When he neared Lorien and Chelia, both unable to move much because of the shield around them, Alastar melded his personal shields with the one he’d thrown around them. “We need to get you two out of here safely.” With that, he raised a larger concealment, just large enough so that Taryn and Shaelyt could see him and the regial couple, and then said, “Stay right beside me.”
Lorien looked blankly at Alastar, who immediately took the rex’s arm. “This way! Now!” Keeping a concealment around a clearly stunned Lorien and Chelia, who appeared far more angry than dazed, Alastar led the group into the west hall off the nave, then out through the side door, and around the south end of the anomen.
Behind them the screaming seemed to fade slightly as the five crossed the modest street that would have been a grander avenue had the imagers finished the work on the Avenue D’Rex Ryen.
“Chervyt!” snapped Alastar as he neared the narrow lane where the three other imagers were supposed to be.
“Over here, sir!” The concealment around the more junior imagers vanished.
“Glaesyn, you and Maercyl need to double up so that the rex and his lady can share a mount.” Alastar turned toward the rex, not quite so dazed-looking as he had been initially. “Lorien, you and your lady will have to ride double.”
“Share?” Lorien sounded aghast.
“If the past quint hasn’t convinced you that you need every imager I have with me, what will?” Alastar belatedly expanded the concealment so the entire group was within its scope.
“Our coach is just over there.”
“So is Desyrk, the renegade imager who almost succeeded in getting you killed, and so is a battalion of troopers whose loyalties are very much in doubt at this moment.”
“Dear…” murmured Chelia, so softly that Alastar could not hear the remainder of what she said.
“I suppose that’s for the best,” conceded the irritated rex. “Where are you taking us?”
“Back to Imagisle.”
“Imagisle?” demanded Lorien.
“You and Lady Chelia were targeted with explosives and Antiagon Fire. So were we, and so was Marshal Petayn. Petayn and the other commander are dead. So is the captain who was with them. There are other army companies around. Your guards are certainly loyal to you, but if the army attacks the chateau, they won’t stand a chance. The imagers are the only ones likely to be able to protect you.” The way matters had developed, Alastar wasn’t even sure of that, but it wasn’t the moment to suggest that. Not yet.
“But … my mother, my brother?”
“They weren’t the targets. You were. Besides,” Alastar said coldly, “if the army intended to attack the chateau, it already has.” He wasn’t about to offer other possibilities.
“But—”
“No ‘but’s!” snapped Alastar. “I’ve done what you wanted, and this is the mess you’ve created. We’re doing it my way this time.” And the only way I can be even halfway certain of protecting Imagisle and you is to keep you close. Except he wasn’t about to utter those words.
Lorien started to open his mouth, when Chelia actually reached out and covered it, saying, “Don’t make things worse. Mount up. Or should I mount first?”
As Alastar looked at her, he almost froze. The Namer and sowshit! Now he knew what had been nagging at him. No wonder … Alastar recalled what Lady Asarya had said … words that had a meaning different from the way Alastar had taken them … What’s important is that my son has a better future, thanks to certain imagers from the Collegium. So many things made so much more sense. “Mount up, now.” Those were the only words he could manage for a moment. Shaking his head, he turned toward Shaelyt. “You lead the way. I’m carrying a concealment, but you may have to use shields to push people or riders aside.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll take the route that the avenue will take, as close as possible. That will be faster than going north to the Boulevard D’Ouest.”
No one said a thing.
Alastar looked to Lorien. “You and your lady ride beside me.”
Lorien glared at Alastar, but nodded, more than a little reluctantly.
“Head out, Shaelyt. South for a block before we move back to the avenue route.”
“Yes, sir.”
