Legacies (26 page)

Alucius took a deep breath. He was going to have to take longer shots than he would have liked. There was no help for it. He aimed at the center rider.

The bullet took the Matrite in the shoulder, spinning him half out of the saddle, but the man struggled to bring his rifle to bear. Alucius recocked the rifle and fired a second time, then a third.

A second heavy rifle joined in.

When he had emptied the magazine, a single Matrite foot trooper remained standing, almost frozen in place. Alucius fumbled out the cartridges from his belt, and reloaded, slowly, too slowly, it seemed to him, and raised the rifle again. A single shot was enough.

This time, it was harder to choke back the bile, but he did so as he quickly reloaded, smelling for the first time, it seemed, the acrid scent of gunpowder.

“Over here,” hissed Waltar from behind a quarasote bush a good thirty yards to Alucius's left.

Although he could not sense anyone else besides Waltar, Alucius still kept low as he crossed the ground, but he did not do it on his belly.

“What about the ground sentries?” asked Waltar.

Alucius let his Talent-senses reach out. There was no one behind the bodies. “Think the two foot were the ground sentries. You wait here. Let me check a bit farther in,” Alucius suggested.

“Fine by me.”

Alucius slip-scuttled forward. By the time he had covered another hundred yards, it was clear that there were no sentries for at least a quarter vingt in each direction. He retraced his path carefully to where Waltar waited.

“That's it,” Alucius said.

“Good. Let's get out of here. Done more'n enough.”

Neither spoke until they were back untying their mounts.

“Too bad it won't be like that in a full battle,” Waltar grunted as the two remounted. “Be ten of them to every one of us, and their rifles shoot farther.”

“That's why the captain tried this, wasn't it?”

“Matrites aren't stupid. How many times you think they'll let us do this?” Waltar laughed. “They'll have more sentries, or pull them in closer. Also, you'll find it harder to use Talent to guide a bullet in a battle.”

Using Talent to guide a bullet? “I don't do that.”

“All you herders do, and you all say you don't. You make shots no one could make, otherwise.”

Alucius didn't answer. Were his shots good because he could see better, or because of what Waltar had said? He certainly wasn't conscious of using his Talent to guide his bullets.

Another series of rifle shots punctuated the blackness of the glass before dawn.

Balant and Henaar were waiting with Ilten at the rendezvous.

“Geran went back out,” Ilten said.

“Balant,” Henaar said.

“Captain and the column should be here before long,” Ilten said.

The next rider was not the captain, but Geran. “Waltar? Alucius?”

“Here.”

“You took out the sentries in Syurn's section, right? Did you see him?”

“No, sir,” answered Waltar.

Alucius felt guilty. He hadn't sensed anyone alive, but he certainly hadn't thought about looking for Syurn's body.

“Didn't see Balant either.” Geran turned in the saddle to face Ilten. “So far as we can tell, sir, we've taken out the sentries as required.”

“Good.”

In less than a quarter glass, Captain Heald appeared out of the darkness, riding a dark chestnut stallion. “We heard shots.”

“We cleared out the sentries in this section,” Ilten said.

“Fourth squad is right behind me, and the foot are only about a half vingt back. It's getting close to dawn. Wish it hadn't taken so long.”

Looking eastward, Alucius could see the faintest light outlining the looming form of the Aerlal Plateau.

“We've had to change things—fourth squad will take the midroad out of the stead. If they move quickly enough, they'll hit the road guards from behind.”

“But…then…how will the Matrites know we're here, and why would they attack here?” Geran asked bluntly.

“One squad of foot is going in farther, where they can fire directly at the buildings on the stead. That will work better. They won't open fire until it's clear that the attack on the shed holding the mounts has been successful. If it's not, they withdraw without firing—unless they're attacked. In that case, the plan will work anyway.”

Except that the foot squad would take far higher casualties.

Ilten added. “Return to your squads.”

“Yes, sir.” Alucius followed Geran.

“Glad to see you both made it,” Delar said quietly as Geran and Alucius lined up at the head of the column.

“Thank you, sir,” Alucius replied.

Fourth squad rode by in the darkness, in single file. Alucius didn't envy them.

After a good quarter glass of silence, a few scattered shots rang out, from the higher and thinner sounding Matrite rifles. There were a handful of shots from the heavier rifles, and then another, more scattered set of shots from the Matrites, and a few more shots from the militia.

Alucius looked toward Geran. Geran was looking toward the lamps of the Matrite outpost and the outline of distant structures barely visible in the faintest of gray predawn light. Alucius watched, catching sight of a light-colored mount now and again.

A few more shots echoed intermittently through the predawn dimness.

Then, after another period of silence, there were several muffled explosions, and flashes of fire. Thin trails of flame rose from a building on the former stead.

