He found Feran less than ten yards away. “Have Fifth Company take the center. Put them in kneeling or prone positions. We’ll take fewer shots that way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alucius could tell Feran agreed with that, and he merely added, “I’ll try to find Deotyr and Jultyr. If you see them first, convey my orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alucius found both captains heading toward him, and he relayed the same orders, ending with, “Twenty-eighth Company take the west flank, Thirty-fifth the east. And tell your men to keep down and make every shot count.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the three companies formed up, Alucius took a position in the center of the formation that followed the curve of the hill. He had both his rifles with him and his ammunition belt.
For almost a quarter of a glass, there were no sounds from the road. Then, a handful of shots echoed through the thin fog. Alucius heard a bullet smash into a juniper slightly uphill and five yards to his right. He couldn’t say that he was surprised that the rebels were trying to use the fog as cover for an attack, but he didn’t understand the comparatively few shots being fired. His Talent-senses indicated that at least a company of rebels was moving uphill through the fog, still mounted, but the fog was thicker along the lower-lying road, and while Alucius could sense the attackers, he could not see them. He was just thankful that he had ordered the sentries be stationed even farther away from the campsite than he had in the past.
He wondered. Were other rebels sneaking up on other sides of the campsite?
His Talent-senses showed nothing, except for the force moving uphill toward them. He held his first rifle ready, because his ears could hear the sounds of hoofs on soil below, seemingly magnified by the fog.
“Prepare to fire!” he ordered.
“Prepare to fire!”
Less than fifty yards below him, the first maroon-clad lancer trotted his mount out of the patchy fog, in a place where the whiteness had thinned.
“Fire at will!”
Alucius squeezed off his first shot, and the lancer dropped, knocked from his saddle by the force of the bullet from the herder’s heavy rifle.
Along the line, there were other scattered shots, but not many, and then, for another quarter glass, there was comparative silence across the hillside. Alucius could sense the rebels below, holding a rough line in a fog that was slowly thinning under a sun that had finally risen. After taking the lull as a chance to reload, Alucius looked skyward. Above, he could see patches of silver-green sky, patches that were becoming more frequent.
Alucius sensed movement below.
“Prepare to fire!” The command was unnecessary, technically, but he used it as a warning.
“Prepare to fire!” The echoes of the officers’ repetitions had barely died away when rebel lancers and their mounts burst out of the fog below. Most did not seem to be using rifles, but charged uphill swinging blades of various lengths.
The rifles of the defenders cracked and even thundered, and rebel after rebel went down, as did many of the mounts. Alucius fired methodically, going through the first rifle, then the second. The attackers thinned. He reloaded one rifle quickly and barely managed to get off two shots at near-point-blank range at a rebel who was less than ten yards away. Somewhere below, a man was moaning, and to the west a horse screamed. At least, it sounded like a wounded horse.
Alucius swallowed. He waited, and kept waiting, but not another rebel lancer appeared.
Slowly, he used his Talent to scan the hillside. He could sense some badly wounded figures, but none mounted.
“Hold your positions!” he ordered.
The time passed, and the fog continued to thin rapidly until, a half a glass later, only wisps remained, not enough to conceal the carnage of fallen men and mounts below.
“Fifth Company, take cover and advance! Five yards at a time!”
He knew the caution was not necessary, but there was no other way to convey to the lancers that the hillside contained no further danger.
A glass later, Alucius was checking the gray and his gear, ready to mount. He heard a mount approaching and turned.
Egyl reined up short of Alucius, followed by Feran.
“Yes, Egyl?”
“We did a quick search of the bodies, sir, like you ordered.”
“What did you find?”
“Sir…a lot of those lancers were either barely more than boys or they were graybeards. Most of them didn’t have rifles, and the blades were mostly old and of all sorts. Their tunics hardly matched, up close.”
“The rebels in the other attacks weren’t like that, were they?” asked Alucius, although he already knew the answer.
“No, sir.”
“You think this was some sort of feint?”
Egyl glanced downhill. “Don’t know what to think, sir.”
“Thank you,” Alucius said. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell the men.”
Feran remained, waiting until Egyl had ridden out of easy earshot. “Do you think we’ve worn them down to that few?”
“No, but I couldn’t say why,” Alucius admitted. “They were sent against us for a reason, but I can’t figure out why. What worries me most about this prophet is that he’s willing to have hundreds of lancers slaughtered for whatever his goals are. Anyone who does that…”
“Maybe that is his goal,” Feran suggested.
“To have us create so much carnage that it undermines the Lord-Protector’s rule?”
“Can you think of another reason?”
The only ones Alucius could think of were even worse. “We’d better get moving.”
Nothing was going the way he’d thought it might, and yet…what else could he have done? Even rusty blades and the few mismatched rifles would have killed all too many of his lancers had he done nothing. And retreating without fighting would have undermined the Lord-Protector’s rule and authority even more than the carnage Alucius found himself creating.
58
Salaan, Lanachrona
Tarolt and the angular Recorder sat on opposite sides of the circular table. A pitcher of clear liquid rested on a silver tray halfway between them.
