The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce)

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  The big horse turned his head immediately and nickered.

  “I’m glad to see you, too.” Beltur eased up beside Slowpoke and stroked his neck. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  Slowpoke nuzzled him, both seeming happy to see Beltur and likely also looking for the carrot.

  “Here it is, big fellow.”

  Beltur just brushed Slowpoke and talked to him. After recalling what he had done on oneday, and knowing that he didn’t recall even half of the deaths he’d caused, he wasn’t certain he even wanted to talk to anyone besides Jessyla, although he knew he’d have to, sooner or later.

  He was finishing up when Jessyla appeared at the barn door. “How are you feeling?”

  “I just wanted to see how Slowpoke was.”

  She smiled, an expression with a hint of sadness. “I don’t think you answered my question.”

  “You must have some idea how I feel…”

  “You need to say it, if only to me.”

  “I … I can tell myself … that I did what I had to … but … what … I did … was terrible. What they did would have … been worse for the townspeople. I feel … I’ve been asking myself if I could have done something else. Would it have been better for the people? It would have been … at least for now … if we’d just walked away. But … why should we always be the ones to leave? We left Gallos. We left Elparta. We left Axalt … because other people didn’t like who we are … or what we did. I did terrible things on oneday. I did them because … partly, anyway, I was tired of always being the one to walk away … and now … even more people will die because I don’t want to walk away any more.”

  “Neither do I,” replied Jessyla.

  “But it’s a terrible price to pay.”

  “It is. You’re willing to pay it. So am I, even if I can’t do all that you can. We’ve made that choice. We have to finish this … and live with it. Otherwise, it will have been for nothing.”

  She stepped forward and put her arms around him.

  We have to live with it … as best we can. For a long time, Beltur just hung on to her.

  Finally, he straightened and stepped back. “I need to talk to Lhadoraak.”

  “We both need to talk to Tulya and Lhadoraak.” She pulled a small object from somewhere within her tunic. “First, there’s something you need to see.”

  “That? What is it?”

  “It’s a mirror. You don’t need to see it. You need to look at yourself in it.”

  Beltur took the small brass mirror gingerly, absently wishing he’d taken the time to make a special mirror for her. Another thing you should have done. Then he turned the mirror, and looked at the reflected image of himself.

  He half expected the bruises on his cheeks, and along his jawline, bruises that were showing deep purple in spots, as were those he had on his arms and legs, and even his chest, and the redness of his eyes was certainly understandable. What he didn’t expect was the purple-black band that covered his forehead from a digit above his eyebrows and that appeared to cover his entire skull, even under his hairline.

  “How … what?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Jessyla. She moistened her lips. “I think … I’m afraid … it might not go away, the black on your forehead and skull.”

  “But … how…?” repeated Beltur.

  “It was there when we got you off Slowpoke. I don’t think people really noticed. You were in such bad shape. I just wanted to get some ale into you and make sure you didn’t have any broken bones that weren’t immediately obvious. No one but me has seen you since then. It might be a shock to them … and to you, because we don’t have any mirrors in the house.”

  “I wanted to make one for you, like we did for Halhana, but … there was never time. There’s never been enough time.”

  She smiled. “I know. You talked about it once in your sleep. I can wait.”

  Beltur couldn’t help but think that he still should have insisted, but, as in so many things, regrets were a waste of time—except as a warning not to put off the little things that were more important than he realized. Except you didn’t understand that it was important.

  “Shall we walk over to see Tulya and Lhadoraak?”

  Beltur smiled at the gentle reminder. He did realize that he was reluctant to see Lhadoraak. He could still remember the stunned expression on the face of the older mage when Beltur had told Lhadoraak of the need to kill as many officers as possible. He also knew how difficult Lhadoraak found even using shields to disable troopers.

  The two walked from the barn across the narrow street and up to the front door.

  Beltur knocked, then heard footsteps, not the light ones of Taelya, but Lhadoraak’s boots.

  The door opened.

  Lhadoraak stared, if only for an instant. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Jessyla would have stopped me from coming if I weren’t all right to see you. I’m not all right for any more battles at the moment.”

  “I don’t think any of us are.” Lhadoraak stepped back, opening the door wide and gesturing toward the hearth.

  Beltur glanced around the front parlor, where the kitchen chairs had been brought in and arranged facing the backed bench Jaegyr had delivered earlier. Besides Tulya, Waerdyn and Gustaan were there.

  “Since the Hydlenese burned down the Council House, we’ve been using our front room to meet,” explained Lhadoraak. “That made sense, especially since your house has become the armory.”

  Beltur hadn’t noticed that, but then he hadn’t been in shape to notice much of anything.

  “You sit here. I’ll get the stool,” said Tulya, rising from one of the chairs and heading for the kitchen.

  “Thank you.” Beltur eased himself into the chair, very carefully. He was more than aware of the covert scrutiny of his appearance.

  Jessyla moved to stand behind him, and Tulya reappeared carrying the stool. She gestured for Jessyla to take the only vacant chair. Jessyla shook her head.

  “How bad are things in Haven?” asked Beltur. “Obviously, I’ve been in no condition to ride around.”

