He extended his order-senses, checking the lane ahead, but at least for the next kay, it was empty of anything that could be an enemy threat, although he could sense a wild dog and several large rodents. He could not yet sense the boglands, but there was a vague feeling of what he could only have described as chaotic order ahead and slightly to the east. The air smelled of firesmoke drifting on the light breeze from the south.
Overhead, the stars were beginning to dim as the sky slowly lightened. More to the west, Rahl could make out a few puffy clouds that looked gray but would doubtless turn whiter once the sun rose. He didn’t think they heralded rain, but even if they did, they were barely above the horizon and seemingly not moving, suggesting that they would not reach Thayle or Third Company until late in the day, if then.
To his right, in the distance, Rahl thought he could make out points of flickering light. Cookfires? Why hadn’t the rebels just taken Thalye and settled in there? Was there something he didn’t know? Or Taryl didn’t?
“There are a lot of fires out there,” Drakeyt said quietly.
“And a lot of rebels.”
They rode without speaking for almost a kay, and by then the sky had lightened enough that only the brightest stars remained visible. Rahl had been trying to use his order-senses to determine where the swamp and boggy land began and was getting a strong feeling that the northeasternmost edge was less than half a kay ahead, just beyond the last of the low hills to the east of Third Company. The faint odor of rotting vegetation bolstered his impression.
“The swampy land starts just ahead, less than half a kay,” he finally said.
“Can you tell where the part in the middle of it is that we’re supposed to watch?”
“Not yet.” Rahl could sense movement to the west. “Second Army is beginning to move out of Thalye and into position.”
“What about the rebels?”
“I can’t tell,” Rahl admitted.
After riding almost another kay, Rahl began to get a very uneasy feeling, not because he sensed rebel forces but because he sensed something else entirely.
“We’re almost in position,” said Drakeyt.
“We’ve got another problem,” Rahl said. “There’s a road through the bog. It’s not on the maps, but it goes right where the overcommander said the solid land is. It’s an older road, and you can’t see it from here because the grasses have grown up over the part just east of us.” Rahl wasn’t certain he would have noted it in full light, but he’d been using his order-senses on the land rather than looking at the vegetation.
“Frig!” muttered Drakeyt. “Odds are that the rebels know it, and if it goes very far, they could be counting on using it.”
“They might not. You can’t see it easily.” Rahl gestured. “You see that tanglevine clump there? The road runs just this side of it.”
“It’s all grass there.”
“That’s what I said. But there’s no grass covering it a half kay farther east, and I think it swings more to the south.”
Drakeyt shook his head. “We’re supposed to take a position that will command this rise and the possible way through the bog. That’s here.” He lifted his left arm and turned in the saddle, raising his voice. “Form up, squads across, first squad to the right, fifth squad to the left.”
Quelsyn repeated the orders.
The rise where Third Company had halted was barely that, the top of the gentle slope being barely four cubits above the grasslands to the southwest.
In the early predawn light, Rahl could also see that the so-called grassland held more than the brown-tipped knee-high grasses that predominated. There were bristle bushes—looking like green hummocks from which protruded saw-toothed leaves as long as a man’s arm—as well as scattered creosote bushes and the twisted low mounds of tanglevine. Not surprisingly, there were more of the clumps of nastier brush on the eastern end of the flat where Taryl had begun to position the companies of Second Army, and an even greater concentration closer to Third Company.
“Drakeyt…I’d like to take half of fifth squad and ride down that old road a ways. I can’t sense anyone for a half kay, but it’s harder to sense around swamps and bogs.” Rahl also had to figure out what he could do, not just to stop any attackers, but to disable or kill them. He still didn’t much care for that part, but any he didn’t kill could end up killing him or Drakeyt or the troopers of Third Company and Second Army.
“Might be a good idea. There’s no one moving toward us from their side. Not yet. Be careful.”
Rahl nodded. That also meant he shouldn’t go far enough to get cut off or not to be able to get back if the rebels launched an attack. He rode to the right flank of Third Company and reined up beside Lyrn.
“Squad leader, I need five men to cover me while I’m checking for a possible route for an ambush by the rebels.”
Lyrn stiffened slightly. “Yes, ser.” He turned. “Astahn, you and the four others in your file go with the majer.”
“Yes, ser.”
After the five broke out of the squad and lined up in front of Rahl, he spoke quickly. “There’s an old road through the swamp. I need to see how far it goes. All you have to do is follow me.” He paused. “Unless we get attacked, and then we’ll make a strategic withdrawal.” He offered the last words sardonically.
Astahn smiled; the others kept straight faces.
“Let’s go.” Rahl turned the gelding and headed off the rise, nearly due south and toward the grass-covered end of the old road. He had the definite feeling that he needed to learn before the sun rose what might be using the road.
As he rode into the grass that covered the end of the road, he could sense that the road had not just been worn into the ground by use, but that sometime in the past it had been carefully constructed through the swamp. The clay in which the grass grew had been packed over loose stones and gravel sunk into the swampy ground. Over time, either the ancient causeway had sunk or the swamp had risen, because the grass-covered surface was little more than a handspan above the water from which grew marsh grasses, moss, and less appealing plants.
