Imager’s Battalion

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “I didn’t think you’d forget that.”

  Fifth Battalion led the way up the narrow lane. It was more than a glass later before all the troopers and wagons had been drawn up around the hold house, and another glass after that before men and mounts were settled. The troopers did get warm food, if hastily prepared, half a glass before sunset, and it was twilight before Skarpa announced services would begin in a quint.

  Even so, more than a thousand troopers and officers were waiting when Quaeryt stepped onto the porch overlooking the west courtyard where they were gathered.

  More voice image-projecting, he thought as he moved forward to the wooden railing that ran from the end brick pillars over a line of half pillars. “We gather together in the spirit of the Nameless and to affirm the quest for goodness and mercy in all that we do.”

  Once more he led them in the opening hymn, and then the confession.

  “All evenings are good evenings under the Nameless.” He paused slightly after beginning the homily. “Even those spent riding along a stone-paved road that appears unchanging and endless while squad leaders and officers insist that it does lead somewhere, and that you really want to get there.”

  At least a few chuckles murmured up from the men.

  “But the more I looked at that road, and if you’re riding in front, you can occasionally see it, the more I wondered about it, because that road has been there not for years, but for hundreds of years, and it was so well built that it still rides better than most roads built since then. Who built it? Why did they build it so well? As a scholar, I can answer the first question. The Naedarans built it. Who were they? No one, including scholars, knows much about them, except that they were the first people to declare the Nameless as the creator of all and that they ruled this part of Lydar from Solis almost to Variana and as far south as the Lohan Hills that form the border with Antiago … and that they built buildings, canals, and roads that still endure.

  “What does this have to do with us? More than you might think. Once they were the greatest people in Lydar and possibly in all Terahnar. Today we know little of them and none of their names. Only their works survive … Can you think of a greater testament to the futility of trying to make your name last forever? Doesn’t this suggest that the works we do will long outlast who we are and who will remember us?

  “All of us are engaged together in a great work. We are working—and fighting—to unite all Lydar under the most just ruler. Is Lord Bhayar perfect? Of course not. But he is a lord who seeks justice and who does not burn his own people’s crops and send assassins after any lord or factor who has the slightest unkind word for him. He has applied the same laws to Tilborans, Piedrans, Pharsi, and imagers.” After the slightest pause, he added, self-deprecatingly, “Oh … and scholars as well.”

  That brought a brief laugh.

  “In a generation, even in a few years, no one will remember heroics on the battlefield, but when we succeed in building a land where the laws apply equally to all, that will be a greater legacy than any name … any reputation … for names fade, no matter what the disciples of the Namer may claim, but deeds and good works do not.”

  After the closing hymn, he concluded with the simple words that approximated a benediction. “As we have come together to seek meaning and renewal, let us go forth this evening renewed in hope and in harmony with that which was, is, and ever shall be.”

  Then he stepped back into the west parlor of the hold house.

  Skarpa, who was waiting, shook his head. “Your words are good, but you hold them even beyond that.”

  “I try not to say anything I don’t believe,” Quaeryt replied.

  “That shows through.”

  “That’s why I can’t say what I don’t believe.” Quaeryt smiled wryly.

  54

  As they rode westward on the narrow ancient stone-paved road on Lundi morning, Quaeryt noted that the road had been constructed to stay as flat as possible over long stretches and well above the flood level of the River Aluse, even when that meant detouring several milles from the river. Also, the scouts had been unable to detect any sign of Bovarian troopers. Was that because most of the Bovarians at Villerive had been on the north side of the river? There had still been hundreds on the south side who had fled and could not have crossed the river to the north. Had they all simply deserted?

  Quaeryt had also initially wondered why the Bovarians had not at least tried to remove or damage the few places where there were bridges, but after studying the solid and massive ancient stone construction of the bridges, he’d smiled. It would have taken a team of engineers with dray horses and who knew what else to remove the span of even one bridge.

