Legacies (35 page)

Londi dawned with low scudding clouds, out without rain, and Alucius and the other nine replacement troopers were ready immediately after breakfast. In the courtyard were five long wagons, and two of the eight-man Matrite squads. The experienced squads were forming up around the wagons, one before, and one after. Squad leader Gorak had already moved the replacement troopers in front of the first regular Matrite squad, in a column by twos. Alucius and Sazium were in the second rank, behind Kymbes and Murat.

Alucius patted Wildebeast on the shoulder, and projected calm as he listened to Gorak.

“You replacement troopers will act as one squad under my command. You'll all start up front with me. Once we're clear of Hieron, half of you will be in the van with Squad Leader Chanek,” announced Gorak, a short and muscular man, clean-shaven with lank brown hair. He wore the two crimson chevrons of a full squad leader, but not the three of a senior squad leader. “There's one change from what Jesorak told you. You'll pick up your rifles at the armory in Salcer when we get there. You won't be needing them until then, but you might after that.”

“Squad leader!”

Gorak turned his mount to face the trim older woman who had reined up just inside the gates. “Yes, captain?”

“Are your men ready?”

“We stand ready, captain, but the teamsters say that they need a quarter glass.”

“So I heard.” Captain Sennel's voice was hard, yet her tone conveyed a rueful acceptance, tinged with irony.

A second and younger female officer rode through the gate and halted her mount beside the captain. “Captain.”

“Squad Leader Gorak, this is Undercaptain Porlel.”

Undercaptain Porlel looked to be younger than Alucius. Her short hair was reddish blonde and tight-curled to her head, and she had a generous nose between deepset eyes. Her shoulders were broad, and despite her youthful and awkward appearance, she projected a confidence that suggested she was older than she appeared. From the few green flashes that his senses revealed as he studied her covertly, Alucius had the feeling she had at least some Talent. Alucius could not sense any Talent in the captain, but he was uncertain whether that was because she had none, or because she had enough ability to conceal what she had. There was still so much he did not know.

“We'll be picking up ten more wagons at the depot on the south side of Hieron. They're supposed to be ready.” Sennel's voice conveyed some doubt.

“Yes, captain.” Both the squad leader and the undercaptain spoke simultaneously.

A lanky woman wearing a plain forest green tunic and trousers walked toward the two officers and the squad leader.

“Lead Teamster Sandjin, captain. We're loaded and ready.”

“Thank you, Sandjin,” replied Sennel. “As soon as you're on your wagon, we're moving.”

The teamster turned, the iron taps of her boot heels clicking on the courtyard pavement.

Within moments, the captain commanded, “Column forward.”

Alucius took his station on Kymbes, and watched Gorak as the squad leader rode, alone, behind the two officers.

Once outside the redstone walls of the post, the column turned west until it reached the ramp up to the ancient high road, and then turned south on the eternastone paving. Alucius studied the park of the Matrial. Once they were on the raised high road, Alucius realized that the thin pink Talent-threads from the torques led to the long stone dwelling, not in a way that he could have proved, even though he felt it. He also had a greater sense of an unseen evil around the dwelling. Were the torques the sole key to the power of the Matrial—or just part of a larger set of Talent-powers she wielded?

A wry smile crossed his face and vanished, as he considered that he was acting as if there were something he could do when he was yet a captive of one of those torques, and when he had still to regain full control over his Talent.

Second, as he looked from the elevated road to the park and then southward, he understood what he had felt and had not been able to articulate when he had first come to Hieron—the city had been built entirely after the Cataclysm, and it had been built around a place where all the old roads had intersected. That was why there were ramps everywhere to access the roads. That also pointed out how close Hieron was to the ancient vanished cities of Elcien and Faitel—because such a crossroads would certainly have been a place for a city, unless there had been much better sites not that far from where Hieron now stood.

The column traveled a good three vingts southward on the high road until the dwellings abruptly ended. There was a space of close to half a vingt of meadow between the last dwellings and the depot. The depot was surrounded by three-yard-high stone walls that formed a square five hundred yards on a side. Within the walls, as they approached on the ancient high road from the north, Alucius could see more than forty warehouses, each close to a hundred yards long and twenty in width.

“More stores there than in all the traders' warehouses in Dekhron,” Sazium murmured.

Alucius wouldn't have doubted it, but he had no way of knowing, except that most of Iron Stem would have fit within the walls of the depot.

Contrary to the captain's doubts, all ten wagons were loaded and lined up just inside the fifty-yard-wide opening in the walls—an opening that was too large to qualify as a gate and that was without fortifications, except for a small guardhouse set just inside the walls. Two guards in green, not troopers, but gray-haired women, stood beside the slate-roofed stone-walled guardhouse, watching.

