Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Deotyr frowned.

  Alucius wrenched his thoughts away from the Talent-creatures and spoke slowly. "We all have to learn, and we all learn different lessons, and sometimes the only way to learn is painful." That he knew all too well. "You'll remember this. It might be difficult to forget it. Just get into the habit of asking yourself why the enemy is doing something. Or why I do things the way I do. And you can ask me afterward why I did it. You learn from this, and you'll be a better officer. Every good lancer force rests on the quality of its officers, and quality comes from training and learning and improving." Alucius offered a smile, one he hoped was both encouraging and slightly sad. "Neither one of us can undo what's been done. We can only learn from it and go on."

  Against the whispers and murmurs of the conversations of the camp, almost like a harvest wind, Deotyr was silent for a time before speaking. "Sir… is all… I mean… the rebels…"

  Alucius laughed gently. "I've never seen anything like this. Most other forces I've fought against have much more able lancers, but you could stop them. These rebels will keep riding until they're dead in the saddle. It's the first time we've gotten low on ammunition with so few casualties, but that's why we're moving back to resupply. Without more ammunition, we can't mount an attack on their bases."

  After the afternoon's attack, Alucius was even more convinced of the necessity of that resupply—and it wouldn't hurt for him to rethink things once more. He almost laughed out loud at his caution. Did command do that to once-impetuous young officers?

  Chapter 61

  Tempre, Lanachrona

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  The gray morning light did little to brighten the Lord-Protector's study or the faces of the three men seated within it.

  Marshal Alyniat sat at one corner of the dark oak table desk, the fingers of his left hand quietly drumming on the wood, while Frynkel sat at the other corner. A single dispatch lay on the polished desktop where the Lord-Protector had set it.

  "Majer Alucius has been in the Hyalt area perhaps a week," the Lord-Protector said slowly. "He has destroyed four companies of rebel lancers with minimal losses, except ammunition, and that is to be expected."

  "That is what he reports," acknowledged Alyniat. "He has sent two dispatches."

  "If that is what he reports," replied the Lord-Protector coolly, "then that is what has happened. Unlike some officers' reports, his I can trust. That presents another question."

  The two marshals waited.

  "Exactly how did this prophet Adarat manage to create two military camps and arm and uniform more than four companies without the Southern Guard even noticing it until the local garrison was overcome and killed?"

  "If we knew the answer to that, Lord-Protector," replied Alyniat deferentially, "it would not have happened."

  "However it happened, I have lost. The question is only how much. If the majer can destroy this prophet and his followers, I lose only my respect, the gratitude of many subjects, and I will gain a reputation not as a just ruler, but one to be feared. I do not think I need to spell out what I will lose if he fails."

  Neither marshal spoke for a moment.

  After the silence had drawn out for a time, Frynkel finally replied, "In these times, it is not entirely without benefit to be a ruler to be feared."

  "That is true," Talryn stated. "But is it to the credit of the Southern Guard that it takes a herder majer from the north to accomplish even that?"

  Another silence filled the room.

  "Get him the ammunition, and send it on the way by noon, even if you have to strip every arsenal and company in Tempre." The Lord-Protector paused before asking, "How fares the defense of Southgate?"

  "The latest reports say that the defenses are firm, and that Marshal Wyerl has pushed the Matrites back north of Zalt. There have been no changes in the positions of forces between Fola and Southgate. That is acceptable, under the circumstances." Alyniat glanced at Frynkel.

  "The last company from Borlan is between Krost and here, and will join the companies released from Indyor. That will provide four more companies of lancers that could be used against the Regent as necessary."

  "And the training?"

  "There are lancers enough to fill four companies in training at Krost. They have just begun, and we will lose a quarter of them in training. They will not be prepared to fight until spring," Frynkel replied. "We should have less trouble at Krost, now."

  "For which, again, you can thank the majer. Perhaps, if he succeeds in Hyalt, I should make him a marshal."