  When Skarpa called a halt just before noon, Quaeryt mustered the imager undercaptains and put them through various drills, then drew each of them aside and gave each a specific set of imaging drills to practice on the afternoon ride—while riding.

  Shaelyt was the last one, and Quaeryt gave him close to the same set of instructions he’d conveyed to Voltyr. “I want you to hold the heaviest shields you can until you can’t. Then rest for as long as you could hold the shields and start all over. When you can’t do any more, rest for a glass and start once more.”

  Rather than asking for the rationale for the exercise, as Voltyr had, Shaelyt looked at Quaeryt. “Might I ask, sir, what the Bovarians might have waiting for us at Nordeau?”

  Quaeryt eased back the visor cap and blotted his forehead before finally replying. “That could be anything we faced before or more, but I have to say that I’m more worried about what lies beyond Nordeau. Bovaria is a large land, and I’m guessing that all these battles are more to delay us so that Rex Kharst can gather a massive army to defend Variana—so that he can crush us there, and then march back down the Aluse and take Solis…”

  “Do you think Lord Bhayar expects that?”

  “Lord Bhayar has not volunteered that information, and I have not asked him. We have received almost twenty thousand troopers as reinforcements. Most have gone to northern army. He has also sent us another regiment and more imagers. It is clear that he understands we will face much more numerous Bovarian forces as we near Variana.” Quaeryt paused. “Now … I have a question for you. Exactly what did you tell Khalis and Lhandor about me and Fifth Battalion?”

  “Sir…?”

  Quaeryt grinned. “Undercaptain Shaelyt … I need to know what I’m supposed to live up to or live down, and what harm you may have done to their minds.”

  “Sir … I told them that you were the son of Erion who had returned to Terahnar to right all wrongs and to serve the cause of justice. I said that you were particularly hard on young Pharsi men who thought too highly of themselves…”

  Quaeryt managed not to laugh. He just looked at Shaelyt. “Besides telling them that I was a lost one doomed to serve others … what else?”

  “That all the hopes of the Pharsi in Lydar likely rested on your shoulders and that we should support you as best we could.”

  The absolute directness of Shaelyt’s last words cut through Quaeryt with the pain of a blunt blade. After a moment he said dryly, “You don’t expect much, do you?”

  “No more than you expect of yourself, sir.”

  Quaeryt nodded. “Then you’d better work your ass off on those shields, because I’ll need all the help you and the undercaptains can provide.” And more than that, most likely. “And remember to keep eating biscuits and drinking when you’re working on those shields.”

  With a smile, Quaeryt turned and walked to where Zhelan was waiting.

  “How is the fifth squad doing?” asked Quaeryt.

  “Better than Ghaelyn or I hoped. Not as well as they need to be. We’ll work in extra drills when we can.”

  “What about the replacements for the Khellan companies?”

  Zhelan smiled. “They’re good. A few … they’re still riding wounded, but they want to be here. You’re part of that.”

  “All three companies
have good troopers and officers. We’re fortunate to have them … and you.”

  Zhelan looked slightly embarrassed, but was saved from having to say anything by the command that echoed back along the column. “Mount up! Move out!”

  “Time to get going.” Quaeryt nodded to Zhelan, walked to the mare, and mounted.

  The rest of Lundi and Mardi morning were uneventful, with no signs of Bovarians, and by fourth glass on Mardi afternoon, Skarpa’s forces had reached a village barely larger than a hamlet, set beside a creek that emptied into the River Aluse. The locals had fled, but not long before the Telaryn forces had crossed the gray stone bridge over the creek, because the cook fires in hearths were still burning.

  Even before the regiments and Fifth Battalion had begun to set up the encampment, while Quaeryt and Zhelan were discussing where to put which companies, a half squad of Telaryn troopers, escorting a dispatch rider, came down the road at a fast trot. Both officers looked at the dispatch rider, who had reined up before Skarpa.

  “We’ve barely stopped, and here come more orders, I’d wager.” Zhelan gestured to the southeast, where thickening gray clouds were massing and moving northwest, slowly covering the sky. “With rain coming. Might be here before we’re set up.”

