In the darkness before dawn that was little barrier to a herder’s night vision, he finally reined up on the shoulder of the river road nearest the so-called shallows. There he sat astride Wildebeast and studied the banks, the shallows, and the far shore, and beyond, both with his eyes, and with his Talent-senses.
He was relieved not to sense any mass of troopers on the far shore, but there was a small group of men sleeping beyond the levee on the southern side, and Alucius suspected they were scouts or an advance group for the attackers—whoever they were. That meant that he would have to post his own sentries later in the day.
After taking a long slow breath, he considered the land and the river. The river was wider than either upstream or downstream, nearly a hundred yards, but shallower, with only a space of twenty yards where the main channel was more than a yard and a half deep. One advantage Alucius could see was that the main channel ran far closer to the southern shore. The attackers would see that as an edge, because they could cross the deeper water close to their own side and farther from the rifles of any defenders. From Alucius’s view, that meant that there would be more riders in the water, with nowhere to go except into his own fire—if he waited until the bulk of the attackers reached the northern shore.
The grass running down from the river road to the water’s edge wasn’t that high yet, barely over knee length, and certainly not high enough to cover a squad of men, except on their bellies, and Alucius didn’t like giving up mobility, especially when his company had to face twice that many.
He eased Wildebeast closer to the river.
The ground within ten yards of the river was still very soft, enough that a horse’s hoofs would sink deeply, and after the first squad or so, the ground was likely to be very slippery. Alucius glanced to the southern bank. There the grade was steeper. With the recent days of mild and dry weather, he could hope that the attackers would not realize the difference, or that the soft ground extended much farther on the north side.
He checked and probed the ground as he moved back, until he was satisfied that he knew where the footing was firm and where it was not.
Then he considered where he could place his squads…based not just on what he thought but what his squad leaders had suggested the night before.
The sky was turning light gray-green when he turned Wildebeast back toward Emal, and while the men behind the levee on the southern bank had awakened, they certainly were not preparing for an attack in the glasses immediately ahead.
But the attack would come within the next handful of days. Of that, Alucius was certain.
27
Lyterna, Illegea
The space in the Council Vault was called the smallest hall, and it was almost fifty yards in length and fifteen in width, with ceilings easily ten yards high. Walls and ceilings were of polished redstone, but a redstone that did not reflect light, for all its apparent shine and shimmer. The ancient brackets no longer held light-torches, as they had in the days of the Duarchy, but oil lamps whose light created a puddled glow on the thirty or so Myrmidon officers gathered on and around the stone dais at the north end of the hall.
Aellyan Edyss paced back and forth as he spoke, occasionally stopping and gesturing. “…we have word that the Praetor’s forces are moving through the South Pass. They have a device that can melt the ice and also cut through armor.” The nomad commander looked across the ranks of his subcommanders. “It takes almost a quarter of a glass for them to set up the device. We will attack the devices with the pteridons and the skylances before they can bring them to bear. Once their devices are destroyed, then you will attack.”
“How many horse troopers does the Praetor bring?” asked an older commander, with tinges of gray in his sleek black hair.
“Most are horse troopers, but they cannot ride and fight as well as we do. We would judge that they bring six thousand riders. You each are worth two of them. So we outnumber them.” Edyss smiled. “Also, they will not expect an attack from the skies. None have done so in the generations upon generations since the Cataclysm.”
“When do we leave?” asked another, younger, captain.
“Tomorrow at dawn. The Myrmidon Horse will ride south toward the point where the Lost Highway emerges from the Spine of Corus. You should arrive there two days before the Lustreans do. We will not leave for several days because the pteridons can travel faster. I wish to see if there are other weapons here that we might use.”
“We have enough to destroy them!” came from the back of the group.
“We do indeed,” replied Edyss. “But the more tools and weapons we have, the more we can take with fewer losses, and the sooner all of Corus will be ours. Is that not our destiny and our right?” He raised a clenched fist. “Is it not?”
“Destiny! Destiny!” The chanted word rolled through the smallest hall, like the thunder of a great storm sweeping off the Spine of Corus and down across the plains of Illegea.
28
Three days passed from the Octi when the Lanachronan farmer had delivered his warning. It was late on Londi afternoon before the Twenty-first Company scout hidden in the blind on the northern shore slipped back through the grass to his mount and rode back to Emal to report that a number of riders had briefly appeared on the levee on the southern shore of the shallows.
Three glasses before dawn on Duadi, another scout reported activity on the southern bank. Shortly thereafter, Alucius and Twenty-first Company rode eastward along the river road, through the moonless darkness, under a sky filled with stars that shed little light on the way ahead, not that Alucius needed any. Still, he was all too conscious of the fact that his men would be firing through the darkness, and he hoped that the river’s surface would provide enough of a contrast. He had taken the quiet liberty of bringing two rifles and extra ammunition for himself.
