for Darnath’s nod then went on. “I want you to do something similar. It should be easy out here away from distractions.”

“Teach me, Mentor.”

“I will,” he said seriously. “What you are to do is look around until you’re sure you can remember this place—including us sitting here… I meant now, Darnath.”

“Oh sorry,” Darnath said then began looking carefully around.

While Darnath was doing that, Shelim checked the sun again and judged that they still had time. That was one thing about these lessons, they seemed to make the day fly by.

“I’m ready, Mentor.”

“Grasp your magic and concentrate on making us appear in the mirror.”

Darnath didn’t answer.

He watched his apprentice frown at the mirror and held his breath. A picture appeared of two men sitting cross-legged in the grass together. He couldn’t help looking up to see if anything was visible, but as usual, nothing was. The picture in the mirror was how a tall man would see them, if he stood a few paces away looking down.

“You see, that wasn’t hard was it?”

Darnath grinned. He was about to say something, but he lost concentration and the picture dissolved. “It worked, but not for very long. I’ll try for the whole thing this time.”

“Very well, concentrate as you did before…” Shelim watched the mirror. “Good, now widen it—pretend you are high up and looking down at me sitting here.” He watched as the mirror changed again, but he frowned. The image was wavering like a heat haze in summer. That never happened to him when he did this. “Try drawing a little more magic to steady it, Darnath.”

The picture sharpened, but it wasn’t perfectly still. It was good enough for his purposes.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Can you make the picture move now, toward say… the north?”

“I’ll try, but this is hard work Mentor. I could sleep for a day.”

“It is tiring in the beginning, but you’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t know how you can do this every morning and still have enough energy for the day, Mentor.”

Shelim didn’t answer; he was concentrating on the mirror. Where were they? Even on foot, they should have reached…
there!

“There are some people to the north of us, Mentor.”

“Are there?” he said trying to sound surprised. “They must be riders from another clan.”

“No… I don’t think so,” Darnath said leaning forward and squinting at the image. “Their clothes are strange, and they’re on foot. There are three… a family I think. I’ll try to move in closer.”

A shaky picture formed. The mirror was so dark, Shelim could hardly pick out the three Lost Ones. He shook his head. Would Darnath ever match him with the mirror? It didn’t seem likely.

“You can release it, Darnath. They’re definitely not clan, but they aren’t outclan either.” Tapping a finger against his lips, he pretended to think. “You know, I think they might be a family of Lost Ones.”

Darnath gasped. “Lost Ones! What are they doing on the plain?”

“I have no idea. Let’s ask.”

They galloped north until they spotted the three people trudging through the grass. The Lost Ones looked tired and hungry. There was a man and two women—mother and daughter if his eyes weren’t deceiving him. All three had nothing but the clothes they stood in and their weapons. How they had come so far without horses was a mystery that he would love to solve.

They slowed their horses so as not to frighten their guests. As it turned out, they needn’t have bothered. Both women wielded long knives and were ready to attack. The man held a clan bow already drawn, but it was obvious by his stance that he was unused to the weapon.

“Stop there!” the man said using Shelim as his target. “We don’t want to kill you, but we will if we have to.”

Darnath growled something under his breath.

“I was about to say the same,” Shelim said in amusement. “Considering where you are, you would have done better asking for our mercy, don’t you think?”

The younger of the two women took a step forward. Without taking her eyes from Shelim, she spoke over her shoulder to her companions. “I told you they were savages, father. We should have gone to Durena.”

“Hush Betsia,” the man said.

Shelim wondered how long the man was going to hold the bow drawn without tiring. He was obviously unused to the pull of a clan bow. He watched the man’s arm shake and readied himself to use his magic.

“I would appreciate you aiming that elsewhere,” he said to the tiring man. “Otherwise I’ll have to take it from you.”

Betsia spluttered in anger and waved her long knife at him.

Darnath leaned in from the side to whisper. “What are you doing, Mentor? Just kill them and be done. It’s not honourable to play with them like this.”

“Trust me. I divined them coming here.” Shelim turned his attention to the Lost Ones. “Drop your weapons, and I will escort you to the clan. You can ask Kadar for sanctuary… yes, I know you’re running, Lost Ones.”

“I think we should do as he asks, Martia,” the man said.

Martia nodded her agreement and dropped her weapon. The man did likewise with the bow, but Betsia took persuading.

“I said drop the knife girl, are you hard of hearing?” Her squawk of outrage made him grin.

“Who are you calling girl? I’m older than you are,
boy!
”

“I called you girl because you’re acting like a child, not because of your age.”

With lips pressed tight together, Betsia threw down her long knife and fumed. Shelim signalled Darnath to collect the weapons and then indicated to the Lost One’s they should walk ahead of the horses. They complied with his order without too much fuss, but of course, the girl—Betsia—argued. Shelim was already coming to expect it.

They rode south and it was a slow boring trip at first, but it became more interesting when the man dropped back to Shelim’s side and introduced himself.

“I am Farel, and your names are?”