  The faintest hint of a wince crossed Alyniat's face, and the subdued finger drumming ceased.

  "Oh… don't worry about that," Talryn said wryly. "He's too smart to accept it, and if I offered it, I'd end up losing half my officers within a year. That, too, is a sorry state of affairs." He glanced at Alyniat, and added, "Especially under the circumstances, Marshal Alyniat. I trust you two will continue to work to remedy those circumstances."

  Alyniat's face stiffened slightly at the Lord-Protector's use of the phrase "under the circumstances." Then, he replied, "Yes, sir."

  "That's all. One of you send me a messenger confirming that the ammunition is on the way."

  "Yes, sir."

  The Lord-Protector rose.

  So did the marshals, bowing, then departing the study.

  Chapter 62

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  In the glow of the oil lamp set in a bronze wall bracket, the five officers sat around the single table in what passed for the officers' mess in the Ceazan way station. Four were from Alucius's force. The fifth was Korow, the gray-bearded undercaptain in charge of the station. His pale green eyes moved slowly from officer to officer, but kept returning to the gray-haired and young-faced Alucius.

  Alucius took a long swallow of water from the chipped crockery mug. "We'll give the men another two days to rest and check gear." The men didn't need the rest so much as the mounts did, but both men and mounts could stand the time away from the strangeness around Hyalt. He also would leave the more seriously wounded, such as Elbard, to recover at the way station.

  "You haven't said much, sir," offered Jultyr. "Not about what's happened in Hyalt."

  "That's true. I haven't." Alucius paused. "I'd like your thoughts first. Then, I'll say what I think."

  A faint smile crossed Feran's lips, and Alucius knew that was because Alucius had never been known for being reticent among other officers.

  No one spoke for a time.

  Then Feran cleared his throat. "Something's happening. It didn't start when we rode into Hyalt. It didn't even start when we left Dekhron. There were pteridons when we fought the nomads in Deforya. That was more than three years ago. The Matrial started using the crystal spear-thrower before that. This revolt… whatever it is… is part of it. These rebels don't act like any lancers I ever saw anywhere." The overcaptain shrugged. "That's all."

  After another silence, Alucius looked to Jultyr.

  "Don't know what to say, sir. Never seen anything like it. Couldn't say where any of them came from. They don't look or act like any folk from Lanachrona, and I've served in almost every post in the land."

  "Captain Deotyr?" Alucius prompted.

  The dark-haired young officer moistened his lips.

  Alucius waited.

  "Sir… where are they getting all the lancers? We… well… the Lord-Protector has trouble raising enough from all across Lanachrona, and we must have killed… what… five companies' worth, and they still have more…" Deotyr's words trailed off.

  "That's a very good question," Alucius replied. "I have an idea, but we won't know until we finish what we were sent to do." He paused, then continued. "The scouts have reported that Hyalt is half deserted, and we've seen that many of the steads have been abandoned. We've captured mounts, though many aren't that good, and some have their coats worn from harnesses and collars. We don't know as much as I'd like, but it looks like this prophet Adarat has used some form of Talent to persuade people to leave
their homes and steads and serve him as lancers, and perhaps in many other ways as well.

  "Even so, if that's true," Alucius continued, "whatever this is, it's not a rebellion or a revolt. Rebels don't have standardized uniforms within weeks. They don't have lancers who can still ride with wounds that should have left them dead. They don't have Talent-wielders powerful enough to enchant scouts from a distance."

  "You think it's an invasion?" asked Deotyr.

  "I don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a Talent-invasion, with the Talent-wielder coming from somewhere else and getting some supplies from there, but using the local men and boys as fodder."

  "Who could be behind it?" pressed Deotyr.

  "The Regent?" asked Jultyr.

  "It's possible," said Alucius, even though he doubted that it could be the Regent. From what he could tell, it had to be the ifrits, and he could only hint at that.

  "You don't think so, do you?" said Feran.

