Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  "How many lancers are there?" asked Feran.

  "Couldn't say for sure, sir. I'd guess maybe two companies. Could be more if they've got barracks in the caves. Couldn't be too many more, though, because all the mounts are stabled. Stables might hold three hundred."

  "We'll need to find out if they've got other outposts," Alucius said to Feran. "Somehow." He looked at Waris. "Did you see many wagons?"

  Close to another glass passed before Alucius was satisfied that he'd learned everything that he could from Waris. Even so, he suspected he'd missed things.

  After they finished debriefing Waris, Alucius and Feran walked to the hillcrest. There they settled on two low boulders, slowly eating travel bread and hard cheese, washing the heavy food down with swallows from their water bottles.

  "Some ways, this is worse than Deforya," mused Feran. "There, we knew what we were up against. Here…" He shook his head.

  "The more we discover, the worse it gets. Is that what you mean?" asked Alucius.

  "That charge… the lancers chasing Waris…" Feran smiled faintly. "He sounded like you. Could be that's what we need."

  Alucius didn't feel like pursuing that. Was the only solution to kill more than your enemy? "We really need to know more. I hope the other scouts can find out more."

  "It's early yet, and we've gotten two back already," Feran said.

  "We're missing two, still. Elbard… and your other one…"

  "Chorat. He begged me to let him do it."

  "He had the area to the south and east of Hyalt."

  "You don't think he's coming back."

  "We'll have to see." Inside, Alucius worried whether either of the remaining scouts would return.

  After the two finished eating, Feran headed down to check on the burial detail and Alucius walked the perimeter of the encampment, using his Talent, directing it outward to sense if anyone might be stalking or scouting them. He found no signs of outsiders to the east, south, or west, and a good glass later, he was standing a full fifty yards below the crest on the north side of the hill, trying to make sure that no one was sneaking up from the least obvious side, but there was no one there. There weren't even many rodents, and few enough birds. He turned and began to walk back uphill.

  He looked up as a lancer hurried downhill. "Sir! Overcaptain Feran needs you, sir. Elbard's back, and he's wounded bad, sir."

  "Show me!" Alucius hurried after the young lancer, back over the hillcrest and another hundred yards downhill.

  Elbard lay stretched on a ground cloth. A lancer Alucius didn't know had bound the scout's shoulder and chest, and Feran stood there, his face impassive, listening.

  Alucius let his Talent range over the wounded scout as he listened.

  "… one moment… was watching the town… next thing, I was… almost like sleeping… except I was awake, but I didn't hear anything… never heard the rifle… pain of the bullet… guess broke the spell… just a boy… standing there… wore a sloppy maroon uniform… must have walked up to me… no more… fifty yards… Shot… never heard him… Hurt like… managed to get a shot off… didn't miss…" A hollow laugh came from Elbard. "Boy… he looked surprised. Managed to get to my mount… Suppose… shouldn't gone all the way to Hyalt… where the road led…"

  Slowly, the majer reached out with his Talent, strengthening the lifethread, and doing what else he could to knit bones and muscles together. Alucius's vision was blurring by the time he finished.

  Elbard looked to be sleeping.

  "I think he'll make it," Alucius said hoarsely. He looked at the lancer who had bound the wounds. "Let me or Overcaptain Feran know when he wakes." Yes, sir.

  Alucius began to walk slowly back uphill and away from the group around Elbard.

  Accompanying Alucius, Feran looked back at the scout, then to the majer. His voice was low as he spoke. "That takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?"

  Alucius debated denying it, then shrugged tiredly. Feran already knew; he'd known for years, even if they'd never spoken of it. "I can only do one or two a day, if that, and nothing else. It's useless in a battle."

  "They say… you can't heal yourself, can you?"

  "No. I think I heal a little faster than most people, but Talent doesn't work that way."

  "Why…"

  "Because he's a good scout. Because we need to know what else he found out." And because, Alucius had to admit to himself, he felt guilty for sending Elbard out into trouble. "What he ran into—it sounds like… some kind of Talent. I've never heard of anything like that, though."

  "Nothing herders can do?"

  "Not that I know of," Alucius admitted.

  "That would explain why none of Frynkel's scouts got back."

  "It might."

  "You think there's more?" asked Feran.

  "I don't know, but…"

  "They wouldn't send us—or you—unless it was something tough," Feran pointed out.

  "There's one thing that doesn't make much sense. Weslyn was totally opposed to my being sent here."

  Feran laughed. "That makes perfect sense. When you were a herder, you were out of the Guard. Now, you're a majer. You pull this out, and you're the Lord-Protector's favorite. Even I can tell that Marshal Frynkel despises Weslyn, and—"

  "We'd better think more about how to pull this off," Alucius said quickly. "Tomorrow, we'll send a messenger back to the last manned post, letting the marshal know about it." He could hear the reluctance in his voice. "We'll also have to request more ammunition."

  "You don't like that," observed Feran.

  "No… but he and the Lord-Protector should know."

  "Elbard was the only one who felt this. Are you sure … ?"

  "We sent out four scouts. One hasn't returned. Two got chased back, and one of them got Talent-spelled and wounded. Frynkel sent at least a few. None of them got back. What does that tell you?"