After urging the gelding forward, Alastar took out one of the water bottles and drank the dark lager, slowly, while they rode along the street to the east of the Anomen D’Rex, which held people, wagons, and riders, if not so many that the imagers had much difficulty in avoiding them. While he rode, Alastar continued to take small swallows of the lager and thought over what had happened, recalling that he had felt the imaging pressure in the anomen before each of the explosions. From his experience, that meant whoever had been imaging the Antiagon Fire into exploding had to have been very close. But why? He almost shook his head. Because Desyrk didn’t see that well from a distance. Can you use that to find him? He’d just have to see. His lips quirked at the inadvertent pun.
As they neared the river Alastar could hear the sound of cannon, not the continuous booming of an entire battery, but distinct reports in close but not rapid succession. He took a last swallow of lager, corked the water bottle, and slipped it back into one of his saddlebags, looking at Lorien and Chelia. Neither returned his glance.
Shaelyt turned in the saddle. “Sir?”
“I hear. We’ll have to see what we can do.”
“What is it?” demanded Lorien, lifting his head.
“Cannon. The army is apparently attacking Imagisle again.”
“I ordered them to avoid Imagisle,” Lorien declared.
“I’m certain you did,” Alastar said, although he wasn’t all that sure he believed his own words. “Someone didn’t follow those orders, it appears.”
Within half a quint, Alastar had reached a point on the modest street that led to the Bridge of Desires from where he could see that the middle section of the Bridge of Desires was missing, cleanly severed, suggesting that Cyran, Alyna, or one of the senior maitres had removed it. He could also make out troopers crouched behind hastily thrown up earthworks beside the causeway from the West River Road to the bridge proper. Every so often one of them would raise his head enough to fire a rifle toward Imagisle, presumably toward an imager.
For several moments, Alastar wondered why the troopers were firing so infrequently, until he watched one of them attempt to fire, then convulse and slump. He couldn’t see the exact cause, but given that little more than the rifle barrel and the man’s head had appeared above the earthworks, it was likely that the trooper had been killed by a small iron dart or the equivalent. A boat bobbed in the waters of the River Aluse, slowly moving downstream with the current, with two bodies slumped in the middle of the craft.
While the army troopers were being held at bay, the cannon continued to fire, each shell wreaking some sort of destruction on the Collegium. After riding another hundred yards, Alastar reined up some yards back of the small square created by where the West River Road, the street he had followed, and the approach road to the bridge causeway all converged. Concealment or no concealment, he didn’t want to get too close to the troopers until he could get a better idea of what had happened and how he could see what he, Taryn, and Shaelyt could do.
This time, the army cannon, four of them, were positioned on the small hill behind the mill, the same hill that Alastar had noted after the first attack. The smoke that surrounded them indicated that they had been firing for some time. Alastar’s lips quirked. Desyrk hadn’t put the cannon there the first time because he couldn’t have sighted or directed them. He’d used the bridge as a guide. That means, if Desyrk has returned here, he won’t be with the cannon. Of course, he could be anywhere else.
Still, Alastar had the feeling that, if Desyrk didn’t happen to be near Imagisle, he would be before long. He turned in the saddle and motioned Taryn forward.
Before the Maitre D’Structure could move forward, Lorien spoke. “There are hundreds of
troopers there. How could this happen?”
“A regiment or more,” returned Alastar. “We’ll worry about how it happened after we put an end to it.” If we can … somehow. He looked to Taryn, who had eased his mount around Lorien and Chelia. “I’d like you to take out the cannon. Hot iron needles, the way we did before. Do you think you can do that?”
Taryn looked at Alastar. “Yes, sir … provided you don’t send Shaelyt off to do something else.”
Alastar couldn’t help but smile, if briefly. He knew from where that had come. “I’ll keep him close at all times.”
Taryn nodded. “Be careful, sir.” Then he eased his mount forward. After a few steps, both the maitre and his mount vanished.
“He disappeared,” said Lorien. “Just disappeared.”
“It’s a concealment. That’s why it’s been so hard to find our renegade imager. He’s also good with concealments.”
“That’s why…” Lorien shut his mouth abruptly.
