Rahl turned the gelding and began to try to slip past the last of fifth squad’s riders to reach Fysett, although the squad leader was headed in the right direction to catch up with the rest of Third Company. He tried to sense more of what surrounded them, especially since the trees and brush were thick enough that it was hard to see that far ahead.
Behind them, he could feel more deaths, and he didn’t understand that. Certainly, the rebels should have figured out that all they had to do was stay out of the mess. Then, off to his left, Rahl could sense a masked concentration of chaos. Did he dare try to deal with it?
He eased the gelding forward, pressing even more, and managed to make his way around trees and through brush to catch up with Fysett. Despite the lushness of the vegetation and the moistness of the rugged grounds, twigs and small branches crackled under the horses’ hoofs.
He had only covered fifty-some cubits before he reached the squad leader.
“Ser?”
“We need to make a slight detour here. There’s a small force up to no good off to the right. I’ll lead the way.”
“Yes, ser.” Fysett’s professional tone did not mask the resignation beneath, not to Rahl.
Once more, Rahl managed to create a vague shield that blocked his own order-sensing, but only his own. From what he had sensed, the mage-guard had only a few troopers around him, and that suggested that the mage was powerful—or considered himself so. Going after a chaos-mage of that strength was risky, but, if Rahl could eliminate the traitor mage, that would weaken the rebels far more than the loss of a company would—perhaps more than the loss of even a battalion.
After another quarter kay—Rahl thought it was about that far, although it was hard to tell amid the trees and undergrowth—he caught sight of a more open space to his right, as well as the glamour…or attraction…that veiled the trail. He could feel how it led from the main road—the way someone had planned for Third Company to go to avoid the ambush.
“Ser…?” whispered Fysett. “Over there…the way looks easier.”
“It’s not,” returned Rahl in a low voice. “Their chaos-mage created an illusion. I can’t see where it goes, but following an illusion usually leads to trouble.” More trouble than an honest but hard way.
“Oh…”
“That’s why we need to deal with him.” Rahl paused, then added, “I’m dealing with him. You may have to deal with the troopers around him.” He winced as a branch pushed aside by the gelding flipped up, and the tip slashed at the side of his face. He still wasn’t as good in the saddle as he should have been. “Afterwards, we’ll head back and rejoin Third Company.” He hoped it would work out that way.
How long they paralleled the false trail Rahl wasn’t certain, but the chaos feeling continued to grow.
Then, ahead was what appeared to be a clearing. It was not. Or rather, the first part of it was, but behind the illusion, after some ten cubits, the flat land ended in a broad sinkhole, concealed by wizardry. The illusory trail led right into the sinkhole. On the left side of the sinkhole, concealed behind a thin screen of trees and on a low redstone outcropping, were the chaos-mage and a full squad of archers.
Rahl tried to gather a better impression of the mage-guard, not pressing his order-senses, but just trying to receive.
His mouth almost dropped open. He wasn’t facing a mage-guard at all, but a white wizard from Fairhaven. Although he had never met one, that sense of whiteness was unlike anything he had ever felt. It had to be a white wizard. It just had to be, and Taryl had been right. The High Wizard of Fairhaven had sent chaos-mages to help the rebels.
“They’re here! To the right of the trail! Loose shafts!”
“Frig!” muttered Rahl. He’d been too stunned to think.
Whhstt! An angular firebolt flared from the white mage standing on the redstone outcropping behind the trees and overlooking the gorge. At the impact a small bush to Rahl’s right flamed, then collapsed into a pile of ashes.
“Keep the troopers behind the bigger trees,” Rahl ordered, sliding out of the saddle and thrusting the gelding’s reins at the nearest rider.
Then he turned and moved toward the wizard and the archers, using the tree trunks as rough cover, his long truncheon in one hand.
