The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce)

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “What happened to him?”

  “I used him to incinerate their fifth squad.”

  Reynaard swallowed.

  “There wasn’t any sense in wasting all that free chaos. Form up the squads. We need to get moving.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  As Reynaard moved away, Jessyla said, “You upset him.”

  “I know. He doesn’t like to see troopers who were just following orders destroyed so wantonly. I don’t, either, but if we don’t…”

  “I know.” Her voice was sad.

  “You did well with the chaos bolts.”

  “Except for the first one. I managed better with the next one he threw while you were cutting through their troopers.”

  “Do you think you could handle stronger chaos bolts?”

  “I can certainly block them. I can likely divert most of them. How well and how far … I don’t know. Certainly far enough so that they won’t hurt our troopers.”

  “Good. You may have to.”

  By the end of the third of a quint it took Reynaard to get the company back in order and riding south toward the hills, Beltur was internally chafing at the delay, worrying about what might be happening with the other companies, and whether they had already engaged with the Hydlenese, as well as wishing that he’d sent Jessyla with Lhadoraak.

  But you didn’t know what she could do.

  True as that was, it didn’t allay his worries.

  Once they were well away from the steads and the carnage, Beltur asked Reynaard, “What were our casualties? Do you know?”

  “Three dead, four wounded, one seriously.”

  Beltur nodded slowly. That wasn’t as bad as he feared, but the losses were bound to be greater in the next skirmish—the one to which they were headed.

  “Do you mages ever get wounded?” asked Reynaard.

  “Not until we’re killed,” replied Beltur.

  “Or until a mage uses so much order that he dies,” added Jessyla. “All of the mages who died in the war between Spidlar and Gallos were unwounded until the moment of their death.”

  Reynaard frowned and was silent for several moments before speaking. “Is that because a mage cannot be wounded except when he faces a greater mage or when he has so exhausted his order that he can no longer defend himself?”

  “Mostly,” said Beltur. “A few mages have died without being physically wounded when they no longer had enough order in their bodies to survive.”

  “Beltur has been close to that point three times,” added Jessyla.

  “For just that reason, I wouldn’t have survived the last battle here without Jessyla.”

  “Is that why—”

  “No,” replied Jessyla coolly. “Since the last battle, Beltur has been teaching me how to return firebolts. But I’ve never done it before. If I failed in trying to do it, you’d have lost half a squad, possibly a full squad. Beltur felt we couldn’t risk that kind of loss, and Lhadoraak couldn’t have helped me or caught a firebolt if I failed.”

  Seeing the puzzled expression on Reynaard’s face, Beltur added, “Jessyla’s always been a healer, but until we were consorted and I began to teach her, she didn’t know she was a mage as well. She’s only had shields for less than two seasons. She’s had to learn a great deal in a short time.”

  This time Reynaard was the one to nod. “I apologize for my lack of understanding. That explains a great deal.” He paused. “I take it that there aren’t many blacks who can return firebolts.”

  “There aren’t and we’d prefer that the Hydlenese don’t know we can. The longer the Hydlenese mages think we’re just whites like them, the better.”

  “I can see that.”

  Almost a quint passed before the company turned east on the road bordering the rugged hills. While there were definite hoofprints in the road dust created by the Hydlenese troopers, Beltur could only vaguely sense the companies. What puzzled him was that they didn’t seem to be moving.

  Another quint passed, and Beltur could not only sense the Hydlenese, but also the two other companies, those under the majer. “We’re nearing the Hydlenese rear, about a kay ahead. The majer’s forces are there, too, several hundred farther northeast, most likely at the junction with the Lydiar road.” He frowned. “There’s a rider headed our way. He just got on the road.”

  “How far out?”

  “In the middle of the curve ahead, where the road turns to the northeast. The rear guard of the Hydlenese is about half a kay beyond that. He probably stayed off the road until he was out of sight of the greencoats.”

  “How large a rear guard?”

