A reddish-white globe of order and chaos flared out, and for an instant swept away even the downpour—but only for an instant before a flood of lukewarm water flooded over Beltur, followed in turn by more and more icy water.
Lightning flashed in all directions, and Beltur’s head ached so much that he could barely see, and he was having trouble holding just simple shields. Slowly, he turned Slowpoke back north, making his way back to where the majer had been.
Waeltur wasn’t there.
So Beltur rode farther back to where he thought the command companies might be.
“There he is!” shouted someone.
Two rankers rode toward him.
“The majer’s looking for you, ser.”
Beltur nodded and followed the rankers for another fifty yards, where they stopped. He looked and saw the majer, with two foot captains on one side of the majer and his mount.
Waeltur gestured impatiently for Beltur to join him, and no sooner had Beltur reined up than the majer demanded, “Were you the one who started that breach in the Gallosian line?”
“Yes, ser. You told me to make myself useful.”
“You did. That was masterful, I have to say. And just as we get a break where we could really hit them hard, this frigging storm drops on us. Like the Rational Stars were tempting us, and then snatching victory from us.” Waeltur shook his head. “What a frigging mess!”
“What about the Gallosians?”
“They’re already well back to their previous positions, if not farther. They can’t use their mages in this. Captain Athaal thinks one of them was hit by lightning. That’s a small consolation.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, ser, I’d like to return to the barracks. Out there … that was hard work.”
“If you think…” Waeltur seemed ready to protest, but after he looked hard at Beltur he nodded.
“Thank you, ser. Someone can summon me if the Gallosians return.” Beltur doubted that they would. From what little he could sense, the storm clouds seemed to stretch endlessly toward to the north. He didn’t even wait for the majer to say anything more. He just turned Slowpoke and began to ride back toward the stable … and the makeshift barracks.
Back at the stables, he did his best to groom and clean Slowpoke before trudging to the mess. The rankers on duty didn’t even question him as he sat down, although it was midday. Someone handed him a mug, and another provided a plate of something like warm mutton hash. Beltur didn’t care. He ate it all, ignoring the dampness of his uniform.
He was about to rise when Athaal, comparatively dry, except for his trousers below the knees, sat down across from him. Beltur waited for Athaal to speak. He scarcely felt like talking, since his head still ached, and his eyes burned.
“I thought I’d find you here. Or sound asleep in your quarters.”
“That comes next.”
“Waeltur is furious. He makes a mad dog look calm. That’s behind a calm front. He’s just about ready to gut Majer Nakken.”
“What did Nakken do?” Beltur didn’t pretend to understand.
“He never told Waeltur what you’d done with Second Reconnaissance.”
Beltur just looked at Athaal for a moment, realizing that he’d never made the connection. Second Recon had reported to Majer Jenklaar, and for whatever reason, Jenklaar hadn’t shared that knowledge with Waeltur. Finally, Beltur asked, “Do Jenklaar and Waeltur get along?”
“I’ve gotten the impression that they don’t.”
Beltur could only shake his head, very slowly. It still throbbed some.
“You did something out there, didn’t you?” said Athaal quietly.
“Why do you say that?”
“A lightning bolt hit one of their mages. There was more order around it. You were nearby. That’s what I overheard when Waeltur was pointing out to the commander what an opportunity we had missed because he didn’t know what you could do.” Athaal smiled. “The commander pointed out it might not have gone all that well anyway, because of the storm.”
“You didn’t say anything about the lightning?”
Athaal shook his head. “As I told you, we can’t count on storms, or the weather, to help us out. Not with winter still eightdays away. If they thought any of us could call the lightning, they’d want to know why we couldn’t do it any time clouds are in the sky.”
“And right overhead, less than a few hundred yards away,” added Beltur.
“You need to get out of that wet uniform and get some sleep … or some rest, if you can’t sleep.” Athaal stood.
So did Beltur. At least his legs weren’t shaky. Sleep sounded awfully good.
