A second firebolt fared little better.
Rahl kept pace with the front ranks of fourth and fifth squad as they rode up the gentle slope. He kept trying to reach out beyond the misty fog with his order-senses.
Near the top of the hill and to his left, Rahl could sense riders—lancers—forming up just in front of the crude earthworks. With the fog surrounding him, he could not see the lancers, only order-sense them. They dressed their lines and began to head downhill, initially moving at little more than a fast walk.
Why were the rebel lancers heading downhill and into the fog? The slope was even enough and dry enough for the moment that footing wasn’t likely to be a problem, but it still seemed foolish to Rahl—at first glance. On second thought, it made much more sense. The fog was thick enough that the Imperial forces would be hard-pressed to see a lancer and react before that lancer was upon them. The lancers could just strike and break away, and the fog would hide them from archers and what few chaos-bolts Taryl could muster.
“They’re bringing lancers from the east side of the hill, the same way they did yesterday,” Rahl called to Drakeyt, using a touch of order to project his words to the captain.
“Third Company, to the left, half wheel!”
As Rahl swung to the left, he tried to think of what he could do.
Could he slow the charge of the lancers? Did he have to? If he couldn’t see the lancers, how could they sense the individual squads of Third Company? Rahl let himself grin, then checked the lancers’ position.
“Fourth squad! Fifth squad! On me!”
“On the majer!” called out Lyrn.
Rahl turned the gelding almost north, checking with his order-senses, then swung back south and halted, waiting for the two squads to dress lines. He turned to Lyrn. “We’re north of their charge. Once they pass by uphill of us, we’ll swing behind them.” Then he turned to the end trooper in fourth squad and repeated his words, adding, “Pass it on.”
“Weapons ready!”
The sound of hoofs preceded any sign of riders through the fog, and the dampness magnified the sound.
At the same time, Rahl heard a single thunderclap, somewhere to the north, he thought. He waited for another thunderclap, but he heard none—or if there had been another, it was lost in the growing rumble of hoofs beating downhill.
Rahl forced himself to wait, to check positions until the first of the rebel lancers thundered past, thirty cubits uphill, barely visible through the fog.
“Fourth and fifth squads! Forward!” ordered Rahl.
His two small squads struck the side and rear of the lancers, and in moments, close to a score of the rebels were down, and the flank attack had clearly slowed the impact of the charge on Third Company and the adjoining Nineteenth Company.
A rebel half turned and tried to swing a long lance at Rahl and the trooper flanking him, but Rahl managed to deflect the weapon, no longer shining, but dull with moisture and other encrustations. He slipped under the lance and cut-thrust with the long truncheon. The lancer gaped, then doubled over and toppled out of the saddle, one boot still caught in the stirrup.
Rahl turned the gelding to the right, trying to keep on the edge of the lancer formation rather than plunging into it. He parried another lance, but the rebel wheeled away before Rahl could deliver a direct blow.
An ominous and prolonged roll of thunder rumbled over the hillside battle.
More and more of the rebel lancers discarded the long lances and began swinging shortswords, not even quite so long as the Imperial sabres. That was fine with Rahl, because his truncheon was longer than a sabre.
A flash of lightning lit the fog, if but for a moment, and then fat drops of rain pelted the back of Rahl’s neck, first intermittently, then with increasing regularity, until water seemed to be coming from the clouds as if from a cataract—or so it seemed.
Another lancer charged Rahl, who leaned in the saddle, then slashed the shortsword out of the man’s hand by breaking his wrist.
As the fog began to thin, Rahl continued to concentrate on defending himself and unhorsing rebels, but he could both see and sense lancers and troopers alike being unhorsed on the muddy and slippery grass. Combatants on both sides were losing weapons as the chill rain numbed arms and hands. Even with the cross-hatched grip of the truncheon, Rahl found himself occasionally two-handing his weapon just to hang on to it. Icy water ran down his neck and spine, and his riding jacket and uniform were close to being sodden all the way through.
