The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce)

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “There’s no point in weeping, except in brief grief. Prolonging sadness is just self-punishment.”

  The tinker turned as another woman approached, this one gray-haired and lugging a heavy wicker basket.

  Beltur nodded, then turned Slowpoke toward the main street.

  “Mages as Kaordists?” murmured Jessyla.

  “I think we’ve been called a great deal worse,” said Beltur, “especially in Gallos and Spidlar.”

  “You don’t really believe in a goddess/god of order and chaos, do you?”

  “No, but what Worrfan believes isn’t vicious or harmful. So there’s not much point in getting upset about it.” Especially not at the moment.

  When they reached the main street, the two turned east. Beltur was pleased to see that the East Inn had its shutters open. Recalling what he’d promised, or what Lhadoraak had promised for him, he turned Slowpoke in toward the stables.

  “Why are you—”

  “Keeping a promise. I never had a chance to pay the rest of what I owed Aaskar.”

  Jessyla started to say something, then nodded. “A promise is a promise.”

  Beltur managed to keep from smiling when he reined up outside the stable. He didn’t even have to ask for the stableboy, because Aaskar appeared immediately.

  “Ser mage?”

  “Aaskar, I believe I owe you a bit more than Mage Lhadoraak paid you on my behalf.” Beltur extracted two silvers, more than was due, bent over and handed them to the stableboy. “There’s some extra there because, now that the Council House has been burned, there’s no way for you to report to Councilor Tulya, and there may not be for some time.”

  “Thank you, ser mage.” Aaskar looked slightly downcast, and not all of that was pretense.

  “Once matters are decided with the Hydlenese, we’ll see what you might be able to do for the Council.”

  The boy brightened slightly.

  “Thank you, again, Aaskar.” Beltur nodded and urged Slowpoke back to the street.

  “He’s a good actor,” observed Jessyla.

  “He is, but I did promise, and people don’t forget when you don’t keep promises, even to children.”

  “Especially to children.”

  “Have I forgotten something I promised to Taelya?”

  Jessyla laughed. “Not that I know of.”

  “Good.”

  The ride from the inn to the eastern edge of Haven was uneventful, but as they passed Julli, who waved from where she labored in the east garden, Beltur noticed neat stacks of bricks and stones next to where Jaegyr’s shed workshop had been, an area now cleared with trenches in place for a foundation, it appeared. “I think Jaegyr’s decided to rebuild his workshop in stone and brick.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Neither mentioned the fact that it only made sense if, one way or another, Haven survived the attack likely to come.

  On a line in the sunshine hung quite a few uniforms that looked, to Beltur, as though they were Spidlarian blue.

  “Thank you for taking care of the patroller uniforms.”

  “It was something I could do, and it needed to be done.”

  “I can still appreciate it and thank you.”

  The words brought a brief smile to Jessyla’s face.

  The gentle and circuitous ride through the town took more than two glasses, and dealing with the horses and the barn when they returned took another glass before Beltur and Jessyla walked back into their house and sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy an ale.

  “We’re running low on the ale,” Beltur observed.

  “Jaegyr is bringing kegs from the widow for both houses tomorrow.”

  “On an eightday?”

  “He said he’d be happy to do it. Of course, I paid him a few coppers.”

  “You arranged for it? You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It was one thing you didn’t need to worry about. Besides, I wanted to meet her.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t need to, but I’m glad I did. We had a very nice talk.”

  “Thank you for taking care of that, as well.” Beltur nodded, deciding the less said, the better.

  While Beltur didn’t take a nap, he did spend the next few glasses resting and reading more of The Wisdom of Relyn. He also found himself marking several passages.

  Then, around third glass he sensed and then heard a rider galloping up the street toward the houses. When he looked out, he saw that it was Ruell. He immediately stepped out and waited outside the front door.

  Ruell reined up and announced, “Ser! There’s half a company from Montgren coming. I thought you should know. You might have sensed them and thought they were from Hydlen. I told them to come here, but I’ll head back and guide them.”