LXXIV
Beltur slept most of the threeday afternoon, and then until sixth glass on fourday. The storm subsided from torrents to a lighter but steady rainfall that dwindled into a cold drizzle on fourday. By midafternoon on fourday, the sun was out, but the air was cool, and the ground, despite its sandy nature south of Elparta, still sloppy. The rain had fallen as snow on the heights of the Easthorns, according to scouts. Neither force showed any inclination to resume hostilities on fiveday morning.
In midafternoon, Beltur, along with Athaal, Lhadoraak, and Waensyn, was summoned to a meeting of the command staff in the briefing room. Waensyn stood close to Majer Jenklaar. Majer Waeltur nodded politely to Beltur but did not motion him nearer.
Once all the officers were gathered, Commander Vaernaak, followed by Cohndar, entered and stood on the far side of the oblong table. Cohndar took a position several steps to the side.
“Our scouts have reported that the Gallosians are preparing for what appears to be a major attack. While I would have anticipated that they would wait until the ground is firmer, they apparently feel that it will be solid enough tomorrow. Also, the early snows on the Easthorns will likely already have reminded them that they are running out of time.”
“What if they don’t attack, but just keep preparing to attack?” asked Waeltur.
“So far they’ve never let us have more than a day or so between attacks, and they keep pressing on. If we just keep defending and giving ground, we’ll be bled dry … and before winter comes.” As if to forestall any objection, Vaernaak held up a hand. “Spare me any vain hopes based on the idea that winter often comes sooner. It may indeed come sooner, but it doesn’t come in a rush. We got a cold rain, and now it’s sunny. In a few more days we might get a light snow or a heavy snow, and it will melt, and there will be sunny days before there is another snow, and after that, more sunny days, if not quite so many. Do you think that the Prefect’s commanders will just do nothing on those days? If you might recall, we’re only in the second eightday of fall. Even if winter comes four eightdays early…” After a long pause, the commander finished, “I trust you all understand.”
Beltur certainly did, and he’d seen Athaal nod as well, if almost reluctantly.
“We have a plan to deal with that attack, and with their mages,” added the commander. “I do not intend to go into that plan until just before the Gallosians launch such an attack, but I am pleased to report that we have two more companies of foot and a special mounted unit of naval marines. They were supposed to arrive late on threeday, but because of the rain, they arrived late yesterday.”
A marine mounted unit? wondered Beltur. Why do naval marines need horses?
“We would have preferred the marines to be here sooner, but it’s a long ride from Spidlaria. The unit is larger than a squad, with thirty marines. Ten are lancers. Ten are armed as mounted infantry, and ten carry special crossbows that shoot quarrels of ordered-iron…”
Beltur couldn’t help but notice that Cohndar frowned, if momentarily. Because he didn’t think it could be done, or because the commander is contradicting what he has said before?
“… This unit will be deployed for maximum effect. Marine Captain Toeraan, Majer Waeltur, Majer Jenklaar, and I will meet here at fourth glass to complete the planning for that deployment. Plan to be awake by fourth glass tomorrow mo
rning. The mess will open at fourth glass, and the morning briefing will begin at fifth glass. That is all for now.”
As he filed out of the room behind Athaal, Beltur had no doubts about who would be commanding him by morning on sixday … and why he’d been included in the meeting in the first place. Once outside in the wide corridor, Beltur noted that Cohndar and Waensyn had already hurried off out of sight.
“That’s strange,” said Lhadoraak. “Cohndar and Waensyn left in a hurry, and they didn’t even look in our direction at the briefing.”
“Not in our direction,” said Beltur. “My direction.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“It appears to be true, regretfully,” said Athaal. “There might be a bit of jealousy involved. There often is when someone assumes that they’re perfect.”
“He can’t believe that Jessyla would be right for him. She’s far too direct,” said Lhadoraak. “Consorting her would destroy them both.”
“He appears to be of a different opinion,” replied Athaal.
“But … he’s always been so pleasant to me.”
“He can be very pleasant,” agreed Athaal matter-of-factly.