Unhappily, Alastar suspected he knew the general tenor of what the rex might have said, but he only replied, “Exactly.”
Lorien couldn’t conceal a certain surprise.
Alastar motioned for Glaesyn and Chervyt to move forward. “You two need to maintain a concealment and shields here. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, sir,” Chervyt immediately replied.
Alastar looked at Lorien, then Chelia. “If you try to leave, it could mean your life. The officers leading these regiments”—he gestured toward the bridge—“are the ones behind the attempted assassination at the anomen. I’d strongly advise against leaving or doing anything foolish.”
“We’ll stay,” declared Chelia, looking to Lorien and adding, “Won’t we?”
“We’ll stay.” Lorien’s voice was sullenly resigned.
“Shaelyt, we need to move forward.”
The younger maitre nodded and urged his mount forward, and the two moved out across the western end of the small square toward the Bridge of Desires. Alastar kept studying the troopers and the bridge. There was suddenly something different there—a plank span having appeared to connect the end spans. Almost immediately, the timber span dropped into the river, as if cut loose at both ends.
Alyna! She was the only imager with that precise a control, especially at a distance. At a distance … Abruptly, what should have been obvious struck Alastar—Desyrk had to be somewhere close, most likely somewhere almost directly in front of Alastar and Shaelyt.
“Rein up,” murmured Alastar, waiting only a moment until Shaelyt did before he imaged a blanket of dust over the troopers behind the earthworks on the south side of the causeway. For just an instant the dust formed a bubble, and in that instant, Alastar imaged an iron dart at it, one traveling as fast as a rifle bullet. Shards of metal sprayed everywhere, a few even slamming back into Alastar’s shields, but Desyrk’s shields held.
Before Desyrk could retaliate with something similar, Alastar clamped a second set of shields around Desyrk’s shields, trying to collapse them. In the meantime, the cannon continued to fire, and troopers popped up and down, aiming at Imagisle.
No matter how hard he tried, though, Alastar could not break Desyrk’s shields, even though he was less than fifty yards from the renegade imager. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Another round of cannon fire echoed from the south.
Alastar had to do something … something. But what? How can you even hurt him if you can’t break his shields?
Suddenly … he knew. “Shaelyt, you’re going to have to shield us both. Ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now!” Alastar dropped his own shields, both sets, and concentrated on imaging out a huge chunk of ground a good twenty yards on each side of where he knew Desyrk’s shields were. Imaging it out and directly above where it had been—a good fifteen yards higher. A dark mass appeared low in the air less than fifty yards from the two imagers … then plummeted into the chasm that had appeared simultaneously, all happening so quickly that Alastar did not even hear screams.
At that instant, he convulsed, struck by darkness deeper than night … and a chill that turned his bones to ice.
The Namer’s sowshit!…
* * *
Alastar’s head was splitting … and when he opened his eyes, the light burned them. He squinted. He found he was still in the saddle, if partly supported by Shaelyt, who had moved his mount so that the two horses were as close as they could be.
“I’m all right…” managed Alastar, slowly straightening up. You think. “Did I get him?”
“Yes, sir … ah … and a little bit more.”
Alastar’s head was slowly spinning, enough that he couldn’t make out more than blurred images around him. At least, that was the way it felt. “The cannon?”
“They’re gone…”
Alastar reached back gingerly for one of the water bottles, but it slipped from his hand, dropped to the pavement, and shattered. “You’d better get the other one. I’m … shaky.”
Without a word Shaelyt extracted the other water bottle, uncorked it, and handed it to Alastar, who took it in both hands before slowly drinking. He lowered it slightly and peered out toward the river. Everything looked white … and his breath was a white fog. The air was bitter cold, but then for a moment, a gust of warmer air washed over him, warmer only by comparison. “What happened?”