  “Thank you. I’ll tell Lhadoraak.”

  “Thank you, ser.” With that, Ruell turned his mount and headed back toward the main street, but this time at a walk.

  Beltur turned to tell Jessyla, only to find her standing behind him.

  “It’s about time.”

  Beltur just nodded. “We should tell Lhadoraak and Tulya.”

  Jessyla stepped forward and shut the door behind her.

  The two walked across the street, where Beltur knocked on the door.

  Taelya opened it.

  Beltur nodded as he sensed the separation of natural order and chaos. “You’re doing well with separating order and chaos. We need to talk to your father and mother.”

  “We’re in the kitchen, Beltur,” Lhadoraak called out.

  Beltur and Jessyla followed Taelya to the kitchen.

  “What did Ruell tell you?” asked Tulya. “I saw him talking to you.”

  “He said that half a company of troopers from Montgren was on the outskirts of town. He’s going to escort them here.”

  “I hope more than that are coming,” replied Tulya tartly.

  “I imagine the half company is to reassure us,” said Lhadoraak. “Also, it makes sense for them to come first and arrange things, not that there’s all that much to arrange.”

  “One other thing. Did Jessyla tell you that Jaegyr will be delivering more ale from the widow tomorrow? She arranged it.”

  “Excellent!” declared Lhadoraak. “We’re running low.”

  Tulya merely smiled knowingly at Jessyla.

  “Can I show you how much better I can do shields, Uncle Beltur?”

  “In the front room, please, Taelya,” said Tulya. “When you showed me … it got a little … tight in here.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to walk in when I was showing Father.”

  “Her shields almost shoved Tulya into the stove,” said Lhadoraak.

  “The front room, definitely,” agreed Beltur.

  Beltur, Lhadoraak, and Taelya moved to the front room.

  Taelya stood next to the backed padded bench. “I can put a shield around me and the bench.”

  “Go ahead,” said Beltur.

  Without hesitation Taelya built a shield as large as she’d promised.

  “I’m going to poke at it with order,” said Beltur, immediately doing so.

  “I can feel that,” replied Taelya, “but it doesn’t hurt.”

  Beltur pressed harder, and a bit harder, then just maintained the pressure, pleasantly surprised that Taelya was holding a comparatively large shield against order pressure. “I’m going to keep pressing like this to see how long you can hold it.”

  “I can hold it,” declared Taelya.

  After half a quint, she was still holding the shield.

  Beltur found himself grinning, and released the pressure. He could see and sense that Taelya was still holding the shield. “You can release it now.”

  “I can hold it longer.”

  “I can sense that, but the troopers are coming up the street now, and we have to talk to them,” replied Beltur.

  Taelya released the shield and took a deep breath. “I’ve been working hard. Father said my shield had to be stron
g enough to protect Mother and me.”

  “It’s strong enough to stop blades,” said Beltur. “But you might need to hold it for a half glass or longer.”

  “I can already hold it a quint.”

  Beltur looked to Lhadoraak, who nodded.

  “You’re better than I was when I was twice your age,” Beltur admitted, then said, “I hear horses. We might as well go out and greet them.”

  Ruell reined up in front of the column of Montgren troopers. He looked to the squad leader beside him and gestured toward the five just outside the house. “Those are the four councilors. The taller blond mage is Lhadoraak, the darker one Beltur, and he’s a healer, too. The healer is Jessyla, and she’s a mage as well, and the blond woman is Tulya, and she’s the justicer.” The courier grinned, adding, “And the young woman there is Taelya, and she’s a beginning mage.”

  The squad leader inclined his head. “I’m Senior Squad Leader Tallud, and I’m in charge of these two squads, at least until Undercaptain Cheld gets here tomorrow with two more squads and all the supply wagons. The captain had to wait with the last squad for the Lydian companies. For some reason the Duke of Lydiar insisted that they be escorted by a senior officer.” Tallud grinned. “So the captain’s now Majer Raelf. He deserved it a long time ago.”

