The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  After a rocket slams into the thicker armor above the waterline of the Frentensea, flames cascade up over the side of the Hamorian ship, even as the dull impact of the rocket echoes through the hull.

  More shells track the invisible attacker, and more water geysers up from the flat shallow waves of the Gulf around the Recluce vessel that the Hamorian gunners cannot see.

  A thin haze of gunpowder smoke creeps across the sky, then drifts shoreward, where it combines with spray off the breakwater to shroud the battered harbor fort.

  The Frentensea shivers as her bow explodes in flame.

  “Keep shooting!” yells Leithrrse.

  More columns of water flare into the sky, then collapse into themselves in a mass of spray on the nearly calm waters of the lower Gulf of Candar.

  Two rockets strike the smaller ironclad beside the Frentensea, and flames race across the forward decks and around the main turret. Another set of flames licks the superstructure.

  CcccccRRRuMMMMMPPPTTT! Chunks of iron and wood fly skyward with the explosion of the smaller ironclad.

  Leithrrse ducks behind the iron shielding on the Frentensea’s bridge, but the fragments from the smaller Hamorian ship clatter against the hull harmlessly, and the flagship leaves the widening oil slick behind, a slick that oozes over wood fragments, and a few struggling figures. Flames lick at the oiliest parts of the slick, creeping toward the survivors.

  The Frentensea’s big guns continue to lead the curving wake of the unseen Recluce vessel.

  “Ser! There’s another one!” The lookout points astern, where a wake, almost foam-white, arrows toward the big Hamorian cruiser.

  “Guns! Keep on the outboard one!” snaps Leithrrse. “Get him first!”

  A huge fireball blossoms in the middle of the seemingly empty sea, and then a low black structure appears, breaking into fragments as Leithrrse watches, the flames raging across the waters as the wreckage plummets from sight.

  “Now… the other-”

  WHHHHHSTTTTT! CRUMPPTTTT!

  His words are cut off as the Frentensea explodes into an inferno of flame, flying metal, and chunks of meat that had once been sailors.

  XCV

  Dark ships shall speed upon the waters, and destruction shall fall from the heavens, shattering the greatest of walls, and even the weakest of those who bear arms shall strike with the force of firebolts.

  For every shield shall there be a greater sword, and for every sword, a swifter quarrel to bring it low. For every firebolt shall there be a higher wall of ice, and for every wall of ice, a ladder of fire with which to scale it.

  For every prophet shall come another who says the opposite, and whoever shall offer his words last shall the people follow, and they shall turn one way and then the other, for no road shall offer certainty, nor peace, nor rest. And none shall sleep easy.

  Men and women shall question, and so shall the angels. Yet for every answer shall they find a score more of questions, each with yet a score more answers, until then-words and their reason be stopped with words whose meaning escapes even the highest.

  The dark ships shall cover the oceans, thick as sands upon the shores, and they shall come from the end of the earth to the city of black stone, north of the sun and east of chaos.

  Those of the black city will cover their faces and wail loud lamentations, claiming that they had ever stood against chaos, and the dark ships of the sun shall neither heed nor turn from their course.

  And on the shores of truth shall stand those serving neither order nor chaos, yet both, and without trumpets, without firebolts, shall they sow confusion upon the waters.

  From that confusion, shall the dark ships of the sun seek refuge, but neither the mountains nor the oceans shall provide succor. Mountains shall be rendered into dust, and oceans shall be burned and boiled, and ashes shall cover all, and chaos shall die…

  The Book of Ryba Canto DL

  [The Last]

  Original Text

  Part III

  Finding The Balance

  XCVI

  “WHAT BRINGS YOU here to Mattra, Gunnar? Usually, I’m the one who has to seek you out.” Elisabet opened the door and stepped aside.

  “This.” The sandy-haired man held up a scroll. “Might I come in?”

  “Certainly. I’ll even get some redberry. It must be something to pry you out of Wandernaught. For once, I’m not chasing you.” She grinned and headed for the kitchen.

  Gunnar pursed his lips, but followed. His sister set a pitcher and two mugs upon the table. Gunnar looked at the pitcher, then sat. Elisabet filled both mugs before seating herself.

  “The Council has learned that the Emperor is sending his fleets against Kyphros,” said Gunnar after taking a short swallow of redberry. “This is good.”

