Legacies (43 page)

They had ridden almost half a vingt before Alucius turned in the saddle. “Begging your pardon, undercaptain?”

“Yes, squad leader?” Gerayn's voice was even.

“I'm new at this, but the trader knew you. He knew that you'd know the value of his goods, but he protested, and then paid, as if he'd known it wouldn't do any good.”

“You saw that, didn't you? Why do you think he protested?”

“Someone in his group is a spy for whoever runs Southgate?” Alucius suggested.

“A spy, but from Lanachrona. It was a setup. If I don't call his bluff, then we look unreasonable or stupid. If I do, then it shows we have power. Burlyt wanted the spy to know we see more than we reveal. He hopes that will discourage the Lanachronans from trying to attack Zalt or even Southgate.”

“Thank you, sir.” Alucius nodded. He had his answers, and he hoped that he had covered any interest he might have betrayed.

“And Burlyt is the cousin of one of the high seltyrs of Southgate,” Gerayn added. “He should know better.”

Know what better? Alucius wasn't about to ask, and the undercaptain didn't volunteer an explanation.

The Matrial turned in the wooden armchair, looking up at the rows of ancient tomes in her private library. “So much knowledge, Aluyn, sits upon those shelves, and so much of it is useless.”

“Matrial?” inquired the blonde marshal from the other side of the ancient wooden desk.

“For knowledge to be used requires power. In the contests between cultures and lands, neither the greatest knowledge, or even sometimes the greatest power, triumphs. Look at where we stand. An accident, a simple accident, led to our present situation. Or perhaps it was lack of power.” After seeing the puzzled expression on the marshal's face, the Matrial continued. “We sent the crystal spear-thrower to Soulend. While it functioned, we had almost routed the Iron Valleys Militia. It failed, and we did not have another. That was lack of resources, or golds, or power, or forethought, call it what you will.

“So I ordered you to send more troopers, and we pulled most of the garrisons and horse from Salcer, Fola, and Hafin to be able to reinforce our troops in Soulend. After all, who would attack our heartland? But the reinforcements were not enough against the Iron Valleys and the coldest winter in a generation. Still, once the winter ended, our forces there made some inroads, and had moved halfway to Iron Stem and almost to Wesrigg. Who would have expected that this past winter was even colder, and that we lost ground once more? Now, we have all our forces ready to act, with their Militia crumbling, and what has happened?”

“The Lord-Protector has attacked Salcer,” replied the marshal. “But we repulsed them, and destroyed most of their force.”

“They almost reached the walls. Could we defeat them once more? Do we have the forces in the south to stop them if they send fifteen or twenty companies toward Zalt and Southgate?”

“No, Matrial,” the marshal admitted.

“So…we must pull back to the Westerhills borders, and send the forces in the north southward, as quickly as possible.” The Matrial smiled, sadly. “We have been beaten in trying to take the Iron Valleys—for now, and not by the power of men, but by the power of nature.” She sipped the amber liquid from the fluted crystal before she continued. “By our efforts, we have stripped the entire midsection of Madrien. While Zalt is stronger than last year, there were less than two full companies of horse in Salcer now, and only one in Dimor. Without the auxiliaries, we would have lost Salcer, and they were so decimated that another five companies could take the city, the depot, and the armory. Eight companies lost to nearly the last woman and veteran? Is that not so?”

“That is what I reported.”

“The Lord-Protector will attack in the south. He will attempt to take Southgate. He has always sought it, one way or another. So has Dramur. The attempted assassination of Seltyr Benjir and the rather unusual deaths of Seltyr Yasyr and his eldest son…”

“You believe that the traders…” ventured the marshal.

“They have close ties to the Dramurans. Dramur would dearly love to have a captive port on the west coast of Corus. We know this, and so does the Lord-Protector. The Iron Valleys must wait. If nothing else, we have weakened them so that when we do attack they will not be able to raise more militia.” A wry smile crossed her lips. “They already do not have the coins. They borrowed six thousand golds from the Landarch of Deforya—at interest. They have raised enough forces that the Lord-Protector will not attack there. Not now, and not if he is trying to seize Zalt and Southgate, and that he will do.”

“It will take time to move so many of our companies south.”

“It will, but move what you can quickly, and have the others follow. The rebuilt crystal spear-thrower will be complete by late summer or early harvest, and that should aid greatly.” The Matrial looked to the tomes filling the shelves on the wall. “So much knowledge, and so limited by the power we do not yet have.”