  “How long will it be before the majer and the Lydians arrive?” asked Beltur. “Do you have any idea?”

  “They’re coming through Hrisbarg, we heard.” Tallud shook his head. “That’s the long way, and it doesn’t make sense to me. But that means it might be close to an eightday.”

  Beltur was afraid he knew exactly why the Lydians were taking the long way, and that was because the shorter way might have exposed them to a Hydlenese attack, given that Hydlenese forces had already shown up east of Haven on that very road that led to Lydiar. That also suggested the quality of the Lydian companies. He smiled politely. “Let’s just hope the Duke of Hydlen is having as much difficulty mustering his forces.”

  “Never heard of an army that moved fast, ser. The bigger it is, the slower it moves.”

  “There’s enough space for two squads, maybe more, at the East Inn,” said Beltur. “We’ll have to see what else we can work out.”

  “The supply wagons have some tents, ser, and one’s a camp kitchen…”

  Beltur nodded as Tallud went on. Someone, likely either Raelf or Korsaen, if not both, had thought out some aspects of the campaign to come. The only question was how much thought and magery could compensate for a lack of troopers.

  XLIII

  Beltur woke up with a start in the darkness before dawn. Had he heard the sounds of horses? The shouts of riders? Immediately, he sat up and cast out his senses, trying to determine what had awakened him so abruptly.

  Horses! Riders! Scores of them were sweeping toward Haven, coming in from the south, the east, and the west. The closest group was already past the brick posts on the west end of town.

  “Jessyla! They’re attacking from everywhere!” Beltur bolted from his bed, already sweating in the heat of a too-hot summer night, and yanked on trousers, tunic, and boots, then sprinted from the bedroom out through the back door and straight for the barn, hoping he could get there and get Slowpoke saddled and out on the streets before the seemingly endless stream of riders reached the house.

  At least, he could protect the small area around the houses.

  Somehow, mostly using his senses, he found the saddle and other tack and managed to get the big gelding saddled and out of the barn into the steamy night. He’d barely mounted when a squad of troopers carrying flaring torches and bare blades glittering in the torchlight galloped toward the house.

  Beltur widened his shields into the killing blades and charged toward the oncoming riders, scything through one line of riders, then another … and another. He had to expand his shields to get enough room to turn Slowpoke to get clear of the mass of equine and human bodies he’d created by his first charge. Yet he had to get back closer to the house because another column was riding up the side street from the south.

  He’d also lost Jessyla. There were so many troopers and mounts that he couldn’t make out any one person.

  Then to the south, he saw flames flaring into the sky, as if the houses fired by the night attack had been helped by oils—and by chaos, he realized, as he sensed chaos bolts slamming into houses and turning them into fiery infernos, one after the other, the chaos flames marching toward him, backlighting the masses of mounted men that thronged everywhere Beltur could see.

  He urged Slowpoke forward, once again through rank after rank of troopers whose faces were lost in the gloom and all too briefly illuminated by the torches they carried—and lost—as Beltur and Slowpoke cut through them and blood flowed everywhere.

  But even as he cut down a score of troopers, more replaced them, and the flames from yet more and more burning houses drew closer and closer … and then from somewhere in the sky, a blade, or scythe, brighter than the sun itself, swept toward Beltur, past a white tower he didn’t recall that sagged like a melting candle, then burning and searing everything around him … and then him, so hot that he screamed—

  “Beltur! Wake up! It’s all right … It’s all right!”

  The brilliant burning light was gone, and Beltur was half-sitting in the bed, drenched in sweat, with Jessyla’s arms tight around him.

  “You’re all right. It’s only a nightmare.”

  Only a nightmare … “Only … a nightmare?” Despite the sweat that poured from him, Beltur’s throat was so dry that even those few words were hard to utter.

  “You were shouting and flailing, as if you were fighting.”