  “Thank you. It’s fresh.” Elisabet offered a brief smile that faded all too quickly. “I would have thought they were going to send a fleet against us. After all, Recluce has kept Candar weak and fragmented. By opposing any real changes within the isle, the Council has kept us from getting much stronger, and that means we’re comparatively weaker. So why is Hamor going to attack Kyphros?”

  “Lerris and his consort Krystal have apparently thwarted their takeover of Candar.”

  “I’m afraid your son’s taking more after Justen than you, Gunnar.” Elisabet laughed. “But that doesn’t make much sense. Didn’t the trio sink nearly a third of the Hamorian fleet before the fleet sank the Llyse?”

  “You knew about the Llyse?”

  “Gunnar, I listen to the winds as well as anyone.”

  The sandy-haired mage shook his head. “That’s probably why. They don’t have enough ships around Candar to feel safe about attacking Recluce. It wasn’t a large fleet anyway, not compared to what they have and what they’re building.”

  “It’s already built,” pointed out the sandy-haired woman. “It has to be, from all the growth of chaos. That means the Council wants Kyphros to be our buffer?”

  “It’s more complex than that. I think the Emperor knows that Recluce has never had more than a handful of powerful mages, and most of those are now in Kyphros. The royal house there has carried a grudge against us since even before the present Emperor’s grandsire was exiled.”

  “Now that Austrans bow to his every whim, the Emperor is ready to expand Hamor’s control in our part of the world?” Elisabet pulled at her chin. “And his scheme is to weaken Recluce before they ever attack us directly?”

  “Exactly. And that’s the way the Council would have it. They’d be happy to have Kyphros and the rest of Candar fed to the mountain cat first, but I’m going to Kyphros.”

  “You really are, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “Justen said something about that once, about Candar being the shield of Recluce in the end.” The sandy-haired woman looked off the porch toward the shop where the sound of a cross cut saw is followed by the susurration of finishing cloths. “I’m not sure that Justen’s not right.”

  “You always did stand up for Justen.”

  “Gunnar, you’re too old for self-pity and ‘Elisabet loved Justen best.’ You have to believe that Justen was right.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’ve used what he taught you, haven’t we? Otherwise we’d long since be buried with the High Wizards of Fairhaven-excuse me, Frven.” She offered a sad smile. “Actions tell where the heart is.” She poured more of the cold redberry into his mug.

  “They’re worried.”

  “Do tell. They want you and Justen and Lerris to rescue them again. Is that why you’re doing it?”

  “If I don’t go, Justen will slip away, and Lerris will have to save Ruzor alone.”

  “Getting soft in your dotage, aren’t you?” Elisabet smiled at her brother.

  He grinned at her. “A little.” The grin faded. “Lerris is on the way to finding out how to destroy us all. Put him and Justen together…” He looked down at the table.

  “You knew it would
happen sooner or later. How long did you think what Justen discovered could be hidden?”

  Gunnar laughed. “Not as long as it was. The Council was more adept-”

  “More ruthless,” snapped his sister, “and Hamor wants a reckoning in blood.”

  “I suspect Dorrin was right.”

  “Much good that will do us now. Do you want help? I can go with you.”

  “Not now. Perhaps later.”

  She smiled. “If there is a later.”

  “There will be.” His eyes lifted to the mug of redberry. “There will be.”

  “Yes. That reckoning has been waiting for a long time, hasn’t it?”

  “Since Dorrin.” He nodded. “Maybe since Creslin and Megaera. Maybe since the angels.”

  XCVII

  Worrak, Hydlen [Candar]

  “You SUMMONED ME?” The thin officer in tan steps into the room. His holster is empty. Behind him the two guards stand outside the open door. One holds the officer’s sidearm.

  “I did, Force Leader Speyra.” Dyrsse gestures to the table in the middle of the spacious room, and to the map upon it. “Please sit.”

  The door closes with a dull thud.

  Speyra purses his lips and sits on the edge of the seat of the carved chair. Behind him, the hillside villa’s window frames the placid harbor waters-and the battered breakwater and the pile of stone that had been a fortress. Black-hulled ships brood over the harbor, some with thin plumes of smoke trailing from their stacks.

  “You see here-the Fakla River?” The marshal traces the line of the river west from Worrak.

  “Yes, ser.” Speyra nods and straightens in the chair.

  “You will be taking the second army up this road, through the vale, here, and into Kyphros. Take the road north from Lythga and then west into Kyphrien.”

  “All the way to Kyphrien?”

