2. The Great Devon

The group was decided. The blood which was being washed from the ground everywhere around the town did not change their mind. Mia's terror did not make a difference, nor did Ivan's somber assurances that "something feels wrong about this." Even when they saw the entrance to the town opened like a huge stone mouth, they continued onward, conscious of the narrow confines and the ease with which they could be ambushed. After passing through the entrance, they found themselves in a long stone hallway that felt like a cave. At first, they were too happy about getting out of the rain to worry much, but after a few steps, Ivan began to feel an even stronger sense of wrong.

"Walk very slowly," he suggested. "I think we're being watched."

"No," growled a deep, masculine voice that echoed stupidly down the dark corridor. "Don't walk at all, ye little bastards! Freeze, or you'll be full o' holes in seconds!"

"Great," Garet muttered.

"Shut up, ye stupid brats! We got no use for your dumb blabbin'!"

The four travelers glanced at each other, perhaps considering the intelligence of their "hosts," perhaps wondering which party was composed of the stupid, blabbing ones.

"I'm sendin' some men down to ye," the voice informed them in its dull, preternaturally deep slur. "Be still, or your young flesh'll be so much more mush in the ground, come tomorrow."

Again, the four exchanged flustered looks. Isaac actually appeared to be restraining a laugh, while Garet offered him an expression which seemed to beg, "Please! Let me burn them!" Were these guys serious? Could the owner of the silly voice really be a match for the power of their Psynergy? Still, Isaac decided to play along, and the group stood perfectly still and silent.

Soon, they heard footsteps on the stone floor, and three men approached. All their mirth vanished at the sight of these men, these monsters. Garet, who was considered especially muscular for his age, simply could not believe the size of these brutes. Each of them were about six-and-a-half feet tall, with muscles in places Garet didn't know existed. He felt sure that any one of these men could crush his skull with one huge, meaty hand. Their tunics--all blue--were pressed ludicrously to their granite bodies. All three of them had huge beards, bushy eyebrows, and deep, hateful scowls.

"Wow!" Garet exclaimed just before one of the mutants roughly wrestled his axe away from him. Isaac's sword was taken without struggle by another of the three brutes, while Mia and Ivan were pinned easily to the wall by one giant, who removed their staves. With this done, the man dropped his arm and allowed the two Adepts to collapse to the stone floor.

"Get up, you pathetic excuse of a boy!" the mutant said to Ivan.

Painfully, Ivan reached up and placed a hand inside his tormentor's, as if for help in getting up. His three friends could clearly see the instant when he activated his Mind Read Psynergy, though the hunk of meat he was reading was none the wiser. The man clamped his hand so tightly onto Ivan's that the boy screamed, and jerked him roughly by one arm to his feet.

Ivan stood there a moment, crying in spite of himself and massaging his hand, before saying, "They're taking us to see someone called 'Devon.'"

Suddenly, one of the men cuffed him, his unnatural muscular power sending the Jupiter Adept flying into a wall. "It's disgusting to hear 'is name coming from such a pathetic creature," he snarled. "Master Devon's the greatest man in Toreau. Even a baby like you'd better respect that."

Garet looked furiously at Isaac, begging for permission to fight the men and demonstrate who the real "babies" were. He wanted to beat the meatheads until their stupidity lapsed into silence, to hurt them quite badly for tormenting Ivan, the little brother of the group. At the same time, he felt a trace of awed fear--if these men were so huge, how big would this Devon, the one they called "Master," be?

They were forced down the long hallway toward the sound of rain on the other side. As they walked, Isaac looked up and saw slits in the stone walls where they could be spied on, or shot at with arrows. That, he guessed, was where the voice had come from earlier.

Eventually, they emerged from the tunnel into a rainy plaza. Short, cubical stone buildings hugged the inner side of the stone wall that surrounded the town. The plaza was nicely paved with square cobblestones, and at the center was a fountain that looked like a furious ocean under the pounding of the rain.

The group had barely begun to take in the town, miserable under the rain, when they were pulled into one of the stone buildings. Again, they were grateful to be out of the storm, but their captors forced them onward.

The inside of the building was plain, with walls, ceiling and floor all constructed of the same gray stone. The place looked so much like a jail that for a second Mia wondered if Ivan's Mind Read had not been incorrect in some way. One of the men walked a short way to a door set inside one of the walls--the only trace of wood in this hall of stone. With humility that Mia would have believed beyond his crude exterior, the mutant knocked softly on the door.

There was a muffled voice from within, and the huge man entered. "Master Devon," the four companions heard him say politely, reverently. "We caught four prisoners tryin' to enter the village. We brought 'em to you."

Again, the group could barely hear a voice reply, but could guess what it said as they were directed toward the door.

"Behave yeself in front of the Master," one of the guards warned them. "Behave, or ye won't survive the 'sperience."

After being forced through the door, Isaac found himself in a room entirely different from the one he'd left. Just like the last one, this room was constructed entirely of stone, but somehow lacked the cold, jail-like atmosphere. A fire burned brightly in a stone hearth, bright carpets covered the floor, and pictures and drawings covered the walls. Against the back wall stood a large bookshelf practically crammed with books. In the middle of the room sat a huge desk, littered with papers. Seated at the desk, scribbling some final notes onto some of the papers, sat the Great Devon himself.

