Scepters (28 page)

“What
about the road itself?” asked Alucius. “Could you tell who was using it?”

“Mostly
single riders, looked like. Might have been patrols, but the shoes weren’t
always the same, not like ours.” Rakalt tilted his head. “Had to be patrols.
Only one set of tracks at a time.”

Alucius
continued to ask questions, with Feran occasionally adding one or two of his
own.

“How
steep were the hills to the east of the road?”

“How
sturdy were the bridges?”

“Did
you see any dwellings or any smoke?”

“Did
any of the hillsides look liked they’d been logged recently… ?”

After
another quarter glass of questions—and answers from Rakalt—Alucius paused,
wondering what he’d overlooked. He took a swallow from his water bottle, as
much because he wasn’t used to talking that much as that the day was warm. He
looked to Feran. “Anything else you can think of?”

“No,
sir.” Feran’s smile was ragged. “Wish I could.”

Alucius
looked to Jultyr.

“Ah…
yes, sir… just one.”

“Go
ahead,” Alucius said.

“Rakalt…
sounds funny… but did you smell anything strange… anywhere?” Jultyr’s words
were firm.

The
scout squinted, cocking his head again. “Smells? No, sir… don’t recall anything
like that. No strange smells.”

Alucius
nodded. He’d have to remember that one. It made a lot of sense. As he turned
back toward the scout, he heard a shout from the south hillside.

“Majer!
Dust on the main road—lots of riders, sir!”

Alucius
whirled and looked to the south. There were actually two clouds of dust—one a
thin and barely visible plume, less than a vingt from the bottom of the slope
leading to the camp, and the second a larger cloud perhaps half a vingt south
of that—a scout pursued by a squad or more of the local lancers or armsmen. So
much for surprise—the idea flashed through Alucius’s thoughts even as he raised
his voice.

“Twenty-eighth
Company! Mount up and form on me! Fifth Company! Mount up. Flank Twenty-eighth
Company to the west! Thirty-fifth Company, mount-up and flank Twenty-eighth
Company to the east.”

Alucius
hurried toward the tieline that held his gray gelding. Even after running
uphill on foot to get his mount, he was mounted and halfway back down the
hillside before the first of Twenty-eighth Company’s lancers began to form up.
After scanning the hillside once again, he rode lower until he was only about a
hundred fifty yards from the road, and with the slope as gentle as it was, only
about six yards above the road’s surface. The position, like everything, was a
compromise. He wanted his men close enough to deliver withering fire, but in a
location where the enemy would have to charge uphill.

“Form
up here!” he called upslope.

Feran
and Fifth Company had already formed up farther uphill, and the other two
companies were moving into position east of Fifth Company.

“Forward,
and form on a line with the majer!” ordered Feran.

Alucius
glanced toward the road. The trailing cloud of dust was closing on the scout,
but it looked as though the scout would reach the camp before his pursuers
could attain a position to allow any accurate rifle shots—and any shots would
be almost a matter of luck with the twisting of the road and its uneven
surface.

“Fifth
Company in position, sir!”

“Thirty-fifth
Company, sir!”

“Twenty-eighth
Company, sir!”

Alucius
turned in the saddle toward Feran. “Stagger and angle them to get a clear line
of fire from all files.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Then
he turned to Jultyr and repeated the command. By then, Deotyr had Twenty-eighth
Company in even ranks.

Alucius
addressed Deotyr. “Captain, put them in a staggered right oblique formation.”

“Yes,
sir.” Deotyr turned in the saddle “Twenty-eighth Company! Staggered right
oblique.”

The
senior squad leader echoed the command, and Twenty-eighth Company shifted into
a mounted firing position. Alucius rode over closer to Deotyr. “If they turn or
break, I’ll order Twenty-eighth Company into pursuit. Be ready for that if it
comes.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
eased the gray back to the west, reining up just at the point where Fifth and
Twenty-eighth Companies joined. He looked westward, studying the empty section
of road below and waiting. He reminded himself that the Lanachronan rifles
carried a ten-shot magazine and had a longer range than the Northern Guard’s
weapons. He continued to watch the road, even as he extended his Talent senses.
There was no sign of any Talent, but the trailing riders were too far away for
him to detect fainter Talent-usage.