Alucius could sense Talent there, and quickly decided against probing with his own Talent senses. Instead, he watched as the captain talked with two other teamsters.

Then the captain turned her mount and rode back toward the troopers.

“They're ready to roll, squad leader.”

“Yes, captain.” Gorak turned his mount. “First two ranks and the next man, replacement troopers, forward! Squad Leader Chanek, forward!”

Since Alucius was in the second rank, he and Sazium rode forward to meet with Gorak and Chanek. Chanek was a tall and thin junior squad leader with jet black hair and a short-square-trimmed black beard.

“Here are your five troopers for the van,” Gorak announced.

Chanek glanced over the group, then nodded. “Yes, sir.” After a moment, he addressed the six. “We'll be riding just thirty yards before the main column until we're a vingt south of here. Then we'll be moving to a half vingt. Follow me, in column.”

Less than two vingts south of the depot, the land—good rich bottomland well to the south of the river and to the east of the low peaks of the Coast Range—was filled with small holdings, all intensely cultivated, all with neat dwellings that bespoke prosperity, rather than the huts and hovels that existed outside the steads in the Iron Valleys. But then, the land itself in the Iron Valleys was far, far poorer.

That self-explanation did not fully satisfy Alucius. He leaned forward, thinking, and patted Wildebeast on the shoulder.

There were but two figures in the stone-walled workroom on the lower southwest levels of the Matrial's residence, one a tall and broad-shouldered woman in purple trimmed in forest green, the other in the working brown of an engineer.

“For years we have been at the mercy of a device that the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona has, the…Table that allows him to see anywhere in Corus.” The Matrial's purple eyes fixed on Hyalas, their intensity emphasized by the flawless pale skin of her face. “I asked you before to look into this. Is there a reason why we should not develop such a device?”

Hyalas bowed deeply. “Begging your pardon, most honored Matrial. The device is called a Table of the Recorder. As you well know, they were once used by the Alectors of the Duarchy to view crimes that had recently occurred, and I suppose, for other matters as well. There have been rumors for years that such a Table remained in Tempre.”

“After my request…why have you not pursued creating such a device for us?”

“Honored Matrial, there were no plans and no descriptions. There were but a double handful of such, and all were constructed secretly through the use of Talent. So far as I know, there is only the one remaining.”

“And the Lord-Protector could see where our troops are deployed?”

“That is true, Matrial, but each Table was fixed to a point on the earth, and the points could not be changed. Failure to link a table to the nodal points resulted in an explosion. That is what the records say. That is why several no longer exist. After the Cataclysm, they were removed from where they were, and someone attempted to use them. There is an ancient scroll that states that when the Landarch of Deforya invaded Illegea and tried to move the one in Lyterna it exploded and killed him and all those around him.”

“He must have thought it possible,” the Matrial suggested.

“Many rulers have thought the impossible could be done. At times, it can be. At other times, the cost is most high.”

“Engineer…you come perilously close to insult.”

Hyalas bowed his head, deeply, before speaking. “Yes, honored Matrial, but it is not out of desire to offend, but to speak the truth as I know it, always in your interest.”

“Only because it is in yours.” The Matrial laughed. “Tell me more.”

“It is true that a Table would grant the Lord-Protector some information, but there are two limitations. First, there is only one Table, and it takes, if the accounts are correct, much effort by a Talent for each use. Second, its linkage to its location creates limits on its use in warfare.”

“I do not see the bearing—” The Matrial nodded. “The Table is in Tempre, and so the information must go out from Tempre. So if we send troops well in advance, then move them suddenly…or deceive them…Or if we have a field commander who can act swiftly, the best information will avail them little.” She looked at Hyalas. “Is that what you meant, engineer?”

“Yes, Matrial.”

“Now…can you rebuild the weapon?”

“It took over two years the last time. This time, I would judge it might take a little less…but not much less.”

“Then I suggest you begin immediately. Good day, engineer.”

Hyalas bowed and watched with a lowered head from his position of obeisance as she departed.

Traveling the ancient high road south took nearly two weeks, almost eight days from Hieron to Salcer and the massive armory there, and another six to the smaller river town of Dimor. South of Dimor, the road left the bluff on the eastern side of the south branch of the River Lud and headed absolutely straight southeast. For most of the two days it took to ride the last leg of the journey, from Dimor to Zalt, Alucius could see, to his left, the hills slowly subside into rolling rises, and the orchards give way to a patchwork of grasslands, fields, and woodlots. The holdings remained far smaller than the steads of Iron Stem, but the stone houses were all neat and in good repair.

