Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Quelsyn swung up into his saddle. “I’ll drop back with second squad. Just stand in the stirrups and raise your arm when you want us to halt. Oh…you’d better have a couple of men ride back down the road so that the rebels don’t try to run between us.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you.” Rahl turned in the saddle to the first squad leader—Roryt, he thought. “There are some rebels hiding in the brush ahead on the north side of the road. Just a handful. We’ll ride past and then turn and go into the brush after them. If we can, I’d like to capture at least one so that we can learn what they’ve been doing.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Again, Rahl got the same feeling of polite doubt, but he forced a pleasant smile. “I’ll have to lead the chase, but I’d like several men to remain on the road and cover it, in case they try to cross it.”

  “I’ll take care of that, ser.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” Rahl waited until the senior squad leader had ridden back to the head of second squad before he called out his orders. “Patrol forward!”

  As he rode, he scanned the trees and brush on the north side of the ancient and narrow road, all the time trying to sense the rebels he knew had to be somewhere ahead. After the patrol had ridden close to a half kay and the road made a gentle turn to the west-southwest, Rahl began to get a better sense of where the rebels were. He could feel three men hidden in a depression behind a natural earthen bank. He judged that the three were some three hundred cubits ahead.

  With the thickness of the underbrush, he also realized that Quelsyn and second squad would have to be far closer than he had told the senior squad leader. There was no help for that, not now, but it irritated him that the senior squad leader hadn’t been a bit more helpful. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t asked—and politely, at that.

  After he rode another fifty cubits or so, he stood in the stirrups and raised his arm, but kept riding. He led the patrol about fifty cubits past the spot on the north side where the three huddled. He could sense no weapons except sabres, and one long staff. “Squad, to the rear ride and form up!” He swung the gelding out onto the shoulder of the road and back east, reining up until the squad was in position.

  “Forward!” He eased the gelding into a fast walk, not daring to ride more swiftly, not with the trees and underbrush and his own less-than-adequate riding skills. A man might be able to gain on him for a short time, but not for that long.

  “First ranks on the captain!” ordered Roryt. “Last two ranks on me and the road!”

  Rahl found himself using his riding truncheon as a way to keep branches from whipping into his face, but even so, he’d have scrapes from the evergreen needles and the leathery winter gray leaves of the hardwoods.

  Surprisingly, the three rebels did not move immediately, not until Rahl was within twenty cubits or so. “They’re directly in front of me! Flank me!”

  The three sprinted away from Rahl.

  He could sense that there was a low bush in the middle of the berm, and he guided the gelding through the opening between two firs and after the heavyset rebel who had been in the middle.

  The rebel glanced over his shoulder, then darted to the left, between a pair of trunks, one a massive oak, the other a younger fir.

  Rahl rode around the right side, losing some ground in the knee-high underbrush, but after another fifty cubits, he was within ten cubits of the running rebel. At that moment, the man turned toward an oak with a chest-high branch, and jumped to catch it. He straddled it and turned, whipping out a sabre, awkwardly.

  Rahl reined up, then struck with the long truncheon. The rebel’s blade went spinning into the brush.

  “Don’t move,” snapped Rahl. “Not unless you want something broken.”

  The rebel froze, holding on to the branch with one hand. His eyes widened as he took in the mage-guard visored cap.

  Rahl took in the rebel’s uniform, khaki shirt and trousers with a jacket of blotched and faded maroon. “First squad!” Even as Rahl called out the words, a pair of troopers appeared, riding rather casually through the woods. “Over here!”

  “Yes, ser.”

  As they rode up, Rahl said, “Tie him up and take him back to the road. Don’t hurt him unless he tries something. We need to talk to him.” He turned to the rebel. “If you try to escape, I’ll track you down, and there won’t be enough of you for the vulcrows.”

  “Yes, ser.” The rebel’s voice was steady, but Rahl could sense the fear beneath.

