Darknesses

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Thank you. Can you keep them locked away? The commandant may want to see them.”

  “Aye. I can do that.”

  “Thank you.” Alucius paused. “I was sorry to hear about your daughter.” He didn’t know quite what else to say, although he could sense the older man’s sadness. “I wish there were something I could do.”

  “It was sudden-like, sir. Nothing anyone could have done. But I thank you.”

  “I wish I could have.” Alucius nodded, then turned and slipped out of the armory.

  He stopped in the middle of the courtyard, feeling the slight warmth of a white sun that had finally burned through the ground fog of the morning. The wind had changed, and now blew out of the south, far more warmly. If there weren’t any more raids in the next week or so, and if the warming continued, there might not be any more after that because the river ice would be breaking up.

  Was that the reason why the raiders had been in Tuuler when they were? He frowned, then continued back toward the small headquarters building. He still had to add in the details on the rifles to finish his report to the colonel.

  The mess remained empty, and his papers were untouched, not that he would have expected otherwise. He sat down and began to write once more.

  He’d written perhaps an additional half page when he heard steps in the corridor. He looked up as the door to the mess opened, and Feran stepped inside, unfastening his parka.

  “You’re back early.” Alucius said.

  “Just three days.” Feran shook his head. “It was easier that way, even getting up before dawn this morning in Fiente.” The older captain extended an envelope with the black wax seal of the militia commandant. “Here.”

  The outside stated: CAPTAIN ALUCIUS, EMAL OUTPOST.

  Alucius did not open the message. “Did you get one?”

  “Late last week. The colonel knows my family. He tracked me down in Dekhron. After reading what he sent me, I decided to come back early. I let him know, and he gave me that to bring you.” Feran laughed harshly. “Vinkin said you’d had some action.”

  “Raiders, clad as Deforyans, with Deforyan rifles. Yesterday.”

  “And?” Feran lifted his eyebrows.

  “There were about twenty-five. There weren’t any survivors. Third squad lost two troopers, and second and third squads each had one wounded.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “Ambush two glasses before dawn at Tuuler. They had arranged for supplies there. I’d wondered about that, but we didn’t find that out until after it was all over.”

  Feran nodded slowly. “I see.”

  Alucius suspected he knew what Feran saw, but asked anyway. “See what?”

  “Why the colonel put Twenty-first Company here.” Feran offered a lopsided smile and gestured to the envelope. “Open it. I want to see your reaction.”

  Alucius broke the seal and read the message silently.

  Captain Alucius—

  The Lord-Protector of Lanachrona has sent a strong statement to the Council. He claims that the Iron Valleys are providing sanctuaries for Deforyan raiders who have been crossing the River Vedra and terrorizing the peace-loving people of Lanachrona. The Council wishes to know why they have not been informed about these events.

  As you may recall, I had sent a warning early in the winter about such a possibility. Therefore, at your earliest convenience, I would appreciate a report on the situation, including a detailed summary of the actions you have taken to stop such depredations.

  The signature and seal were those of Clyon, Colonel and Militia Commandant.

  Alucius looked up.

  “In a way, I’m glad we were on furlough,” Feran said. “I’ve already reported on what Fifth Company did in the early winter, and what we plan if the so-called raids continue. But it doesn’t look like they will.”

  “Not for a time,” Alucius agreed. “Not until whoever it is learns that they lost everyone.” He paused. “I’ll write my response, but I think you should look at the weapons and mounts and gear we captured, and send a message with your own conclusions about them. Otherwise, the colonel will get accused of slanting the reports because they come from the one company commander most indebted to him.”

  “You’re probably right. After I get my mount settled…”

  “You didn’t—”

  “No. Left him with Vinkin. I wanted to see what you thought.”

  “Haesphes has the rifles under lock. Vinkin has the mounts in the east end of the stable. I’ve got the personal effects, such as they are.”

  “I’ll look at them.” Feran turned and left the small mess room.

  Alucius took a deep breath. Now he’d have to rewrite the report.

  By the time he’d redrafted the report and gone to work on the letter to the colonel to cover it, Feran had returned to the mess and begun his own letter.

  When Alucius finished the draft of the cover letter, he cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” asked Feran.

  “Would you read this?”

  “Lucky me.” But Feran took the draft and read through it, with Alucius standing and rereading it over his shoulder.

  Colonel Clyon

  Commandant, Militia of the Iron Valleys

  Dear Colonel Clyon—

  Your message of twenty Duem reached us today. We had only seen tracks of the raiders beginning around the fifth of Duem, and we have been doing our best to track and to corner them.

  You will be pleased to learn that yesterday the second and third squads of Twenty-first Company cornered the raiders, numbering almost thirty, and in a predawn attack on the east side of Tuuler, wiped them out to the last man. We have saved all their weapons and other materials. Their rifles appear to be of Deforyan style and manufacture, but more than half their mounts were shod with the iron-star shoes of the Southern Guard. I cannot speculate on how this may have occurred, but we will be especially vigilant in making sure that no other raiders are successful in using the area around Emal as a haven for attacks on us or upon Lanachrona. A copy of my full report on the attack is attached.