  Lhadoraak seated himself and gestured to Waerdyn. “They’ve been riding patrols and reporting.”

  The lead scout cleared his throat. “It’s not as bad as it would have been … without what you did. We counted eleven houses that burned. Also some sheds.”

  Gustaan added, “Most of those inside the burned houses died. There’s no sign of the Hydlenese. There weren’t many wounded. There were a lot of dead troopers. More than I ever saw in a battle. Some had their necks crushed. A lot … most of them were slashed in half.”

  Lhadoraak looked to Beltur. “If you’d explain…”

  “I turned my shields into invisible blades. Slowpoke supplied the muscle.” Beltur’s voice was flat. “They would have slaughtered everyone they could. It was the only thing I could do. I just kept riding until I couldn’t find any more.”

  “They’re gone,” Lhadoraak said tiredly. “At least, there’s no trace of any of them. Waerdyn, Gustaan, and the others have gathered up some of the horses that … survived.”

  “How many?” asked Beltur warily.

  “A little more than a score,” said Lhadoraak.

  Beltur couldn’t help but wince.

  “You did what you had to, ser,” said Gustaan. “We’ve got some mounts in the East Inn and some in a barn at that widow’s place. She said that was the least she could do, seeing as you’d pretty much saved Haven.”

  Saved it by slaughtering hundreds, and most of them never really saw it coming … or knew why. “They’ll be back,” Beltur said bleakly. “With an army.”

  “Do you really think so?” asked Tulya. “After all they lost?”

  Beltur turned to Gustaan. “What do you think? You might have a better idea.”

  “The Duke hates it when things don’t go his way. Losing most of a battalion will just anger him more. A battalion means nothing to him. Like the mage said, he’ll m
uster a large force, and this time he’ll send white mages as well.”

  “Does he have many?” asked Jessyla. “How many?”

  Gustaan shrugged. “I don’t know. He has some. The officers said he saved them for when it counted. They used them against a pirate base near Pyrdya a few years ago. Burned most of the pirate ships with chaos bolts.”

  Beltur looked to Waerdyn. “Have we heard anything from Weevett or from the Duchess or Korsaen?”

  “Nothing.”

  Lhadoraak cleared his throat. “On twoday, I wrote a report and sent it with Ruell and Therran to Weevett. I hope you don’t mind, but we didn’t know…”

  “I’m glad you did,” Beltur said quickly. “Therran?”

  “He volunteered,” interjected Gustaan. “He and Ruell get along.”

  “I thought we ought to have at least one Montgren trooper here,” added Lhadoraak. “I can’t believe they won’t send someone after an attack like this.”

  “We’ll have to see,” replied Beltur. “More than a few times, people haven’t seen things the way we have.”

  “It’s in the interests of both Lydiar and Montgren to put a stop to this,” pointed out Jessyla, “and if they don’t support us, it will be much worse in the future.”

  “Unless they’re willing just to let Hydlen have Haven,” said Tulya.

  “We can’t do anything more than we’ve done, can we?” asked Beltur, looking around the parlor.

  All the others shook their heads.

  Beltur managed a wry smile. “Bad as it was, it could have been worse.” And it will be, especially if the Duchess doesn’t send her own troopers.

  XLI

  After a solid night’s sleep on fiveday, Beltur woke up on sixday feeling better and slightly reassured, since he could sense people almost half a kay away and hold decent, if not strong, shields. Still, compared to what he had been able to do, he worried about whether he would regain those abilities … and how long it might take. The purpled bruises on his body were turning yellowish in places. Jessyla assured him that was normal. Normal or not, they still hurt, and hurt more if something touched them, which was difficult to avoid since it felt like every place on his body had a bruise. The purplish blackness that covered the skin on his forehead and higher wasn’t turning yellow, but appeared to be shifting to solid black.

  As he finished his beaker of ale at breakfast, Beltur looked to Jessyla. “Do you have any idea why the skin on my forehead is turning even blacker?”

  “I don’t. I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “I can’t sense any difference in the natural order and chaos there.”

  “Well … there isn’t any difference between people who have lighter or darker skins. That might mean that what’s happened is … natural … in a way.”

  “Half the skin on my head being black is natural?”

  “As far as order and chaos are concerned. That’s what I meant.”

  “Could it change again?”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “You don’t sound very convincing,” said Beltur dryly.

  “I told you. I’ve never heard of anything like it.” She paused. “I also never heard of a mage who could do what you did on oneday.”

  “You think the two are connected?”

  “Beltur … how could they not be?”

  He took a deep breath. “I look … deformed.”

  “You still have the same shape and physical build.”

  “After what I did … this will convince everyone that I’m some kind of monster.” He swallowed. “And maybe I am. I just knew … if I did anything else … we wouldn’t have a chance.”

  “You wear your visor cap when you ride anyway. Most people won’t see the difference.”

  “They will when they meet me.”

  “I know who you are. That hasn’t changed.”

  Beltur could sense she meant every word … but that she was more worried than she let on. “Maybe Lhadoraak…”

  “Absolutely not,” declared Jessyla. “He’s a nice, sweet, caring man, but he’s not strong enough to do what needs to be done. Especially not in a war with Hydlen. Even Tulya knows that.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  “Not in words, but she doesn’t have to.”