The Recorder took a sip of the liquid, setting down the crystal goblet. “I miss Efra. Even more than the towers against the golden sky, or the perfumes of summer, I miss the food. It was an art in itself, firetails marinated in the liqueurs of Serela and stuffed with dauflin, grilled to perfection so that each bite melted…”
“There is much to miss…but even more that will vanish if we do not succeed. As always, we must create a new and greater Efra.”
The Recorder nodded somberly.
“What does the Table show of the events in Hyalt, Trezun?” asked Tarolt, after a silence.
Trezun fingered the base of the goblet, purple eyes burning out of his pale white face. “Adarat has taken the shadow most successfully…or, I should say, the shadow has taken him most successfully. He has maneuvered the majer into an impossible position, and one in which, even if Majer Alucius succeeds in subduing the ‘revolt,’ the Lord-Protector’s authority will be undermined greatly, and he will be regarded as a barbarous butcher.”
“Or he will be condemned all across Corus for having unleashed the butcher of the north on the hapless steers of Hyalt.” Tarolt laughed. “Even those worthless steers will play their part.”
“This Alucius is far better than you think, as an arms-commander, Tarolt,” observed the Recorder. “He could be back in Dekhron before spring, and that would not be for the best. The grid will not be fully ready by then, and we cannot accept mass translations without a fully powered grid. Waleryn is having to proceed more slowly with the Praetor, and that will delay the next translation.”
“He is proceeding, is he not?”
“His work is going well, if not quite so quickly as we had planned.”
“It never does, not when one must deal with steers. Even transl
ated Talent-steers are often less than satisfactory.”
“How is Halanat?” asked Trezun.
“He is better than many, and his trading has provided the golds we need.” Tarolt paused and took a swallow from his own goblet. “We might be able to make other matters work for us. The Regent of the Matrial is likely to break through the lancers of the Lord-Protector. She will hold Southgate by the turn of the new year, if not within weeks. What if she sends that troublesome Marshal Aluyn against Tempre with one of the crystal spear-throwers?”
“You think that the Lord-Protector would send Majer Alucius against the spear-thrower?”
“If Wyerl is dead, what will Marshal Frynkel recommend? What other choices will he have, if he must save Tempre?” Tarolt’s white eyebrows rose. “Or to hold Southgate, if the Regent is less successful.”
“I will see what we can do with the sub-crystal to plant those thoughts.” The Recorder paused. “I still cannot determine what created it, but we can use it as though it were a Table.”
“That is secondary to its use…for now. You have some time.”
“The Regent is already mostly ours, and the idea makes sense. The Lord-Protector will always threaten her. The Matrial did not attack, and look what happened to her. The Regent will see that kind of reason.”
“As do all the steers, she will accept what is plausible,” said Tarolt. “Especially if it fits her inner desires. That is always the key to persuasion and manipulation—plausible appeal to desire.”
The Recorder’s fingers touched the base of his goblet, but his eyes were a world away.
59
It was just past midafternoon on a cooler and hazy Decdi when Twenty-eighth Company, leading the column, turned onto the eternastone road that would take the entire force two days northward to the manned way station. Once there, Alucius wanted his lancers—and their mounts—to get some rest. He also wanted to see if there was any information on what else was happening in Lanachrona.
He’d managed to get a few more reports on the town of Hyalt and the other camp from the scouts—without losing any more. Waris had reported that the town appeared half deserted, and Rakalt had confirmed that a second camp did exist northeast of Hyalt, with stables and barracks for three or four companies.
Even after going over the reports with the scouts, Alucius had very mixed feelings about moving away from Hyalt. Part of him said that he should have just plowed in and attacked the two camps, and part of him worried that he knew too little. The first part of the campaign had certainly not been a failure. The three companies had effectively killed almost four rebel horse companies, reduced the natural defenses of the major enemy staging camp, and determined the bases of the forces opposing him, with relatively light losses—except in terms of ammunition. In the end, ammunition had been the deciding factor. While he had enough for a few more fights, he doubted he had cartridges sufficient for attacks on both rebel camps. For that reason, he’d also finally sent a second messenger ahead, directly to Tempre, to request more ammunition, along with a more complete report on events to date and on the general situation in the Hyalt area—or what he and the scouts had been able to observe.
He’d also come away with close to fifty spare mounts, some of which were so poor as to be useless, but perhaps those could be sold for other purposes.
He still fretted about the last rebel attack and the use of boys and graybeards. Was it a diversion, or had it been designed, as Feran had suggested, to destroy support for the Lord-Protector? Or for something else that he had not even thought about? His lips tightened. However it had been meant, the result had been to make his task harder, because the killing of boys and old men would create more resentment and anger against the Lord-Protector. What also worried him was that there was even more behind that strategy.
Neither Alucius nor Deotyr said much for a good half glass after they started directly north. The lands on both sides of the road might once have been meadows or pastures, but they had long been untended and held a preponderance of thornbushes, with only scattered areas of true grasslands. Then, Alucius reflected, the area around Hyalt seemed partial to thornbushes.
“How long will we be at the way station, sir?” asked Deotyr finally.
“Four days—that’s what I’d planned on, but that depends on how soon we get the ammunition.”