Another
quarter of a glass passed. Finally, a single rider emerged from the last turn
of the road before the straight section that extended to the base of the
hillside where Alucius’s forces were arrayed.

“All
companies!” Alucius ordered. “Rifles ready. Fire at my command.”

“Rifles
ready.”

As
the rider neared the encampment, less than a hundred yards from the base of the
slope, Alucius recognized Waris, despite the dust-coated uniform. Behind him
rode nearly two squads of lancers in loose-fitting maroon tunics.

The
rebel lancers fired occasional shots at Waris, but all seemed to fall short or
wide. But they were closing slowly on the scout so that, when Waris reached the
foot of the slope, the oncoming rebel lancers were but three hundred yards
behind him. The scout eased his mount uphill and toward the Guard companies.

Alucius
waved Waris past. “Go on.” He waited until the oncoming lancers were within
fifty yards of the base of the hill. Then he ordered, “Fire at will!”

“Fire
at will!”

A
series of rapid
cracks
came from Twenty-eighth
Company, then from Thirty-fifth Company. The deeper-sounding reports from the
heavier Northern Guard rifles were more deliberate.

Only
a handful of shots from the first volley struck. Alucius saw one rebel lurch in
the saddle and another pitch sideways. He lifted his own rifle and fired
carefully. His first shot struck a man in the shoulder. His second took another
rebel out of his saddle.

A
squad leader rode first among the maroon-clad lancers, flourishing a blade half
again as long as a lancer sabre. Despite the continuing fire from the
Lanachronan forces, he charged to the end of the road, then upslope toward
Alucius.

Alucius
targeted the man, and his first shot slammed through the man’s left shoulder.
The rebel remained in the saddle, still brandishing his long blade. Alucius
paused only for a moment before putting a second shot into the man’s chest,
slightly to the left of his breastbone. Still clutching the blade, the man was
less than fifty yards from Alucius before the majer’s last shot smashed a
gaping hole in the attacker’s forehead.

As
quickly as he could, Alucius switched rifles. He took slightly longer with each
shot, trying for head shots as much as possible. He knew what he was seeing
couldn’t be happening, but it looked like almost nothing besides a head shot,
one through the heart, or enough fire to dismember one of the rebel lancers was
enough to stop one.

He
felt as though he were fumbling every time he reloaded, but he had the rifle up
quickly enough and continued to fire. He kept reloading and firing, watching
rebel lancers fall. In time, he got only one shot off after reloading when he
realized that there was no one moving downslope.

“Hold
your fire!” he ordered.

“Hold
your fire!”

As
the last rifle reports died away, Alucius glanced downhill. From what he could
see, only a handful of his force had been killed or wounded. Then, he looked at
the thirty-odd bodies strewn on the hillside. There were several loose and
riderless mounts, but not one rebel had slowed or turned back.

After
a moment, Alucius rode slowly downhill, shaking his head, seeing the gaping
wounds in every body. Yet he could sense only the faintest touch of
Talent—certainly not enough to have kept men who were dying or already dead
moving forward in an attack.

Feran
had been generous earlier, because this time Alucius had been stupid. He’d been
lucky to lose so few men. He should have had them in trenches or embankments,
or behind trees. He’d thought that the attackers would have turned and
retreated, given their far fewer numbers, and he’d wanted to be able to pursue
them. Then again, the ground was so hard it would have been impossible to have
dug effective trenches… but his tactics had still been stupid.

Near
the bottom of the hill, he turned the gray and started back upslope. “Overcaptain,
captains, report as you can!”

He
continued toward Feran and Fifth Company, reining up short of the overcaptain.

Feran
offered a ragged smile.

Alucius
shrugged, adding in a voice low enough that only Feran could hear, “We were
lucky this time. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Haven’t
either. They using Talent?”

“Just
the littlest trace of it. Shouldn’t have made any difference.”

“That’s
scary,” Feran murmured.

Alucius
had to agree, if silently. It had taken the mass fire of three companies for
almost half a glass.

Egyl
reined up, waiting. Both officers looked to him.

“Two
dead, sirs, three wounded.”

“Thank
you, Egyl,” Alucius replied.

“Yes,
sir.” Egyl turned his mount.

While
Egyl hadn’t felt or expressed reproach, Alucius knew that the senior squad
leader had every right to do so.