Lhadoraak started to say something, then paused, Finally, he said, “You don’t often say something you don’t mean. Or did you mean it just that way?”
“He can be very pleasant … when matters go in the fashion he wishes.”
“You’re saying I should be careful,” said Lhadoraak.
“Watchful, anyway.”
“Thank you.”
“Is Felsyn better?” asked Beltur quickly.
“He’s much better,” replied the blond mage. “But he shouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting. I think he’s beginning to understand that. He’s been telling me techniques, and cautioning me.”
Athaal smiled. “He’s got a good heart. He can also tell who doesn’t. He’d never say anything, but you can tell … if you watch and listen.”
Beltur had the definite feeling that while Athaal looked at him, the words were meant as much for Lhadoraak.
“You’ve said that before,” said Lhadoraak.
“I just might have.” Athaal laughed softly. “I have been known to repeat myself.”
“Speaking of Felsyn,” replied Lhadoraak, “I really should look in on him.”
“Tell him about the meeting and who was there. That will make him feel better,” said Athaal.
“That I will.”
Beltur nodded slowly as the blond mage hurried away. “Lhadoraak wants to believe the best about everyone, doesn’t he?”
“Shouldn’t we all?” replied Athaal. “At least until they prove unworthy of that trust?”
Beltur had to agree. He also had to admire the way Athaal had maneuvered Lhadoraak into perhaps thinking differently about Waensyn. That’s something else you could learn from him.
LXXV
Beltur woke early on sixday, even before the ranker appeared to rouse him, with a certain feeling of foreboding, a feeling that he’d tried to disregard, and hadn’t been able to, since he’d felt that foreboding every morning since Zandyr’s death. Because his death made it clear that death can come from anywhere? Yet nothing that terrible had yet occurred. So far. Then again, Beltur reflected, the mess with the storm and the lightning on threeday could have gone so much worse. He definitely didn’t want to dwell on that.
He hurried to the officers’ mess and began to eat warmish cheesed eggs and to sip ale that seemed more bitter than usual, fearing that he’d need as much nourishment as possible before the day was done. He was seated alone when Athaal joined him.
“You’re looking pensive,” offered the older mage.
“It might be the weather.”
“Maybe it’s because you haven’t seen Jessyla lately.” Athaal smiled.
“That could be,” Beltur admitted, “but it’s not just that.”
“What else happened on threeday? That you didn’t tell me?”
“With Majer Waeltur?” Beltur shook his head, then took another bite. “Not really anything. Except that it could have been so much worse.”
“Then what? You still thinking about the reconnaissance company losses?”
“With nearly half the company dead or wounded, wouldn’t you be? Not to mention the most junior undercaptain.”
“You didn’t mention that.”
“He was arrogant and condescending, but he died in a horrible way, not even understanding why.”
“Is there any really sensible reason for war?” replied Athaal. “I’m just as glad I haven’t seen what you have. We only had to shield against arrows and a few chaos-bolts on threeday. They weren’t that strong because we were hundreds of yards back.”
“Are you ready for the commander’s briefing?” asked Beltur, finishing off the last of his ale. “Or haven’t you eaten?”
“I ate earlier. I do worry that the commander’s rushing things.”
“You think that Vaernaak’s wrong and that we could use the weather more to our advantage?”
“No. It’s not that…” Athaal paused, then said, “He’s right. If we keep fighting battles where we keep losing men and ground, even though it’s only a little each day, pretty soon the fact that winter is coming won’t matter.”
“Because they’ll be able to take Elparta before the snows get deep?”
“I have to say I worry about that. So does Meldryn.”
Beltur nodded, then stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of a few things.”
Athaal raised his eyebrows.
“To get my water bottles filled with ale and check on Slowpoke.”
“Slowpoke?”
“My horse, remember?” Beltur was more than certain he’d mentioned Slowpoke to Athaal. Did that mean that Athaal was more worried than he was letting on?
“Oh … yes. Were you the one who named him?”
