“This is Captain Shalgyr, who is acting as my aide for this tour.” Weslyn nodded to the almost squat and black-haired officer.
“We’re pleased to meet you,” Alucius said.
Feran nodded.
“We might as well sit down,” Weslyn said.
“The meal will be here shortly,” Alucius noted, nodding to the cook, who had peered out from the small kitchen. “I fear it will not be up to the standards of Dekhron.”
“Dekhron is not up to its own standards lately.” The colonel paused, then went on with a smile. “I don’t imagine either of you expected to see me in Emal.”
“No, sir,” Alucius admitted.
“Times have been difficult, but I hope that we are past the worst of that now, but I had thought it might be better to discuss matters over a meal, less formally, if you will.” Weslyn paused as the serving girl, the cook’s daughter, appeared with two mugs of ale, which, following Alucius’s eyes, she placed in front of Weslyn and Shalgyr, before departing and immediately returning with two more mugs. “I do not know that official dispatches could have told you how dangerous our situation was. The debts incurred by the Council, with interest, had reached ten thousand golds.”
Feran swallowed, started to speak, then stopped without a word.
“That was so great a sum that all the tariff revenues for several years would not have covered it.”
Alucius suppressed a frown. From his rough calculations, the annual budget of the militia was around five thousand golds, and surely there were other expenditures?
“The Council could not devote all the tariff revenues to repaying or even paying the interest on that debt. In fact, as we had written you, we did not have the funds to pay or supply any companies past summer. The lack of rain, and the probable crop failures to come made matters worse. The coins were originally borrowed from the Landarch of Deforya, but he needed repayment, and so he sold the debt to the Lord-Protector.” Weslyn shrugged. “You could see where that left the Council. There was no choice, and now we must work out the arrangements.”
The serving girl delivered a platter of mutton smothered in white gravy, a second one of lace potatoes, a compote of early apples drizzled in honey, and two baskets of bread.
Weslyn served himself before asking, “Does either of you have any questions?”
“We’d just like to know where that leaves our troopers and us,” Feran said politely.
“I can understand that. We have all felt that way,” the colonel replied. “I don’t know that you have heard, but the nomad ruler of Illegea—his name is Aellyan Edyss—has conquered Ongelya. More important, we have received word that he has routed the forces of Lustrea near the South Pass and killed the Praetor. While the Praetor’s son is well respected, and will certainly become the new Praetor, it is highly unlikely that he will immediately undertake another attack on the nomads. We understand from the Lord-Protector that Aellyan Edyss is riding to the northwest. The Landarch of Deforya is greatly concerned that Edyss is bringing his forces into position to attack Deforya.”
“Why not Lanachrona?” asked Feran bluntly. “That’s northwest as well.”
“Because he will gain more by taking both the north and south passes to the east. He already controls the South Pass to Lustrea. If he takes Dereka, he will hold both high roads, and both passes. Also, Deforya is an easier target than Lanachrona.”
“I don’t quite see how that affects us, or even the Iron Valleys,” Feran stated.
“No, not directly. But…” Weslyn drew out the word, then smiled. “As I have explained, the militia is in great debt to the Council and, now, to the Lord-Protector. The Lord-Protector has agreed, as my earlier dispatch informed you, to accept the militia as the Northern Guard of Lanachrona. Further, he has agreed to assume all back pay owed, and to ensure that all stipends will be paid to troopers and officers alike.”
Alucius had a cold feeling about where the discussion was headed, but he waited, listening.
“Because the southern border of the Iron Valleys will no longer need to be patrolled, the outposts along the eastern part of the River Vedra will be closed…”
Feran nodded. “You want us to volunteer to do some dirty work elsewhere to keep our stipends?”
Weslyn went on without looking directly at Feran. “The Council had to agree to several terms as part of the agreement with Lanachrona. As you may know, the organization of the militia is unique in all of Corus. By comparison, all equipment and all mounts used by the Southern Guard belong to the Lord-Protector. That is also true in Madrien and in Lustrea, and even in Deforya. The Lord-Protector finds himself assuming responsibility for the debts of the militia, yet there are no…assetsto speak of. In addition, he has pledged not to station any of the Southern Guard in the Iron Valleys for the next twenty years. In return for these conditions, he has asked the newly established Northern Guard to provide four horse companies—under their own officers, of course—for service with the Southern Guard in defending the borders of Lanachrona.”
Alucius repressed a nod.
Feran snorted.
“We felt that far less dislocation would be involved if those companies that were already going to be displaced were among those assigned.” Weslyn smiled at Alucius. “In addition, the Twenty-first Company has a reputation for effectiveness, and the Lord-Protector specifically requested that you be among those companies. Unless, of course, you would choose to buy out your service time—all four years as a captain, which would be four times the rate of a herder conscript, since your service is not yet complete.”
Alucius didn’t have to consider that provision for long. A conscript’s buyout would have taken half the revenues from the stead for each year. A captain’s buyout on those terms would destroy the stead. “We will serve as requested.”
