“You administered the lashes?”
“Who else?”
Rhystan nodded slowly. “You could.”
Mykel thought that an odd comment, but did not pursue it. Was Rhystan saying that Mykel could wield the lash because he had led from the front? Or because he was a new battalion commander? Or both?
“What sort of spacing would you suggest?” he finally asked Rhystan.
“You said that they had weapons like skylances. I’d have them on the ground, just out of sight, over the crest of the hill, until we know whether we’re needed. Then put them in prone position, a little less than two yards apart, every other man three yards back. You’d have two lines, then, and one could keep firing, while the other advanced or retreated.”
“That’s a thin line, and we’d only be covering about a vingt,” mused Mykel. “Still, we’re supposed to be picking up stragglers, not facing an attack. There’s a bit of a gully below on the southeast side, and that would give us time to reform. They don’t have that many mounts and no pteridons.” He nodded. “Maybe a little tighter—a yard and a half. That still will give us a front of half a vingt.”
“Do you know what the submarshal’s going to do?”
“He’s going in as if it’s a normal visit, or whatever he does. Bait…I think.”
“Thought Cadmians were the only ones who did that.”
“I’m not sure he’s a typical alector.” But then, how would I know? Mykel looked ahead. “Left on the lane heading west, past the corrals! Pass it up!”
“Left ahead!…”
As the column turned onto the lane, Mykel glanced back into the sky to the northeast. So far, no sign of the pteridons, but he didn’t expect them for another glass. He watched the road, but the sandy soil was heavy enough that what dust there was rose less than a yard, just enough to coat the mounts’ fetlocks and lower legs and Cadmians’ boots.
Slightly less than two glasses after the battalion had left the old garrison, a glass past midday, the six companies were stationed on the back side of the uneven hills to the north and east of the regional alector’s compound. They were gathered in squads, resting in whatever shade there was until ordered into firing positions.
Mykel had dismounted and made his way across the flatter crest of the hill in the center of his line of companies. He lay just beyond the crest on the southern side, stretched behind an irregularly shaped juniper, surveying the hillside below and the terrain between the hill and the Regional Alector’s compound. He had left the ammunition belt behind, with the fourth squad of Fifteenth Company, the group that would be flanking him in the center of the line.
The wind had switched, and intermittent hot gusts of dry air out of the south lifted and swirled sand and fragments of dried vegetation, then dropped them randomly. The low haziness that had hugged the southern horizon had climbed steadily toward the zenith as the day had warmed, until the entire southern half of the sky held a faint whitish silver cast. The later afternoon would be hot, a true summer day in Hyalt.
Reddish ground and scattered grass, now mostly summer tan, stretched from the base of the hill to the compound a vingt or so southeast of the base of the hill. Unlike before, there were no signs of any troopers. Mykel couldn’t even see any sentries posted outside either the entrance to the freestanding stone building or to the archway carved into the redstone cliff.
Mykel could feel a growing purpleness somewhere behind him. After a moment he turned his head. There; to the northeast, flying in a staggered V formation, with each trailing pteridon higher than the one before it, were five Myrmidons, arrowing toward the regional alector’s compound.
Rifle in hand, Mykel made his way back to the waiting squads, using what cover there was, mainly scrub bushes, low junipers and a few small pines.
“Third Battalion! Squads to standby positions! Squads to standby positions.”
Dravidyl, the squad leader for fourth squad, appeared and handed Mykel the ammunition belt. “Thought you might want this, Majer.”
“Thank you.” Mykel nodded and took the belt, draping it over his right shoulder, the one less sore, before turning and heading back to his vantage position to wait and watch what was about to happen between the Myrmidons and those alectors who seemed to hold the compound to the south.
69
Fhentyl was waiting when Dainyl returned to the way station, standing on the flat grassy area to the north of the structures. Dainyl settled the pteridon and then walked toward the captain.
“Sir? I was getting somewhat concerned.”
“The majer was in the middle of Hyalt presiding over a court-martial. It would have been worse to interrupt him than to let it play out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Extortion, murder, rape, abandonment of duty, and assault on lawful superiors—all in one court-martial and from one bad Cadmian,” Dainyl added. “You can see why dragging him away wouldn’t have been advisable, not when a glass or two probably won’t make that much difference now. Later, yes, but not now.”
“Ah…what happened?”
“The majer handled it like a Myrmidon officer, fairly and effectively. It was a pleasure to see competence.” Dainyl hadn’t seen that much exemplary ability among the Cadmians, although he had the definite impression that Mykel was rewarding and building it among his own battalion officers. The late Majer Vaclyn had never recommended officers or commended them, but Majer Mykel clearly had decided on who could replace him and had no hesitation in saying so.
Majer Mykel also had greater control of his Talent than many alectors, and yet Dainyl had the feeling that the majer was truly unaware of the extent of the power he possessed. In a way, Dainyl almost hoped that the majer didn’t discover it, because there were so few landers or indigens with the ambition and intelligence the majer possessed. Still, by ordering the Cadmians to provide secondary flanking support and placing the majer where he had, Dainyl hoped that the majer could use his limited Talent against Brekylt’s and Rhelyn’s forces.