  Feran offered a bitter chuckle. "They got some sort of Talent watching over them. Is that what you're thinking?"

  "What else could it be?" After a moment, Alucius added, "Unless it's something worse."

  "You know of anything worse?"

  "The return of the True Duarchy." Alucius forced a wry dryness into his voice.

  Feran nodded.

  "Let's get the captains and go over the maps." Alucius turned and headed back toward the tielines and his mount, and the saddlebags that held the maps.

  As he walked, he went over the questions in his mind.

  The rebels knew where he and his force were—at least in general terms. They might not know exactly where, since there had been no survivors of the attack, but he had one missing scout, presumably dead, and one who had been wounded and one who had left a trail of bodies. If he kept the three companies where they were, he'd need to have them dig in, and the hillside wasn't that suited to digging in. On the other hand, he knew far too little about the land and the people, and who controlled what—and how. Every move, every ride, was into the unknown. But… he reflected… from what he'd seen, the rebel lancers weren't that good. They were only fanatics. Only?

  He laughed softly to himself.

  He knew more about attacking than defending—a great deal more. His forces would have to move on.

  Chapter 52

  Alustre, Lustrea

  « ^ »

  The man in the silver cloak and matching trousers walked up the stone steps of the ancient covered arena toward what had once been the Duarch's box. Beside and behind him were two quints of guards, wearing silver-gray trousers and tunics. Each of the ten guards bore a brace of two-shot pistols and a gladius. The covered arena was dimly lit, the only light coming through the arched windows that were covered with grime.

  A stocky man in dark blue stood beside a device that resembled a cannon, save that what would have been the barrel was composed of crystals set in holders and connected by silver wire and that the armored square body, three yards long and slightly less than two wide, rested on four ironbound wheels, rather than the t
wo wheels and trunnion mounting used for cannon. He bowed. "As you requested, all is ready, Praetor."

  "How does it work, Waleryn?"

  "Very well, Praetor." The stocky figure smiled, drawing his lips into a pleasant expression belied by the coldness in his eyes.

  "Then proceed to show us, if you will." The Praetor turned to look At the center of the arena, where several battered statues had been placed. Armor had been strapped on two of the horsemen. In addition to the statues, there was a shield wall, looking as it might in battle, except that the shields had been fastened together rather than held by soldiers.

  Waleryn stepped up to the device and drew down a lever. The faintest humming sounded, thin, high, and intense enough that several of the guards stiffened. After a moment, a line of blue-green fire—or light—flashed from the crystal barrel, light so intense that the Praetor was forced to close his eyes.

  When Tyren could see again, the center of the arena contained nothing except an oval of rough glass from which rose heat waves, as in the southern deserts.

  The Praetor hid a swallow. "Very impressive. How far will it reach? "

  "At the moment, this one has a range of just less than a vingt—say, eighteen hundred yards."

  "How often can you use it?"

  "It takes about a tenth of a glass to recharge, but if I adjust the aperture, it could destroy a line of troops three hundred yards across and fifty deep."

  "What makes it work? And keep the explanation simple this time."

  "The essence that supports the Talent… it infuses all of Corus, all of the oceans and the air as well. It is a force, like fire, except it cannot be seen but through its manifestations." Waleryn took the white leather gloves that he held in his right hand and gently used the fingertips to brush away a fleck of something that had appeared on his lower left sleeve. "The crystals inside the tube barrel concentrate and refine this essence into elemental force, call it a fire, that will burn anything."

  "Anything?" The slender Praetor laughed, a cool and mocking sound. "That is claiming much."

  "Oh, there is more to it than that. Because it draws and concentrates this essence, it can reduce the power of those with the Talent who might oppose you and your forces."

  "How many of these can you fabricate?"

  "The materials are most costly, as you know."

  "You had said it would be easier after the first few."

  "Easier, yes… but not that much less costly."

  "Hmmm… fabricate another five. That way we will have two for each force crossing the Spine of Corus." The Praetor smiled. "I am sure that you can manage that, Lord Waleryn."

  "Your Mightiness is too kind." Waleryn bowed again, his gesture nearly as mocking as the words of the Praetor.

  "If these devices prove their worth in the campaigns ahead, you can look to great rewards, perhaps even, shall we say, the prefectship over Lanachrona." Tyren nodded and turned.

  Two of the guards remained flanking Waleryn for several moments, until the Praetor had entered the ancient tunnel that led back to the underground carriageway. Then, they too departed, leaving Waleryn standing beside his weapon.

  The eyes of the Lanachronan lord flashed purplish for a moment, watching the departing guards, but he said nothing at all, before tapping the bell beside the projector to summon his engineers-in-training.

  Chapter 53

  « ^ »

  At dawn on Septi, the three companies were on the move, headed westward and following the road that Rakalt had scouted the day before. From the maps and from what the scouts had discovered, Alucius was fairly certain that the one rebel camp was to the east of the road they traveled, perhaps by as little as a vingt, certainly no more than two. If the maps were correct, he noted to himself from where he rode at the head of the force, beside Feran.