  “More than likely,” agreed Quaeryt. “That’s why the commander stopped here.”

  “Better get on with it, then,” said Zhelan. “The undercaptains in the first cot here, and first company with that shed … and the others—”

  “The way we talked about,” said Quaeryt, still watching Skarpa.

  No sooner had Skarpa received the dispatch and read it than he gestured and three troopers from Third Regiment immediately departed—one heading for Quaeryt.

  “Best of fortune to us all, sir,” said Zhelan before turning and striding toward the nearest cot. “First company!”

  In moments, a ranker hurried up to Quaeryt. “Sir…?”

  “Commander Skarpa would like my presence?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Quaeryt walked swiftly along the shoulder of the dirt path that would likely become mud with the slightest rain. He was the first of the senior officers to reach Skarpa.

  “Good or bad?” he asked.

  “About what you’d expect. Let me tell you all at once.”

  As soon as Khaern and Meinyt joined them, Skarpa held up a single sheet of paper, at the bottom of which was a large crimson and green seal, then folded it and tucked it inside his uniform shirt. “I’ve just received an urgent dispatch from Marshal Deucalon. He’s ordered us to take that part of Nordeau on the south side of the river. We are to hold it until the northern forces reach the northern part. When that happens, we are to mount an attack on the remaining Bovarians in the north. We are not to destroy the bridge over the River Aluse. We are not even to block it unless required to hold the southern part of the city.” Skarpa paused. “Right now, they’re already two days behind us, and they don’t travel as fast.”

  None of the three subordinate commanders said a word.

  “I’m not one to stall. You all know that. I’m also in no hurry to fight if we’ll have to wait days for the marshal to arrive. Once this rain comes and goes, we’ll send out scouts to see why he’s so eager for us to move quickly. Do any of you know anything about Nordeau?” Skarpa looked at Quaeryt.

  “I’ve only read a few things about it. It’s old. It might date back to the Naedarans.”

  Skarpa raised his eyebrows.

  “The road, sir. It was built to last, and the only place it can go is Nordeau, because the Naedarans never controlled Variana. That likely means Nordeau was a border city, and it will either have lots of stone walls and fortifications … or none.”

  “Depending on whether some later rex kept them or tore them down?” asked Skarpa. “I’d wager the walls are still there and that’s why the Bovarians will make a stand there and why Deucalon wants us to attack first.” He looked to Khaern. “Any thoughts?”

  “Not that I’d be wishing to guess what I don’t know, sir, but there are some old walls in Ruile and elsewhere. They’d be difficult to take without siege engines and more. If there are such walls in Nordeau…” Khaern shrugged.

  “I’d like to hear what the scouts find out,” said Meinyt. “Rather not worry about things I don’t have to.”

  Quaeryt couldn’t help but smile at the grizzled subcommander’s pragmatism.

  “We’ll see,” agreed Skarpa. “In the meantime, keep your men and provisions dry.”

  As Quaeryt looked to the sky on his way back to tell Zhelan and the company officers about Deucalon’s orders, he had his doubts about how dry anything might remain.

  55

  Mardi night the rain began. By Meredi morning it was still coming down. Skarpa decided against moving on in the downpour, and by midday, the creek had risen by almost a yard, pouring a torrent of yellowish brown water into the dark gray-blue expanse of the Aluse. Shortly after the first glass of the afternoon, the deluge subsided to a gentle rain, and by midafternoon, the skies had cleared, and although the creek did not go down, it did not rise farther, either.

  Once the rain ceased, Quaeryt went to work with the imagers, pressing Voltyr, Shaelyt, Desyrk, and Threkhyl on strengthening and improving their shields. What surprised Quaeryt the most was that Threkhyl could stop anything with his momentary shields from hundreds of yards, but could not maintain any continuous shield, something that even Desyrk could do, if only with very light shields so far. Yet Desyrk was limited in how far he could image, being unable to image anything except substances as light as smoke and pepper much more than a hundred yards or so. That underscored for Quaeryt the variability of imaging talents.