  He eased the gelding away from the two troopers. “I need to track check on the others.”

  Rahl had only managed to travel another fifty cubits or so through the trees toward what he sensed was a group of troopers.

  “Ser! Over here!”

  He had to backtrack around a copse of saplings growing up around a fallen hardwood before he could join the four troopers.

  A rebel in another faded maroon jacket lay sprawled across a crumbling log. He was dead.

  “He tried to slice up my mount, ser. Wouldn’t surrender.”

  Rahl supposed that happened. “Two of you cart him back to the road. Have the senior squad leader search him to see if we can learn anything from what he carried. Two of you come with me. Did any of you see where the other rebel went?”

  One trooper pointed vaguely to the northeast. “He was running fast, ser.”

  “He can’t run that fast for long.” Rahl extended his order-senses. While he could generally sense the fleeing rebel, using his senses in the wood was harder than on the road. Why? Because of everything living around him?

  Once more he set out.

  Rahl thought he must have ridden more than a kay before he closed to within a few hundred cubits of the third rebel. The two troopers trailed him by more than a hundred cubits.

  The man began to run, once more, but his legs were tired.

  Rahl followed.

  Abruptly, the rebel turned, his back against an ancient and rotting trunk.

  “You…get close…and I’ll take down your mount. Blade longer than yours…Flame me if you want, but you’ll not take me alive.” The words were delivered between gasps.

  Rahl extended his shields to protect the gelding’s legs and rode toward the rebel. The ancient long blade swung, and rebounded from the shields. As it did, Rahl dropped the shields and slammed the truncheon down across the shoulder above the rebel’s blade-wielding arm. He added some order to the blow, and a dull crunch followed. The blade fell from the rebel’s numb hand, and the rebel staggered, then dropped to his knees.

  Rahl waited, watching, until the two troopers neared. “Truss him up, but keep him from more harm. We’ll take him back. I need to question them both.” He watched as the older trooper dismounted and used strips of leather to bind the wounded man’s hands together.

  The rebel was staggering and barely able to walk after less than a quarter kay. Rahl had the troopers hoist the man up before him on the gelding for the rest of the ride back to the road.

  Quelsyn was waiting with the remainder of the patrol. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Rahl and the two troopers—and the second captive. He turned his mount to follow Rahl.

  Rahl eased the wounded man off the chestnut at the side of the road where Roryt and another trooper guarded the first captive and the body of the dead rebel lay.

  “There wasn’t much in his gear,” Quelsyn said. “Just a few coppers and a map.”

  “Did it show a route?” Rahl dismounted, slowly.

  “According to the map, they left from Maugyta. The map showed the way to the Swarth River maybe thirty kays downstream from Kysha.”

  “That’s where the cannon was that fired on the convoy,” Rahl said, handing the gelding’s reins to one of the troopers and turning to the two captives. “How many of you made the trip out with the cannon?”

  “What cannon?” asked the uninjured captive.

  “You’re lying.” Rahl smiled, coldly. “I was on the ship you hit. I know all about the cannon. We have
one of your maps. You can make this hard or easy.” He extended a sense—almost a compulsion for the two to offer the truth. “Let’s try again. How many of you were there?”

  Both men squirmed, but did not speak.

  Tired as he was, Rahl extended his shields, pressing against the injured trooper. The man swallowed.

  “How many?”

  “A little more than a score, ser.”

  “Did you start out with any cannon?”

  “No, ser. Didn’t have no cannon. Awaiting for us in a hidden place east of Dawhut. Powder, too.”

  “Exactly where was this place…”

  When Rahl finished getting what he could about the locations and the forces and the trip, he asked, “How did you expect to get back to Maugyta?”

  “Plenty of steads along the way.” The uninjured trooper shrugged. “They don’t support the real emperor, then they’ll pay.”

  “I don’t notice you had much in the way of supplies. What stead were you headed for?”

  Neither rebel said a word.

  Rahl just looked at them. After a moment, he extended his shields. “Talk.”