Alucius had also slipped on the nightsilk undervest over his undergarments. That gave him three layers of nightsilk, with padding in between two of them, across his chest and torso, and a single layer on his arms and legs. The nightsilk wouldn’t do much for his head, but, since he had the vest, there was certainly every reason to wear it, and none not to.
As they neared the curve in the river road immediately to the west of the shallows, Alucius turned in the saddle and ordered, in a voice pitched just enough to carry, “Silent riding. Pass it back.” He couldn’t hear the whispers past the first few repetitions, and, if he couldn’t, he doubted that the attackers across the river could. He looked ahead, but the road was clear, except for a single scout posted on the back side of the road, and barely visible, even to his night vision and Talent-senses.
Another half vingt farther on, he reined up next to the scout. “Waris?”
“Yes, sir?” The scout’s voice was low. “They’ve got riders bringing ropes across. Did just a bit ago, leastwise.”
“Are they going to put in posts to anchor them?”
“Looks that way.”
“We’ll form up and wait. Let us know when they start to cross in force.” Alucius could have slowed or turned back the attack by stopping those who were setting up the rope guides, but that wouldn’t have accomplished much except warning off the attackers to another time and place, when Alucius had less supplies, and probably fewer men and less ammunition.
He turned Wildebeast, rode back to Longyl and the individual squad leaders, and said in a low voice, “Form up as planned.”
There were nods in the darkness, and the five slipped away, quietly enough, Alucius hoped, that they and their squads would not be heard as Twenty-first Company waited. Longyl eased away and into position between squads one and two, as all the squads re-formed on the lower ground on the north side of the river road, where they could not have been seen from the river, even in full light.
Alucius took a position at the front of third squad, where he’d be in the middle, and most able to use his night vision and Talent to the greatest advantage in the early volleys. Before long the sound of sledges could be h
eard, dull, measured clunks against heavy wooden posts. Then they died away.
Faisyn, mounted beside Alucius, leaned toward the captain. “How much longer, sir?”
“Waris will let us know,” Alucius murmured back, “once the first riders of the main body of riders are nearing the shore.”
Alucius let his senses range across the river. The attackers had two ropes—or cables—running across the Vedra, and each was attached to a heavy wooden post sledged into the river bank roughly five yards up from the water’s edge. Two half squads of mounted raiders were stationed ten to fifteen yards up the gentle slope from the shoreline, each group above one of the guide-rope posts.
Beside Alucius, Faisyn shifted his weight in the saddle, clearly worried that Alucius was waiting too long.
A figure on foot slipped over the crest of the road and ran toward Alucius. “Sir! The first raiders—the main body—they’re about fifteen yards offshore.”
“Twenty-first Company! Squads to firing positions!”
“Third squad, to firing position!”
“First squad…”
“Second squad…”
As the commands were called out, Alucius rode forward immediately, knowing Faisyn’s third squad would be behind him, up the north side of the road, over the road, then ten yards below the shoulder. There he reined up Wildebeast and slipped the first heavy rifle from its case.
Within moments, Faisyn was beside him. “Ready, sir.”
Below, Alucius could see, through the darkness, the guards posted above the guide posts turning and peering uphill.
“…someone’s up there…”
“…more than a few…”
Alucius checked around him. First squad wasn’t quite in position, but there wasn’t time to wait. “Twenty-first Company, fire!”
“Get into position, first squad! Fire!” Longyl’s voice rode over the other commands.
“Third squad, fire!”
“Fourth squad…”
The initial volleys were aimed at the half squads stationed at the river’s edge, guarding the posts to which the guide ropes were attached. Alucius fired five shots, Talent-willing each shot at a raider, then shoved the rifle into the holder, and reached for the second rifle. He was on his seventh shot before there was a single crack in response.
By the time he emptied the second rifle, most of the guards were down. As he reloaded the second rifle, Alucius called out. “Twenty-first Company! At the men in the river! Fire!”
“Third squad, at the men in the river! Fire!”
“Fourth squad…”
“Second squad…”
The first raiders were reaching the northern bank of the Vedra, and the others in the shallower water spurred their mounts forward, but the water was deep enough, and the bottom muddy enough, that even in the shallower water near the shore, the horsemen were having trouble clearing the river. As Alucius had hoped, there was enough contrast between the river and the raiders that each raider stood out like a dark cutout target.
Alucius finished reloading both rifles and began to fire once more. While he knew he was hitting most of those raiders he aimed at, there was enough of a sweep of death scything through the raiders in the river below that he could not tell for certain exactly how accurate he was, although he was well aware that he was contributing a disproportionate amount to the death toll. No one would know, and that was definitely for the best.
He reloaded a third time and continued to fire, but there were fewer targets nearing the northern bank of the Vedra. There were a handful of muzzle flashes, one from the shoreline, and several from the water, but Alucius didn’t hear or sense any bullets coming near him as he continued to fire through the darkness that was more like early twilight to him, picking off raider after raider as the attackers neared the shore.
Around him, from the corners of his eyes, he could see the flashes from the heavy Iron Valley rifles, as well as hear the deeper-sounding reports from each shot.
