Arms-Commander (Saga of Recluce)

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Maeldyn nodded to his son.

  “Commander, ser, I heard that when Lord Sillek attacked Westwind, the angels hurled fires so great that all but a handful of men were burned to ashes. Ah… sometimes… stories…” Chaeldyn did not finish the question.

  “What you heard was true,” Saryn said. “We still wish it had not been necessary. That is one reason why I am in Lornth. We would like those who rule Lornth to remain friendly to Westwind, as the regents have been.”

  “The regents would certainly prefer that,” said Zeldyan lightly.

  “So would most thinking lords,” added Maledyn.

  Less than half a glass passed before a thin, redheaded woman appeared at the doorway to the porch.

  “I do believe that supper is ready,” announced Anyna.

  Maeldyn rose and stepped to one side. “After you, Lady Regent.” His eyes fixed on Saryn, and he said in a low voice, “If I might have a quick word with you, Commander Saryn?”

  Saryn nodded and waited until the others were on their way into the mansion.

  “You’re not the type to like hunting, either, are you, Commander?”

  “Only when necessary for food or to prevent damage to crops or orchards.”

  “As many people as you’ve killed, you don’t care much for that, either, do you?”

  “No… but I will do what’s necessary.”

  Maeldyn nodded. “As will most women, and that is why it would be foolish for the holders of Lornth to change the regency. Come… we should enjoy supper.” He gestured toward the door.

  Saryn crossed the porch and followed the others into the dining chamber. There, Maeldyn sat at the head of the table, with Saryn to his left and Zeldyan to his right, while Chaeldyn sat beside Zeldyan, and Ilys beside Saryn. Anyna sat at the end opposite her consort, with Abaya between her mother and Ilys.

  “Ah… stewed traitor birds with sand-stuffed cactus, seasoned with slime-moss.” So deadpan was Maeldyn’s announcement that, for an instant, Saryn almost believed it.

  Abaya giggled. “Father!”

  “Was I mistaken? Perhaps we’re having fermented turtle with snakeskin stuffing and…”

  “Father…” Ilys’s single appellation carried fond exasperation.

  As dinner continued, Saryn realized that the dour-looking lord was anything but dour and the first lord, besides Zeldyan’s father, that she could say she respected and possibly even liked.

  LIII

  The next oneday found Saryn, Zeldyan, and their armsmen and guards riding northeast through woods on a hilly and winding muddy clay road that was little more than a lane. Three days of solid riding through light and drizzling warm rains had left Saryn feeling thoroughly wet everywhere although the rain had stopped for the moment. The damp heat hadn’t seemed to bother Zeldyan nearly so much, unsurprisingly. When Saryn had ridden out of Quaryn on sixday, she had been genuinely sad to leave the one place she had visited thus far in Lornth where she had felt welcome… and even valued.

  Saryn looked to the Lady Regent riding beside her. “Tell me again that Palteara isn’t that far out of the way.”

  “It isn’t,” replied Zeldyan. “If we were riding directly to Lyntara and Lord Deolyn… now that would be a ride. But we only add two days this way, and Lord Spalkyn can meet you. Besides, it is a pleasant ride.”

  Pleasant had different meanings for different people, Saryn reflected, brushing away another of the voracious biting flies that the forest harbored—and which seemed to prefer Saryn to all the other riders. She glanced up at the gray clouds above the trees. Were they thinning? She wasn’t certain how much of a blessing a clear sky would be, not with all the moisture in the air and on the ground and vegetation. “I’d just get steamed faster,” she murmured under her breath.

  “You should try it in the winter…” Zeldyan broke off her words, laughing. “I tend to forget. You know far more of cold and winters than any of us.”

  After they rode up another wooded hill, only to see more of the same ahead, Saryn turned to Zeldyan. “Is it wooded all the way to Lord Spalkyn’s?”

  “No. I’d judge we’ll be out of the woods and hills by a bit after midday.”

  Saryn could sense people in huts down side lanes in the woods, and there were cart and wagon tracks on the road, and hoofprints as well, yet they never saw anyone on the roads. Was it habit for the locals to avoid large parties of riders? What did that say about Lornth?