“…how does he know…”
“…don’t want to know…”
Rahl smiled tightly at the murmured words of the troopers new to Third Company. After riding a little more than half a kay, he reined up and let his order-senses range farther south.
For a distance of almost a kay, there were only about fifty cubits of solid ground flanking the old road on each side. South of that narrow strip, the road ran through an area at least several hundred cubits wide, but for how far Rahl could not tell. On the north and grass-covered end of the road behind them, but about half a kay south of where Drakeyt had stationed Third Company, the solid ground remained a narrow strip until it reached the grasslands.
The approach that came to Rahl’s mind was to see if he could find a way to isolate any rebel lancers or troopers on that narrow stretch. Based on what he had done in the hills, he could certainly turn the northern end into swampy ooze, but once the attackers discovered that, they could just withdraw and ride around the boglands.
Were there any attackers coming?
He pressed his order-senses down the narrow road, trying to focus away from the swampy area that impeded his sensing. After a moment, he nodded. Troopers were riding northward, most definitely, but they were more than a kay away, possibly even farther.
“We need to ride farther south, quickly,” he told Astahn.
While they rode at a quick trot, Rahl kept trying to judge just how far away the oncoming rebels might be and how many were in the force. From what he could sense, they were only moving through the gloom at a walk, but there were far more than a single company, possibly even an entire battalion.
Rahl finally reined up after he thought they’d covered another half kay. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself in the saddle, then concentrated on sensing the causeway just to the south of his small band.
In the end, the best he coul
d do was to use order-delinking on the clay beneath the rock for a section of road some fifty cubits wide and running from one edge of the swamp to the other. Then he just waited, letting the delinking process continue, trying to keep his senses on the advancing rebels.
The sky was markedly lighter when he forced himself to concentrate once more to stop the actual delinking. The ooze-building would still continue, if he’d calculated correctly, but this time Taryl wouldn’t be able to fault him for not stopping the process. While it was more a matter of feel as to when the full impact would occur, Rahl believed that the crusty area on top would continue to soften, but it would take the passage of many mounts, a hundred he hoped, before it began to weaken, but the weakening would speed up with each horse and rider. With more time or more mounts, that section of the road and causeway would turn into a particularly awful swamp ooze.
Despite the chill, he was sweating heavily by the time he finished—and he was only half-done. His hands were shaking slightly, and he was light-headed. A swallow of water helped, but only a little. He fumbled some hard ration biscuits from his saddlebags, then turned the gelding.
“We’re heading back. They’ve got troopers headed this way, maybe a whole battalion.”
He began to chew on one of the biscuits, taking sips from his water bottle as he rode.
“How’d he know…”
“Mage-guard…notice how polite the captain is to him…”
The biscuits helped. Rahl needed to remember that he needed to eat something after he did strenuous magery. He knew he should, but he often got caught up in what he was doing and forgot.
Rahl decided to set the second ooze-trap about a third of a kay from the edge of the grasslands. Once it became clear to the rebels that the road was a trap, most, if not all of those not ensnared would have to try to make their way through the swamp, and he wanted to make sure that they had a fair amount of swamp to cross, but he also wanted to be able to see where they were headed.
This time he didn’t bother with a crusty top. He didn’t want anyone passing this section of the causeway without ending up in ooze that seemed bottomless. He was even more light-headed than before. He managed to swallow some water, but he dropped a biscuit into the grass because his hands were unsteady. After eating most of the rest of the travel biscuits in the second pack, his head began to clear, and he rode slowly back toward Third Company.
Rahl had just returned the troopers to fifth squad and reined up beside Drakeyt in the early light when he could see and sense the gathering of lancers to the southwest, their armor and lances glittering orangish in the early light of a sun that had barely cleared the low hills to the east of the swamplands.
“They’ll be on us before long,” Drakeyt said quietly. “Must be close to twice as many troopers and lancers as we have.” Unspoken was the question as to why Taryl was even fighting a battle when the Imperial forces were so outnumbered, and when the marshal’s forces had not yet joined Taryl’s.
“We’ll need to be more effective, then.” Rahl knew Taryl had planned something, even if he did not have any idea what that might be, and could only hope that his trust in Taryl was well-founded.
“They’re moving in good order. They don’t look like raw recruits,” replied Drakeyt.
Rahl shifted his weight in the saddle, then fumbled for another pack of biscuits—his last, but he had the feeling he did need to eat more. He had just finished the crumbs of the last biscuit, washed down with a hefty gulp from his water bottle, when a series of high-pitched trumpet calls rang through the air.
Rahl could sense the waves of oncoming lancers. While most of them were aimed at the center of the Imperial line, a smaller concentration had broken off and was headed toward Third Company. “Lancers headed our way.” Even as he spoke, he realized the words were stupid. Drakeyt could see that as well as Rahl could.
“Third Company! Weapons ready!” Drakeyt looked to Rahl. “We’ll have to let at least some of them through and catch them on the back side.”
Rahl concentrated, trying to sense more than the oncoming lancers. “They’ve got a company of troopers behind them.”
“They would. That’s experience, and it means we’ll have to try something like an angle charge.”
