The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “The Two Thieves, they’re called,” interposed Yelena.

  “-and then take this road here…”

  “That’s almost eighty kays, and we’ll end up in Hydlen south of Arastia. It’s less than ten kays difference if we take the one just below the pass.”

  “That’s just too close.” I waited, but they all looked blank. It seemed simple enough to me.

  “What’s the one direction that Gerlis won’t expect an attack or scouting force to come from?”

  “From inside Hydlen. That’s clear enough,” said Yelena. “But do you think his troops are just going to let us ride through Hydlen and do nothing?”

  “Probably not.” I forced a smile. “Would you prefer to face the wizard coming up this road?” My finger outlined the road ahead. “Or possibly run into some Hydlenese troopers on this trail? Do the Finest patrol all the back trails in Kyphros?”

  “Of course not. The outliers do some of it.”

  “And five squads aren’t a match for a squad of whatever the Hydlenese use as outliers?”

  This time Freyda grinned at Yelena. The force leader, a dubious promotion under the circumstances, shook her head. “We’ll still be lucky to get back in one piece.”

  “I know. This way there’s a chance.” I looked around. “How long before we reach that trail?”

  “It should be just a few more kays.”

  “It’s on the south side,” offered Freyda.

  I had to trust their judgment, since I was no scout and had only taken the road once, and then I hadn’t been in the best physical or mental shape.

  No one said anything else, and Yelena folded up the map and put it into her case. “Mount up!”

  “… mount up…”

  “… finish up…”

  “… not in the water, you idiot!”

  I climbed back on Gairloch and turned him to continue up the canyon in a generally eastward direction.

  The clink of metal and the sound of hoofs echoed back through the gorge, and the low murmurs of wet troopers underlay it all. I looked back to see if I could hear Shervan or Pendril, but through the drizzle, one outlier looked like another.

  Gairloch seemed to have covered a lot more road than a mere two to three kays before I pointed to the left. “Is that it?”

  “That looks like it,” admitted Yelena. “It’s headed toward the Two Thieves.”

  The trail was the same trail-just a trail, but where it left the main road it was still wide enough for two horses abreast.

  “It can’t be that easy,” mumbled Weldein.

  It wasn’t. In the first place, the drizzle turned into rain, and then into a light snow that didn’t stick. In the second place, the trail hadn’t been maintained in a long time, if ever, with pits and potholes everywhere. I had noticed that before, but it was worse with a whole force. Gairloch did fine, and no one said a word after Freyda’s mount came up lame from stepping in a puddle that had a pit in it. The injury was more like a sprain, and I managed to infuse it with a little order, but that meant Freyda had to take one of the few spare mounts and lead her mount for the rest of the day.

  Then we hit the valley of death, with wet ash and more ash, with the smell of wet fire and death. And with the sense of death and gloom.

  “Shit…” mumbled Weldein.

  “… hell of the demons of light…”

  Yelena looked at me and rode closer. Her voice was low. “You didn’t tell me about this.”

  “I told the commander and the autarch.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  She surprised me. She just shook her head sadly. “Was this where… Ferrel…”

  “Yes, but there’s no way to prove it.”

  “You came through this, and you’re bringing us back through it?” asked Freyda.

  “It’s the best way.”

  “… take the best way through demons’ hell…” muttered Jylla, a shade paler.

  The talk died into silence when the outliers followed us into the narrow valley. I tried not to think about the power involved, but that didn’t really work when I could feel the remnants of chaos creeping out of the rocks.

  Gairloch put one foot in front of the other, and I hung on.

  When I saw the first clump of grass at the other end, I took a deep breath. Weldein took one as he passed the first scrub cedar on the left side of the trail.

  I kept thinking about using order to strengthen chaos to defeat Gerlis, and it almost seemed insane. Maybe it was. Maybe the whole order-chaos conflict was insane. I didn’t know. All I did know was that Gerlis was waiting for me in the valley of the brimstone spring.