  Perhaps because Shaelyt had taken an interest in the two younger Pharsi undercaptains, both Khalis and Lhandor had already begun to grasp the basics of shielding, although their attempts at holding shields were weak and flimsy indeed. Horan’s abilities seemed more like those of Threkhyl, in that he was strongest at imaging familiar objects, or those similar to them, while Smaethyl’s progress seemed like it would mirror Desyrk’s, although Quaeryt had the feeling that the norther had stronger innate imaging capabilities.

  By Meredi evening, Quaeryt had exhausted them all, as well as himself, and he slept soundly, even on the uneven plank floor of the small cot.

  Jeudi morning saw Fifth Battalion and the three regiments on the old stone road once more. Skarpa alternated riding with his senior officers, beginning with Khaern, since Eleventh Regiment led the column, and then Quaeryt, because Fifth Battalion was next.

  “What have the scouts found?” asked Quaeryt as soon as Skarpa joined him.

  “So far, there’s still no sign of any Bovarian forces nearby. No tracks at all.”

  “They could have come downriver by boat.”

  “They could scout that way, but you can’t see much from the river, and once they set foot on shore, they’ll leave tracks. How are your new imagers coming?”

  “They’re solid, but they need training and experience. I did get in some extra training yesterday. That was helpful, even if I suspect the marshal didn’t like the delay.”

  “He might not, but one of the old armsmen’s sayings is ‘Don’t fight two enemies at once.’” Skarpa offered a short barked laugh. “I’m not about to try to fight the weather and the Bovarians at the same time. I’d wager he didn’t, either.”

  No, but Deucalon’s the type to claim you could because you’ve got fewer men to lead.

  “If the maps and the millestones are accurate, we’re about fifteen milles short of the outskirts of Nordeau,” Skarpa went on. “I have the scouts looking for places to stay tonight … or longer. That depends on what the defenses look like. And whether we get more rain. Sky’s clear now, but you never can tell once you get past midharvest.”

  Quaeryt adjusted his cap and blotted his forehead. The clear sky and blazing sun suggested to him that Vendrei would also be hot and without rain.

&nbs
p; “If they’ve got stone walls, can your imagers pull them down or put gaps in them?”

  “A few might be able to create gaps. With stone, they’d be narrow. It might be easier to destroy the gates or build earth ramps up the lower walls. I’d have to see the walls before I could say.”

  “What about Antiagon Fire?”

  “We’ve been working on dealing with that in a number of ways.”

  “You’re sounding more and more like Meinyt. You don’t talk the same, but you’re like every other experienced commander. You don’t like to promise anything.”

  “That’s because I have the feeling that the Bovarians are going to spring some surprises, probably some here, and then a lot more as we near Variana. Don’t you?”

  “I’ve been expecting more than we’ve seen,” Skarpa admitted. “Why do you think they haven’t shown more?”

  “Because Rex Kharst underestimated Lord Bhayar. I have the feeling he thought Bhayar was a weak successor to his father, and that the revolt in Tilbor proved that. Kharst may have thought he could take Ferravyl and then slowly carve out chunks of western Telaryn. When he lost most of his army in eastern Bovaria and Bhayar attacked, all he could do was withdraw slowly while he called in troops from everywhere else. At some point, we’re going to encounter more troops than we have.” A whole lot more.

  “I’ve thought something like that myself.”

  “Has Deucalon?”

  “I hinted at it. He dismissed what I said, but he thinks the same thing.”

  “You think that’s because he doesn’t want to admit that a junior commander came up with the same thought?” Or because he wonders if I came up with it?

  “Might be. Also might be because he doesn’t have any proof.”

  “If we’re right,” said Quaeryt dryly, “we’ll get the proof when we find forty Bovarian regiments facing us at Variana.”

  “I’ve had a similar thought about that, too.”

  Quaeryt just nodded.

  After discussing possible tactics for another quint, Skarpa eased his mount off the road and onto the shoulder, riding back to talk to Meinyt.