Isaac remembered one of the guards saying that Devon was the greatest man in all of Toreau, but the first thing he realized was that Devon could barely be called a man at all. The boy appeared to be even younger than Ivan--the Great Devon could not have been a day above fifteen. As the group approached, he stood up from his desk and approached them, grinning. Devon had black hair, and eyes that were a striking dark blue. His cheerful manner made all four of the travelers feel comfortable, in spite of the rough treatment they had received.

"Come in!" called Devon, favoring the travelers with a friendly smile. "The four of you look like you know some interesting things. Tell me all about it!"

"I think you have a little more explaining to do," replied Isaac flatly.

Devon's grin grew even wider, and his beautiful eyes glittered. "Oh, I will soon enough. But since you are my guests, why don't you go first?"

Isaac smiled. He was trying to be serious and logical--everyone was angry about how they'd been treated by Devon's soldiers--but the boy carried an almost-hypnotic charisma that was impossible not to respond to.

Garet felt it too. The boy was not at all muscular, and did not appear to be a fighter at all. Still, he carried a sense of command around him that no warrior, not even Garet, could fail to respect. The thought of this boy commanding and controlling the huge guards was somewhat awe-inspiring.

Incredibly, Mia was primarily attracted to Devon's dark good looks. Mia had always tried to be logical, no matter how strange situations became. Many times, her calm wisdom had carried the party through some of the most hectic adventures. Yet now, looking at this boy, she could not help feeling an embarrassing touch of emotion. Even though the boy was two years younger than herself, she saw something amazingly handsome in his deep blue eyes.

Ivan was fascinated. Devon's great charisma, and the fact that he commanded such huge soldiers filled Ivan with conviction that he had an amazing story to tell. Ivan found such great confidence strangely mysterious, and longed to solve the mystery in the simplest way he knew--if only he could get close enough! There was something eerily exciting about the idea of reading Devon's mind.

"Fine," Isaac agreed. "We'll tell our story first, as long as the brutes leave." He pointed at the guards, none of whom seemed to realize they'd been insulted.

"Of course!" Devon said instantly and cheerfully. "Tyrus, you and the others can leave, now."

The three men bowed low to the small teenager, gestures full of loyalty and deep respect, then left the room, closing the door behind them.

The four Adepts were left alone with the mutant commander.

Ivan stared. How fascinating! Devon had ordered the guards, his only protection, out of the room. Was he clever, or extremely stupid? Clever, Ivan decided instantly. There was something about this odd boy that defied even the thought of stupidity. Devon had looked at Isaac and guessed from his face that he had no intention of attacking, and instantly deduced that Isaac was the group's leader. But there was more to it than that, Ivan realized. Devon was confident enough that he honestly believed he could win against them, four against one, if they chose to fight.

"Yeah, that's a lot better," announced Devon once his guards had left. "Those men are great in their own way--powerful and loyal, but not very smart. Because of them, you already know who I am--'The Great Devon' this and that . . . but what are your names?"

"I'm Isaac," he answered, already relaxing visibly.

"Garet," replied the Mars Adept.

"I am Mia," said the girl, with uncharacteristic nervousness.

"I'm Ivan," he said cautiously.

If only he could get close enough!

"Ivan. . ." he repeated the name. To its owner, it sounded far less important coming from Devon's mouth. "Ivan . . . are you all right?! Tell me my men didn't do this!" He walked over to Ivan to get a closer look at the bruise on his cheek, which was already beginning to swell. "That's horrible! Those men--if you cracked open their heads, you'd find nothing but muscle! How could they hurt you like this?" He lifted his arm, as if he were going to reach out and touch Ivan's bruise.

Ivan could have stretched out an arm and touched Devon, and that would have been enough for his Mind Read technique, but he wanted to be inconspicuous. Patiently, he waited for Devon to make the physical contact he expected . . . but then Devon turned and walked away.

So close! For a second, Ivan considered simply dashing forward and seizing his target by the arm, but a quick glance at Isaac, shaking his head firmly, changed his mind.

"Let's save the story telling for another day," suggested Devon. "It's getting close to morning--I have business to take care of--and I'm sure you're all very tired. Your weapons will be returned to you, and you may stay at the inn as my guests. However, there is one little thing." He turned back to the group, wearing a sincere, concerned smile. "Don't leave Toreau until after tomorrow night."

"Why not?" demanded Garet.

"At night . . . huge monsters attack the village. It looks like they're going to launch their last real offensive tomorrow night. If all goes well, I'll defeat them then." But his eyes suddenly looked vague and distracted. Isaac saw it as the first real break in Devon's confidence. "Until then, I think you'll be safer in the village. It would be bad to be caught out there with the monsters. I'm sure you'd be killed."

Garet looked ready to protest this, but a quick look from Isaac stopped him.

"We can wait until then," Isaac agreed.

Devon looked delighted. "Great!" he exclaimed, grinning again. "By the way, it's been wonderful talking to someone normal for a change. Everyone in this village either wants to fight me or marry me." This might have come across as vain or conceited, but from Devon, it was neither.

"Good-bye, Isaac," Devon said, seizing the other's hand and giving it a good shake. "Bye, Garet." He shook his hand as well, and the process was repeated with Mia.

Ivan smiled as Devon approached; he knew he had won. Here was his physical contact, his chance to read Devon's mind once and for all. A handshake--how perfect!

"Farewell, Ivan." Devon began to extend his hand . . . and then froze. His eyes narrowed, and he looked at the Jupiter Adept with a strange suspicion. Then, he withdrew his hand without shaking, turned, and walked abruptly away.

Ivan gaped at him.

"Tell the people at the inn that you are my guests," Devon said without turning back to them. "Good night."