A hot wind blew off the sandy and scrub-covered ground to the right of Alucius, whipping sandy grit across his face. His eyes watered, and he blotted them, then readjusted his trooper's felt hat to keep it from blowing away.

Behind him rode second squad, along the south boundary road that divided the easternmost cultivated lands of Zalt from the scrub rangeland where the handful of local herders grazed their white sheep. The wind was coming from the east, off the Coast Range, as it had for days, drying out everything.

In some ways, everything had changed over the past three weeks. First, half of Fortieth Company had gone east to the logging camp used as a staging base. No sooner had they gotten there than it had rained for three days straight, turning the roads into swamps. Then, a messenger had struggled through to recall them to Zalt, because the Lanachronans had attacked Salcer with more than ten companies, but the Fortieth Company squads had to wait until the roads were passable. Since then, the sun had been unrelenting, the skies clear, and there was dust everywhere.

A week had passed since second squad's first road patrol after returning to Senob Post—ten days of drills and road patrols, with no sign of the Lanachronans. Only the day before had the captain received a message from Salcer, and all she had conveyed to the Eighteenth, Thirty-Second, and Fortieth Companies was that the invaders had been repulsed, with heavy losses on both sides.

Very, very heavy losses, Alucius suspected.

When the last gust of wind subsided, he looked eastward once more, sending out his Talent senses. He neither saw nor felt anything except wildlife and a distant flock of the Madrien sheep…and a range fox, the kind that preyed on the weak or upon newborn lambs.

Neither he nor any of the patrols had seen or reported any Lanachronan activity, and no sign at all of troops or scouts. Had almost all of their forces been directed at Salcer?

To Alucius that made little sense, because the maps and everything he had heard indicated that the Lord-Protector was far more interested in taking Southgate than in undertaking a full war against Madrien. His lack of understanding told him, once more, that there was far more that he needed to know, and yet…the wood-spirit had been clear that he could not wait too long.

He blotted the grit off his cheeks with his tunic sleeve, readjusted his hat, and looked eastward once more. Nothing, except wind and empty land.

“…keeps looking out there…”

“…nothing…”

“…anyone see anything…be him…”

“…someone…said he'd been a militia scout…one of the youngest ever…”

“…must have missed scouting something…wouldn't be here otherwise…”

Alucius laughed to himself. He'd missed more than a little, and he still was.

For all of the captain's concerns, two more days passed without event. Messengers arrived, but the captain said nothing, nor did Tymal. The near road patrols reported nothing. The more distant patrols had returned late on Tridi, and, not surprisingly to Alucius, on Quattri, all the squad leaders at Senob Post were summoned to a meeting immediately after breakfast. The only ones missing were the two who had already left on local road patrol duties.

Alucius accompanied Pahl and Yular into the long room, nearly a third the size of the mess, a place in which he had never been. The walls were of pale green plaster over stone, the floors polished redstone rectangles, and the windows had narrow casements without shutters or hangings. At the south end of the meeting hall, a low dais ran from one side of the ten-yard wide room to the other. There were neither benches nor chairs.

The dais was empty until all the squad leaders had assembled. Tymal stood beside the eight remaining squad leaders of Fortieth Company, as Konen stood beside those of Thirty-second Company, and Kastyn did beside those of Eighteenth Company. After several moments, the officers marched in. Captain Hyrlui, Captain Dynae, and Captain Marta took positions at the front of the dais, with the six undercaptains behind them, and Tariff Officer Gerayn slightly to one side.

Captain Hyrlui looked across the squad leaders, then spoke. “As you all should know, the Lanachronans attacked Salcer several weeks ago. Their losses were high, but so were ours. Now, the longer road patrols I had dispatched several days ago have reported that the Lanachronans have ten companies of Southern Guards on the southwestern high road, riding toward us. If they succeed in taking Zalt and breaking through to Southgate, they will send more companies. It is clear that their goal is to control the southwest high road and to take Southgate. We cannot allow this…”

Even had he not worn the collar, Alucius would not have wanted the Lanachronans to gain control of Southgate. But then, he really didn't want the Matrial in control, either.

“The most aid we can expect immediately is three companies of horse, and two of foot. They had been dispatched immediately after the battle for Salcer, and messengers have confirmed that they should reach us shortly, but possibly not before the Lanachronans do…” Hyrlui paused, glancing toward Captain Dynae, before continuing. “In addition, Zalt can raise three companies of horse auxiliaries. That will provide us with forces close to equal of those of the Lord-Protector. We will not ask for the auxiliaries unless it is clear we will need them. We expect to see the Lanachronans soon, either tomorrow or the next day.”