A trumpet call of paired triplets rang out from the top of the hills, and within moments the lancers and their mounts struggled to climb away from the Imperial troopers.
The fog had lost a battle of sorts to the cold rain, because the rain was washing the fog right out of the air, Rahl realized.
“Second Army! Hold position! Hold position!”
“Third Company! Re-form on me!”
Rahl glanced toward Drakeyt, glad to see the captain uninjured, then repeated the orders. “Third Company! Re-form!”
As the company squads straggled into line, Rahl glanced uphill at the churned mud, almost the color of the ooze he’d created before. Could he use that against the rebels? He let his senses check the ground. Then he shook his head. The entire hill was little more than soil, clay and sand piled high and deep, with little rock and gravel.
If he tried what he’d done on the road to Lahenta, and he couldn’t contain it, especially now, when he was far from full strength as an order-mage, all of Selyma would end up falling into a massive sinkhole filled with ooze. Rahl didn’t think either Taryl or the Emperor would exactly appreciate that, and the liquefaction process would be slow enough that most of the rebels could probably escape.
What else could he try?
“Companies! Return to quarters!”
As Rahl shivered in the cold rain and rode beside Drakeyt back down the hill through the rain that now poured down in sheets, he tried to think about what else he might be able to do, but his teeth were chattering, and his whole body was damp and chilled, and all he really wanted to do was to get out of the rain and dry off.
LXX
For the remainder of oneday morning, the rain continued. After doing what he could for the gelding, and a touch of healing for several wounded—all that he could manage—Rahl returned to the small sheep shed. He sat there in the gloom and thought about possible uses of his order-skills against the rebels. Outside, the rain poured down throughout the afternoon and well into the evening.
No matter what Rahl considered, his efforts seemed doomed to failure because he simply couldn’t manipulate order on a large enough scale to affect the thousands and thousands of troopers and lancers spread across more than two kays of hillside behind various kinds of fortifications and barricades and earthworks.
That night, sharing the small shed with Drakeyt and a handful of other junior officers, Rahl slept poorly, dreaming of lancers building barricades with intertwined lances, of troopers dying everywhere…and Deybri looking on, clearly horrified at the carnage that Rahl had created. He was almost glad to struggle awake on twoday—except for the fact that he still had no idea how anything he could do would be of much help in defeating the rebels, and might not even be enough to keep him alive, let alone the remaining troopers of Third Company. He also wondered if there was something wrong with him that he felt more guilt when he thought or dreamed of Deybri.
After getting himself ready for the day on twoday morning, in the light just before dawn, he slowly ate some hard cheese that he’d had to scrape the mold off, and a few hard biscuits. Drakeyt was doing the same.
“They won’t move,” Drakeyt predicted.
“Why not?” asked Alnuyt, a company commander Rahl had only met the afternoon before, although Rahl might have seen him in passing because the young captain looked familiar.
“If they move, we take Selyma and the bridge, and the access to Nubyat. Besides, they’re in the best defensive position for kays. They know they have t
o fight us. Why abandon a good position to fight from one that’s worse?”
Rahl had to admit Drakeyt’s point.
Thrap!
A trooper wearing a courier’s sash eased the shed door open. “Sers? Majer Rahl? Captain Drakeyt?”
“We’re both here,” Rahl replied.
“The overcommander would like to see you both immediately, sers.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” Rahl answered, “as soon as we can mount up.”
“I’ll tell him, sers.” The courier stepped back and closed the door.
Drakeyt raised his eyebrows as he looked at Rahl.
“He has something in mind,” Rahl said.
“I’m certain he does.” Although Drakeyt did not say that Taryl’s ideas always cost Third Company dearly, from the resigned expression in his eyes he might as well have done so. “We’d best saddle up. It wouldn’t do to keep him waiting too long.”
Rahl nodded and fastened his riding jacket—still damp in places, but warmer than doing without.