“Now what, sir?”
“As we planned, first squad will escort me. Three will remain circling, while I land with two pteridons. You will follow with the rest of the company, but remain low enough to stay out of view from the compound, but where you can see if any of the circling Myrmidons use their lances or are attacked. In either case, you will immediately join us. If they should attack, our immediate task is to destroy everything in open view and then withdraw, except for a small patrol on a continuing basis to keep them within their walls.”
Fhentyl’s brow furrowed.
“The single outbuilding is stone. The Table and most of the support structures are carved into the stone of a small mountain. We’ll only waste the skylances firing against solid rock. Once they understand that they are confined, we’ll keep them there while I undertake the second part of the strategy.”
The captain nodded. “Tempre?” After a moment, he added, “You haven’t indicated why you wish to take the administrative center there.”
“Partly because it’s the only place from which they could easily obtain supplies and partly for other reasons. First, let us see how welcoming alector Rhelyn is.”
“Sir…aren’t you exposing yourself unduly?”
Dainyl shook his head. “I don’t think so. Whether Rhelyn is behind this or someone else is, a direct attack on a submarshal is a provocation that the duarches are unlikely to take lightly. Resistance by denying access will gain them more time. If they don’t know the rest of Fifth Company is nearby, they’re less likely to be overtly aggressive, at least if they know word would get back.”
“That’s why you want the other three circling. But won’t they see that?”
“I’m certain that they will. To them, that will convey weakness and unwillingness and inability to act directly.” Dainyl gestured for Fhentyl to follow him as he crossed the space between where the two pteridons had set down and the remainder of first squad.
Undercaptain Hyksant stiffened
as Dainyl approached. “Submarshal.”
Dainyl looked to the undercaptain. “As I told you earlier, Galya and Dyrmant will land at the compound with me. They’ll have their skylances at the ready. You and the other two Myrmidons will circle. You’ll also have your lances out. If you see any sort of cart or any tripodlike device, destroy it instantly—even if there’s someone standing beside it. Keep alert for someone pointing one of them from windows in the buildings or on the roofs.”
“What are the tripods?”
“Road-cutting equipment modified to act like a skylance,” replied Dainyl. “They don’t draw lifeforce from directly around them, but from crystal storage. That’s why they need carts or something similar.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl ignored the appalled glances that Fhentyl and Hyksant exchanged. “That’s it. Let’s lift off.”
As if to punctuate his words, a gust of warm air swept across the way station, swirling eddies of sandy dust, then died away. Dainyl walked back to Galya and her pteridon and climbed into the second saddle.
In moments, first squad was airborne, with Galya’s pteridon leading the formation. Despite the importance of the flight, Dainyl enjoyed the air on his face, the sun all around him, and the lands spread out beneath the pteridon’s wings. For several moments, he savored flying, even as a passenger. Then he began to survey the terrain ahead and below.
As they neared the regional alector’s compound, Dainyl studied the hills, noting that Third Battalion was moving into position—presumably after observing the pteridons. He nodded. The majer had kept his men in more comfortable and less exposed positions until necessary.
Dainyl only saw a handful of figures out in the open—between the single stone building and the carved archway to the underground complex. One pointed toward the pteridon squad, and all hurried out of sight into the archway. That strongly suggested guilt and fear.
By the time Galya’s pteridon folded its wings and settled onto the flat paved area before the single freestanding stone structure, there was no one left in the open. Dainyl noted that all the windows in the building had been modified into slits, so that the structure resembled a fortress, rather than the regional administrative center it had been originally built to be. He dismounted, one hand on the butt of a sidearm, his shields at full strength.
The main door opened, and a tall alector stepped out into the hot and hazy afternoon sunlight. He stopped less than two steps from the door, which remained ajar.
“Might I ask your reason for being here?”
Dainyl ignored the insolent tone and smiled politely. “Submarshal Dainyl of the Myrmidons, here to pay a courtesy call on Rhelyn.”
“The regional alector regrets that he is tied up with some pressing concerns, Submarshal.”
Dainyl studied the alector who confronted him, not only with his eyes, but his Talent. The darker purpled aura was an indication that he had translated recently from Ifryn.
“I do hope that the regional alector is in good health,” countered Dainyl. “And who might you be? I cannot say that I recognize you.”
“I am but a humble assistant to the honored Rhelyn.” A wave of Talent extended toward Dainyl, nearly as powerful as that projected by High Alector Zelyert. You will do as I say…do as I say….
Dainyl’s shields held, and he ignored the command. “Then I suggest you humble yourself and allow me a moment with him.”
“As I said, he is engaged in more pressing efforts….” Do as I say….
Dainyl could sense a concentration of force rising within the structure, and his Talent focused. “Galya! The top slit window on the right! Fire!”
Even before he finished the sentence, Galya’s skylance flared.
A soundless flash of white light flared from the slit window, and the narrower redstone blocks more recently added to reinforce and narrow the window exploded outward.
Dainyl’s lightcutter was in his hand. The blue beam flared toward the unidentified alector, spraying around his shields. “Dyrmant! The other upper window!”
A welter of lightbeams flashed across the open paved area.