  Not long after we passed the ashes, the rain came down in sheets, just long enough to soak us. Then the sky cleared, and the cold wind picked up.

  That night, we camped in a narrow valley with water, and some grass, and it was cold, not chill like in Kyphros, but almost winter-cold, for all that we were in the southern part of the Easthorns that weren’t that much more than hills, probably not much taller than the Little Easthorns that divided Kyphros and Gallos.

  “No fire?” I asked.

  “No fire,” Yelena affirmed.

  All of the Finest were bundled up in their riding jackets, and the outliers wrapped themselves in blankets as well. I wore my jacket and cap, but I wasn’t huddled into a ball the way most were.

  Weldein looked at me. “Aren’t you cold, Order-master?”

  “No.” I wasn’t cold, at least not miserable, freezing cold the way they all were. I supposed that the one advantage of the mist was that the chaos wizard would have a hard time finding us. Even as I thought about it, though, I wondered about the uneasy feeling that had come and gone in the last few days. Was Gerlis somehow watching us?

  XXX

  West of Arastia, Hydlen [Candar]

  GERLIS LOOKS UP at the sound of heavy footsteps. For a moment his eyes flick to the iron dagger with the charred handle that rests on top of the closed trunk.

  “I don’t care what he said! I am the force leader, and I will see Master Gerlis! And I will see him now!”

  “Master mage,” announces the guard at the front of the pavilion tent, “Force Leader Cennon be here to see ye.”

  The white-clad magician frowns, and the white mists vanish from the glass on the table. “Bid him enter, Orort.” Gerlis stands and steps toward the tent flap as it opens.

  “Bid me enter, will you?” Cennon, unruly black hair bound with a silver band, marches into the tent. “Bid me enter?”

  Gerlis looks for a moment at Cennon, then turns, and walks to the trunk, his back momentarily to Cennon, where he picks up the dagger and a small wooden platter before facing the force leader. “Why, yes. I did bid you enter, in all courtesy.”

  “You and your talk of courtesy.”

  “Would you rather I talked of power?” Gerlis steps forward and sets the dagger by the blank screeing glass, and balances the platter in his hand. A fireball appears on the tip of his index finger of his free hand.

  “Charlatan! A child’s trick, unlike the rockets. They are real.”

  “You believe what you must, Force Leader Cennon.” Gerlis tosses the platter and releases the fireball.

  Hssstttt! White ashes drift downward, and the odor of burned wood and grease fill the tent.

  “Had I hit you with the full firebolt, you would be a grease spot… or less.” Gerlis looks at the carpet that covers the earth. “I prefer not to soil my carpets.” He picks up the long knife from where he had set it next to the glass, careful to hold it by the burned leather of the hilt, rather than let his fingers touch the cold iron blade. “I believe this belonged to one of your men.”

  “Hardly. One of mine would not have lost his knife.” Cennon does not reach for the charred hilt.

  “I admire such certainty, Force Leader Cennon.” A smile follows, one showing wide white teeth, as Gerlis sets the knife aside. “You wished something?”

  “Why have we waited while the Kyphrans dawdle their wa
y through the Lower Easthorns?” Cennon brushes away the drifting ashes. “We should strike them before they expect us.”

  “I doubt seriously if you can surprise them again. You might have noticed that they are sending a great number of advance scouts, and those scouts are rather thorough. The autarch is cautious.”

  “We surprised them once.”

  “On her lands with no warning,” points out Gerlis. “You might also note that most of the rocket carts have been sent to the border with Freetown, since Duke Colaris is a rather more imminent threat.”

  “I could still destroy the Kyphrans without your infernal wizardry.”

  “Duke Berfir believes that also. He also believes, as he pointed out to you, that such destruction should take place somewhere reasonably close to his lands, or at the very least those lands which he claims.”

  “That I have to obtain your approval… my father will hear of this-soon!”

  “I presume that your messenger will reach him shortly. I also presume that he will understand Duke Berfir’s logic.” Gerlis smiles with his mouth.