  After he finished, Feran handed the draft back to Alucius.

  “What do you think?” asked the younger captain.

  “Smart. You don’t draw any conclusions.”

  “He will, but it’s better that way.”

  “Much better.” Feran shook his head. “I can’t wait to tell the company that there’s trouble on the way.”

  “Another war, you think?”

  “Might not be that obvious. Then, it might. Either way, people are going to be shooting at us.”

  Alucius knew he was right. He just didn’t know who was playing what game. Was the Lord-Protector using the “raids” as an excuse to move into Deforya when spring came, or to take on the Iron Valleys? Or had someone else set up the raids? And if so, who? And why? Could one of the Council? Like Elcoyn? But why?

  He had no answers, not ones he could place coins upon.

  So, rather than stew about what he could not change, he took out another sheet. He could certainly write another letter to Wendra and let it wind its way from Dekhron to Iron Stem. It would be weeks, in all likelihood, before she saw it, but he’d never forgotten his failures to write once before—and the regrets those failures had engendered.

  He glanced down at the silver-rimmed black crystal of the herder’s wristband, and the depth of the crystal for a moment, thinking about the matching ring that his wife wore. Then, with a smile, he dipped the pen in the inkwell.

  14

  Dekhron, Iron Valleys

  Two men sat at a small table in the back corner of the noisy café, watching a man with a gitar accompanying a woman dressed in yellow. The dark-haired singer’s voice was low and sultry, yet carried through the low-ceilinged room.

  “…Selena was full with faith and light,

  so long ago, on that summer night,

  when you swore that you’d be true,

  but now my heart is filled with ru
e,

  for loving a man inconstant as the dew…”

  The round-faced man in a severe blue tunic turned from the singer to his companion, a sharp-featured and white-haired trader, whose fingers tapped on the oiled wood of the tabletop in time to the rhythm of the gitar. The older trader appeared not to notice.

  Finally, the man in blue spoke, his voice low. “Tarolt…you said those men were reliable.”

  “They were,” answered Tarolt. The white-haired trader’s lips drew into a brief and cruel smile. “They died on the task. A pity…but at times matters take a course of their own. You should know that, Halanat.”

  “One man—and they failed? Four of them?” Halanat’s eyes traveled to the shapely singer for a moment before returning to rest on Tarolt. “And it has taken you nearly a month to discover what occurred?”

  “They attempted an attack in the dark. They were killed and eaten by sandwolves. I do imagine that the sandwolves left very little. They are not wasteful by nature. Or so I am told.”

  “Eaten, anyway. Who is to say that he did not kill them and leave them for the sandwolves?”

  “That may be,” pointed out Tarolt, “but there were no bullets found, and their wallets were not touched, nor their weapons, nor their mounts. All were found and returned by one of the local herders, a neighbor of the captain’s. The herders are most honest about that sort of matter, you understand.”

  “He could have used a sabre. They stick together, those herders.”

  “That could be, but there were witnesses that claim they were killed by sandwolves.” The pale-faced Tarolt smiled the cold smile once more.

  “Nothing has been lost. They are dead.”

  “Except for the captain.”

  “But even if he did kill them, he would not know why they were there. Or who had sent them. And, should he be bright enough to guess, he will certainly see the more obvious possibilities…the action against him might even persuade him not to be so supportive of the colonel. Or not to follow his grandsire and that old fool Kustyl so blindly. He might even come to see that the alliance is most necessary, and that will only lead to weakness among these Coreans.” Tarolt tapped his fingers briskly again. “He has no evidence, and there is no one who would believe a mercenary renegade, and even less would anyone understand what is truly at stake.”

  “Those who serve him know better.”

  “But few others. Very few. We will continue to do what we can to erode the colonel’s position.”

  “What of the captain? Are we to—”

  “We will let others do what they can, now. If they fail, then we will see.”

  “And Weslyn?”

  “Without the colonel, he stands alone. He will do as the Council wishes, and they will do as we wish.”

  Halanat nodded in agreement.

  Both men returned their scrutiny to the singer.

  15

  Nearly a week had passed since Alucius had dispatched two troopers with his message to Colonel Clyon. The clouds had broken, and the sun had poured out warmth on the River Vedra valley. The wind had continued to blow out of the south.

  Alucius stood outside the headquarters building in the mild air, waiting for Bakka, the first squad scout. The courtyard of the outpost was dusty, because there had been little snow to melt within the walls. Outside the outpost, the streets of Emal were shallow rivers of mud, as was the river road.

  The troopers of fifth squad were taking a break from the blade drills, a break given after Alucius had seen Bakka ride into the courtyard. Most of them stood in the sunlight, breathing heavily from their one-on-one drills with covered sabres.

  The scout emerged from the stable, glanced around before catching sight of Alucius, then headed toward his captain.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but it took a time to brush all the mud off my mount.”

  “That’s fine,” replied Alucius. “I imagine there was a great amount of mud.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What did you find?” asked Alucius. “Besides mud?”