More rifle shots—heavy shots—came from the militia foot.

Figures small in the vingt-plus distance poured out of one of the stead sheds, heading southward. Alucius couldn't sense that many Matrite troopers—certainly no more than a company, and all were on foot. They didn't advance past their perimeter, but just dug in behind what cover there was and lay almost flat, firing occasionally. Was that by plan, or because so many of their troopers were sick from eating nightsheep?

More distant shots came from the midroad.

An order came from somewhere, shouted into a moment of stillness, “Militia foot! Withdraw! Withdraw by squads! Squad two!”

Then Ilten rode by, pausing before Delar. “Once the foot clear, by squads, to the rear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alucius saw Delar's minute headshake once the senior squad leader had passed.

The second squad of militia foot trotted by, followed by the third, and then the fourth. Alucius didn't count, but there weren't a full twenty in any of the squads, and second squad didn't seem to have many more than ten.

“That's it,” snapped Delar. “Squad, to the rear, ride!”

As they rode back to the midroad in the whitish orange light of dawn, Alucius wondered how many troopers fourth squad had lost—and how many foot had died.

Third Company and Fifth Foot returned to the Soulend outpost by midmorning. After stabling and taking care of their mounts, the entire company was dismissed for a late breakfast or an early dinner. Alucius dragged himself to the mess, where he took a platter without even looking at what was on it and slumped onto a bench at a corner table.

Kypler sat beside him. “We just waited. What did you do? Besides scout?”

“Killed people,” Alucius said wearily, after chewing a mouthful of tasteless egg toast, and taking a swallow of warm cider. While the warmth helped, the cider seemed tasteless as well.

“Not enough,” said Geran from the other end of the table. “They'll just keep marching into the Iron Valleys until we kill them all. That's what they did when they took all the coast cities a generation back. That's what they've done to the Reillies in the Westerhills.”

“They must have lost a lot of troops last night,” Kypler suggested.

“Not that many. A little less than a company—mostly foot,” Geran replied. “A squad or two of horse, and fifty mounts at most. Mounts might be their biggest loss.”

“A company's not that many?” Kypler raised his eyebrows.

“You can do the figures, Kypler,” Geran pointed out. “We've lost three scouts, out of eight. Fourth squad lost eight men last night, and the Fifth Foot lost almost two squads.”

“That's almost a quarter of what we have here,” Kypler said.

“And the Matrites lost twice what we did, and that was only a tenth part of what they have. We keep winning like that, and it'll be a real Legacy.” Geran took a long swallow of cider. “Better eat what you can while you can.”

“You're saying that we're going to get beat?” Kypler asked.

“I'm not saying that,” Geran said. “But what happens if they march their fourteen-fifteen companies against Soulend?”

Kypler looked down at his platter.

Geran rose slowly and walked toward the messboy to hand in his empty platter and tumbler.

Velon cleared his throat. “Alucius…fourth squad. They took a lot of casualties.”

“I know.” Alucius had had his doubts about the captain's plan, but there was little he could have said. Not and have anyone listen.

Retius, sitting beside Velon, shook his head. “Did you hear about Dolesy and Ramsat?”

“Were they…?”

Retius nodded. “Bowgard made it back. They didn't.”

Alucius looked at Kypler. Had Estepp known that the two would be more at risk in fourth squad? Was fourth squad the one used as bait and fodder? His lips tightened, understanding, again belatedly, some more of what his grandsire had tried to convey.

The smaller trooper shrugged. “Said they wouldn't last.”

After a silence, Retius spoke again. “Overheard Brannal talking to Kesper. Most of the Reillies and the hill clans—those that were left—fled north of the midroad. Some say they're going to the winter tree forest south of Klamat.”

“Cold land there,” Alucius pointed out. “Winter's three seasons, and you have a half season of spring, a season of summer, and a half season for harvest.”

“Too cold for me,” grumped Velon.

“Better cold than dealing with the Matrites,” Retius suggested. “We don't have a choice like the Reillies. We'll have to deal with the Matrites. If we don't want to end up wearing those silver collars.”

“Well…you were the one who said you'd do anything to avoid the cold,” Kypler parried, grinning at Retius.

“Almost anything,” Retius replied. “The cold sounds better and better.”

“Matrites or cold…some choice,” mumbled Velon.

Wondering if anyone, anywhere, really had choices, Alucius kept eating, tasteless as everything seemed. After he finished, he decided that he'd head for his bunk and get some sleep. He had the feeling he'd need it in the days and weeks ahead.

Alucius did manage to catch up on sleep, even though the entire squad was mustered out after two glasses, only to be told to have their gear packed and to be ready to leave the Soulend Outpost in case of a full Matrite assault.