The two hurried through a quick brushing of their mounts, then saddled and mounted, riding down a mud-churned excuse for a lane before turning northward, away from Selyma. While the night had not gotten cold enough for it to frost, with dawn it had not warmed measurably, and Rahl’s breath steamed under the gray clouds that continued to blanket the skies around Selyma.
Neither spoke on the short ride to Taryl’s headquarters—a stead-holder’s weathered yellow-brick dwelling a kay north of the hillside battlefield. As they neared the dwelling, with its outbuildings surrounded by troopers and mounts and the tents and lean-tos—and horse-churned mud—Rahl could see Commander Shuchyl walking out of the front door, followed by several majers. Rahl looked sideways at Drakeyt, but the older officer’s face was impassive.
The two tied their mounts to the railing that the commander and his staff had used, then walked up the single step onto a narrow wooden porch. After stamping his boots and scuffing them against the soiled mat to scrape off as much mud as possible, Rahl opened the door gingerly, making sure his personal shields were strong.
“Majer. Come in. The overcommander is expecting you.” The undercaptain whom Rahl had seen time after time and whose name he still did not know gestured to his right, where Taryl stood facing the door with his back to the hearth.
Rahl stepped inside, followed by Drakeyt, who closed the door. The warmth issuing from the fire in the old hearth was more than welcome.
“Ser, you requested our presence,” offered Rahl.
“I did.” Taryl did not speak for a moment, but Rahl could feel Taryl’s order-senses scanning him. Then the overcommander nodded slightly to Rahl. “Much better.” His eyes went to Drakeyt, then back to Rahl. “Majer, Captain…I have an assignment for Third Company. You are to accompany Commander Shuchyl and his forces. You leave as soon as you can muster your men with their gear. You’re not to waste time. The commander is already mustering his regiment. You’ll be riding back upstream to a point just south of Bhucyra. The supply barges we sent for have arrived, and the river’s narrower there. We’ve strung cable across, and it shouldn’t take more than a day to ferry the entire force over to the south side. You’ll take the most direct route possible south along the river. Your job, Majer—with Third Company—is to find that route. The hillside here will be treacherous for at least another day. Tomorrow, if we don’t get any more rain, we may have to make what looks like an attack to keep the rebels from suspecting what we actually plan.”
“Won’t they be expecting something like this, ser?” asked Drakeyt.
“I’m sure they’ve considered it, but the river is high enough to be impossible to ford anywhere near here, and there are no bridges within forty kays. We assume that they’ll be watching the bridges. You should be able to reach the south side of the bridge at Selyma by sunset on fourday. On fiveday, Commander Shuchyl will attack the back side of the position facing Second Army. They have little in the way of earthworks on that side, whereas the position facing the marshal is fortified on all sides.” Taryl smiled wryly. “That is the plan.” He turned to Rahl. “Majer, you are to use no magery beyond order-sensing and shielding—and especially not the screeing glass—until the Commander commences his attack on fiveday. The one exception is if you are attacked by a far larger force. You are to maintain full shields at all times. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Ser…if I might ask…?” Drakeyt asked gently. “The majer’s skills have often been all that saved the company from total destruction…”
Taryl’s smile was colder than the weather outside the small house. “You may. The majer was knocked unconscious on eightday. Yesterday, an attack was launched directly at Third Company, but as much at the majer as the company. The majer did not and could not use any magery detectable from beyond a few hundred cubits, and a number of your troopers were killed and injured. The majer was seen to go down on eightday, and there has been no magery since then, even when Third Company was threatened. I do not wish the commander’s regiment to be detected any earlier than necessary. There are no fast roads along the river, so that if he does not use magery…Need I say more, Captain?”
“No, ser. Thank you, ser.”
“I realize that may create difficulties, Captain, but I trust you understand the necessity.”
“Yes, ser.”