  Elbard was better, although he was riding in one of the supply wagons, and he had told Alucius and Feran more about Hyalt itself—a town rather than a city, and one that had seemed half-deserted, but with maroon-clad armsmen seemingly on every street, at least of those that the scout had seen from his hilltop vantage point before he'd been Talent-spelled. Alucius didn't like the thought that the rebels had enough men to place so many in the town itself, and he had to wonder from where all of them had come. To that question, like so many others, he had no answer.

  Alucius had worked with Feran and the fifth squad of Fifth Company the night before, with cloth taken from the downed rebel lancers and some of the gunpowder from the Southern Guard wagon. While gunpowder exploded, it also burned, and that was what Alucius had in mind. He'd decided against sending a messenger north immediately, because, once he'd thought about what he could report and request, he determined that no one would believe him, and, even if they did, they wouldn't understand the danger that he could explain—and he couldn't explain about the ifrits. That was something no one would believe, especially since he had not seen a one, just their influence and traces.

  "Better to be moving, rather than sitting and waiting," Feran said.

  "I feel better on the move, too, but I'd like to know more about where we're moving," Alucius replied dryly.

  "Even when you do know, you really don't."

  Feran was probably right about that, too, reflected Alucius. So often, knowledge could be an illusion, particularly if the knowledge wasn't firsthand and hard-won.

  "I've been thinking about the scouts," Alucius said. "What if we just sent patrols down the roads, maybe full squads as patrols?"

  "You don't think they'd just pick them off?"

  "Not at first. They'd have to send out squads and patrol all the roads. I'd like to learn more about this place."

  "If what you have planned for today goes right, they might do that tomorrow."

  "Where?" asked Alucius. "Even if they have two other camps and six companies, they don't know where we'll be. If the lancers we fought the other day are any example, we'll do better at picking them off here and there. We'll attack, then move back to the way station and get refreshed and resupplied." He should have adopted that approach to begin with, but he'd never dealt with anything like the situation in Hyalt before. Then again, he doubted anyone had.

  He looked at the hills to the northwest. The stump-covered and gullied ground looked tired, with its intermittent low bushes and sparse grass. Even to his Talent, it felt tired. Could land feel tired? According to what the soarer had told him years before, whole worlds got tired, and the ifrits made that happen more quickly. But how long did worlds last? Or did the worlds continue on as lifeless lumps once the spirit of life was exhausted?

  "You look grim," Feran observed, his voice cheerful. "We haven't even seen anyone. Isn't that better than another skirmish right off?"

  "I was just thinking."

  "That can be dangerous," Feran said lightly.

  Alucius chuckled, then observed, "There weren't any survivors. No one tried to escape. I've never seen that."

  "Haven't either. Could just have been the way things happened there."

  "Could be."

  "You don't sound convinced."

  "Are you?"

  Feran shook his head.

  Ahead, the road began a long and gentle turn more to the south. To the west, beyond the rolling hills, was another set of higher, redder, and drier hills, and in the dim hazy distance, the peaks of the Coast Range, marking the old boundary between Lanachrona and Madrien. To the east was a short flat stretch of meadow, although the grass was also sparse, before the ground rose into juniper- and cedar-sprinkled hills.

  As the companies rode southward, and as the sun crept over the hills to the east, Alucius continued to study the road and the area to the east. After another two vingts, the road turned due south, then angled sharply westward. As he neared the curve, Alucius turned to Feran. "We'll stop at the turn there."

  "Column, halt! Pass it back!"

  "Column halt!"

  Fifth Company came to a halt, followed by Thirty-fifth and Twenty-eighth Compan
ies.

  "You're going to lead the squad, aren't you?" asked Feran.

  Alucius had debated himself, back and forth, on whether he should lead the fire detail. In the end, he'd decided he would do so. One reason was simple enough—if necessary, he could use his Talent to touch off the powder. "I know it will work, and they're more likely to get back." Alucius smiled. "If you thought I was wrong, you'd say something."

  "I don't like it, but you're probably right." Feran snorted. "I've been worried about this duty from the beginning, and I still am."

  "So am I, but that's another question. We'll be as quick as we can." Alucius turned the gray. "Fifth squad forward!"

  Nineteen men rode forward along the edge of the narrow road, led by Zerdial. The once-youthful-looking and thin squad leader was harder than when Alucius had first made him a squad leader, and the thinness had become a tough angularity. The squad leader reined up.

  "Zerdial, your squad set? With all the burn bags?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Let's head out, then, along that trail until we reach that outcropping to the southeast. One scout two hundred yards ahead."

  "Yes, sir. Orlant, you take scout."

  Once Orlant was past him, Alucius turned the gray off the road and along the narrow trail following the scout. Zerdial and the rest of fifth squad followed.

  For the first several hundred yards the trail was almost flat. Then it swung south between two cedars and angled back east, up the side of the hill in a gradual climb. Although Orlant was well forward, Alucius scanned the trail in front as well as the sparse woods on all sides. For the first half glass, he could detect almost nothing except some grayjays and rodents. As they neared the top of the first rise, through the trees, Alucius could see a thin trail of smoke to the east against the early-morning sky, beyond an even steeper line of hills.