Captain Dynae cleared her throat, and Hyrlui nodded to the younger woman.

“We've been assured that additional companies are also on the road south,” Dynae added. “That's why it's important to stop the Lanachronans now.”

Hyrlui waited for a moment, then went on. “After this, we'll be meeting with senior squad leaders. You squad leaders should brief your troopers, and make sure that they're ready for battle. It could be tomorrow, or as late as Septi.” The captain paused once more, and looked toward the red-haired Captain Marta, who gave the slightest of head-shakes.

Hyrlui then concluded, “That is all.”

The officers left, with Captain Hyrlui the last to depart.

Then, Alucius led the squad leaders from the meeting hall. Once out in the corridor, he turned to find Tymal, but Gholar was already talking to the senior squad leader. Alucius listened.

“…know whether they've got cannon?”

“…have wagons, more than a score, ten trailing the main body…”

Tymal had known before the meeting. How much more did the senior squad leader know? Alucius kept listening, standing well back, but waiting for his turn to talk to Tymal.

“…might have some field pieces…wouldn't have many…couldn't risk it…not with Talent-officers…”

“…didn't know we had any here, sir…”

“…only need one, Gholar…”

“Yes, sir.” Gholar nodded and stepped away.

Alucius moved forward. “Sir?

“Yes, Alucius? Can you make it quick?”

“The auxiliaries? How good are they?”

“They are not quite so good as you, except for the elite companies, but they all have had much training, and, you have seen that they conduct maneuvers regularly. All able-bodied women are required to take arms training. They spend a season, sometimes two, in separate companies after their twentieth birthday, and some take it most seriously. They lost almost seven companies in saving Salcer.”

Alucius wanted to look down. “Thank you, sir.”

“You wouldn't know. You should.” Tymal smiled almost kindly before turning away.

As he walked back toward the barracks wing that held second squad, Alucius wondered. How many women in the Iron Valleys would train so…and risk their lives? His mother would have. He had no doubts of that. Wendra? He hoped so, but honestly didn't know.

Midafternoon on Quinti found Lokyl, Alucius, and Yular sitting on one side of the end table in the northeast corner of the troopers' mess. Across from them sat Tymal and Vylor, and between them was a map.

“Some of the auxiliaries sent out scouts earlier today, disguised as herders and growers,” Tymal began. “They just got back. The Lanachronans have six or seven field pieces—with a range of a good two vingts. They're placing them in the Barrow Mounds—those old low hills to the northeast. They'll be able to shell the post from there. Or even the town.” The senior squad leader paused. “In addition to the gunners, they've only got a half company of foot there right now. They've set up their main camp on the other side of the southwest high road, along the southern boundary road, right where the lower reach of Spring Creek crosses the road.”

“That's almost four vingts out,” Lokyl said. “That puts a good two vingts between their main camp and the artillery. I wouldn't do that.”

“You'd want all that powder near your camp?” asked Tymal.

“Don't know why they'd even risk bringing it.” Yular scratched his ear.

“Because true Talents who can cast power over a distance are very rare,” Tymal pointed out. “They're not going to let one walk up, and we're not about to risk one, even guarded with a company, trying to get her close enough to set off the powder.” The senior squad leader shrugged. “So you three get chosen to try and do some damage to the guns. Vylor is going to take out first, second, and third squads in a glass—sooner, if possible. Your job is to locate exactly the cannon emplacements and send back a good map with a messenger. Then, if possible, you're to attack the emplacements and destroy or capture the field pieces. The captain would prefer destruction, but even if you can't take the position, the attack should force them to move more troopers to defend there. We need to keep them off balance for another day, until the other companies reach us.”

“You said they only had half a company of foot troopers?” asked Yular.

“That's now. Once the guns are dug in…they'll move in more. That's why you'll be heading out now, before they move in more foot troopers.” Tymal gestured to the map. “You'll take the north-south high road back north. It's less than three vingts before you reach the place where you head east, along the field roads. The fields run almost to the base of the hills, but if you go another couple of hundred yards north, here, there's a windbreak of brush olives that you can follow to within two hundred yards of the northeastern end of the Barrow Mounds…”

“Are the Mounds talent-trapped?” asked Lokyl.

“No one has found anything there,” Tymal said dryly. “The Mounds were built generations before the Duarchy was established. There won't be anything of power left. If there is…well…the Lanachronans are there now. I doubt if any traps will wait for you.”

Yular laughed. Lokyl flushed.

After the short briefing, Alucius hurried to the second squad barracks wing.

Beral was on his feet. “Squad leader's here.”

“Gather round!” Alucius ordered.