  “Someday…”

  “I agree.”

  Cennon looks at the white wizard for a long time, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his own cold steel blade. Then he turns and marches out into the windy morning, where ragged clouds scuttle out of the Higher Easthorns to the north, as if fleeing from the northern winter.

  “Fool… not to see your own limits…” Gerlis turns back to the table and the glass and reseats himself. After a time, and concentration, Gerlis watches an image emerge from the screeing glass-seeing again the five squads of Kyphrans and the young man in brown who accompanies them.

  The white wizard smiles, with his entire face and eyes, and the image, and the mists, vanish. “Yes, Cennon, you will find your limits, poor hero. And you, too, little black mage.” His eyes lift to the banner in the corner, the one with the crown on it. He shakes his head.

  After a time, he looks at the glass once more, where a bald man in a tan uniform appears, crossing the deck of a warship. Gerlis purses his lips and concentrates once more. In time, the valley floor grumbles, and shudders.

  XXXI

  I SAT ON the edge of the boulder and looked out toward the east, where the sun barely had cleared the trees. The ground dropped away from the goat trail that continued to masquerade as a road. Each series of hills lay slightly lower than the previous one, dropping away to the north where a brown smudge rose amid the lower hills.

  “That’s Arastia.” I pointed, then tried to shift my weight with my hands, but the crumbling edge of the stone gave way under my left hand, and I sat back down-hard-on the same rock edge that had been cutting through my trousers. “Oofff.” I wanted to rub the sore spot, but didn’t.

  “It should be,” confirmed Yelena.

  “It is.”

  I concentrated, but could sense nothing nearby, except a few goats. The trail wound north-northeast generally. If I recalled the route accurately, it would intersect the road from Arastia to the brimstone spring within five or six kays, although distances are deceiving from heights, and I didn’t remember the distances that well from my single trip. Then it had been dark when I had taken the road before us, and I had had my mind elsewhere, to say the least.

  “I’d say it will be another six kays as the vulcrow flies-”

  “You haven’t seen any, have you?”

  “No.” I didn’t mention that continuing sense of unease, as if I were occasionally being watched. How would that have sounded? But I tried to be alert to any sense of chaos.

  “Good,” mumbled Weldein.

  “Sooner this is over the better…”

  “… what is the miraculous wizard doing now… and he is miraculous…”

  I eased off the boulder, wishing Shervan’s voice were not so penetrating and his admiration of me were far less vocal. I brushed the sand and rock from my trousers and massaged what was probably going to be a bruise.

  Gairloch whuffed as I checked the saddle and patted him on his shoulder. The trees bordering the overlook weren’t the dense forest south of Arastia, but a mixture of scrub, stunted oaks, a few taller but twisted cedars-just enough to give the illusion of cover. I looked back up the road where the more than five squads waited.

  “We’d better get moving.” I climbed back onto Gairloch, trying not to wince as my backside contacted the saddle.

  “You’re the wizard.” Yelena didn’t smile, and I knew she was worried. So was I. Who wouldn’t be, with five squads of Kyphran troops inside the borders of Hydlen with a powerful white wizard somewhere ahead? Even if we were circling back toward Kyphros?

  Once again, distances were deceiving, and the road was slower than I had hoped. It was past mid-morning before we looked down on the beaten clay road winding through the low valley that gradually narrowed as it neared the western border of Hydlen-and the brimstone spring where we were headed.

  “I think this is the right place.” My nose twitched at the faint odor of brimstone. Below, on the other side of the road, ran a narrow stream. A faint trace of steam rose from its waters, more noticeably in the places shadowed by the hills.

  “The official border is, what, say ten kays up the road?” I turned to the tight-lipped force leader. I’d never bothered with borders on my scouting trip. I supposed it still didn’t make any difference.

  “If the hills, there, are the ones I think they are, that marks the border. Less than ten kays.”

  “We’ve got about fifteen kays to go.”

  Yelena nodded.