  Bakka glanced down at the dusty clay of the courtyard for a moment, then at the captain. “There weren’t any signs of anything, sir. I looked over the riverbanks good, like you said, but I didn’t see any signs of rafts or boats, or anyone watering loads of mounts. No wagons tracks, or hoofprints along the shoulders of the road. No new tracks around the place where you ambushed the raiders. I rode around Tuuler. That’s where it was the muddiest—”

  “What was the mud like there?” asked Alucius.

  Bakka grinned sheepishly. “Well, sir. I was thinking that it might be because they’d had riders. I was real careful. Even checked the back lanes. Reason it was so muddy was because someone had left open the gate on one of the irrigation ditches and when the water started to rise…”

  Alucius laughed. Then he frowned. Could that have been a way to cover tracks? He shook his head. He doubted that even the most adventurous trooper leader or any brigand would go to that trouble. One of the problems with being a captain was a growing suspicion of everything.

  The other aspect of being captain that Alucius hated was not being able to do his own scouting. As captain, he could no longer scout, not out alone by himself, where he was most effective, and he had no one who was anywhere near as good as he was. So often he felt almost blind in relying on his scouts, even as he did his best to coach them.

  “Sir?”

  “I’d wondered…never mind.” Alucius offered his captain’s professional smile. “Thank you, Bakka. Report what you told me to your squad leader. Carry on.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bakka nodded and turned.

  Alucius looked out over the walls toward the silver-green sky to the east and the faint hazy clouds that suggested that the warming would continue for at least another day. Then he turned at looked northward at the towering ramparts of the Aerlal Plateau.

  Although he had his own ideas, he still had no firm answers or proof as to why anyone would want to raid Tuuler—or even create the impression of using Tuuler as a staging base. Nor did he have any response from Colonel Clyon, and he wasn’t sure which bothered him more.

  He turned and walked back toward the center of the courtyard, nodding toward Sawyn. “Fifth squad! Break’s over. We’ll go to two on one, now.”

  At least, Alucius reflected, he’d keep sharpening his company’s weapons skills.

  16

  Borlan, Lanachrona

  The majer in the blue-and-cream uniform knocked on the door, then straightened his tunic nervously.

  “Come on in, Ebuin.” The captain-colonel was sitting behind a dark oak table desk, but rose as the more junior Southern Guard officer entered and closed the door behind him.

  “I have a report, sir.”

  “What’s wrong now?” asked the captain-colonel.

  “Sir?”

  “You always smile when you have bad news, and you shift your weight from foot to foot. You need to break that habit.” The captain-colonel’s smile was open and friendly. “Sit down and tell me about it.” He reseated himself and waited.

  Majer Ebuin sat on the edge of the straight-backed chair, looking squarely at his senior officer. “The marauder squad…it’s disappeared. From what our informants in both Emal and Dekhron can tell us, the Iron Valleys Militia wiped them out to the last man.”

  “To the last man? That seems…extreme.”

  “They ran into the militia’s Twenty-first Horse. The captain—the one you had expressed concerns to me about—reported to militia headquarters that he had run into a group of Deforyan brigands. Apparently, none of them survived his attack.”

  “Your sources are good?”

  “The same as always, sir.”

  “And none of them escaped? He must have gone out determined to destroy them.” The captain-colonel nodded, then tugged at his earlobe. “He is a determined type. We had reports that he was rather good. I had been assured that some other…efforts…might have solved that problem, but they didn’t wo
rk out either. I’m not as pleased as I could be. The Lord-Protector doesn’t like bad news, and that means that Marshal Wyerl doesn’t. And we don’t want to make the marshal unhappy.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Your idea of using Deforyan rifles was a good touch, though.” The captain-colonel’s open smile returned. “Have you any other ideas along those lines?”

  “Make an attack at Emal from the east—with two companies. The attackers should be attired in the tunics of Deforya.”

  “Why would we want to do that?”

  “You can test the strength of the Iron Valley Militia, perhaps weaken it—and blame the attack on the Landarch of Deforya.”

  “Not a bad idea—unless we lose more troopers, and that would be likely against the Twenty-first Company. If we go against the Fifth, we would not lose so many, but there wouldn’t be much point in that, now, would there? Besides, we may need those troopers in the future. We would rather do without their captain, however.”

  “We know the patrol schedules, and we can make sure that the captain of the Twenty-first gets information to put him in the right place.”

  “I’m sure you can, but we can’t go around having Southern Guards attacking the Iron Valleys—even in Deforyan tunics, and even if they annihilate this…problem. And it would be even more embarrassing if someone were to be captured. And explaining…” The captain-colonel shrugged. “You understand.”

  “Can you give me leave and the funds to hire two hundred mercenaries?” asked Ebuin.

  “That might be possible, if you can make sure that whoever hires these brigands speaks in the dialect of the Deforyans. It will take a week or so to gather the Deforyan golds, also.” After a moment, the captain-colonel added, “You might see if your agents could hire a sniper or two. Or three. We’d really rather keep the troopers. They could be useful in the east, if it comes to that.”