Taryl offered a warmer smile. “You both have done well under trying circumstances. I wish I could offer some reward beyond my thanks, but for now, that will have to do.” After the slightest pause, he added, “That’s all I have. Report to Commander Shuchyl as soon as you can.”
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl and Drakeyt both inclined their heads to Taryl, then turned and left the warmth of the small dwelling. Outside, as they untied their mounts, another commander and several majers rode toward the cot.
“There are a few things he didn’t say,” Drakeyt said as he climbed into the saddle.
“I know.” Rahl understood that all too well. “When we do attack, he wants them to think they may be facing mages on all sides.”
“And a few others.”
Rahl just nodded, because it was certain that more of Drakeyt’s troopers would die in order for Taryl to spring his surprise on the rebels.
LXXI
Although it rained only intermittently, and that rain was more like mist than rain, the ride back northward was long and damp, and Third Company and the Fifth Imperial Mounted Infantry Regiment did not reach the encampment point until close to dark on twoday. That point was a stead on a low bluff overlooking the Awhut River, some three kays southwest of the town. The commander and his staff took the stead house, and Third Company, because it had led the column northward, managed to commandeer a long sheep shed—and several sheep as well.
The hot roasted mutton, even if provided late that evening, helped cheer the troopers, and the cookfires provided some warmth. Rahl slept somewhat better than on previous nights, if only because he had no nightmares.
At dawn began the process of ferrying troopers and mounts across the higher-than-normal water levels of the Awhut River. Rahl had to admit that Taryl’s scheme was both simple and audacious. The three cargo barges were each attached to twin cables. The cables were in turn affixed to the trunks of trees on each side of the river. Then there was another cable attached to each end of the barge, and a team of horses on each side pulled that cable, one team for pulling it south, the other team for pulling it north.
Third Company was scheduled to be the first to cross, with orders to spend the day scouting out the best route southward as far as possible toward Selyma, but with the requirement that the company return to the ferry area by close to nightfall so that Rahl and Drakeyt could brief Commander Shuchyl and his staff on the route and what to expect. That would allow an early start on fourday.
Rahl was in the first group ferried across the river, and he stood holding the gelding’s reins near the bow of the barge—he assumed that
end was the bow, except what he thought of as the stern would be the bow on the return trip to the north side of the river. The barge pitched some in the current, but was heavy enough—or loaded heavily enough with fifteen mounts and their riders—that it tended to plow through the gray-silver water rather than ride over it. The cables did not run straight across the river, but at an angle, so that, when the barge was heaviest laden on the crossing with men and mounts, the river’s current helped push the barge across and downstream.
Abruptly, a swell or wave smacked the side of the barge, and water sheeted and sprayed up and soaked his trousers. The barge rocked, and Rahl almost went to his knees on the iron deck, his boots sliding on the wet metal. The gelding tossed his head slightly, but did not move, for which Rahl was most thankful. Several other swirling waves created spray that dampened or soaked many of the troopers before the barge reached the crude timber dock—little more than logs piled into place and held with several posts and filled with earth behind the logs, with planking on top.
Although the planking gave some when Rahl led the gelding off the barge, it did not bend unduly, and Rahl was more than glad to be off the barge.
Even under the hazy gray sky, his trousers had dried some by the time all of Third Company had been ferried across the river. Rahl had already spent some time with half of first squad locating the nearest lane heading south, and following it a ways before returning to find Drakeyt.
“I’ve found a solid start south, just to the left on the far end of the orchards there.” Rahl gestured.
Drakeyt nodded, as if that were to be expected.
“How do you think this will work?” Rahl asked Drakeyt.
“You’re asking me, Majer? You’re the mage.”
“You’ve got the experience,” Rahl replied, adding dryly, “Captain.”
“We won’t run into any rebels for a while.” Drakeyt gestured toward the lines of pearapple trees comprising the orchard around the makeshift ferry landing. “If they were anywhere near, they’d have known about this, and they would have attacked the engineers who set this up.”
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 51