  "I don't know what's behind it. It could be the Regent of the Matrial, but I think it's something else. What that something is… that's another question, but the way we were attacked by Talent-creatures near Hyalt, then earlier north of Krost, and all the feeling of Talent all around Hyalt…" Alucius shook his head. "Don't you think that if the Regent of the Matrial had that kind of power, our lancers would be taking terrible losses in Madrien and getting pushed out of Southgate?"

  "Maybe they are," suggested Jultyr. "We wouldn't know, would we?"

  Alucius let a rueful laugh escape. "You could be right. We wouldn't know."

  "If that happened, can't have happened too long ago," offered Korow. "We get the dispatches here, two, three days after Tempre. Nothing in them. Can't see why they'd hide something like that. 'Sides, if they did, still be something about lancer companies being formed or moved." The older undercaptain stopped and pulled at his chin. "Come to think of it, one of the dispatch riders said they've got more companies in training at Krost, and something about the companies being moved out of Indyor and being sent west."

  Alucius put the most faith in the dispatch riders. If anyone outside of the marshals and the Lord-Protector would know, the dispatch riders would.

  "If it's the Regent, then we're on our own, Majer, aren't we?" asked Jultyr.

  "We knew that already," Alucius said wryly.

  "But where did the Regent get all this Talent?" asked Deotyr, the tone in his voice one between exasperation and annoyance.

  Alucius shrugged. "We don't know what caused the Cataclysm or the fall of the Duarchy. We don't even know how the Duarchy came to be. All we know is that something strange is happening that doesn't seem to have happened before, and it's been happening all over Corus. The prophet could be a wild Talent-wielder who's convinced everyone from merchants to local holders that the Duarchy will come again and gotten them to provide uniforms and supplies. Proclaiming that the True Duarchy will come doesn't mean that it will, no matter how many in Hyalt believe it. Under those conditions, the Regent of the Matrial would be happy to supply weapons to keep the Lord-Protector and Lanachrona occupied elsewhere. Even the Dramurians might do that. We can't deal with the Matrial or the Dramurians or whoever. Our job is to stop whatever's happening in Hyalt."

  "What do you have in mind, sir?" asked Feran.

  "Make a strike at the camp we hit with the fires, first. That's likely to be the headquarters camp from what we've learned so far. Then strike the other camp. If we destroy this so-called prophet's forces, we'll find it easier to strike at him—if he's even alive after we finish." Alucius cleared his throat and took another swallow of water. "I thought the men could use a break before we made that kind of strike. We should be getting supplies tomorrow, but, if we don't get any more supplies, we'll take whatever extra ammunition Korow can spare and head off the morning after tomorrow."

  "You don't want to wait, then?" asked Deotyr.

  "Not too much longer than we have," Alucius admitted. "I'd thought we could find out more than we have. We didn't. Sometimes, you just can't get any more information. When that happens, you have to act, because you won't get any more until they're attacking you, and you're better off acting instead of reacting."

  "Still think it's strange," mused Deotyr.

  "It is strange. It may well get stranger if we don't put a stop to it," Alucius pointed out. He didn't point out that they were also better off dealing with the prophet before the Regent of the Matrial became even more involved—if she were involved in the first place. If the prophet happened to be an ifrit, early action was also better. He just hoped the ammunition arrived—and before long.

  Chapter 63

  North of Iron Stem, Iron Valleys

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  As she reined up the chestnut outside the stable in the late afternoon of a cold harvest day, Wendra swung out of the saddle gracefully, despite her growing midsection.

  "You won't be able to keep that up for much longer," offered Lucenda, walking over from the processing shed.

  "I'm good for another month, maybe two," insisted Wendra, leading the chestnut mare inside the stable and into the second stall. "The baby's fine, and you know that the longer I can ride, the easier the delivery." She grinned. "That's what you told me."