  The wounded man winced. “…stead up ahead…only a pair of oxen and a donkey…left it alone on the way out.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “Squad leader Cleyn made us just sneak stuff from the back of the smokehouse when they were out in the fields. Said we didn’t want to upset anyone, or let ’em know we were here till afterward. Wouldn’t matter then. Then we could do what we liked. Woman looked sorta pretty.”

  Rahl kept asking questions until it was clear that neither man knew much more.

  “What are we going to do with them, ser?” asked Quelsyn.

  “Take them back to Troinsta and have the chief patroller lock them up until someone from the campaign can get them.”

  “Ser…waste of food,” suggested Roryt.

  “It probably is,” Rahl agreed amiably, “but I suspect that the Mage-Guard Overcommander will want to question them as well, and I don’t think I’d want to be the trooper who killed a prisoner he wanted to question.” He looked at the squad leader. “Would you?”

  “No, ser.”

  Rahl could sense Quelsyn’s wince behind his back.

  “Good. Make sure all the men understand that before we head back.” Rahl turned and smiled politely at the senior squad leader. “I understand that sometimes prisoners are killed trying to escape. That shouldn’t happen here, but…” He paused. “I’ll look into it, and I can tell who’s lying and who’s not.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Now…let’s get ready to ride back.” Rahl mounted the gelding and rode perhaps fifty cubits eastward. He just wanted a few moments by himself. He did not look back, but extended his hearing with the help of his order-skills.

  “You heard the captain.”

  “…tracked second one down like he could see through the trees…”

  “…disarmed one of ’em…”

  “…may not be a chaos type…but…don’t want to cross him…”

  Rahl had very mixed feelings about what he heard, but he couldn’t have troopers and squad leaders doubting his word.

  XXIX

  On the return, Rahl and his patrol discovered no more signs of rebels or outlaws or much of anything except isolated and wary steadholders and foresters. By the time they returned to Troinsta in the fading light of threeday, and Rahl had officially returned the squads to Quelsyn’s direction, his inner thighs were sore and raw once more.

  Drakeyt appeared in the stable as Rahl was grooming the gelding.

  “Quelsyn said you found three rebels.” The captain’s voice was calm.

  Underneath the pleasant tones, Rahl could sense a great deal of concern. “We did. They killed one, and I captured two. They were part of the force sent with the cannon to attack the supply convoys. I don’t think they understood that they weren’t expected to return. It’s clear that the idea was to slow things down and make the marshal cautious. That would allow them more time before our forces attack.”

  “Quelsyn said that you disarmed one man with your truncheon and broke the other’s shoulder.”

  “He wouldn’t surrender and was trying to hamstring the mounts.”

  “He also said you could sense where they were from almost a kay away.”

  Rahl shook his head. “I could sense that someone was there from that distance. It was less than half a kay before I was absolutely certain.”

  “He also said that you just looked hard at them, and they began to talk.”

  Rahl shrugged tiredly. “I let them know that I could tell when they were lying. Most ordermages can.”

  “Are you trying to get a field command?”

  For a moment, Rahl just looked blankly at Drakeyt. Then he laughed. “Captain…I’m a mage-guard. I was sent here because no one in Mage-Guard Headquarters knows what to do with me. I have no desire at all to command men in the field. I was told that, in case of injury to you, I might have to take command until another captain could be dispatched, and that I’d better learn everything I could. My thighs are so sore I can barely walk, and I had to chase that rebel at a fast walk because I was afraid I’d fall off the horse if I went faster in the woods.”

  Drakeyt shook his head. “Quelsyn said you acted like you’d commanded before.”

  “The only people I’ve ever commanded were lawbreakers.”

  For several moments, Drakeyt said nothing. Then he nodded.

  Rahl could sense the other’s puzzlement, but decided that anything he said, or could say, about his background would do little to reassure the captain. “What did you find out?” he finally asked.