“I had thought you might.” Weslyn turned to Feran. “There are two possibilities for Fifth Company, Captain. You could be assigned to the outpost to be opened at Eastice and charged with ensuring that the high road be kept clear of brigands…and provide border guard service along the northern boundaries with Madrien, or you could be assigned to accompany Twenty-first Company.”
Feran’s lips tightened.
“If Fifth Company went with Twenty-first Company, you would, of course, be under the command of Overcaptain Alucius. That is, unless you choose to leave the Northern Guard.” Weslyn took a sip of his ale.
Alucius concealed a wince. Weslyn was clearly trying to force Feran to leave the militia.
After a long moment, Feran presented a smile—a cold smile. “If it’s all the same to you, Colonel, I think it’s fair to say that Fifth Company and I would prefer to serve with and under Overcaptain Alucius.”
For the briefest instant, an expression of surprise flickered across the colonel’s face before he replied smoothly. “Both the Northern Guard and the Lord-Protector will be pleased to know that two such experienced companies will be defending our borders.”
When had Lanachrona’s borders become “our” borders? Alucius wondered.
As he cut through the gravy-covered mutton, Weslyn looked at Alucius. “Your promotion to overcaptain will become effective when you leave Emal two weeks from yesterday. I will make sure your insignia are dispatched in time.”
“Might you be able to tell us where we will be defending those borders?” asked Alucius.
“Oh…I didn’t mention that, did I? The Lord-Protector is sending a detachment of five horse companies to support the Landarch of Deforya. Four will be from the Northern Guard, and one from the Southern Guard. It’s good to know that the Twenty-first and Fifth Companies will be two of them.”
“How…or where will we join this detachment?”
“The detachment commander is a Majer Draspyr, I believe. I have your route here, and I will leave it, obviously. You will cross the Vedra here and ride south to the high road and a road outpost there in a place called…what is it…Senelmyr, that’s it. That’s where you will meet the
majer and the other companies. We brought the new shoulder patches, also. They’re really just blue shimmersilk triangles, but they go on your tunics so that the Southern Guard can tell who you are. We can go over the details in the morning, once you’ve had a chance to think about it.”
“What about the outpost?” Alucius asked. “Will the militia close it? Or sell it?”
“The Northern Guard has not decided,” the colonel said slowly. “Certainly, if we can sell unused assets, to defer costs, that would be prudent.” Abruptly, he smiled again. “That is not bad fare for such an isolated outpost.” The commandant glanced at Feran, then Alucius. “Might I ask how you have managed such?”
“As carefully as we could, sir,” Alucius replied. “Gravy is not terribly expensive, and allows one the luxury of thinking the meat is less tough than it is, and the apples are a type that does not travel well, and so they are not expensive.”
“You two are resourceful. Very good. It will serve you—and us—very well.” Weslyn smiled yet again. “Did you know that we are already receiving brownberries in Dekhron? And without tariffs, even the lower crafters can afford them.”
Alucius got the message that the colonel had said all that he was about to say. So he listened, and commented politely, until supper was over. After more pleasantries the two outpost captains excused themselves and made their way out into the still-light evening. The sun was poised over the western river bluffs, its white light tinged with green as it dropped toward the horizon. The two walked silently out through the gates and along the causeway until they were certain they were alone.
“I’m sorry, Feran,” Alucius said. “I didn’t—”
“It’s not your fault, and I don’t hold anything against you. But I meant it. I’d be sanded if I’d take an assignment where there are only two months out of ten without snow. And they are going to pay that stipend.”
“You think Fifth Company…”
“They feel the same way. A third of them came from Soulend—or Iron Stem—to get out of the cold. You think they want to serve in a place three hundred vingts closer to the Ice Sands?”
“He decided to promote me to force you out,” Alucius pointed out.
“We both got sanded. You couldn’t afford that kind of buyout, could you?”
“It would force my family into poverty. They’d have to sell the stead, and they’d still end up owing hundreds of golds.”
“That much?”
“Low hundreds,” Alucius admitted, “but there wouldn’t be any way to pay them.”
“Well…at least you’ll get a few more coins out of it.”
A few more coins, and much more trouble. As he watched the sun set, Alucius reflected. Troubles just compounded themselves. He’d gotten captured by the Matrites. To escape he’d had to use his Talent to destroy the power behind the Matrial’s torques and kill the Matrial. But to get accepted back in the Iron Valleys, he’d had to stay in the militia, if as an officer, rather than a squad leader. And now he was being sent to fight a nomad conqueror who had routed the army of the largest and most powerful land in Corus.
He pushed away the sense of self-pity. He’d managed to get back alive, when most didn’t, and his abilities had been recognized, and he had been able to marry the woman he loved—even if he hadn’t been able to spend much more than a month a year with her. With even the thought of Wendra, the wristguard felt warmer.
41
In the hot summer evening, Alucius sat at the small writing desk in his quarters and blotted his forehead with the back of his hand. He was more tired than he’d thought. Still, he needed to write Wendra, and tired as he was, he was too restless to sleep. He picked up the pen and dipped it into the inkwell, slowly putting down words and phrases. After finishing another page in his ever-growing letter to his wife, Alucius read over the lines, conscious that he had best be most careful about what he put to paper.