Almost without thinking, he reloaded once more and continued firing.
The more distant raiders began to turn their mounts back to the southern shore, trying to cross the deeper water of the main channel. One rider was swept under the guide ropes, and he and his mount struggled to get to shallower water.
Despite the withering fire from Twenty-first Company, perhaps ten or fifteen raiders had managed to get onto the bank. But they were having trouble making their way across the wet and slippery ground—as Alucius had planned. As he glanced up to see the eastern sky graying, he realized that the fight had lasted longer than he’d thought.
He aimed at the lead rider and squeezed off another shot.
Abruptly, fire slammed into his right shoulder, and Alucius felt himself nearly twisted from the saddle. He could barely hang on to the rifle, even though he was firing left-handed, as always. He did manage to right himself in the saddle and holster the rifle. His entire chest and shoulder was both numb—and a mass of fire—simultaneously.
Stars flashed before his eyes, and he could barely see. He steadied himself with his left hand on the pommel of the saddle. Each breath hurt.
“Withdraw! Back across the river. Withdraw!” That command came from the southern shore of the River Vedra. “Withdraw!”
Alucius just hoped that he could hang on until he was certain that the raiders had indeed withdrawn.
“Are you all right, sir?” That was Faisyn, easing his mount up beside Alucius in the faint light of dawn. “Seemed like most of their shots were aimed at us, maybe at you.”
“I think so…we’ll see in a bit,” Alucius replied. The pain wasn’t getting any worse, and he wasn’t quite so light-headed. He remained in the saddle, waiting for the dawn to reveal the full extent of the carnage.
Already the handful of raiders on the shore had turned their mounts back, and the river was mostly empty, although a number of Twenty-first Company troopers continued to fire. As Alucius watched, another raider clutched at his chest, then sagged in the saddle. One shot hit a horse that collapsed into the main channel, dragging its rider down with it.
Faisyn glanced at the ammunition belt that Alucius wore, a belt that held mostly empty leather loops and but a few cartridges. “You let loose a lot of rounds, sir.”
“As many as I could,” Alucius admitted. He lowered his eyes to his shoulder, taking in the small rent in his tunic. Through the gash in the black fabric, he could see at least one splash of metal flattened against the nightsilk outer layer of his undervest. He had no doubts that, without the vest, he would have already been dead.
Alucius gently cleared his throat. “Twenty-first Company! Cease fire!” Even calling out the command hurt, and it was probably unnecessary because the river and the northern shore were clear of any living raiders.
As the sky lightened, the extent of the carnage became more obvious. There were at least fifty bodies in the shallow eddies just below Twenty-first Company, and almost that many on the slopes above the bank. Alucius could see others farther downstream.
Cleaning up the mess was going to be another problem—and seeing if there was any real evidence to prove that the raiders were Deforyan or otherwise. Alucius shifted his weight in the saddle—and winced.
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir?” asked Longyl, reining up beside Alucius, his voice showing concern.
“I’ve been better, but I’m not bleeding. I am going to be very sore.”
“At least some of them were shooting at you. Even I could tell that from over where I was. Do you know why?”
“They probably felt that if they took out the commander, you’d break off or not fight so well,” Alucius suggested. “I can’t think of any other reason they’d shoot at the most junior captain in the militia—or that they’d even know that.” He would have laughed, but he knew laughing would hurt, and doubtless would for days, if not weeks.
“They weren’t raiders, then,” Longyl said.
“Mercenaries, I’d guess. Another way for
the Lord-Protector to put pressure on the Iron Valleys and yet be able to deny that he is.”
“You think so, sir?”
“It’s only a guess,” Alucius said tiredly. But he knew it was more than that. “We need to get on with things. Have the men collect the weapons and the stray mounts, those that there are. And pass the word to the other squad leaders.”
“Yes, sir.”
Glad he could rely on the senior squad leader, Alucius looked to the south bank of the Vedra. As the sun cleared the river to the east, flooding the land and water with green-tinged white light, Alucius could see no sign of living raiders, just the bodies everywhere, including one caught in the guide ropes, being tugged at by the current. Low mutterings from troopers, the heavy breathing of some horses, and a few moans were the only sounds.
Breathing shallowly, Alucius continued to watch from the saddle, scarcely moving, as the troopers combed the bank and the river’s edge.
29
On Tridi morning, Alucius could barely move. He stood, bare to the waist, in the small washroom he and Feran usually shared, looking at his chest and shoulder, purple and black from his breastbone to one side and from his shoulder to below his bottom rib. From what he had been able to tell from the metal splashed across his nightsilk-covered undervest, he’d actually been hit twice, almost at the same time. He suspected professional snipers, but he still couldn’t account for why anyone would take the trouble. He was the most junior captain in the militia. He’d made it more than clear he did not intend to remain in the militia. He had no personal ties or influences to anyone on the Council or among the senior militia officers—or to anyone of power.
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