He waited until all eight troopers were there. “We're heading out now. Half glass at the latest, formed up in the courtyard. Three squads. Lanachronans are trying to establish a post in the Barrow Mounds.”

“…frig…”

Alucius didn't see who muttered the comment. “It'll be worse than that if we let them dig in. They're bringing in cannon.”

“Only a third of a company?”

“We can't risk more than that,” Alucius pointed out. “Not until tomorrow, or maybe Septi. We can't wait that long.”

“Would happen to us,” Keval muttered.

“Someone has to go, unless we want to sit here and get bombarded—or retreat and fight on worse ground.” Alucius pointed out. “Get going. Draw double cartridge loads. I'll see you in the courtyard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alucius turned away.

“…doesn't coddle you…”

“…doesn't coddle himself…”

Alucius hoped not, although he could recall sleeping in while others worked, and that hadn't been all that many years before. He picked up his own gear, and a triple load of cartridges from the small post armory, before heading to the stable.

He was the first saddled and ready in the courtyard, as it should have been, he felt, noting that Yular was close behind him.

The older squad leader eased his mount toward Alucius. “What did you tell your men?”

“That we had to take out the cannon before they got them in position to take us out.” Alucius shrugged. “What else could I say?” He paused, then asked, “What did you say?”

“Same thing.” Yular grinned. “I also told them you were part of the attack.”

“That…and a bullet…will get them the same grave,” Alucius replied.

“You and I know that, but you've got a reputation. I'll use it.”

Alucius shook his head. “So it'll be my fault if things go wrong?”

“No. I'll just tell 'em that if you couldn't do it, no one could, and that they did their best.”

“You're most helpful, Yular,” Alucius replied with exaggerated courtesy.

“I know.” Yular laughed, then turned his mount back to where third squad was forming up.

The half glass had not passed when second squad was formed up, and only a bit more time passed before Vylor appeared.

“Squad leaders, report!”

“First squad present and ready.”

“Second squad present and ready, sir,” Alucius replied.

“Third squad, present and ready, sir.”

“Column, forward!” Vylor ordered.

After riding out through the post gates, and directly into the late afternoon sun for the several hundred yards westward along the southwest high road back toward Zalt, the small force turned northward on the north-south road, passing the town on the left. For the first time, Alucius was conscious that people in the town actually stopped to watch the troopers ride past. Absently, he wondered where the auxiliaries might be.

Once the three squads crossed the culvert bridge where the lower reach of Spring Creek ran beneath the north-south high road, Alucius began to look northeast, out across the fields toward the low mounds, almost lost against the fields from which they rose and the mountains farther to the east and behind them.

Before long, they neared a lane on the right side, one that was just on the north side of a long line of bushy trees with pale gray-green leaves—the brush olive windbreak. To the north of the lane, the fields showed shoots of green, mostly two spans high.

“To the right, single file!” Vylor ordered.

Alucius repeated the command, and the troopers formed a longer line along the narrow lane to the north of the brush olives, whose feathery-looking and heavily thorned branches overhung and thrust out onto the lane. Brush olives, Alucius decided after riding less than two hundred yards, were worse in a way than quarasote, because nightsheep could eat quarasote, while only the redbreasts and a few other birds tolerated the tiny bitter fruit that scarcely resembled olives.

Feeling more than a little uneasy, Alucius began searching with his Talent when the column was still a good half vingt from the end of the brush olive windbreak. Not a single shot had come in their direction. With the thickness of the windbreak, he couldn't see the Barrow Mounds, and certainly, no one could fire at them—until they charged from behind the olives.

Alucius could clearly sense the black auras of the Lanachronans—more than a full company, probably foot, since he did not pick up many horses—and all dug in behind berms, waiting for the late afternoon attack—or even for a night-time attack—or so it seemed.

Less than fifty yards ahead, Alucius could see where the olives thinned and then ended.

“Column halt!”

“Squad halt,” Alucius repeated.

“Re-form in double files!” came the command.

“Double files.”

Before long, Vylor would give the signal, and they'd charge out—and, sooner or later, receive heavy fire from a prepared position.

Vylor rode down the column, first stopping and saying something to Lokyl, and then riding toward Alucius. “Second squad will take the north side of the Mounds.”

“Yes, sir.”

Waiting, as Vylor continued past to give his orders to Yular, Alucius tried to make sense of what his Talent was showing him. Cannon—widely spaced, each within an earthen berm, and each with a berm behind it. Almost belatedly, he recalled the conversation between Gholar and Tymal—and the mention of a Talent-officer.