For all the warnings, the Matrites did not march or leave their encampment on Octdi, as the captain had thought, nor on Novdi. They only sent out a handful of road patrols. Alucius thought he knew why—because the Matrites had eaten nightsheep. Since he hadn't mentioned it before, saying something so late would only create trouble for himself, and there was nothing he could do. On Decdi, everyone in Third Company was mustered out right after breakfast.

Captain Heald didn't offer any opening pleasantries. His jaw was almost clenched before he began to speak. “While some of you have been resting, the foot and our two engineers have been busy…”

Alucius didn't even know that Third Company had an engineer, let alone two.

“The Matrites are moving out toward Soulend.” Heald offered a rim smile. “We have a few surprises. The Fifth Foot should be in place within the glass. Each squad here has a different assignment. Your squad leaders will fill you in. Dismissed to your squad leaders.”

Alucius couldn't help but note that Heald's address was the shortest offered since Alucius had reported. His eyes went to Delar.

The second squad leader began, “Second squad will mount an attack out of the little wash four vingts to the west on the north side of the midroad…”

Alucius recalled the wash, and understood the idea. There was almost no quarasote there.

“…can't see us until the last quarter vingt or so. We'll gallop up and wheel into a firing line, almost a broadside to the column…two or three volleys, and then wheel out and back up the wash. There are a few surprises for the Matrites, too…”

Surprises? The last set of “surprises” hadn't worked that well.

“You've got a quarter glass to get ready and pick up your cartridge belt. Dismissed.”

Alucius walked quickly back to the barracks bay, avoiding other hurrying troopers.

Kypler scurried up, finally matching steps with the taller Alucius. “What do you think?”

“We'd better shoot and ride well.” Alucius laughed—once.

Kypler looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't.

Delar was mounted and waiting outside the stable by the time Alucius was mounted and formed up beside Geran. Alucius could sense Delar's anxiety. He glanced to Geran, then murmured, “Delar looks worried.”

“Be stupid not to be,” the older scout muttered back.

More second squad troopers rode up and into formation, and, without any warning, Delar ordered, “Squad forward!”

Second squad rode back into Soulend, rather than west on the midroad, and Alucius could catch both the murmurs from those who rode behind, and the senses of puzzlement.

The ruined square stone building that once might have been an inn was the first structure they passed. All that remained was a set of roofless walls. Past the empty gray walls were several small cottages, shutters fastened shut, and without a trace of smoke or life—the inhabitants gone.

As second squad rode into what passed for the town square, which had but an excuse for a chandlery and a wood shop that doubled as a cooperage and tinker's, Alucius could see two wagons on the south road, creaking on overladen wheels and axles. Seven people walked in front of or behind the heavy-burdened wagons. Not one looked back at the troopers.

“Not much faith in us or the One Who Is,” murmured a voice.

“…more faith in the Matrites…”

Delar led the squad through the square and onto the north road.

“We're not going to Sandhold?” Alucius murmured to Geran. “Just ruins there.”

“We'll head off to the west just ahead. Old stead road reaches the wash. Matrites won't figure it because there's no connection between the midroad and the stead road.”

“Your idea?”

“No.” Geran's single word was terse, and Alucius could sense the disapproval.

While he didn't want to press the questions, Alucius felt that Geran understood more about tactics than either Delar or the captain, and that bothered him.

Delar led second squad nearly a vingt north on the old road, before turning the column westward on a narrow lane. Second squad then rode westward for a glass, until they reached a single rider, waiting at the edge of a trail to the south, through the quarasote.

“Column halt!” Delar rode to the other rider.

Alucius listened, trying to use his Talent to pick up what they were saying.

“…about a glass away…traps in wash ahead…point them out…”

“…how many…march order?”

“…all of them…two horse…front…”

Delar turned his mount to face second squad, “Listen up! Follow me in single file. We'll form up in column after we're in position to begin the attack. We'll have to wait half a glass or so once we're ready, but they can't see us from where we'll be.”

Both the other rider and Delar started down the narrow trail that wound between the quarasote. Geran followed, then Alucius, as second squad went from column to single file. After about half a vingt, the trail turned west and then wound down between two rises into a shallow wash that was almost invisible from more than a hundred yards away.

Second squad had traveled about half a vingt along the flat middle of the wash—hard-frozen soil on which a mount barely left a track—before the wash turned due west, and then, a hundred yards later, back to the southwest.

Then, just before the second twist in the wash, Delar called, “Column halt!” He waited and then continued. “I want you to notice the narrow trail to the left side of the wash. It's only wide enough for one mount. There are pits and traps in the middle of the wash. When we ride back, I'll order a line to the right, and you'll have to ride that narrow line at full gallop. Once you're past the little bluff there—” Delar pointed to the west, “you can spread back out into the middle of the wash.”