“You … you imaged a chunk out of the riverbank and then dropped it on Desyrk and all the troopers around him. The river flowed into the hole—”
“What about—” Alastar broke off what he was about to ask. There wasn’t really a river wall on the west side of the Aluse, only on the east side and, of course, all the way around Imagisle.
“The river covered everything. Then there was a big bubble that sort of popped, and more water flooded in, except the air was so cold it burned, and everything for almost a quarter mille on each side froze. It was cold enough around us, but there…” Shaelyt shook his head. “It froze the troopers, too. Then Taryn blew up the cannon.”
“How is he?”
“He’s with the rex and the thirds.”
Alastar took another long swallow of the watered dark lager. The spinning feeling in his head had begun to diminish. “How long before I recovered?”
“Less than a quint, sir.”
“Thank you. What about the other troopers?”
“Ah … sir … between you and Taryn … and the imagers on the isle, there weren’t very many left.”
“You mean that the ones who survived tried to flee and they got picked off?”
“Not all of them. Maybe half of them. Fifty or sixty escaped. That’s a guess.”
Out of over two thousand. Alastar looked toward the Bridge of Desires. Outside of the missing middle span, it appeared fine. The only problem was that now that ice covered what was likely a muddy marsh, if not worse, between the end of the square that was also the West River Road and the causeway leading to the bridge.
Even as Alastar watched, the white ice in front of him began to crack and shift. He took another swallow of the watered lager and slowly turned in the saddle. Some twenty yards behind him were Taryn, the three junior imagers, and Lorien and Chelia. He looked back toward the river and the bridge
More of the ice was cracking.
“We’ll have to rebuild a bridge somewhere, or the causeway here, even to get back to Imagisle.”
“I think they’ve already started, sir,” said Shaelyt, pointing to the Bridge of Desires, where the middle span had already been replaced.
“Then we’ll wait for them to come to us.” That was fine with Alastar. He couldn’t have imaged a soiled copper.
“What about the rex and his lady?”
“They can wait, too. They’ll be safer on Imagisle for now. At least, until we can sort out what happened at the Chateau D’Rex and with the army.” Alastar took another swallow of lager. Much as he hated to admit it, there definitely were times to wait.
39
More than three glasses passed before Alyna, Cyran, and the imagers on Imagisle were able to image away mud and water and not only rebuild the causeway, but create a solid stone foundation beneath it. At that point Alastar was more than tired of avoiding answering Lorien’s questions, partly because he had no answers to many of them and partly because he didn’t want to reply to some of those for which he thought he might have answers. One answer he did have was who had been in command of the regiment, verified to be Chesyrk, who had clearly not died earlier, and whose body had been found frozen solid just south of the crater created by Alastar’s imaging. Two captive troopers had also claimed that Chesyrk had led the attack.
Once the bridge and causeway were verified to be solid, Maercyl led the way, with Alastar and Lorien and Chelia riding side by side over the span and onto Imagisle.
There were craters in the ground here and there, and one in the shoulder of the road. When they neared the Maitre’s house, he could see more craters, but no apparent damage, not even to the shutters of glass. Farther south, however, a number of the cottages had suffered some damage, as well as the infirmary, and he could see a haze of smoke from where the stables were. Or used to be. He could only hope that too many people had not been wounded or killed. The anomen looked to be untouched.
Alastar did not stop until they reached the Maitre’s dwelling. When he reined up, he turned to Lorien. “You and your lady will share the guest quarters on the second level. You will be quite safe there. In perhaps a glass, we will have dinner.” He looked to Dareyn, who stood on the steps to the front porch, with Alyna and Akoryt waiting on the porch slightly to the side. “Please escort the rex and his lady to the larger guest quarters.”
“Yes, sir.” Dareyn waited until the pair had dismounted. “This way, Your Graces.”
Alastar dismounted after the regial pair. His legs were a trace shaky, but he managed not to stagger when his boots hit the stone pavement. He looked up to Alyna. “I’m very glad to see you.” He would have liked to say more, but not with so many people around.
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