“Any
captives?” Alucius asked.

“No,
sir.”

Alucius
looked down at the fallen rebels, then at Feran. “Can you take care of the
dead? Have them checked for anything that would tell us something. Just two
burial pits for the rebels, one for mounts, the other for men. Draw some men from
each of the companies.”

“I’ll
take care of it.”

“Thank
you. We’ll meet later,” Alucius told Feran, before turning his mount eastward
toward the center of Twenty-eighth Company. Deotyr and Jultyr had drawn up
their mounts side by side.

“Three
dead, four wounded. Only one seriously, sir,” reported Deotyr.

“Two
wounded. Not serious. We weren’t in their line of fire,” offered Jultyr.

For
that Alucius was grateful.

“Were
there any survivors? Any captives?”

Both
captains exchanged glances, then looked at Alucius. No, sir.

Alucius
managed not to frown. “Thank you. Overcaptain Feran will be drawing some men
from each of you for a burial and disposal detail.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Take
care of what you need to handle. Dismissed.” Alucius raised his voice. “All
companies, stand down, except for burial and disposal detail.”

The
first skirmish of the campaign was over, and he should have felt relieved. His
force had killed more than thirty attackers and lost only five men. But… he’d
misjudged the situation, and had there been twice as many attackers, the
results would have been far different. The faint touch of Talent indicated
something besides ifrit involvement, but what? He pursed his lips. There had
been no survivors, and none of the attackers had tried to retreat. There was so
much he didn’t know.

He
looked around, searching for Waris, to find out what the scout might have
discovered, only to see the scout standing grooming his mount less than fifty
yards away.

“Officers
forward! Without your mounts.”

Alucius
eased the gray up to Waris. “We’ll need your report, Waris.”

Waris
was still covered in dust, and his mount had clearly been pushed earlier,
although the scout had brushed out the dust from the roan’s coat, but there
were still traces of sweat. Waris looked at Alucius. “Had to push him hard to
get clear, sir. Saved my ass, he did.” After a pause, he added, “Looks like you
had a little trouble here, too.”

“We
did,” Alucius replied. “That’s why we need to hear what you found out. We’ll be
down there by the cedar.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
rode his gray back to the tieline, where he tethered the gelding. Then he
walked partway downhill to an area shaded by the low but broad cedar he had
pointed out to Waris and waited for the others to join him. His eyes looked
downhill, taking in the fallen men and the lancers searching and dragging
bodies to the west, where part of the hill had slumped, leaving an easier
disposal site.

He
looked up as the two captains and Feran rejoined him. “Waris will be here in a
moment.”

“Elbard
and Chorat are still missing,” Feran said.

Alucius
could only hope they had been delayed.

Waris
walked downhill and stopped short of the half circle of officers. After a
moment, he began. “They sent three lancers after me, sir, and I took out all
three. Didn’t change anything. Hadn’t gotten a vingt away when they had another
three after me. Almost half a squad after one scout? Don’t understand that,
sir.”

Alucius
gestured to the slope below them. “They sent a squad and a half against three
companies. Not one turned back.”

Waris
shook his head slowly.

“If
they had so many after you,” asked Alucius, “how did you escape?”

Waris
grinned. “Figured if we got far enough away from their camp, they wouldn’t know
to send more. I shot ‘em, one after the other. They can’t shoot as well as my
one-armed grandmother.”

“Before
you got rousted out, what did you find?”

“Took
the narrow dirt road, sir, like you told me. Three vingts south of here, it
forks. One fork goes mostly south, maybe a little east, and the other heads due
west. Tracks on both, but, well, couldn’t tell you, except I thought I ought to
see about the west fork first. Follows the bottom of a ridgeline little less
than two vingts through trees sort of spaced like the ones here. Goes pretty
straight, though. Ends in an open space. Lucky I stopped in the trees. Was
trying to see what was there, and saw some smoke ahead. So I circled around the
clearing and eased up the hillside. Couldn’t get too close ‘cause the whole
slope is covered in that spiky thorn stuff. But… got high enough to get a
pretty good view. It’s almost like a lancer post, sir. They got long sheds like
barracks, and even stables. They’re on a flat. Behind them, there’s something
dug or carved into the rock of the hillside.”