“We had a wagon full of it, sir, didn’t we?”
“We did, but about half of that was for Fifth Company, because the larger cartridges are hard to get in lower Lanachrona. We wouldn’t have enough for an attack on the rebel camps, not if they send lancers at us the way they have.”
“It’s almost a slaughter, the way they attack,” mused Deotyr.
“Only so long as we have bullets and space between us,” Alucius said dryly. “With their numbers, a more equal fight wouldn’t be something you’d look forward to, would you?”
“Ah…no, sir.”
“Majer!” The shout came from a lancer riding along the side of the high road from the rear.
“Here!” Alucius gestured, although it should have been unnecessary, since, while heading Twenty-eighth Company, he was the only rider in the black and blue of the Northern Guard.
The lancer was Skant, and he eased his mount beside Alucius. “There’s lancers moving up on us from the south, really pushing their mounts. They’re less than half a vingt back. Overcaptain Feran wants to know if he should engage.”
Alucius did not reply, but glanced northward. Perhaps three-quarters of a vingt ahead, the road passed through a stone-walled cut in a low rise that ran east and west in both directions so far as he could see. He strained to sense what might lie ahead. Was there a sense of a vague purpleness? He glanced at the road cut, then stood in the stirrups and half turned to look back southward. There were no hills or obstructions to vision on either side of the road to the south—except the knee-high to waist-high thornbushes that were even thicker than they had been farther south. His nightsheep could have taken care of those—although it wouldn’t have done their wool any good.
Alucius settled back into the saddle, looking at Skant. “Tell the overcaptain that we’ll ride on about another half vingt and halt the column. Have him move the wagons to the middle of the column. I’ll have Thirty-fifth Company move out beyond the road to provide additional fire. He’s to engage as he sees fit once we halt. I’ll hold Twenty-eighth Company in reserve.”
An expression of concern and puzzlement crossed Deotyr’s face, but the captain said nothing.
“Half a vingt and we halt,” said Skant. “Wagons to the middle. He can engage, and Thirty-fifth will move out to the flanks with covering fire.”
“That’s right, Skant.”
“Yes, sir.” The lancer turned his mount and rode back along the shoulder.
After a moment, Deotyr spoke. “Sir?”
“Why did I only offer Thirty-fifth as covering fire? Look ahead. See that rise? Don’t you think it’s strange that we’re being attacked from the south as we near that?”
“You think they’ll attack from the north as well?”
“I don’t know. If they don’t, there will be time to pull Twenty-eighth out, but once a company’s off the road here, with all that thorn, it takes time to re-form, especially if the rebels come charging down the road. But if I don’t send Thirty-fifth off road and out, they don’t have any angle to provide covering fire.”
Deotyr nodded.
After riding back and providing Jultyr with detailed instructions, Alucius hurried back northward to rejoin Deotyr and Twenty-eighth Company. He kept studying the road, both to the north and south. Before long he could sense riders on both sections, but only about a company in each direction. Again, that didn’t seem to make much sense, but Adarat or whoever was commanding might be thinking that the surprise of a rear attack would be sufficient. Like everything else in Hyalt, the situation bothered Alucius.
The three Lanachronan companies covered the thousand yards, and the rebels to the n
orth remained concealed. Alucius waited longer, another three hundred yards, until the column reached a point where the ground beyond the road on each side formed an almost imperceptible rise that was mostly clear of the thornbush.
“Column, halt!” Alucius ordered. “Thirty-fifth Company! To the flanks!” He turned to Deotyr. “Captain. Have Twenty-eighth form into a staggered front from five yards out from the shoulder of the road on one side to five on the other side. If you get a rebel attack, don’t open fire until they’re within a hundred yards unless they’re moving at gallop. In that case, you’d better start firing at a hundred and fifty yards. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m moving back to the center so that I can see what’s happening on both sides.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not without misgivings, Alucius moved back toward the middle of the formation until he was within yards of Jultyr and to the slightly higher ground beyond the east shoulder of the road, trying to see and sense what was happening both to the north and the south.
Feran spread Fifth Company and waited until the rebels were within a hundred yards. Then Fifth Company opened fire. Although he could not see them, Alucius could feel the waves of death and the purple miasma that dissolved with each death. He could also sense the rebel forces to the north, moving southward into the shadows of the road cut ahead, as well as several wagons. The wagons bothered him, but he couldn’t determine why or what they contained.
“Rebels to the north!” The call echoed from one of Twenty-eighth Company’s outriders, galloping southward. “They’re forming up on the road.”
“Twenty-eighth Company, hold!” came Deotyr’s command. “Rifles ready. Prepare to fire.”
Alucius half nodded. He noted that the northern force of rebels was still a good four hundred yards away. Then he turned his Talent to the south once more.
This time the rebels attacking Fifth Company did not continue to charge blindly forward. After the shock of the first volleys shredded through their ranks, they turned their mounts and rode off the road, half east and half west. That worried Alucius, especially when he saw that they were re-forming two hundred yards away. He turned the gray and shifted his study to the north, where the oncoming maroon-clad rebels were less than two hundred yards out from Twenty-eighth Company.
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