More firebolts blazed toward fifth squad, but Rahl didn’t sense any deaths, only some pain. So far, he realized, the white wizard hadn’t even sensed him—just the troopers and their mounts. If he could just get closer…
Holding his full shields behind his vague screen, he continued to hurry forward, moving quickly from tree to tree. He was less than fifteen cubits from the small clearing behind the outcropping and behind a too-slender tree trunk, wondering exactly how to deal with the mage-guard without exposing himself to the archers who were still lofting shafts toward fifth squad. He had his doubts about how well his shields would hold against both a chaos-mage and a full squad of archers firing at short range.
Abruptly, the white wizard turned, and without speaking, flung a wall of chaos-fire at Rahl.
Rahl stepped away from the suddenly flaming tree trunk, dropped the dissembling screen and strengthened his shields. Light and heat flared around him, but his shields held.
Archers turned in his direction, and more chaos-bolts flared toward him. He was never going to get close enough to use the truncheon. How else could he handle the white wizard? He didn’t have chaos to throw. He was an ordermage.
Could he throw order?
As he kept moving forward, Rahl formed what he could only think of as a bolt of concentrated order, and recalling what Taryl had said about concentrated order seeking chaos or being sought by it, launched it toward the white wizard. At the same time, he sprinted forward and then hurled the truncheon at the chaos-mage.
Rahl watched, as if everything had slowed, as the truncheon turned end over end, arcing down toward the other mage…as the white wizard flared chaos toward the truncheon.
At that moment, Rahl extended his shields, slamming them against those of the white wizard, and then pressing what order he had left like a knife through the other’s shields.
WHHSSSTT!…Crumptt!
A white wall appeared from nowhere, smashing into Rahl and slamming him into the ground. Flames soared from everywhere.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way…
Then…he felt incredible agony, as if every point on his body had been pierced by a needle, as if thousands had struck him all at once…and then…nothing.
LV
Rahl could feel the hot and dark fog lifting. Overhead, he could see stars. He turned his head, and star-points of light flashed so brightly that he could see nothing. His eyes watered from the pain. He just lay there for a time, trying to ignore the soreness across his back and shoulders and the back of his legs.
In time, he moved his head, just slightly. The star pain-points returned, but not so badly, and he could see through the jabbing needles.
“He’s awake, Captain.”
Rahl could barely sense Drakeyt, even when he squatted down beside Rahl. “How do you feel, Majer?”
“I’ve felt better,” Rahl admitted. “What happened?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
“There was a white wizard from Fairhaven and a squad of archers. They were loosing shafts, and he was throwing firebolts. I managed to stop him, but everything exploded. That was the way it felt, anyway.” For a moment, Rahl closed his eyes.
“The explosion killed two of the troopers and left a big patch of charred ground. There wasn’t any trace of the wizard or the archers. There were two of their mounts left, and Fysett brought them back. Fysett said that no one close to you was touched.”
“Where are we?”
“About four kays below the fight, just off the road on some higher ground, not that I’d really want to fight anyone right now.”
“What did the rebels do? Where are they?”
“They all pulled out, every last one, and scurried around that bub
bling mess you created, and retreated, probably to Lahenta, if not farther.”
Bubbling mess? Rahl had a very deep sinking feeling. Slowly, he rolled onto one side, ignoring the rock that dug into his hip, and struggled into a sitting position.
Drakeyt extended a water bottle. Rahl took it, gratefully, slowly swallowing and easing the dryness in his throat.
“There’s one thing that doesn’t make any sense,” Drakeyt said, after Rahl finished drinking.
“There are more than a few things I don’t understand,” Rahl replied.
“They had more than three companies waiting, and they had to know that a recon company would precede the main force. Why did they have so many troopers and a chaos-mage just to deal with one unsupported company? Seems like a waste of men, especially if they’re worried about force strength.”