  “Two squads, I’d say.”

  “Coming out of the trees and fields and onto the road and before a battle, the rider has to be one of ours.”

  Beltur nodded. He’d felt that, but hadn’t realized why.

  As soon as the rider came around the corner, his pale blue uniform confirmed Reynaard’s assessment. The courier made his way to the captain and reined up. “The Hydlenese are about to attack. The majer’s kept them guessing for more than a glass, but he needs to know if you can attack from the rear.”

  “We can. How far do we have to go?”

  “Around that curve. It’s about half a kay to their rear guard, and less than a few hundred yards after that to the main force.”

  “Tell the majer we’re on the way.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Reynaard turned. “Forward! Fast walk!” He looked back to Beltur. “Please keep me informed on what’s happening.”

  “So far, neither side is moving.”

  “The longer they don’t move, the better.”

  “When we come around the corner,” asked Beltur, “do you want a concealment?”

  “I think not. If they see us, they won’t throw all their forces against the majer.”

  Beltur kept sensing the Hydlenese and the majer’s forces, and less than half a quint later, as the first ranks entered the relatively straight part of the road where they could see the rear guard ahead, he sensed that the right half of Raelf’s forces was withdrawing, but not the left, suggesting that the left half was under concealment. Then the Hydlenese began to move forward.

  “The Hydlenese are beginning their attack, ser.”

  “Are they charging all-out?”

  “No, ser. Right now, it’s a measured advance. The majer’s withdrawing part of his force, leaving one company on the side concealed.”

  Reynaard just nodded. After several moments, he asked, “Can you smash through that rear guard the way you did before? Even just the first few ranks?”

  “We can do the first few ranks.”

  “Just that,” added Jessyla. “You’ll need him to do more later.”

  Reynaard merely nodded, although Beltur felt that Jessyla’s words had irritated the captain.

  The time seemed to stretch out forever and yet it felt like only a few moments before Beltur and the first rank of the company were less than fifty yards from the Hydlenese rear guard.

  Beltur studied the mounted group, formed up five abreast, noticing immediately that about half of them—every other trooper—carried a lance. He immediately said to Reynaard, “I’m going to charge them under a concealment. That way I can strike from the side without their turning and that will make their lances less effective.” And keep me from taking too many unnecessary impacts.

  “However you can be most effective. That’s up to you.”

  At that moment, the Hydlenese spurred their mounts forward.

  Beltur concealed himself and moved Slowpoke to the right side of the road, then urged him on a full speed, waiting until he was roughly ten yards from the lancers before extending the knife-edge shields and angling Slowpoke between the two center riders.

  Slamming through two ranks of mounts and men, even at a slight angle, left Beltur feeling several hard impacts, but the second line carried only sabres and small round shields, and the big gelding went through them with comparative ease, taking out two
and possibly three troopers. But Beltur sensed another double rank following the first, and he turned Slowpoke to minimize impacts as they tore a similar gap through the next two lines.

  Even though the second squad was scrambling into position, Beltur eased Slowpoke off the road and onto the shoulder, where he remained under a concealment and scouted for the white mage, who was almost half a kay farther away and throwing firebolts toward Raelf’s command.

  From what Beltur could tell, Lhadoraak was successful in blocking those chaos bolts, which was good because Beltur was too far away to try to do so without overstraining himself.

  Still … you need to get closer to the white.

  He returned his attention to what was happening around him. The first Hydlenese rearguard squad had broken apart, and the survivors were fighting the advancing Montgren troopers hand-to-hand, trying to stave them off while the second squad was heading to join battle.

  Beltur took a deep breath, dropped the concealment, widened his shields, and angled across the back side of the greencoats still fighting, leaving a line of downed and slashed troopers and mounts. Then he turned Slowpoke toward the center of the second squad and went straight back through all four ranks, leaving carnage behind him. That effort left Slowpoke moving at little more than a fast walk by the time Beltur and the gelding had cleared the last rank. Then Beltur guided Slowpoke to the right side of the road and slowed him to a walk. While he needed to get closer to the main body of the Hydlenese, exhausting Slowpoke would serve neither of them. As he rode, Beltur pulled out his first water bottle and finished off the ale in it, hoping that would refresh him some.