“There's Zalt,” called out Chanek, as the vanguard rode out of a road cut through a rise slightly higher than most. “You can see the Senob Post on the east side, just north of the southwest high road. Where the roads meet—that's where the high road we're on ends.”

Alucius, in the second rank, had to half-stand in the stirrups and look around Murat. What he could see was that the post had redstone walls, high enough to be visible from three vingts away, and was separated from the town proper. The high road arrowed both to the northeast and southwest all the way to the horizon. There was not a single rider or wagon on it. The north-south high road just ended, less than a hundred yards south of where the two roads intersected, almost as if the ancient builders had meant to go farther south, but had been stopped and never resumed. Had they been working on the road when the Cataclysm struck?

The vanguard rode another quarter glass southward before Chanek ordered, “Vanguard, halt! We'll hold up for a bit, until we're only a hundred yards out from the rest of the column.”

While the vanguard waited for the rest of the supply convoy to move toward them, Alucius studied Zalt, as best he could. Unlike the other towns in Madrien through which Alucius had passed, where the town had been built on both sides of the high road, the town of Zalt lay entirely to the northwest of where the two high roads crossed.

On the northeast side of the crossroads was Senob Post, with a fair separation between its walls and the north-south high road, but the post appeared to be set only a hundred yards or so north of the southwest high road.

“Column's closed up enough. Vanguard forward!” Chanek ordered.

Alucius took in the town to his right as they rode past, but outside of the placement, nothing seemed unusual. There were the same neat stone-walled houses, the same brightly painted shutters, the same wide streets, and open areas of green. The two differences were that there were few trees in the open green areas—only within the rear courtyards of the dwellings—and that the roofs were a whitish stone of some sort.

“At the crossroads, vanguard left!” Chanek ordered.

With the others, Alucius guided Wildebeast into a left turn, and the column headed northeast toward the post.

Set almost a vingt to the east of the crossroads, Senob Post was a large structure, with walls half a vingt on a side, and close to four yards in height. The gates were indeed gates, heavy timbered gates bound with dark iron, each only about three yards wide. While they stood open, the cleanliness of the stones and the huge iron hinges showed that they could be quickly closed. Behind the outer gates—on the inside of the walls—was a second set of gates, but these were designed to be closed by sliding forward along channels in the stone paving.

Chanek led them straight through those gates and down what amounted to a wide stone-paved courtyard or avenue until they neared a series of long stone buildings.

“Vanguard, halt!”

Moments later came the command from behind Alucius, “Column, halt!”

Then Gorak rode forward and reined up. “Replacement troopers to the fore! Guide on Sazium. Column of two.”

Alucius was already in place. He waited.

“For the moment, you'll stall your mounts in the visitors' section of the stable. Once you're done, take all your gear, except for your tack, and form up out here. Then I'll take you to the mess. That's where you'll meet the senior squad leader for your company. Replacement troopers, dismissed to duties!”

Alucius followed the others to the visitors' section of the stable, taking in as much as he could. Neither the captain nor the undercaptain had that much to do with the troopers, and hadn't, not for the entire journey.

After Alucius and the other replacement troopers had stabled, unsaddled, and groomed their mounts, Gorak led them to the mess hall—a stone-walled building that stood to the north of the barracks. In the late afternoon, the mess was empty, except for Gorak and the ten troopers. The stone floors glistened, as if just polished, and the smell of bread baking filled the air.

“Those of you for the Thirty-second…you wait there in the southwest corner. Those of you for the Fortieth…. the southeast corner. I'd guess it'll be a half a glass or so, but neither company is on patrol today. Best of luck.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Gorak turned and walked away, unhurriedly.

Alucius, Beral, Kymbes, Murat, and Sazium—the five replacement troopers assigned to Fortieth Company—found themselves standing in the southeast corner of the mess, gear at their feet, waiting for their new senior squad leader.

“Wouldn't have minded having him as a squad leader,” Kymbes offered.

“Just have to see what we get,” Murat said quietly.

“Here he comes…” hissed Sazium.

The man who walked toward them was of medium height with a few white hairs in his short-cut brown thatch and his short-trimmed beard. Behind him were four junior squad leaders. “You're all for the Fortieth?”

“Yes, sir,” was the unanimous response as they straightened to attention.

“You can stand at ease, troopers. I'm Tymal, senior squad leader for Fortieth Company. I'm sorry if you had to wait, but I wanted to read over the reports that Jesorak sent before I decided on which squads you'd go to.” Tymal paused. “Do any of you know what we do here?”

“No, sir,” Alucius answered a moment ahead of the others.