“I can only guess. But…why have we only seen traps and oldsters until now? They’re trying to delay us.” According to what Rahl had seen and read, delays usually favored the side with more resources. That suggested to him that the rebels were stalling for time. Did they think Fairhaven or someone else would intervene on an even greater scale? Or were the rebel mages developing some technique or tool? He shook his head. There wasn’t much he could do about such matters, not as a mage-guard with a recon company. “I’d judge that the idea was to kill or capture the entire company so that no information got back to the marshal. Given the marshal’s reputation for caution, a missing company would certainly cause some delay. Also, if they have fewer trained troopers—”
“They’d want to use them in situations that favored their experience,” Drakeyt went on. “They’ll use the newer troopers and conscripts, if they have any, where they need masses of bodies, and delay as long as possible in deploying them so that they can get as much training into them as they can.”
“The white wizard also fits. We weren’t facing a mage-guard turned traitor. He was a young white wizard from Fairhaven.” Young compared to most wizards and mage-guards, but still older than Rahl. “The rebels were more willing to risk him than one of their own.”
“But you bested him.”
“I almost didn’t,” Rahl said tiredly, rubbing his forehead.
“Most mage-guards wouldn’t have, would they?”
“The overcommander wouldn’t have had the trouble I did,” Rahl said.
“He isn’t like most mage-guards, either.” Drakeyt’s voice was dry. After a moment, he went on. “We can’t keep doing this, not without reinforcements, not the way we have been,” Drakeyt said. “Without you, there wouldn’t even be any of Third Company left. As it is, we’re at half strength. I’ve been writing up a dispatch to the overcommander reporting our status. I’m taking the liberty of suggesting that, if he wants us to continue, he supply some reinforcements.”
“I’d better add some comments to your report, especially about the white wizard and what I did.”
“In the shape you’re in, it might be better to wait until morning. Even in the darkness you look like a white demon.”
Rahl knew that Drakeyt was right, but the thought still galled him. “First thing, so that we can get off a messenger as soon as possible.”
“Which will leave us with even fewer troopers.”
Rahl had the feeling that whatever they did resulted in fewer troopers. At least, whatever he did seemed to, no matter how hard he tried not to put the men in harm’s way.
“You could be in command, you know.” There was the slightest hint of an edge in Drakeyt’s voice.
“First, that wouldn’t be right,” replied Rahl, almost without thinking. “Second, I still don’t know enough. Third, the troopers wouldn’t feel right about it….”
“Do you think the overcommander felt that way before he took over?”
Drakeyt’s question underscored Rahl’s tiredness and lack of perception. He should have sensed where the captain was headed. He would have, had he felt better. At least, he thought he would have. “Yes…and no. I think he felt Dettyr should never have been appointed and was wrong for the post. The man was incompetent, and everything he did endangered troopers. That makes a difference. The overcommander told me personally that he discussed everything with Commander Muyr…”
“The commander’s a solid officer,” confirmed Drakeyt. “He should have made overcommander years ago.”
“He likely will now,” offered Rahl.
“It’s only taken a rebellion, gross incompetence by his superiors, and one of the most senior mage-guards in Hamor for him to be considered.”
“What else is new?” Rahl managed a chuckle. At the end, he had to stifle a yawn. Demons, he was tired.
Drakeyt laughed, if bitterly. “Your bedroll is right there.” He gestured. “We could both use some sleep.”
LVI
In the end, Rahl and what remained of Third Company did not near Lahenta until oneday. A good part of that delay resulted from the time it had taken on eightday for Rahl to deal with the bubbling brownish mess that had claimed scores of rebels and had expanded even more by the time Rahl had reached it by early midmorning.
The sun had climbed overhead and dropped into the afternoon before Rahl had managed to turn the chaotic quicksandlike ooze back into clay and dirt. Part of the problem was that he was still exhausted and had to rest between efforts, because he could only deal with the ooze in sections. While he thought it had reached its limits before he arrived, he wasn’t sure enough to stake anything on it, especially since the rest of Second Army would have to cross the area, or spend even more time detouring around it. He also didn’t want to face Taryl if he hadn’t done his best in undoing the mess.