  Just as Zeldyan had predicted, less than a half glass after midday, they rode up a long slope and at the top of the ridge, the mix of deciduous and coniferous trees grave way to a plateau of slightly rolling fields and pastures, with an occasional lines of trees that had to be orchards.

  “If I recall correctly,” the regent announced, “Spalkyn’s holding is another glass ahead on a low rise to the north of the road. He holds most of the highlands here.”

  “We’re not all that far from Suthya, then?”

  “We’re not that far from the lands Suthya stole from Lornth,” replied Zeldyan. “They don’t really even control them. Spalkyn and Deolyn have both had difficulties with raiders. The Suthyans just burned out our lord-holders, and now they collect tariffs from the people, and buy what they can as cheaply as possible and sell what people need as dearly as they can.”

  Feudalistic mercantilism, thought Saryn. “I can see why Lord Sillek wanted to retake Rulyarth.”

  “His aims were superior to his means, and Lady Elindyja was less than helpful. Had she supported his efforts in dealing with Rulyarth and not insisted on revenge against Westwind, we would be in a far better situation.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died a bitter woman the year before last. It would have been better had her death occurred far sooner.”

  Even Saryn was surprised at the hatred and anger that lay behind the mild words, but she managed to reply. “Revenge for the mere sake of revenge seldom accomplishes anything.”

  “Too many in Lornth are so obsessed with honor and revenge that little gets accomplished.”

  “Too many men, you mean?” asked Saryn.

  “Since women seldom count, who else?”

  There wasn’t much Saryn could say to that. She just continued to ride beside the regent as they continued across the rolling lands of the plateau that Zeldyan had called highlands, a term Saryn wouldn’t even have considered attaching to the lands. Another half glass passed before they caught the first glimpse of Palteara.

  Even from a kay away, Saryn could see how the location of Spalkyn’s lands had affected the holding proper, which was truly a hold. A wall a good fifteen cubits high circled the ground below the knoll, and two low towers framed the single gate. All the stones were a dull gray and brown. The lowest level of the mansion set on the flattened top of the knoll had no windows and only a single door. Although there were terraces on the upper levels, they were bordered by stone walls that looked to be chest high, and the second-level windows were narrow. Not until the third level were there wide and spacious windows. Although the complex wasn’t laid out to withstand a prolonged siege, it was clearly strong enough to withstand and hold off raiders or marauders and anything short of an army.

  The heavy wooden gates swung open as Zeldyan and Saryn rode closer, presumably in response to the regent’s banner, but Saryn saw only a pair of guards, both of them very young, as they rode in.

  “Lady Spalkyn awaits you at the house, Lady Regent,” called one.

  Once the entire column was inside the wall, the gates swung closed with a heavy thunk. The paved lane did not run directly up the center of the knoll but along the right side and climbed more gradually past the mansion to another gate in the wall of the courtyard to the rear of the structure. The courtyard gate was open.

  A dark-haired woman stood behind the wall on the second-level balcony. When Zeldyan reined up, she called out, “Lady Regent! I was so glad to get your message and to see you here.”

  Saryn sensed both distress and hopeful
ness behind Lady Spalkyn’s words.

  “Maerila, what is it?”

  “Marauders… more than a score of them. They started burning houses and barns near Tearan last night. Spalkyn rode out with every man he could raise early this morning, right after he found out.” For the first time, Maerila’s eyes took in Saryn and the Westwind guards. “They’re… women. I’d hoped…”

  “Maerila,” said Zeldyan firmly, “they’re Westwind guards—the ones from the Roof of the World. They came to help me. They can certainly help Spalkyn.”

  “They’re the ones… oh… oh…”

  “How far is Tearan?” asked Saryn. There’s no point in fluttering around if Spalkyn truly needs help.

  “Ten kays or so to the northeast,” answered Maerila.

  Saryn looked at Zeldyan. “We’d better head there now. You and your armsmen can guard the holding. There’s no one else to do it. The raid could be a feint to draw defenders from here.”

