Darknesses

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “…sander shit…” came a faint murmur from behind Alucius.

  Alucius scanned the area, with eyes, ears, and Talent, but could sense nothing near, although there might be a horse in the low wash farther south. “Patrol forward!”

  He reined up opposite the dead man and dismounted, then quickly searched the body, finding only a few coins, which he left, but neither maps nor anything else beyond what any trooper might carry. Leaving the body in the grass, he remounted and gestured for the patrol to continue.

  “…didn’t see the grass moving…”

  “…because you’re not a herder…”

  “…herders are scary…never want to upset ’em…story is that back when he was a ranker years ago, three guys jumped him in the dark, and he killed all three with his bare hands…”

  Alucius wanted to shake his head. It had been in training, and there had been only two, and he’d flattened both without damage—although he could have killed them as easily. He hadn’t had to, though, and they’d been stupid enough to get killed in the early skirmishes over Soulend.

  “Keep an eye out!” he ordered, as much to stop the murmurs as anything.

  They continued southwest for another glass and a half before Alucius called a halt. The bands of nomads on the opposite ridge had become more numerous—Alucius and the others had spotted four separate groups, but none held more than four or five riders.

  With their numbers increasing, and with a squad at risk, he wasn’t about to head farther or to cross the stream to get any nearer to the nomads, not in a new land where he was learning and where they would be clearly outnumbered in any skirmish.

  From his Talent, he could tell that the majority of the nomads were where they had been reported, and in the late afternoon, the smoke from the cookfires confirmed that. The acrid odor that drifted northward on the hint of the breeze confirmed another suspicion—that the nomads were not using firewood for their cookfires. Then, they couldn’t have been. From what Alucius had seen there were neither trees nor brush suitable for that.

  On the return, Alucius kept checking with his Talent, and the scouts Dueryn continued to report, but the nomads who trailed them remained a good vingt to the south, shadowing them all the way back to the bottom of the trail up to Black Ridge where Faisyn and his half squad were waiting, along with two troopers from Twenty-third Company, who immediately started up the trail once they saw Alucius.

  59

  Three more days of patrols had changed nothing, except that more nomads shadowed each patrol. Alucius was eating breakfast in the sandstone-walled officers’ mess, seated on a sturdy wooden chair that was doubtless older than he was. Before him, on a chipped crockery platter also of antique vintage, was an omelet stuffed with cheese and some form of meat, with a mixture of dried apples and plumapples on the side—prepared by the Deforyan cook brought along with the supply wagons.

  The only officers in the mess were those from the west—Feran, Clifyr, and Heald. Koryt had left a few moments earlier, as had Majer Draspyr. Deforyan officers, Alucius had observed, rose somewhat later.

  “How long before they attack, do you think?” asked Heald.

  “Today…tomorrow. No later than the day after,” Feran suggested.

  Alucius swallowed the bitter ale that came with breakfast and took a last mouthful of the omelet, but did not offer an opinion as he finished off the dried fruit.

  Feran glanced across the table at Alucius, as if to ask his opinion.

  Alucius shrugged, although he shared the older officer’s views that any attack would be soon in coming.

  Majer Draspyr appeared in the archway—flushed. “Get your men armed and ready! Have your squad leaders form them up on foot out front! Then meet me in the conference room!”

  “Yes, sir.” Alucius stood. He could have sensed the majer’s agitation even without Talent.

  “Today, I’d wager,” muttered Feran under his breath as he also stood.

  “You’ll pardon me if I don’t take that wager,” Heald replied.

  Alucius let the others head toward the barracks directly. Instead, he loped out of the mess and toward the overlook of the ledge, twenty yards to the right of the half squad of Deforyan troopers, who just stood looking to the south. For a long moment, Alucius gazed out. Three columns, each vingts long, rode northward. The center column was headed toward the trail at the base of Black Ridge. After another look, he hurried toward the sandstone archway that held the section of barracks where Twenty-first Company was quartered.