Rahl tried to recall exactly what that was from the tactics books he’d read, because it wasn’t what it sounded like, or not exactly, and he’d never seen Drakeyt order it in maneuvers. His eyes flickered from one body of lancers to the other while he tried to think of what he could do. He certainly couldn’t hold an order shield of any size for long, and what he could hold would barely protect the front of a squad.
Since Third Company was on the left flank, and since the lancers moving toward Rahl and Drakeyt had begun farther to the southeast, the main lancer assault had almost reached the main body, while the secondary attack still had a good quarter kay to go before engaging Third Company. The front rows of the Second Army troopers began to move forward to avoid being sitting swans, and, just as the tips of the lances of those lancers leading the main assault on Second Army were within a few cubits of the Imperial forces, for little more than an instant, a massive shield flared across the middle of the Second Army. That instant was enough to flatten the entire first two ranks of lancers and to ensnare those immediately behind in the confusion of fallen men and mounts.
Rahl froze in the saddle for a moment, stunned at that burst of order-force. That had to have been Taryl. Could he do something similar—throw a wide shield for just an instant?
“I’m going to try to pile up the ones headed toward us, the way the overcommander did,” Rahl told Drakeyt, “but that will only tangle the first ranks.”
“Then we’ll have the end squads pull and attack from the side.” Drakeyt cleared his throat. “Third Company! Stand by for flank encirclement! End squads lead! Flank encirclement on my command! On my command!”
Rahl could hear the squad leaders repeating Drakeyt’s commands, and he began to gather as much order as he could, trying to pull it from the air itself, forcing himself to wait as the rebel lancers thundered toward the outnumbered Third Company.
In the center of the rebel attack, three lancers angled their mounts closer together, and they and their shimmering lances aimed directly at Rahl. Following Taryl’s example, Rahl forced himself to wait, trying to judge just when the right moment would be.
Just as he felt that he would be spitted within moments, Rahl extended his order shield. It lasted long enough to pile up three lines of lancers, and Rahl reeled in the saddle as his effort collapsed even before he could release it.
“Break to encircle! Break to encircle!”
Rahl’s entire body felt flushed, and he was light-headed, but he managed to unsheathe his truncheon and follow Drakeyt, who had taken the lead in guiding second squad. He managed to deflect the lance of one of the lancers entangled in the mass of mounts and men as he urged his mount after the captain.
The rebel troopers following the lancers were trying to swing wide when Drakeyt and the first two squads of Third Company slammed into them from the side.
Rahl found himself using the truncheon more to defend himself from wild attacks from the rebels than in attacking in any way. He’d hoped to use his personal order shields, but he’d expended so much order-effort already that even trying to hold them for more than a few moments sent flashes of pain through his skull. As Taryl had pointed out might happen, all he really had was the truncheon, at least until he recovered, but he did feel that he broke bones, now and again. That wasn’t his desire; he just kept trying to keep from getting slashed up as he did his best in pushing the attackers back.
From somewhere came another series of trumpet calls, and within moments, Rahl found himself and the gelding almost alone amid scattered groups of Imperial troopers.
“Third Company! Re-form!” Drakeyt’s voice cut through the clamor. “On me!”
Rahl straightened in the saddle, then, seeing there were no rebels nearby, shea
thed the truncheon, silently thanking Khelra as he did. He studied the grasslands to the south, hoping to see the rebels withdrawing.
They were not, but rather re-forming into a different series of formations.
Rahl urged the gelding back toward Third Company, where he reined up beside Drakeyt, who was waiting for fourth squad to finish repositioning. While he waited, he extended his order-senses toward the swamp, trying not to wince at the pain-filled flashes of light through his eyes and skull.
Even so, he could sense another force approaching—down the old road through the middle of the bogland. Had the flanking lancer attack been a distraction to keep Third Company from noticing the troopers coming up through the ancient causeway in the middle of the swamp?
“We need to move to that old road,” Rahl called to Drakeyt. “There are troopers moving up it quickly, and there are enough that if they get past the swamp, they could flank us on both sides.”
“Can you pull that blocking magery again?”
“No. But I’ve already done something else that will push them into the swamp. They’ll be struggling through and coming out in small numbers.” If at all. “But there are so many that we can’t let them get through and regroup.”
“What did do you?”
“The road is ooze-trapped, so that once they get on the narrow part, they can’t get out except by drowning in the ooze at each end of the road or struggling through the swamp.”
“Good.” Drakeyt stood in the stirrups. “Third Company! Left turn on fifth squad! Forward!”
Third Company arrived and reined up in formation opposite the center of the unseen old road, the squads beside each other in a line, with a five-man front on each squad.
“How long?” asked Drakeyt, glancing back westward.
“Not long. Any moment, now.” Rahl closed his eyes, hoping that would ease the throbbing in his skull.
Rahl watched as the first troopers caught sight of Third Company and the grasslands and urged their mounts forward. He held his breath for a moment. Then the first mounts pitched forward into the ooze beneath the thin crust of the grass-covered upper part of the ancient road. Others followed, and in moments, a churning mass of a score of mounts and riders was struggling and sinking.
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 45