“I suppose so. Some of the rankers called him that, but it wasn’t his name. He’s not slow, but he was slow to respond to the reins when I first rode him. We worked that out. He’s the reason why I’m still here.”
“I doubt he’s the only reason.” Athaal smiled. “You’d better take care of him.”
“You take care of yourself,” returned Beltur. “Those chaos-bolts could get closer.”
“I’ll say the same to you. You’re in a lot more danger than I am. Besides, I’ve got Lhadoraak with me. You’re out there alone.”
Beltur managed a smile as he answered. “I’ve got Slowpoke.”
Athaal shook his head ruefully.
Beltur practically had to run to do all that he needed and still get to the briefing room just before fifth glass. Lhadoraak and Athaal were waiting outside.
Lhadoraak kept looking at the door, finally saying, “We might as well go in.” He turned and stepped through the door into the rough plank-walled chamber where the commander had briefed them the day before.
Athaal and Beltur followed.
Beltur was surprised that so few officers were inside, just Majer Jenklaar and Majer Waeltur, as well as a captain in a uniform Beltur hadn’t seen before, and Cohndar, who did not look directly at any of the other three mages.
Vaernaak appeared as the chimes struck, closing the door behind himself and walking to the far side of the oblong table, which was empty of anything, including maps.
“Now that you all are here, including Senior Mage Cohndar,” began Vaernaak, “it is time to go over matters so that you all know the general plan for today. The Gallosians are readying a massive attack. This is not a surprise. We’ve known that they would have to do this at some point or withdraw with winter coming on. They will attempt to find a weak point in our lines. We will actually provide that point for them. When they finally concentrate on that point, we will rally and attack fiercely. If that succeeds, then we will take the fight to the Gallosian command units. If it does not, then we will use the alternative battle plan, involving the naval marine unit and Fifteenth and Eighteenth
Foot. In either event, the naval marines and Fifteenth and Eighteenth Foot will take a position due south of the piers, roughly a kay from here, half a kay south of the pier channel, but behind the battle line of the main forces. All three units will be under the operational control of Captain Toeraan. They will hold that position and not join in the general advance being led jointly by Majer Waeltur and Majer Jenklaar. Captain Toeraan will be directly under my orders for this operation. His force will engage when and as required by how the battle develops. Because the naval marine unit has a particular objective, Mage Undercaptain Beltur will be assigned to protect it in all operations from this point on.” The commander inclined his head in Beltur’s direction.
Beltur definitely noticed the faint smile that crossed Cohndar’s lips.
“Mage Captain Waensyn will be supporting Majer Jenklaar in order to facilitate the counterattack and subsequent events. Mages Athaal and Lhadoraak will protect the command group from chaos-bolts and other possible magely attacks.” Vaernaak smiled tightly. “That is all. To your respective duties.” He turned and strode out.
Beltur couldn’t help wondering why the very short briefing had even been necessary. Because Vaernaak believes in briefings? Or because Marshal Helthaer insisted on it? Or for some other reason? Beltur felt like shrugging, but didn’t. Instead he walked over to the naval marine officer.
“Captain, Undercaptain Beltur.”
Toeraan studied Beltur for moment before speaking. “Majer Waeltur told me you looked most unprepossessing and not to be deceived by that. We can talk later. We need to get moving.”
“Where will you be forming up, Captain?” asked Beltur.
“We’re already formed up at the end of the first pier. I’d appreciate your being there as soon as possible.”
“Yes, ser.” Beltur inclined his head, glad that he’d already taken care of the ale and bread.
After leaving Toeraan, Beltur hurried to the stable, quickly saddled Slowpoke, led him out into the chill air, and mounted. Once he was outside, he could see just the hint of gray light beginning to ooze over the eastern horizon into a dawn that was cold and clear, not quite cold enough for his breath to steam, but chill enough that he felt it should have, especially given the stiff and frigid wind blowing directly out of the north. He could see the naval marine unit as soon as he reached the end of the barracks building, and he guided Slowpoke along the stone-paved road that bordered the pier channel, then rode directly to the marine rankers in their bluish-green uniforms.
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