  The rear of the main body of the Hydlenese was still some three hundred yards away, but appeared not to be moving.

  Not yet.

  Beltur sensed the pattern of order that had to be Jessyla, closing the gap between them, and he turned as she rode up beside him.

  “I think Lhadoraak’s beginning to have trouble with that mage,” she said. “We need to get closer. I told Reynaard we had to deal with the white mage.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want to push Slowpoke.” Beltur let his senses range over the gelding. “We can move faster now.”

  Before that long, the two were within fifty yards of the rear of the Hydlenese force, and within perhaps a hundred yards of the mage who had stopped throwing firebolts, at least for a time. From what Beltur could sense, Lhadoraak was holding out, although Beltur wondered how long the older mage would be able to block more chaos bolts.

  “Attack from the rear!” called out a voice, likely that of a Hydlenese officer or squad leader. For a moment, all that happened was that some of the Hydlenese troopers turned in their saddles. Then another string of commands followed, and the last two squads or so began to turn to their rear.

  Beltur glanced over his shoulder to see that Reynaard’s men had broken through and likely dispatched most of the rear guard and were moving at a fast trot toward the Hydlenese who were still turning their mounts to face south in order to confront the unexpected attack.

  A chaos bolt arced out of the Hydlenese force toward Reynaard. Beltur caught it and redirected it back into the troopers just behind the first rank of the Hydlenese who had just dressed their line, creating a blast of flame that turned more than a handful of troopers into ashes and charred forms and leaving a gap between ranks.

  A second firebolt flared toward Beltur, who directed it back into the main body of the Hydlenese troopers, careful to keep it away from the white mage.

  Beltur knew he and Jessyla had to get closer to the white mage, and quickly, and that wouldn’t happen on the road, not with all the troopers massed there. “This way!” he said, guiding Slowpoke off the road and across a depression that might once have been an irrigation ditch and then through what seemed to be an orchard, although he had no idea what the fruit might be. He could sense Jessyla behind him, as well as the renewed fighting as Reynaard’s troopers reached the weakened ranks of the Hydlenese rear.

  Going through the trees allowed some progress, as opposed to almost none, but Beltur felt like it took forever to cover the perhaps hundred yards that brought them abreast of where he sensed the white mage to be, a mage who was clearly as strong as some of the Gallosians Beltur had faced.

  He turned Slowpoke through a gap in the trees and then over a section of a collapsed rail fence before he and Jessyla could again reach the shoulder of the road. Two troopers gaped as the two mages appeared.

  Three others turned their mounts toward Beltur, then backed off as the white called out, “Get out of the way! Now!”

  For the first time, Beltur saw the other mage, less than ten yards away, and surrounded by a swirling flux of free and natural chaos. “Stay behind me,” he said tersely to Jessyla.

  The other formed a massive chaos bolt, but before he could hurl it, Beltur clamped an order-line confinement around the white, with secondary shields angled to both sides.

  Everything around Beltur went brilliant, eye-searing white, and then black for a moment, as he felt lifted out of his saddle and almost ripped off Slowpoke, only to drop back into the saddle with a bruising thump.

  His eyes were watering so much that for several moments he could see nothing. Surprisingly, he still had some personal shields, but little else.

  He turned immediately, but Jessyla was still there.

  “I’m fine. Your shields took most of the blast.”

  His eyes went back to the road, only to discover that he and Slowpoke stood at the edge of a blackened circular space some fifteen yards in every direction, containing only gray ash. Beyond that, for several yards, all that remained were scattered ashes and the charred forms of men and mounts.