The change from the militia to the Northern Guard has not affected the time I am required to serve. That remains the same, but it appears my duties will change. Twenty-first Company has been assigned to an expeditionary detachment being sent to assist the Landarch of Deforya. We will be departing in slightly more than a week. I have been promoted to overcaptain, in charge of both the Twenty-first and Fifth Companies, but I also remain as commander of the Twenty-first…We have been working hard to make sure that our companies are as prepared as possible for the coming ride…
Some of the preparations were not what the colonel might have wanted, because Alucius and Feran had made a few decisions of their own, including finding goods in the back of the storerooms that they could sell locally to raise more coins for any supplies they might have to purchase along the way. Neither the colonel nor the Council would have known what was there, or been able to sell it, and so far as Alucius was concerned, that meant that he and Feran were not taking anything, but merely providing for their companies.
…Colonel Weslyn was most insistent that one of our first preparations was the sewing of our new blue shoulder patches in place on our tunics. That is necessary, I gather, so that the Southern Guards with whom we will be riding will know that we are all now together. After all the years of hearing of the militia and being a part of it, it is hard to get used to being the Northern Guard. But times change, and we must change with them…
Alucius was certain that his family would fully understand the meaning behind the words about Colonel Weslyn, although he doubted that either Royalt or Kustyl could do much. Still, he wanted them to understand exactly what sort of a man Weslyn was—and wasn’t.
Nodding, he set the letter aside for the moment, not wanting to write a conclusion until he knew he had a messenger to send it west.
He picked up the old history—The Wonders of Ancient Corus—and leafed through the pages until he reached the section on Deforya. Shortly, after several pages, one section caught his eye.
The ancient maps from well before the Duarchy had called the place “the land of great sorrow,” and map notes stated that none had lived there in tens of generations…Yet the land was well suited for the plumapples and the tart green apples, and indeed there were orchards there, if long abandoned, and the ruins of a large town, with dwellings that had once been of fine stone.
The Duarches Riemyl and Fuentyl could not countenance the waste and offered those who had offended the Duarchy grants of property there, providing that those who accepted remained within the province they renamed Deforya, after the ancient term for a place of plenty…All who came into that immense open land were most pleased with the patents on tenure granted to them…
The iron mines in the eastern part of the province were discovered during the stewardship of the Duarches Antyn and Brytil, and were made possible by the ingenious waterworks still in use under the Landarches…
The “place of great sorrow”? Alucius searched through the history for some time, but he could find no other reference to sorrow in Deforya or anything that might shed light on it. Yet books often did not tell the entire story. Some histories still termed the soarers and sanders as mythological creatures, and he’d never found any mention of them in all the histories he’d read in Madrien—or, for that matter, of the wood spirit who had given him the key to the torque.
Legends often had truth behind them…but it was hard to discover the stories, let alone the truth, if you weren’t born in a place. Coming from a herder family, Alucius well understood that.
He found his eyelids drooping, then he yawned. He was tired.
Slowly he closed the history and set it on the desk. Then he stood and stretched. Tomorrow would be another long day.
II.
The Darkness of Pteridons
42
From the far side of the narrow stone bridge over the River Vedra, where he was mounted on Wildebeast, Alucius watched as the troopers of Twenty-first rode single file over the bridge from Emal to Semal. Outside of two youngsters perched on an old stone wall behind Alucius, no one in either town
appeared to be watching, although there might have been a few peering through shutters. As the troopers rode toward him and began to re-form on the narrow dusty street below the southern causeway, Alucius took a quick glance back at Emal Outpost, its stone walls now holding but two squads of foot, who were to be temporarily relocated to Sudon within the week.
From the walls of the post, his eyes shifted to the bridge. As one of the first acts of “union” visible in Emal, Feran had been ordered to remove the guard posts on both sides of the bridge—and the iron gate. The new masonry looked it, but in a few years it would fade under the weather, and outsiders would never know it had been a guarded bridge. Alucius wondered what people would remember and what they would choose to forget, for forgetting was a choice as well.
He glanced down, checking once more the double brace of rifles in the holders on each side of the saddle in front of his knees. He was doubtless breaking some regulation by carrying two, but he certainly couldn’t ride back for another in the middle of a battle. For the same reasons, one of the packhorses carried spare rifles for Twenty-first Company as well.
Once Twenty-first Company was in formation in the dusty, squarish, packed-dirt area to the south of the causeway, and Fifth Company was ready to cross the bridge, he rode forward to the head of the column. “Twenty-first Company! Forward!”
“Forward!” Longyl repeated from halfway back along the column.
“First squad! Forward!”
“Second squad…”
Rather than have two companies of horse crowded into the middle of Semal, he and Feran had agreed that Twenty-first Company would ride to the southern edge of the hamlet and wait there for Fifth Company to rejoin them. As he rode along the dusty street, Alucius glanced at the handful of dwellings and the few shops, one a chandlery of sorts, and another a cooperage and carpentry shop. A hundred yards farther south was a smithy.
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