  "I didn't mean spending the entire day in the saddle. I wasn't talking about riding herd on the flock." Lucenda looked over the end of the stall at the younger woman. "You look tired. You shouldn't be taking the flock so often."

  "I'm only taking them every other day," Wendra said. "It's not that. There were more of those… creatures… those pteridons. They appeared maybe two glasses ago, on the way back."

  "Did they—"

  "I shot both of them. They didn't get any of the flock. One came close to a lamb, but I dropped it onto a quarasote bush. They both went up in that blue flame." Wendra racked the saddle and then shook her head. "I never thought I'd see anything that could burn quarasote."

  "I don't like your being out there, not with those… creatures."

  Wendra looked at the older woman, then lowered her voice. "You know Royalt can't do anything about the pteridons or the black Sanders. Besides, they don't show up that often."

  "That's the third time since summer."

  "Fourth," Wendra admitted. "But there were only two, and now that I'm carrying two rifles, it's easier."

  "You're getting those golds from the Lord-Protector. We could afford to lose one or two ewes, and it wouldn't be so bad now."

  "They're helpful, but not enough to replace more than a ram, if we could," Wendra pointed out. "I'd rather save the golds for later, when we really need them."

  Lucenda offered a wan smile. "You're a herder—just like your grand-sire. And Alucius."

  "I'm a herder, and I won't give it up. You and Alucius gave that to me, and the flock will be here, and so will the stead, when he comes back." She paused. "I know he's all right, but I wish we'd hear more. It's been two weeks since his last letter. He said it would be hard to send them after he left Krost, but I worry."

  "Knowing Alucius, he worries about you."

  "He doesn't need to. He's the one who's in danger." Wendra continued to curry the chestnut. "Rebels will be shooting at him."

  "Whereas you merely have to fight off Talent-creatures the likes of which haven't been seen since before the Cataclysm—another legacy of the Duarches." Lucenda snorted.

  "The times are changing," Wendra said.

  "You sound like Alucius."

  "He's right."

  "He was almost always right," Lucenda said, her voice holding a mixture of sadness and wistfulness. "I can remember when he saved Lamb. He looked up at me, and he said, 'He'll get well. You'll see. He will.' Then he went to sleep."

  "That's Alucius."

  "As a mother, it's frightening. He always saw so much more. He didn't always know what it meant, but he saw it." Lucenda's eyes fixed on Wendra. "Your daughter… she'll be like that, and then you'll understand."

  "I've thought that," Wendra admitted.
"Especially at those times when I've wakened and seen Alucius sleep, and he looks so childlike."

  Lucenda looked as though she might say more. Then she laughed softly. "I need to check on supper. Come on in when you can."

  After Lucenda left, Wendra continued to brush the chestnut, her eyes open but focused far to the south.

  Chapter 64

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  Octdi found the column of lancers riding back southward on the high road away from Ceazan and toward Hyalt. Although he did not expect to find traces of the rebels until the next day, Alucius was still using both his Talent and his eyesight to scan the road and the terrain to either side, seeking any trace of the purpleness that marked the rebels or any sign of dust in the dry harvest season that was but days away from fall. Soon the weather would turn colder, even in southern Lanachrona, if not nearly so cold as autumn days would be in the Iron Valleys.

  Through the morning Alucius rode with Twenty-eighth Company, and midmorning came and went. At noon, he ordered Thirty-fifth Company forward and rode with Jultyr. They had ridden more than a glass, passing but a few pleasantries, before Jultyr cleared his throat. Alucius waited.

  "The marshals sent that ammunition real quick, sir."

  "My dispatch explained the problem, at least as well as I could."

  "I've seen colonels, sir, didn't get supplies that fast."

  "The Lord-Protector has a problem. The sooner we get the ammunition, the sooner we can deal with it."

  "You don't think there's any other way?"

  Alucius laughed softly. "I don't know that the rebels gave us much choice. They attacked us first on several occasions. Do you think there was anything else we could have done?"