  “I was. It was awful … so real.”

  “Let’s go to the kitchen. You need an ale. You can barely talk. You also need to sit up to cool off and dry out a little.”

  Beltur’s legs were still shaking as he walked to the kitchen beside Jessyla. “It was so real … thousands of troopers … chaos and torches … and then it was like the sun itself burned and melted everything…”

  “Sit down. I’ll get us each an ale. You can tell me all about it after you drink a little and cool your throat. I never heard a scream like that before.”

  “I was being … burned alive … and the worst was that I lost you. I couldn’t sense you anywhere … and there were so many of them … and chaos bolts everywhere…”

  “Here.” Jessyla handed him a beaker of ale. “Just take a swallow while I get a beaker for myself.”

  In fact, Beltur took several swallows, and his shudders subsided. Finally, he said, “I’ve never had a nightmare that real. It was like I was really there…” He went on to describe what he’d seen and felt, ending with, “And that fire from the sky was so real, as if everything, even stones and bricks, caught fire or instantly melted.”

  “Well … it obviously didn’t,” she pointed out. “I can hear the crickets chirping outside, and there’s no sign of flames. I don’t sense anyone on the streets. Do you?”

  Beltur had been so upset, and the nightmare so real, that he hadn’t even tried to sense anything beyond the house. He took another small swallow of ale and concentrated. At last, he said, “There’s no one out, not for close to two kays, anyway.”

  “Dear … even the Duke of Hydlen doesn’t have that many troopers, and he certainly couldn’t have gotten them here by tonight.”

  While what Jessyla said made sense, it was hard to ignore what he’d felt. “But it was so real. I just hope…” He shook his head.

  “You’re worried, really worried about what might happen.”

  “Now that we have more troopers, we should post sentries or scouts farther out, even at night.”

  “Do you really think they’d attack at night?”

  “If they thought it would work. If they know we’re watching, they might not take the risk.” He paused. “I can’t tell you how real it all felt.”

  Jessyla paused, then quietly asked, “Do you think it wasn’t
just a dream, but a vision? Maybe not even what will happen any time soon, but like the white mage’s vision of a white shining city?”

  “If it was a vision of what might happen in the future, it was a mixed-up vision, because I was definitely in this house and I definitely went out to fight the Duke’s troopers. But I don’t know any way that someone could make the sun burn up an entire town in an instant.” Beltur paused. “I do recall, just for a moment, an image of a tower melting.” He shook his head. “No … it has to have been a nightmare. I’ve been worrying about how the Hydlenese might attack, and it just got to me.”

  “What about the white tower melting?”

  “That’s probably because of what the white mage said about a white city. We’re certainly not going to be building towers, especially white ones. We’ll be fortunate just to keep Haven close to what it is.” Beltur took a last sip from the beaker. “I’m almost ready to go back to bed. Almost.”

  “You don’t have to hurry, dear. Just sit there and cool off some more.”

  Beltur took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the quiet of the evening … and even the crickets.

  XLIV

  Most likely because of the nightmare, Beltur didn’t sleep all that well for the rest of the night and woke up with both images of dying and dead troopers and questions swirling through his head.

  Was it all just about power? From all reports, Duke Massyngal killed people who challenged his authority. But didn’t you make a war inevitable when you killed officers and troopers who insisted on carrying out Massyngal’s orders?

  No, Beltur decided, the war was already in progress, even if he and the other councilors didn’t know it. What his actions meant was that what would have been a relatively bloodless takeover of one small town by the Hydlenese had much more quickly become a bloody conflict that would kill hundreds more, if not more than that. But wouldn’t such a takeover still have led to a bloody war, just later?

  It would have led to more fighting, but likely not to as much bloodshed as would now happen. At least, that was how Beltur saw it. Isn’t it likely that any place you want to settle down and have some control over your lives will result in bloodshed? Or is that just a way of rationalizing it? Are you any different from the Duke?