His performance in dealing with the ooze had been embarrassing as well, because he’d barely been able to sit down at the end before he passed out again—and no one had even been attacking him. When he had come to, it had been late afternoon, and Third Company was standing by, waiting, because, after all the magery, Drakeyt had decided it was wiser not to proceed until Rahl recovered. Even after all his efforts, that section of the road was still a muddy mess, but at least it was no longer chaos-quicksand.
In the end the company only rode slightly beyond the pass before setting up camp on eightday evening. By early oneday, Rahl was finally feeling stronger and was back with the outriders, able to order-sense, if not at full strength. His truncheon had been incinerated in the blast created by the interplay of his order and the white wizard’s chaos, and he was reduced to carrying his own older and far shorter patrol truncheon.
The land beyond the rocky hills was lower, flatter, and more fertile. It also seemed to have steads everywhere, but rather than cultivated or winter-tilled fields, there were rows and rows of redberries.
“I didn’t know they had so many redberries here,” Rahl said to Alrydd, as the two rode downhill toward the hamlet that looked to be several kays ahead.
“Best redberries in all Hamor,” confirmed the outrider. “The very best they ferment and distill into the special crimson brandy.”
The crimson brandy was yet another delicacy Rahl had never heard of, and probably would never be able to afford, either. His eyes dropped to the road, its churned and dusty surface bearing hoofprints obscuring other hoofprints, the same pattern he’d seen ever since they had left the ooze-battle site the afternoon before. He had not sensed any sign of riders or chaos anywhere close during the entire ride toward Lahenta, and the scouts and outriders had seen no one. The locals they had questioned had all seen the withdrawing rebels, but the rebels had not paid for supplies or even demanded any.
Lahenta was barely even a hamlet. As they rode along the main road that was also the only real street, Rahl counted less than two score dwellings, but three overlarge storage barns and one small structure with a tall large brick chimney that he took for the brandy distillery.
The hamlet square was little more than an oblong of clay and dirt with the obligatory statue of some past emperor. There was no inn, and one shop that looked as
if it were part chandlery and part something else, perhaps a cooperage. A dwelling slightly larger than the others stood on the south side of the square, set off by a fence comprised of white rails set between pillars made of stones mortared together. The pedestal and statue were both modest, with the top of the statue barely higher than Rahl’s head while mounted. The weathered letters spelled out “Elycatyr.”
“Elycatyr,” Rahl said.
“Never heard of him,” replied Drakeyt, reining up beside Rahl. “What do you suggest?”
“I’ve been pretty much ordered to check the town administrator’s or clerk’s records, and I’ll need to check the records of the distillery. I haven’t sensed any horsemen or rebels or wizards anywhere near here.”
“I’ll have second squad go door-to-door to see what they can find.” The captain laughed. “There aren’t that many doors.”
“I’m going to start with the chandlery. Someone there should know more about who’s who and where they are.”
Drakeyt nodded. “I’ll leave you fourth squad. You may need them for the distillery.”
Rahl hoped not. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Majer.”
After discussing with Fedeor what needed to be done, Rahl rode across the square to the chandlery, where he dismounted and tied the gelding, leaving fourth squad outside.
He stepped into the chandlery, nodding as he took in the stave blanks in crude bins and hoops hanging on one side of the single long and narrow room. The room was empty, and he walked forward.
Abruptly, a young woman in trousers and a stained leather vest appeared. Her boots were scuffed and worn. She started as she caught sight of Rahl. “Ser…ah…what can I do for you?”
“Answer a few questions.” He offered a smile.
The woman did not step closer to Rahl but remained a good five cubits away, holding a wooden mallet.
“You’re a cooper?”
“What passes for one, here.”
Rahl wondered if she were the daughter or the young widow of the former cooper, but did not ask. “What can you tell me about the rebel troopers who rode through here yesterday?”
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 41