  Longyl was already waiting for him. “Told the men to stand by, sir.”

  “Good. Have them form up by squads on foot in front of the barracks area. With full arms and as many cartridges as they can carry. The nomads are setting up for an attack. It could be a very long day.” Alucius paused. “Keep them as close to the back cliff as you can.”

  “Ah…yes, sir.”

  “We can move forward when we need to.” Alucius didn’t explain further, because he feared the explanation wouldn’t have made much sense, since it was based more on feelings than on anything he could explain.

  “I’ll meet you there. I have to meet with Majer Draspyr first.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He hurried back to his room and picked up both rifles, as well as both cartridge belts, before heading back outside. In front of the entrance to the officers’ quarters, he paused, looking southward. In the sky, circling up from nomads’ camp, were distant black specks. Alucius thought. The nomads’ camp was a good six vingts from Black Ridge, yet he could see the wings of whatever flew upward, and he could see them clearly. Nothing he had ever seen was big enough for that. He turned and headed back inside to the conference room. He wasn’t the last, since Captain Koryt followed him inside.

  As Alucius seated himself, Draspyr glanced pointedly at the pair of rifles Alucius carried, but said nothing for a moment. Then he began, “From what we can see, the nomads have more than fifty companies’ worth of riders. I have not seen the rumored pteridons—”

  “They’re out there now,” Alucius said. “They’re circling the nomad encampment.”

  Draspyr nodded impatiently. “So we must face thousands of nomads and magical creatures. I have ordered Twenty-third Company to take positions along the front of the ledge immediately, but we will rotate that duty. The Deforyans have dispatched their five companies back along the trail. They will take positions at places where the nomads cannot easily attack…”

  Alucius had his doubts about that aspect of the strategy, but decided against voicing it. Draspyr wasn’t about to listen.

  “The rest of you have your companies standing by just inside the barracks and stables, by company. I leave it to Overcaptain Heald and Overcaptain Alucius as to how you will arrange your troopers, but request that they hold themselves in readiness in a fashion that does not tire them and so that they will be prepared to move into the front positions as necessary. I will be visiting all companies as I see fit.” He nodded briskly. “That is all.”

  After the majer stepped out, hurrying toward the front of the ledge where the Twenty-third Company was arranging itself, Heald stepped toward Alucius. “How do you want to do this?”

  “One company in each barracks corridor and two—Twenty-first and Third—in each stable corridor?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “With double cartridge loads and all rifles loaded,” Alucius added. “If they do get to the top, we may have to fire from the corridors and places with windows.”

  “I’d thought that. Hope it won’t be for a while.”

  Alucius turned to Feran. “Have Fifth Company take the barracks corridor.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  The two stepped out into the open morning air, where Alucius looked southward, into the sky. The pteridons were still circling over the nomad camp, but were now a good thousand yards higher than Black Ridge and climbing. “We’d better get everyone in position.” He moved quickly toward the space befor
e the barracks, Feran walking beside him. As they neared Twenty-first Company, Feran stepped away and hurried toward Fifth Company.

  “Twenty-first Company, all accounted for and ready, sir,” Longyl reported.

  “We’re to be ready to reinforce or replace Twenty-third Company. In the meantime, we’re to form up by squads inside the middle stable arch.”

  Longyl raised his eyebrows.

  “There’s no sense in being out in the open.” Alucius gestured skyward toward the pteridons, who had formed into a long line headed northward toward Black Ridge. He counted eleven.

  Crack! Crack! The troopers from Twenty-third Company began to fire over the side of the ledge.

  There was a dull clunk on the cliff wall well above Twenty-first Company, and then a grayish blob of metal that had been a bullet dropped onto the sandy stone just behind the last trooper in fourth squad.

  “Twenty-first Company! Re-form in the archway to stable number two, by squads, first squad forward! Move!”