  Ahead, the valley narrowed into a gap formed by the Yellow River. After winding uphill for three kays, the gap again widened into a small circular valley. At the western end of the valley-closest to Kyphrien-were the brimstone springs. The eastern end had a rise that was half grass, half cedar trees, and the Yellow River wound through the northern side of the valley. The idea was to cross the scrub forest to the south, leaving the road before we reached the valley, and then use the rise for cover for the force-when we got there. That assumed we did get there, and I was worried about that.

  Again, I got the sense of being watched, and I scanned the area around us, looking for vulcrows, scouts, anything. Then I sent out my own modest perceptions, which were now reaching out almost a kay. I could sense nothing, at least nothing of excessive order or chaos, just animals, and trees.

  I took a deep breath as I retreated into myself. I had to grasp Gairloch’s mane to steady myself as I waited for my eyes to readjust. When I could make out the grayish leaves of the trees beside the road, I let go and patted him on the shoulder

  “Are you all right, Order-master?” Yelena eased her mount closer to mine.

  “Yes. I was just… searching.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  I shook my head.

  Yelena gestured, and we headed downhill toward the main road, which ran on the flat beside the Yellow River. The southern side, just beyond the road, was wooded, mostly with softwoods, very little oak or good material for a woodworker. That was a problem-good furniture wood also made good firewood, and most farmers or peasants didn’t much care about saving the good wood for crafters. They cared about such things as heat, warmth, and food-or the coins that would buy them.

  I kept looking and sending out my perceptions, but it took a while to find the guards near the actual crossroads, since they were almost a kay farther up the road. I guess that made a sort of sense. In the narrower section near the hilltop, they wouldn’t face attacks from two sides, as they could at the crossroads. Also, the crossroads section was relatively open, with no trees for several hundred cubits. So there was nowhere to rest or sit, and no shade.

  “The guards aren’t at the crossroads,” I said.

  Freyda, riding almost abreast, raised her eyebrows.

  “I noticed,” was Yelena’s comment. “Do you think they pulled back?”

  “They’re up the road. We can get almost to the crossroads without being s
een, maybe farther. The road curves.”

  “Do you think so?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re the wizard.”

  I laughed. “You’re the force leader.”

  “Just remember that.”

  We rode downhill slowly, and I kept checking for the sentries. We finally reined up nearly half a kay beyond the crossroads.

  “There’s a patrol uphill just around the curve. Three of them, I think. This is as far as we can go without being seen.”

  Yelena looked at me, as if asking for suggestions. I looked at Weldein. He was the closest of the troopers I knew.

  “Weldein, how about trusting your friendly order-master?”

  He did gulp when I explained. “I’m going to lead an invisible horse and rider-that’s you-right up to these outlier patrols. Then, I am going to attempt to unhorse and otherwise disable them. Your and my job is to keep them from fleeing up the road to warn the wizard’s forces. While we’re trying to slow them down, Leader Yelena and some of the fleetest riders will come to our aid.”

  “That’s a stupid plan,” offered Freyda. “What if they chop you up?”

  “Very stupid,” I admitted. “Do you have a better one? Do you want to take Weldein’s place?”

  She ignored the question.

  So I went on. “Those three riders aren’t terribly alert. One of them is sitting on a log or something. The other two are mounted. It’s a bit far for arrows, and not many here are archers.”

  “It’s still stupid.”

  “Does anyone have a better idea?” I asked again. “If we try to go through the woods and underbrush, they’ll certainly hear us before we ever get close.”

  Despite my explanations, I didn’t have any real answer to Freyda’s question. If they were good with blades, I was in trouble, but if I didn’t do something Krystal would be in trouble. So I waited. No one offered a better plan. That might have been because I was the one out in the open.

  “How will this work?” asked Yelena.

  “I put a shield around Weldein and his mount, and lead him up the road, pretending that I’m leading an invisible horse to Kyphros to sell. I hope they’ll think I’m mad, and let us get close enough to stop them from warning the wizard, or slow them down enough so our faster riders can catch them.”