  “Spalkyn said that was possible,” offered Maerila, “but he said he couldn’t leave the crofters to face them alone. He needed every man.”

  “How many did he take?” asked Saryn.

  “He had a score, maybe a few more.”

  That was all he could raise?

  “You should take a few of my armsmen and my banner,” Zeldyan insisted. “Otherwise, both sides might end up attacking you.”

  “Just a few.” Saryn looked up to Lady Spalkyn. “Do you have someone you could spare to be a guide? That way we can be certain of getting there sooner. We will need to give the horses a breather before we set out, though.”

  “Wualaf knows the lands as well as anyone. He can’t help much in a fight, but he can ride with the best.”

  “We need a guide. We’ll take care of the fighting.” Saryn just hoped that there weren’t hundreds of marauders rather than scores. “Where can we water the horses?”

  “The fountain and water troughs are straight back, beside the stables. Do you need food or grain?”

  “Some of each, if you can spare it and find it quickly,” replied Saryn, wondering exactly what she’d let herself and the guards in for… and hoping that the results would be worth it—and not too costly.

  LIV

  Wualaf and Saryn rode near the front of the column, just behind the outriders, along a back road that wound back and forth in a sinuous path, generally leading to the northeast and presumably toward Tearan. The white-haired man had only one arm, but his dark eyes were bright, and his words were clear. They were also endless.

  “…over the next hill are the apple orchards belonging to Mazias… best apples in the highlands, not that there are apples anywhere else in Lornth because where it’s lower the brown rot gets to the trees… Mazias’ll let you know about every tree in his orchards if you’ll give him but one word, because after that you won’t get in any more…”

  Finally, when Wualaf paused to take a drink from his water bottle, Saryn asked, “Could you tell me about Tearan? Where we’ll be fighting and what the ground is like?”

  “Ah… yes… Tearan… there’s been more fighting there than anywhere in Lord Spalkyn’s lands, and that’d be because once there was a swamp there, and someone—perchance the Pantarans”—at that, the old man laughed before continuing—“they filled in the swamp, and it’s better and more fertile than bottomland. You can still see the ancient stone courses in places, you know. Then, too, it might be as because it’s off the old, old road through the hills to Rulyarth… and raiders can take that way without anyone seeing ’em…”

  In time, the old forester got around to describing the terrain in detail. “…really not even a hamlet anymore, maybe six or seven cots on the rise, if you can call it that with the barns in the dell below ’em. That way, they’re sheltered from the northwest winds. They can blow bitter-like, sometimes for an eightday or more…”

  “Just seven cots? How many able-bodied men and women are there?”

  “You figure maybe three–four to a cot, but they’re farmers, not a one really knows one end of a blade from another. Any who didn’t hole up or run got killed right quick. That doesn’t count the folks got cots farther out in the fields or in the east orchards…”

  “Do these marauders come in large bands?”

  “Large enough to deal with folks who don’t traffic much in arms.”

  “Large enough?” Why is it that all of Zeldyan’s allies have so few armsmen and resources?

  “Maybe a score, two sometimes.”

  “How good are they with arms?”

  “Good? Not all that good. They’re not really armsmen, but if you can use a blade, and the other fellow can’t, you don’t have to be that good.”

  Wualaf had a point, Saryn thought, but she hoped he was right about the level of ability of the marauders. She’d prefer not to have any casualties or losses, but that wasn’t likely. Even the worst blades occasionally got fortunate, especially in a melee.

  The afternoon got warmer, and Saryn’s undertunic was soaked through well before midafternoon, but she kept plying the old forester with questions and taking in the answers.

  The sun still hung a good hand above the hills to the west when Wualaf said, “Tearan lies around the next bend in the road past this one. Once you get to the top of the rise up ahead, anyone there can see you.”

  Given how low the rises were, that was understandable, but Saryn would have preferred a bit more warning. “Company halt!” She turned to Wualaf. “Is there any way to get closer without being seen?”