  As Twenty-first Company re-formed, Alucius glanced along the front edge of the sandstone cliff holding quarters and stables. Fifth Company was almost clear, and even Third and Eleventh Companies were moving inside the cliff structures. Only Twenty-third Company was exposed, but most of the troopers were in prone positions along the edge of the rocky black ledge, firing down at the advancing nomads.

  Once the rest of Twenty-first Company was inside the stable archway, Alucius joined them, standing beside the right wall of the high arch. The Lanachronan troopers continued to fire downward, and bullets continued to flatten themselves against the cliff. Many lodged there, but a number continued to drop onto the stone below like intermittent lead hail.

  Longyl stepped up beside Alucius. “Would more troopers out there help, sir?”

  “The nomads can only ride up that trail single file.” He glanced to the east, where the road or trail from Dereka wound out of the Barrier Range. “I’m more worried about being taken from behind. Maybe you should send out Waris and Dueryn…to see what’s happening along the trail. I’m not all that trusting that the Deforyans have done what the majer thought.”

  Longyl looked blank.

  “They’re supposed to have been covering the trail so that we don’t get encircled.” Alucius glanced eastward. “I have doubts.”

  “I’ll send Waris and Dueryn out immediately, sir.”

  “Get them out of here quickly,” Alucius said.

  Longyl vanished, and almost immediately the two scouts reappeared, leading their mounts.

  Alucius smothered a rueful smile. Longyl—or Faisyn—had anticipated the need for scouts—more than he had. Still, he watched as the two rode along the front of the sandstone escarpment and disappeared around the cliff edge on the trail that led back toward Dereka.

  Longyl reappeared.

  “Good thinking,” Alucius said, turning to the senior squad leader.

  “Sir…what’s that?”

  A line of bluish flame swept across the western end of the troopers firing down at the nomads riding up the trail toward Black Ridge. So intense were the flames that Alucius could feel the heat from where he stood next to the stable openings. He stepped back involuntarily. The westernmost troopers in blue and cream turned into blackened figures almost instantly—including Captain Clifyr, whose figure pitched forward, twitching.

  Behind the wave of flame swooped down a blue-winged creature—easily ten yards long from the tip of its beak to the end of the tail, a little over fifty yards above the ledge. In a saddle just forward of the wings sat a rider, leaning forward with a metallic blue lance, from which flared more of the blue flame.

  As the pteridon passed, Alucius ducked out of the stable archway and scanned the sky. There were no more of the pteridons nearby, although he thought that one was turning to the west, ready to sweep down on Black Ridge to follow the first. He glanced out to the ledge where half a company remained—flat on the stone, still firing downward.

  No one was ordering anything. Carrying one rifle, Alucius sprinted forward. “Take cover! Back to the barracks and stables!”

  Several of the troopers looked up.

  “Back to the cliff!” Alucius snapped. “Now!”

  Slowly, ever so slowly, the Lanachronans began to move.

  “Move!” Alucius bellowed. “Unless you want to be blasted into charcoal!”

  That worked. The remaining troopers sprinted toward Alucius.

  Alucius glanced up, seeing a shadow coming out of the early-morning sun. He sprinted back toward the stable archway.

  The last four or five troopers were engulfed in flame, and Alucius felt the heat on the back of his neck as he scrambled under cover. Once inside the stable archway, he turned in time to see another pteridon sweep past, little more than thirty yards above the flat expanse of Black Ridge.

  “Overcaptain!”

  Alucius turned.

  “I didn’t order that,” Draspyr growled. “They weren’t your troopers, Overcaptain. With no one guarding the trail, the nomads will be on us.”

  “Once they reach the top, they’re exposed as well,” Alucius pointed out. “We station our men at every door and arch. We’ll try to bring down the pteridons from there first.” Then he added, “Their captain was killed by the first pteridon. If they’d stayed there, Majer, they’d all be dead by now.”

  Draspyr looked past Alucius at the faintly twitching blackened forms, then swallowed. After a moment, he said. “I…beg your pardon, Overcaptain. Carry on.” With that, he turned away.