  He looked down the road to the northeast, where blue-clad troopers were cutting through the remnants of the Hydlenese. Then he looked back to the southwest, where the same thing was occurring.

  Beltur’s legs were shaking. He decided he needed some ale. So he drank some, as did Jessyla, and the two of them waited until Reynaard and Raelf rode toward them. Beltur kept watching and sensing, but he could find no trace of any other Hydlenese or mages.

  The captain arrived first, looking from Beltur to Jessyla. His eyes widened as he looked at her.

  Beltur took another look at his consort. He managed not to swallow or gulp as he took in her shimmering silver hair. “Are you sure you’re all right?” As he spoke, he sensed her, but could find nothing wrong, although her natural order seemed slightly stronger.

  “I’m fine.” She frowned. “Your natural order … there’s more, and your hair…”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s turned silver. Not old. Silver like a druid’s.”

  Beltur swallowed and said, “So has yours.”

  For a moment, Jessyla said nothing. Finally, she shrugged, a gesture Beltur knew she didn’t totally feel. “It could be worse.”

  “At least your forehead didn’t turn black.” Beltur tried to keep his voice light. He looked back to Reynaard. “I hope you didn’t lose too many men.”

  “Mage Jessyla followed you. The Hydlenese were so disorganized after the two of you that they were easy pickings. Then, when that chaos flare killed half or more of the Hydlenese, those few who could scattered. We lost one man, and had two wounded.”

  As Reynaard finished speaking, Raelf reined up. “It looks like we lost eleven men out of both companies, and there are a score of wounded, about half seriously. If you hadn’t come when you did, it would have been much worse. Lhadoraak did keep the firebolts from burning anyone.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s pretty shaky right now. He likely couldn’t have done much more, but he did enough. That mage could have wiped out half our men.”

  “We were afraid we couldn’t get here in time,” admitted Beltur.

  “When I got word that you were only facing one company, and two were headed east, I decided to change our plans. It seemed prudent. I had scouts circle around the road and se
nt the courier to inform you. We feinted, and then withdrew, so that the mage was the only one who could attack … well, until we couldn’t afford to withdraw any longer.” After a pause, Raelf asked, “How did you manage to burn up an entire company? I thought ordermages…”

  “We can’t,” replied Beltur. “We got close enough to the white mage that he felt threatened and tried to throw the largest chaos bolt I’ve ever sensed. I put a containment lined with order around it for just a moment or so before he was going to release it. The combination of order and chaos caused the explosion. It also killed him.”

  Raelf smiled wryly. “All told, we’ve eliminated close to one battalion. That only leaves three more or so.”

  What the majer wasn’t saying was that matters were only going to get more difficult.

  Beltur just nodded. Belatedly, he realized that not only was his smallshirt soaked, but so were parts of his tunic.

  LXII

  Almost two glasses passed before Beltur, Jessyla, and Lhadoraak finally rode back to the East Inn, where Raelf insisted that Bythalt feed them before they all discussed what might happen next and how to counter it.

  The best that could be said for the dish, which resembled a fowl stew spread over noodles, was that it was filling, and that, after he ate it, most of Beltur’s headache subsided. Then too, the second beaker of ale might have helped. “Are you feeling better?” he asked Jessyla.

  “I still have a bit of a headache. What about you?”

  “The same.”

  “How many of their troopers escaped?” asked Jessyla.

  “Perhaps a hundred,” replied Raelf. “We didn’t try to take prisoners, but we didn’t chase down those who fled, either. I doubt that any of those who escaped will be of any use to the Hydlenese. Many of them won’t return immediately, either. The scouts have reported a few stragglers making their way back to the eastern encampment. Not as many as you’d expect.”

  “Gustaan could explain that,” said Jessyla. “It’s never the fault of the officers.”

  Tulya, sitting beside Lhadoraak, kept looking at him worriedly, and her eyes kept straying to Jessyla and then Beltur, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had happened to their hair. But she nodded at Jessyla’s words. Taelya watched Raelf.