  Beltur stretched, very carefully … and very gingerly. “I’d like to take a ride this morning.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Beltur smiled. “You’re not letting me go off on my own?”

  “Not any time soon. You’re bruised all over. You need to recover your full strength, and I don’t want you getting any ideas about riding off to see what the Hydlenese might be doing. Even if there were any around, killing a few wouldn’t change anything.” She paused, just for an instant. “I’m glad you’re wearing your blacks, though.”

  “I’m glad something I’m doing meets your approval,” Beltur replied with a sheepish grin. He’d chosen to wear blacks, rather than the patroller/Spidlarian blues, although Jessyla had washed them, most likely to remove blood and worse, because he certainly wasn’t in shape to be a patroller, and the black-banded healer greens certainly didn’t feel appropriate at the moment.

  “Most of what you do meets with my approval … except when you do too much and almost kill yourself.”

  “Then we should take our ride together.” He stood, and after finding his visor cap, and a carrot, he and Jessyla walked down to the small barn. When Beltur entered Slowpoke’s stall, the gelding immediately nuzzled him.

  “Is that for me … or for the carrot?” asked Beltur, scarcely hesitating to hand over the treat.

  He took his time readying the gelding and trying not to wince when he lifted the saddle, although he knew Jessyla must have sensed from the adjoining stall where she readied her own horse.

  Once mounted, he headed west on the side street to see if there was any real damage to the houses from which he’d effectively herded the Hydlenese. He didn’t see any. Then he turned Slowpoke north toward the main street and headed west. Once he and Jessyla reached the brick posts, they turned back east. There were a handful of people outside, but none of them looked that obviously at the two riders.

  Because they’re preoccupied … angry and don’t want to show it … reluctantly convinced we did what we could … Beltur had no idea, and with his still limited senses, he wasn’t close enough to get a hint.

  Again, outside of trampled bushes and gardens, there wasn’t that much damage west of the main square. Beltur wasn’t looking forward to what he was certain he was going to see east of the square. As they rode past the Brass Bowl, he saw that most of the first-floor shutters remained closed. The square was empty, except for two women filling buckets at the fountain. All that remained of the Council House and healing house was charred heaps, but the quarters building and the chandlery appeared undamaged, as was the East Inn.

  Two blocks farther on, they passed the first burned dwelling. Beltur didn’t remember what the house had looked like, except that the siding had been whitewashed and it had always been neatly kept. There was no sign that anyone had been near the place since it had burned.

  Fifty yards later, they rode past a still-shuttered house that looked untouched, but a shed or barn on the property had been burned down. Someone had been working there, because all the charred material had been gathered into a pile and the stone and mortar foundation was being restored. Beltur didn’t see the restorer.

  Before that long, the two neared the east end of town.

  Julli was working in the front garden, clearly trying to salvage what she could. When she saw the two riders, she gestured and then immediately hurried toward them, not quite at a run.

  Glancing around and not seeing anyone else close, Beltur reined up and waited, as did Jessyla.

  “I heard that you’d been wounded,” said Julli. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. It was an order-chaos wound.” Beltur didn’t know how else to describe what h
appened in any other succinct fashion. “It will be a while before I’m fully recovered.” If ever. But he wasn’t about to say that, for a number of reasons, including the fact that it might not be true.

  “He almost died,” said Jessyla. “We’re fortunate he’s still here.”

  “Why did they want to destroy Haven? We haven’t done anything.”

  “We rejected the Duke’s offer to take over Haven,” said Beltur. “The Duke doesn’t like to be rebuffed. His officers won’t cross him. So they attacked.”

  “Why would we ever want to be a part of Hydlen? The Duke is as bad as the Viscount. Some say he’s worse.”

  “As Beltur said, the Duke’s used to getting his own way,” replied Jessyla.

  “Is the Duchess going to send you some help?”

  “We’ve reported the situation. We haven’t heard yet,” said Beltur. “By the way, thank you for earlier helping with the horses and weapons. How is Jaegyr? I saw that his workshop … was destroyed.”

  “He’s working with Gorlaak to plan a better one. He’s sorry he’ll be late in doing those chairs for you.”

  “We’re just glad you two are all right,” Jessyla said quickly.

  “Do you think the Duke’s men will be back?”

  “Those men won’t, but the Duke may send a larger force,” replied Beltur.

  Julli’s face fell. “We thought … maybe…”

  “Duke … Massyngal…” Beltur struggled to remember the Duke’s name. “… doesn’t like to be thwarted. He also wants to take over this part of Montgren so that he can more easily conquer Lydiar.”

  “Oh … What will you do?”

  “That depends on what everyone else does,” said Beltur. “We’ll do what we can.”

  “We’re riding through town to see the damage,” added Jessyla. “Beltur didn’t have a chance earlier. Did the other gardens fare as badly as the one in front?”

  “The one on the east side was partly destroyed. The ones on the west and back are mostly fine.”

  “We’re glad to hear it.” Jessyla smiled, then nodded to Beltur, and eased her horse forward.