Dainyl pulled the second lightcutter and aimed it—as well as the first—toward the alector, who had stepped back, trying to hold shields and retreat at the same time. Dainyl followed with a Talent-probe.
Galya’s skylance arrowed at the insolent alector.
Abruptly, the alector vanished in a purplish haze. Three bluish beams flashed through where he had stood and struck the now-closed wooden door, then sprayed into rainbows. The door was untouched—clearly imbued with lifeforce as a protection.
Dainyl glanced back. Dyrmant’s pteridon was riderless, the skylance lying on the sand, and his uniform beside it. The submarshal turned and sprinted to the riderless pteridon, first jamming the lightcutters into their holsters, then grabbing the skylance and half-vaulting, half-climbing into the saddle.
Lift! He sent the command. The pteridon did not even hesitate at his becoming its flier and began to spread its wings.
“Lift off!” Dainyl ordered Galya.
Both pteridons were airborne near-instantly.
Left! Stay low. Dainyl wanted to minimize the chances of the rebels being able to use one of the lightcannon against the pteridons—and their far more vulnerable fliers. As always, the pteridon sensed the thoughts behind the command. Less than fifty yards separated pteridon and flier from the highest of the scrub junipers.
Only when he was a good vingt to the east of the compound did Dainyl begin to climb, followed by the four other Myrmidons of first squad. Just to the north circled the other three squads of Fifth Company. One of the pteridons separated from the company and turned toward the approaching squad.
Shortly, Fhentyl’s pteridon drew abreast of Dainyl’s, higher and to the left, so that wing-tip vortices did not affect either pteridon. “Sir? What do you require?”
“Dispatch one squad at a time to keep constant surveillance. They’re to flame anyone and anything that appears in the open.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I’m going to give orders to the Cadmians to leave one company on patrol, both to keep any supplies from nearing the compound and to make sure no one leaves, in case there are tunnels or the like. Don’t have any of our pteridons land, no matter what! Once I finish there, I’ll return to the waystation and meet you there.”
Fhentyl raised a hand in acknowledgment before he banked away from Dainyl.
The submarshal turned north, circling back toward the hills where the Cadmians remained drawn up. He looked over his shoulder. Galya was flying wing, above and to his left.
“Circle while I land!” he called.
“We’ll cover you.”
Dainyl doubted he’d need that much cover, but it couldn’t hurt. The air felt good streaming past his face. He had missed flying, but wouldn’t have wanted to return to it because a Myrmidon died carrying out his plans. If he’d had more time, he would have climbed behind Galya and let Dyrmant’s pteridon follow, because, sooner or later, he’d have to go through the laborious business of transferring the pteridon to young Brytra, far harder when the previous flier was still alive.
Approaching the Cadmian position from the east, he took a moment to reorient himself, then settled on a point on the ridge just behind the middle of the Cadmian line.
Down…on the ridge…below the tall juniper.
The pteridon glided in, flared, and settled onto the grassy area on the northern edge of the flatter section of the ridge.
Before long, Majer Mykel hurried toward the pteridon. “Submarshal, sir?”
“Yes, Majer.” Dainyl swung down from the pteridon. Belatedly realizing that he still held the skylance, he slipped it into its holder before walking toward the Cadmian officer.
“No rebels or intruders sighted, sir.”
“Good.”
“We did note skylances and weapons from both the cliff and the structure.”
Dainyl hadn’t realized someone
had fired from the cliff. He’d need to mention that to Fhentyl. “How large a force would you recommend to keep a patrol around this area and to keep anyone from sending supplies into the compound?”
“You’re besieging the regional alector’s compound?”
“It’s no longer his,” Dainyl replied. “It is in the hands of those who oppose the Duarch, and they’re not to receive supplies.”
Mykel frowned.
Dainyl sensed a change in the majer’s lifeforce, somehow, behind the shields, but then, Talented or not, the majer was only a lander.
“I’d judge a company in this area,” the majer replied, “and two squads from another company to patrol the roads with access to the compound.”
“The reason for the patrol of the roads, Majer, is to protect those who might supply the compound. Anyone or anything nearing the compound will be destroyed by those pteridons.” Dainyl pointed to the south, where five pteridons circled. “You can also tell your men that those who remain here will not be used in any direct attack. That would be foolish and a waste. Later, they may have to deal with stragglers and survivors, and those could be dangerous. Whatever you and your officers do, do not let any of the rebels approach closer than fifty yards. If you cannot stop them at that distance, pull back. Make sure that Captain Rhystan is clear on that as well. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The majer’s eyes never left Dainyl, another trait rare in a lander.
“As I told you earlier, I’ll need three companies to ride north to Tempre under your command,” Dainyl continued. “There is a possibility that the rebels may have sympathizers in the administrative center there. You’re confident in Captain Rhystan’s ability to command the remaining companies?”
“Yes, sir.” There was the slightest hesitation. “He’s very coolheaded and should have been an overcaptain before now.”
Dainyl wondered about the hesitation, yet he could sense no equivocation about the majer’s endorsement of Rhystan. Something else was at issue. “You still have concerns, Majer?”
Cadmian's Choice Page 43