  Alucius looked out from the archway once more as another pteridon swept by, barely fifty yards above the front of the ledge, so close that Alucius could make out the dark-haired rider and the blue metallic lance he carried—even as Alucius aimed, and fired.

  Although he knew he had struck the blue-winged creature, the wings continued to beat as the pteridon vanished from his sight to the east.

  “Aim for the riders!” he ordered. “Pass it on.” Then he felt stupid, because he’d never ordered the company into firing order. He turned to Longyl. “Put first squad here in the arch in two ranks.”

  “First squad to the fore! Two ranks, first rank, fire from your knees!”

  Another pteridon swept in from the west, and Alucius was ready. His shot hit the rider. The rider slumped in the blue saddle, and the pteridon wheeled, moving rapidly southward. Impossibly…one of the clawed forefeet reached up and plucked the blue metallic lance from the air as it slipped from the hands of the dying or dead rider.

  Alucius wiped his steaming forehead. He had the feeling that the pteridon would be back—with another rider.

  More blue flame lashed across the flat ledge, beginning about twenty yards from the red sandstone cliff holding the quarters and stables and moving southward. Alucius frowned, trying to figure out what that meant.

  “Here they come!” Longyl called.

  Alucius shifted his concentration to the edge of the ledge where the trail ended—or began. Several nomads had just appeared there, turning and urging their mounts forward.

  “Twenty-first Company! On the nomads!” Alucius ordered. “Fire!”

  He aimed for the lead mount and fired. Crack! The horse went down. Then he went for the second rider’s mount. The rider urged his mount over the fallen horse, and Alucius’s shot missed. The next one didn’t. With the fire from the other companies, the rush of nomads halted.

  For several moments, no other nomads appeared, and Alucius used the time to reload, even though his magazine wasn’t empty. The heap of dead riders and mounts at the end of the upward trail would certainly slow progress there, enough, Alucius hoped, that the troopers could pick off the nomads as fast as they could get up the narrow trail. But the standoff was only temporary—until the flanking columns of nomads reached the trails leading back to Black Ridge.

  Another swath of blue flame swept across the open area of black stone, catching one Lanachronan trooper. Alucius wondered what the man had been doing out in
the open, but it certainly wasn’t the time to ask.

  Alucius was ready as the next pteridon swooped. While his troopers were firing at the nomads—and keeping them from gaining the open ledge—he aimed at the pteridon’s head. Again, while he knew he had struck the beast, there was no sign of any wound. His second shot slammed through the rider.

  Once more…the same thing happened. The pteridon reclaimed the blue metallic lance and wheeled back toward the nomads’ camp.

  For a time, there was an uneasy quiet across Black Ridge. No more nomads appeared at the edge of the ledge.

  The nomads couldn’t have decided to withdraw. It was barely midmorning, and they far outnumbered the defenders.

  As he reloaded, Alucius considered. Unless they could stop the pteridons, they were doomed. They might be anyway, but it was certain with the blue beasts. Repelling bullets the way they had…that meant that they were certainly Talent-creatures. What would work against Talent? He’d been so rushed that he hadn’t really thought.

  The purple crystal of the Matrial had repelled bullets and sabres, and only the sense of darkness that lay beneath the lifewebs had helped there. But he couldn’t get close to the pteridons, not against the blue flame that came from the metallic skylances. Could he somehow create that shell of darkness around a bullet that he fired? The way he had enveloped the crystal in darkness?

  He concentrated on wrapping darkness around the bullet of the cartridge in the heavy rifle’s chamber. Then, rifle in hand, he eased out from the stable archway.

  “Sir…there’s one of those beasts…”

  Alucius turned, seemingly in slow motion, toward the pteridon that dropped out of the sky toward the ledge, although it felt as though the blue-winged monster was headed straight toward him. The rifle came up, and he fired, concentrating on both aim and a last infusion of that lifedarkness into the cold lead of the bullet.

  The pteridon wobbled in the air.