  “Well… you might be able to go around the rise to the left, then through the maize fields there. Don’t know as how they’ve got the rows running. Folks might not like their maize being trampled, but it’s close to high enough…”

  “Squad leader! Ready the guards. Hold until I return. If I don’t, use your judgment to save Lord Spalkyn and his men.” Saryn eased the gelding off the road and alongside the hedgerow, if a tangle of plants and weeds barely neck high on the gelding could be called a hedgerow. She kept on until she could slip into the maize, riding along one of the wider rows between the plants, trying to keep her sleeves from getting held and ripped by the tough green leaves. She had to keep her head down, but she managed to rein up near the end of the field, where she could see some of Tearan. On top of the rise, two outlying cots were smoldering ruins, and the doors of the five others either hung open or had been ripped off their hinges.

  From what Saryn could sense, Spalkyn and his retainers were barricaded in the largest barn, the one on the west end. Ranged in a circle around the structure were at least forty figures in motley garments and with weapons ranging from a cut-down pike to broadswords, hand-and-a-half blades, and even old cavalry sabres. Yet only four or five were mounted.

  Where were all the mounts that Spalkyn had to have brought? And how had all those raiders gathered without horses? She tried to sense or see more. Several horses were in the barn, and she thought there might be others. She could also sense bodies everywhere, and more than a few of those were large enough that they could only have been horses.

  She also sensed one figure, around whom was gathered a reddish white mist of chaos. She frowned. If the man were a chaos-mage, even a weak one, why hadn’t he used his fire-bolts?

  Then she sensed the sheep in the barn, along with the horses. Of course… if they fire the barn, they destroy all the livestock. They’d already looted the cots, but the livestock and mounts were far more valuable than most of the goods of the crofters. The situation was a standoff… for the moment. She forced herself to study all the buildings and where everything was located before she turned her mount back through the maize.

  The detachment was waiting when she returned, although Saryn could sense the squad leader’s unease… and Klarisa’s relief when she caught sight of Saryn.

  Saryn reined up. “Squad leader? You have ten archers?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “We’ll walk the mounts until we’re almost in view of the marau
ders. They don’t have any sentries posted. When I give the order, you and the archers move to a solid canter and stay on the road until you can circle and take the higher ground to the west. Don’t worry about archers. I didn’t see any bows, and if they have one or two, they won’t have time to use them. As soon as you’re in position, start firing. Once they break, stow the bows and block that end. If they don’t break toward you, charge them, but we don’t want any to escape if we can help it. The half of the squad with me will be riding more slowly, but directly toward them. We won’t charge until they break or charge us. I’d like you to put as many shafts into them as you can.” Saryn looked to the young armsman with the regent’s banner. “Once we begin the attack, you’re to swing up to the high point on our flank, in a position where Lord Spalkyn and his men can see you clearly. The marauders will, also, and that might spook them more. Your task is to display the banner and defend it, and it’s more important than it sounds, because, if anyone escapes, we need them to know that the regent’s forces were here. We also need Lord Spalkyn to know that.”

  “Yes, ser.” The young armsman’s voice was even, but Saryn could sense both worry and relief.

  In the momentary silence Wualaf’s low murmur was clearly audible. “She hasn’t even looked past the maize field.”

  “The commander doesn’t need to. She can see with more than her eyes,” said a guard in a low voice.

  Saryn ignored both comments and looked to Klarisa. “Fourth-squad archers, lead off. Armsmen, you follow the archers, but take your time. We’ll split when we reach the lane up toward the hamlet. Wualaf… best you stay behind the armsmen and the banner.”

  “I can do that.”

  For the next several hundred yards, Saryn could sense nothing, not that she expected to, but she was relieved when her force swung around the last bend and headed up the gentle slope. The marauders had moved closer to the end barn, and the chaos-mage was with them.

  “Archers! Forward!” Saryn ordered. “Fourth squad, on me!” As she rode forward, slowly and deliberately, she drew one of her three blades. At the same time, she spent a moment concentrating on tracking Klarisa and her half of fourth squad.