Could he use his Talent to set off a cannon's powder? He had to try.

Alucius reached out, trying to create a sense of fire somewhere…amid the powder bags.

Sweat poured off his forehead, and his eyes seemed to blur. Just the smallest spark, the tiniest point of fire. He felt like his entire face would burst into flame, and he channeled that feeling into it.

Nothing happened.

He sat on his mount, shaking, and Vylor rode back toward the head of the column. There had to be a way. There had to be. Before Vylor ordered them into certain slaughter.

If the Matrial could use power for hundreds of vingts and use it to kill those who wore collars…

He straightened in the saddle. Perhaps that was it. He let his Talent range over Beral, the closest of his troopers, picking out the thin line of purple-pink that linked with other lines and then vanished into the distance.

The second time, Alucius visualized a thin line of purple, running from him eastward over the brush olives and toward the Barrow Mounds, a line of purple carrying the heat of not just a flame, but of red-hot metal, the heat of the hammermill in Iron Stem.

To his senses, the line of thin purple seemed almost like a flame flashing across the sky, yet no one else saw it.

Crump!
The first explosion seemed distant, although he knew the cannons were little more than two hundred yards away. Even so, Alucius almost started out of his saddle, and Wildebeast
whuff
ed and pawed the hard dirt of the lane. The second Talent-spark seemed easier, as did the others, as he reached cannon after cannon. Still, by the time, he finished the last, he was trembling in the saddle, and could hardly see.

Crump!…crump…
Explosion after explosion filled the late afternoon.

“Charge!” Vylor commanded in a lull in the detonations.

First squad cantered forward, around the end of the windbreak.

Second squad followed. Alucius's mouth dropped open as he looked toward the Mounds. There, lines of fire flared into the sky, and clouds of white and black smoke swirled up. His amazement was not because of the explosions themselves—gunpowder was supposed to explode—but because he had actually used Talent to set off those explosions.

Still, it wouldn't take long for the Lanachronan troopers to settle back in.

With the Lanachronans spread in an arc, if second squad circled more to the north, the troopers would have to fire over each other. At least, Alucius hoped so. He turned in the saddle. “Follow me! We're going to flank them!”

Second squad reached the bottom of the northwestern corner of the Mounds before the bullets began to fly past. Almost absently, Alucius concentrated on leading the squad around, brushing away all distractions.

“Rifles ready! Hold your fire until we make the top! Rifles ready!”

“Stay close to the squad leader!” someone called out.

The sound of rifles firing became louder, more obvious, as the explosions of powder died away, although a crackling sound began to rise in the background as Alucius and Wildebeast came over the crest of the mound, right at the north end of the Lanachronan line. Less than a handful of Lanachronans had their rifles aimed northward.

Alucius aimed and fired, then recocked and fired, still keeping Wildebeast moving, if more deliberately. “Second squad! Fire at will!”

The command was unneeded, Alucius realized after he'd yelled it out, but it probably didn't matter. He got off two…three more shots. Then he saw a Lanachronan aiming toward a horseman who had appeared in the center of the defending foot.

Alucius shot the Lanachronan in the back, and then took down those beside him. Hurriedly, he kept Wildebeast moving while he fumbled more cartridges into his magazine.

Then he wheeled Wildebeast back north, once more firing until his magazine was empty, before unsheathing his sabre. He used it but once, before seeing, a good half a vingt to the east, a cloud of dust, dust of a company or more of Lanachronan horse. As his glance shifted to the thin line of second squad, he saw Rhen pitch forward from the saddle. There were only a handful of Lanachronan troopers nearby, and most of them were keeping their heads down. For the moment.

“Second squad! Withdraw! Withdraw! Follow me!” He waited but briefly, until he saw his troopers turning their mounts, before urging Wildebeast to begin to ride down, even more northward than before, hoping that the angle of the slope would shield them.

“Third squad! Withdraw!”

Alucius heard no commands from first squad. He turned in the saddle and yelled out, “First squad! Regroup on second squad. Withdraw!”

There were almost no bullets chasing them as they pounded back down the hill. Alucius thought he saw several riders that weren't his troopers trailing behind Armon and Hansyl as his squad swept behind the windbreak.

He glanced back over his shoulder and counted, trying to take in faces and names. There were nine immediately behind him, and then another group twenty yards or so back.

“Slow to a fast trot!” Alucius called, once he was sure all the riders had reached the protection of the windbreak. He wasn't about to stay around with at least a full company of horse coming as reinforcements, not when they'd accomplished their mission, but exhausting their mounts wouldn't help, either.