Alucius was most careful to stay on the narrow trail. So were the troopers who followed.

Second squad drew up three hundred yards south of the trapped area, just behind another low bluff, less than three yards high, from where they could see nothing to the south.

“I'll be up on the edge of the wash,” Delar announced, “watching for our signal to attack. The midroad is only a hundred and fifty yards south of here. No talking in ranks. Shouldn't be more than half a glass.” Delar dismounted, handing the reins of his bay to Geran.

“Yes, sir,” replied the senior scout.

The light wind had died to an even more intermittent breeze. Alucius tried to stretch his legs by barely lifting himself out of the saddle, as if shifting his weight. Time passed…slowly. Alucius wiggled his fingers inside his gloves, glanced around the wash, counted the scattered quarasote bushes on the western edge of the bluff—fifty-three fully in sight—and took several small swallows from his water bottle.

Suddenly, Delar scrambled down from the western edge of the wash, where he had been lying behind a quarasote bush, watching both the midroad and some trooper who was relaying hand signals from a hidden and prepared position on the north side of the midroad.

“On my command, quick-trot around the bend, and down to the wide section. Wheel to a fire line—on command! Now! Forward!”

Geran glanced at Alucius, raised his eyebrows and gave a near-imperceptible shrug, as the two followed Delar, the squad behind them, around the bend. Riding eastward on the road was a long column of riders in dark green riding jackets. Only a handful turned their heads for several moments as second squad moved down the wash toward the road. Then…more heads turned, but no commands issued from the Matrite officers.

“Wheel to a line. Fire on my command!” Delar's command broke the comparative silence.

As they had drilled, the twenty riders wheeled into two staggered lines, leaving each man with a clear line of fire, less than fifty yards from the line of Matrite cavalry.

“Fire!” Delar's voice rang out.

The
crack!
of twenty rifles was nearly simultaneous.

“Fire!”

The second volley was almost as simultaneous.

“Fire!”

The third was ragged, and the higher pitched reports of the Matrite weapons were interspersed with shots from second squad.

“Wheel and withdraw!”

Alucius was more than happy to withdraw, especially as he could feel the massing cavalry, and the great number of Matrite weapons being brought to bear, and sense bullets closely around him. The frozen-hard soil of the wash was almost like riding on stone, and the sounds of hoofs echoed in nearly the same fashion as second squad galloped back up the wash.

“Line to the right! Now!” ordered Delar.

Second squad narrowed into a line and sped past the traps and the bluff.

“Center of the wash!” the squad leader snapped.

Alucius risked a glance over his shoulder. Possibly as many as twenty pursuers had been lured into the concealed pits in the center of the wash, and the pursuit had clearly broken off.

The sixteen remaining members of second squad reformed on the back road. Alucius could see Kypler and Velon, but Akkar was missing, as was Torbyl, one of the veterans. Alucius immediately extracted three shells from his cartridge belt and made sure he had a full magazine in his rifle.

“Better!” said Delar. “We took down at least a squad, maybe even a squad and a half. Now, we're headed back to Soulend, and to whatever we need to do now. Column forward!”

Alucius glanced westward, at the heavy graying skies. The wind, light as it had been, had stopped, and a cold calm had fallen across the valley, the kind of calm that usually preceded a heavy storm.

Alucius occasionally glanced back, as did others, but the Matrite forces had not followed.

Second squad followed the trail out of the wash, and then the side lane back to Soulend. As they entered the hamlet, and reached the north side of the now-abandoned square, where the chandler's shop and the wood shop had shutters tightly closed, a militia rider with the green sash of a messenger rode toward them.

“Squad halt!”

Alucius strained to hear the conversation.

“…Matrites lost almost a company of cavalry, sir, but they have a terrible weapon. It shoots crystal spears…right through the earthen revetment…cut it down…killed most of the third and fourth squads of Fifth Foot. The Matrites lost half…more…First Foot Company, but we have less than three foot squads remaining…Captain requested that your squad not undertake the second attack. You are to return to the barracks, and pack out, with full ammunition. All squads are to meet him by the chandler's here in Soulend on the south side of the square. We're headed south.”

Delar's face grew increasingly grim with each word. Finally, he turned his mount. “Back to the outpost. You'll have a quarter glass, no more, to grab your gear and get spare cartridges before we remount and withdraw.”

Geran and Alucius exchanged glances. Geran nodded sadly.

Second squad rode in silence back to the outpost. There, all the wagons—except one—the one with the company's ammunition—had already left the outpost, and the only militia remaining were horse troopers gathering gear.

Alucius tied his mount in the stall, rather than outside. He found some little water for the gray, and then, hoping the gray would eat what was left in the manger while he was briefly gone, hurried to collect his gear from the barracks bay.

He didn't say anything, and neither did anyone else.