  “No one has seen anything, and no one is missing anything.”

  “What do you plan for tomorrow?”

  “We still haven’t scouted the areas west of the town.”

  “Can we do that while we head southwest, or do we stay here?”

  “Why don’t we talk it over at the Painted Pony?”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “You may be there before me. I promised the administrator I’d tell him what we found.”

  “He might know,” Rahl said. “I put the two prisoners in the town gaol. I thought they could stay there until the overcommander or someone else could question them.”

  Drakeyt started to open his mouth, then stopped.

  Rahl waited.

  “Do you think that was necessary? They’re traitors.”

  “It has nothing to do with them,” Rahl replied. “Have you met the marshal, personally? Or the submarshal?”

  “No. Captains usually don’t, except on rare occasions.” Drakeyt paused. “I assume you have, from the way you asked that. Might I ask what that has to do with the rebels you captured?”

  Rahl offered a wry smile. “Were you aware that Marshal Byrna was not the initial choice for the position?”

  “I’d heard rumors…”

  “Marshal Charynat was appointed, then died in…unusual circumstances.” That was all Rahl could say, because that was all Taryl had told him.

  “You believe that?”

  “Yes. Remember, I do have the ability to tell when I’m being lied to. Now…Marshal Byrna is not exactly…a commander who is swift to act, and Submarshal Dettyr doesn’t care much for mage-guards.” Rahl paused. “Just how likely is either to fully believe a report by a mage-guard attached to the company of a captain?”

  Drakeyt actually smiled. “So you’ve been planted on me to make sure that good information gets back to the campaign command.”

  “No one told me that…but that’s the way the overcommander operates.”

  “We need to talk more. I’ll see you at the inn. I’ll still need to stop by and see the administrator because I said I would. It also won’t hurt to suggest his prisoners need to stay healthy until someone from the campaign arrives to interrogate them. We certainly can’t spare the bodies or the time to escort them back. It’s bad e
nough to use troopers as messengers.” Drakeyt nodded, then turned and left the stable.

  Rahl finished grooming the gelding, then made sure the horse had feed. After that, he walked slowly toward the Painted Pony.

  Just beyond the stable, he slowed. He could sense someone ahead, lurking around the corner of the narrow building beside the stable. He extended his order-senses, but realized that the figure was too small to be an adult, and sat huddled against the wall. Rahl stepped forward and peered around the corner of a narrow building beside the stable.

  A small girl huddled against the wall. She looked up in surprise. Her cheeks were damp, and her eyes darted past Rahl, then down the alleyway.

  Rahl didn’t know quite what to say for a moment. He moved so that she could see him, but no farther. “I’m Rahl. I’m a mage-guard. You seem unhappy.”

  The girl looked at him, but did not move. Rahl could sense fear, resignation, and deep sadness.

  “Do you want to tell me why you’re sad?” Rahl kept his voice soft.

  She gave the smallest of headshakes, then lowered her eyes so that she no longer looked at him.

  “Do you live here?”

  There was no reply, but Rahl sensed that she did.

  Suddenly, a thin woman burst out of the side door ten cubits from Rahl. “Shereena! You worthless girl! Where are you?” She turned and took three hurried steps toward Rahl. “Who are you? Stay away from my daughter…” Her words died away as she saw the uniform. “Oh…I’m so sorry, ser. I…”

  Rahl could sense the anger within the mother dying away, overtaken by fear.

  “She was crying,” Rahl said. “I stopped to ask her why. Perhaps you know?”

  “She was upset. It hasn’t been a good day, ser.”

  Rahl nodded politely. “Sometimes, days are like that. I hope you’ll be gentle with her. She was very upset.”

  The woman’s fear was partly replaced by irritation. “She wasn’t all that good, ser.”

  “That may be,” Rahl replied, trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t cause the mother to take her anger out on the child once he left. “I don’t suppose any of us were as good as we should have been as children.” He stepped back, but did not leave.