“I’m Shelim, my friend is Darnath.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Farel said.

“Really?”

Farel laughed. “You mustn’t mind Betsia. She takes after her mother. Impossible woman sometimes, but I wouldn’t change her… either of them. They saved my life back home.”

“They are warriors.”

Farel blinked. “What makes you say that?”

“You just said they saved your life. They hold their weapons like warriors and know how to use them. I assumed you meant they had saved you by killing your enemy.”

“Ah well, I suppose I did mean that. In Cantibria anyone who wishes may train with sword or bow, but none of us are truly warriors like the old days. We don’t hunt like the clans, or make war on each other. We are peaceful people… we
were
peaceful people,” Farel said sadly.

“What changed?” Darnath said with interest.

“The Hasians came.”

Shelim’s face turned grim. So, it had started as Kerrion said it would. Farel and his family would be the first to bring the news of war, but he doubted they would be the last. The Hasians had been thwarted in the south last year, so they had taken Farel’s home intending to attack Deva from a different route. Unfortunately, the clans were in the middle.

“—Lost Ones?” Farel said.

“Sorry, I was thinking about the Hasians. What was the question?”

“I was just wondering why you called us Lost Ones.”

“We call people who leave the clan that.”

“My grandfather didn’t leave, he was driven out!”

Shelim shrugged. “Sometimes, if someone commits a crime, they join the Lost instead of facing challenge. Kerrion told me some of our young people have run away to the Lost because they wanted to see the ocean. I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to leave the land for the sea, but he says it’s true.”

“So you think my grandfather was either a criminal or a child when he left the clans?”

Shelim studied Farel and wondered why the man cared. Did it matter sixty or seventy summers later why a man left the clans to join the lost? Farel seemed to think so.

“There is one other way a man might join the Lost.”

“What way is that?”

“If he was marked by the God to be a shaman, but refused his call.”

Farel took a long look at Shelim. “How do you know so much? As Betsia said, you are only a child yourself.”

“I know because I
am
a shaman.”

They reached the clan as afternoon turned to evening, and caused an uproar. Farel and his family were looking around trying to make sense of all the new sights and sounds as people clamoured to know what was going on. It wasn’t yet time to make camp, but it looked as if they would make no further progress today. Kadar was nowhere in sight, and Shelim was grateful for the fact. He wondered what the chief would say about this when he found out.

Kerrion solved one problem by shooing everyone away and telling them to make camp for the night. No one argued with a shaman, at least not in public. Everyone rushed off to unpack their tents and other belongings from the carts.

Kerrion studied the three Lost Ones in silence for a brief moment before turning to his apprentice. “So Shelim, you have found us some strays.”

“This is Farel and his wife Martia, Mentor. Their daughter is Betsia.”

“Why didn’t you kill them?”

Shelim ignored the shocked curse from Farel. “They are of the people, Mentor. Shamen protect the people…
all
the people. Is this not so?”

“It is my boy, but they are Lost Ones.”

Shelim couldn’t tell if his mentor was pleased or not. He hadn’t asked a question, but he felt an answer was expected. What did his mentor want him to say? Did he mean the Lost were not of the people, or did he mean they were a special case?

“They
are
Lost Ones,” he said slowly feeling his way toward the answer. “But can they not come home? Surely what is Lost may be found.”

Kerrion nodded and smiled his approval of Shelim’s words. Was that the answer then? That the Lost were still of the people no matter where they lived? Did Kerrion expect them all to return? That was not the impression he’d received during their conversations. His mentor seemed more inclined to believe they would be truly lost, never to return, just as their name implied.

Kerrion didn’t explain his words. He left Shelim to help Farel find a tent for his family. That turned out to be simple. It wasn’t long before the women came bearing presents of one sort or another, and Shelim was soon helping Farel set up an old tent good enough to use temporarily. Martia was overwhelmed with all the gifts from her new friends—the pile was growing by the moment, but Betsia was scowling. She was far from happy.

“What’s the matter now?”

“We had a nice house in Cantibria until the Hasians came. Now look at us! Living like savages,
with
savages!” Betsia said angrily.

“Fool girl!” Shelim said loud enough for people to stop and stare. “You don’t have to live here. You can do what your great grandfather did and join the Lost. No one will force you to be sensible and live how the people should live. You can be a coward and join the Lost, or you could even become a renegade if you prefer. Of course, if we see you we’ll kill you, but some prefer not to leave… for a summer or two anyway.”

“Oh? And what do they do then,
boy?
”

“They die,” he said simply, and left her standing there.

He made his way to Kerrion’s tent, but before ducking inside he looked back to see Betsia working on making her new home presentable. He grinned as he ducked into the tent, but it slipped from his face when he found Kadar already seated inside talking to Kerrion.

“—harms us Kadar. Night Wind is small compared with Protectorate. If you would see the Night Wind prevail we need more warriors.”

“More warriors, more warriors!” Kadar cried in mocking imitation of Kerrion. “You never stop, do you old man? We are at
peace!
Night Wind needs less warriors and more people willing to craft things for trade.”