“All of the companies here at Senob Post—regulars and auxiliaries—have the same task. We keep the Lanachronans from Southgate. We patrol the southwest highway and several of the smaller passes. We also pretend we're not at war and allow the traders to use the road. We're the force that makes sure they pay their tariffs. If any bandits or raiders show up, they're our task, too, but there haven't been many of those for years. Captain Hyrlui is in charge of Fortieth Company. She's the senior company captain…easy to recognize—she's very muscular and her hair is half white. The two undercaptains are Taniti and Kryll. Undercaptain Taniti is black-haired and big. Undercaptain Kryll…well…you can hear her voice from three vingts.”

After a pause, Tymal gestured to the four junior squad leaders. “These are your squad leaders. Alucius?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You're now in the seventh squad.” Tymal inclined his head to the tallest of the junior squad leaders. “Alben is your squad leader.”

“Beral? You're in second squad with Sedyr…”

“Kymbes? Third squad with Yular.”

“Murat and Sazium…eighth squad with Rask.” Tymal looked over the five. “Now…I'll spend a few moments with each of you and your squad leader. We don't rate spaces. So we'll use the mess here. Alucius, come with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Alucius followed Tymal and Alben to the northeastern-most table.

The two squad leaders sat on the bench on one side, and Alucius waited for Tymal to indicate that he should sit before he did.

“According to your training records, you're class one in all weapons, and unarmed combat, and you can ride anything.” Tymal frowned. “If you're that good, how did you get captured?”

“I got hit in the back of the head and shoulder with something during a raid on a Matrite camp. It might have been debris from where the spear-thrower exploded or when it hit one of the buildings. I don't know.” Alucius shrugged. “When I woke up I had a collar on.”

“Spear-thrower?”

“There was this weapon. It created and threw hundreds of crystal spears, about this long.” Alucius held his hands about a half yard apart. “It exploded.” He caught the brief look and feel of surprise in Alben's eyes.

Tymal merely nodded. “How did you know that, if it knocked you out?”

“The engineer who built it carried the pieces back to Hieron in the wagons that went with those of us who were captured. The pieces were so heavy that the axle on one of the wagons started to bow, and they had some of us move the pieces from one wagon to another.”

“How long were you in the Iron Valley Militia?”

“About a half year, sir.”

Tymal shook his head, then smiled. “Welcome to the Fortieth.” He nodded to Alben. “Alben will show you to the squad spaces and introduce you to your squad-mates.”

The junior squad leader stood, and Alucius followed his example, but then bent to recover his gear, including the Matrite rifle that still felt far too light to be effective. Alben did not speak until they had left the mess and the corridor beyond and were walking southward across the paved courtyard toward the barracks.

“Are you a killer?” Alben asked conversationally.

“I've killed men, sir. Most troopers who've survived have.”

Alben stopped in the courtyard and looked hard at Alucius. “You're in my squad. I have to know who and what you are. You speak Madrien with almost no accent, but that hair screams Iron Valley. You're younger than almost all troopers, but your weapons skills are better than all but the very best. The officer who examined you in the field said you had no Talent. So did the overcaptain at Hieron. The only kind that are so good young and without Talent are born killers. At least, the only kind I've known. They'll master anything to be able to kill better.”

Alucius met the glare from the other man without flinching. “I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not a born killer. I'll do what's necessary, and I'll do it as well as I can, but that's because it's the only way I know to stay alive.”

Alben sighed, loudly. “Maybe you don't know. You ever shoot anyone who you could have captured?”

“No, sir.”

“Then…how do you know so much so young?” Alben watched the younger man intently.

Alucius wondered how he could answer that, even as he began to answer. “My father died when I was barely able to walk. My grandfather—my mother's father—had been an officer in the Iron Valleys Militia in charge of some sort of training. He felt that my father died because he hadn't been trained well enough. He spent years training me before I was conscripted.”

Alben laughed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“You can believe it or not, sir, but it's the truth.”

“With all that…why didn't they make you a squad leader?”

“Because I was too young, and because they really didn't want me as one.” Alucius paused. “I don't know that it's true, but I always had the feeling that those of us who lived north of Dekhron were looked down upon, and it had been many years since my grandsire had served, and none of the senior officers knew him.”

“How far north of Dekhron?”

“Iron Stem.” Alucius hoped there weren't too many more questions.

Instead, Alben nodded. “That makes more sense. I'm from Klamat.” He paused again. “How many water bottles do you have?”

“Two, sir. Gorak saw that I needed another.”

“After you meet the rest of the squad, I'll get you a third. In the summer here, you'll need it.” Alben resumed his swift walk across the courtyard.

Alucius could only surmise that Alben had been just trying to draw him out, to get a better sense of who he was. At least, that was what he hoped.