  “All the way. Do what is necessary. The Emperor and I have absolute confidence in you, Leader Speyra.”

  “You’re not coming?” asks the officer.

  “You are perfectly capable, Force Leader Speyra, and you will be provided more than enough cartridges and even some mobile field pieces.” The marshal smiles. “Someone has to watch for another strike from the nest of vipers. And coordinate your support.”

  “No one has yet taken Kyphros.”

  “Fenardre the Great did, and so will we. For the Emperor. The most force the autarch can muster is less than eight thousand outliers, levies, and her Finest.” Dyrsse wipes his balding head with the fine white cotton handkerchief.

  “I believe it only took one wizard and a handful of troops to block the Easthorn road.”

  “We lost less than a third of our troops in that effort. We also enlisted the help of another wizard and cleared the old highway into Certis. That gives us a more direct way to move troops at least as far as the Easthorns.” Dyrsse smiles again, briefly, and studies the map on the table before him.

  “Ser… have we not lost a number of commanders… and the wizard?” The force leader purses his lips and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

  “We have. Good commanders, and two regents. And if they were willing to risk their lives for the Emperor, then… can we do no less?”

  “Yes, ser. I mean, we can do no less.”

  “Good. You will have four thousand troops. You will see less than a tenth of that, even if you march all the way to Kyphrien. The autarch’s forces are all in Ruzor. Kyphrien is your destination. You will have more than enough force to accomplish your mission.”

  “Yes, ser. Then what?”

  “The usual. You hold the city for the Emperor and follow the established practices. In the meantime, the fleet will be reducing Ruzor, and then attacking up the Phroan River. Because Ruzor is where most of the autarch’s troops are, you will see few, indeed.”

  “And if I do?” A faint sheen of perspiration coats the force leader’s forehead. “If I do?”

  “You won’t. But if you need reinforcements, you shall have them. Don’t worry about that in the slightest.” Dyrsse smiles.

  XCVIII

  MORE THAN TWO eight-days had passed since we returned to Ruzor, and I had finally recovered from my stiffness, and I could hear, although sometimes people’s words faded in and out, sometimes my eyes still hurt. The sun continued to beat down, and the dust continued to coat everything. Krystal continued to train and plan, and Kasee to persuade and to gather supplies.

  Few ships reached Ruzor, and what they brought was dear, indeed. Even the smugglers could find no more Hamorian rifles or cartridges, at any price.

  I started joining the Finest at their morning exercises and training, since I couldn’t really do much woodwork, outside of some simple repairs. At times, I wished that I’d at least brought the cedar limb to carve, but I hadn’t thought about that.

  That morning, after I loosened my shoulders, I finally picked up the staff. Then I wiped my forehead, even though I had only been in the mid-morning sun for a short time. Krystal stepped forward, the blade-shaped wand extended. Her exercise shirt was damp as well. I bowed, and so did she.

  “He’s a mage, but he’s going to be in trouble now…” murmured someone from the side of the courtyard.

  “… don’t know. Staff is pretty long.”

  Her wand snaked out, and I parried… and parried… and blocked. So long as I wove a defense, she couldn’t touch me. But I couldn’t do much on the attack. So, eventually, I tried to touch her.

  We went at it until we were both soaked, and I got a few bruises. So did Krystal, but hers were lighter. I just couldn’t strike that hard in practice.

  “Enough…” I finally panted. “You’re more in practice. You do this all the time.”

  “All… right…” She was breathing almost as hard as I was.

  We stepped into the shade and watched some of the others practice. Weldein was using a wand against Tamra, and actually holding his own.

  “Does Weldein spar with Tamra a lot?” I asked.

  “No one else comes close to her with a blade.”

  “Except you and Yelena?”

  “And Weldein-now,” Krystal added. “He didn’t at first, but he kept at it.”

  “Brave man.” In more ways than one, I thought.

  I watched for a while longer. “He’s not as good as you are.”

  “Close,” Krystal commented.

  He was probably stronger than Krystal, but not quite as quick or as deft. Then I supposed that was how I’d have described the difference between me and Tamra with the staff, although I was definitely a great deal quicker than in the beginning, when Tamra had beaten me black and blue.

  “You’re as good as she is,” Krystal added. “Different style, but as good.”

  I didn’t believe it, but it was nice to hear.

  Haithen nodded as we passed, and so did Berli, pausing from a stretching routine.

  “Commander… ?”

  Subrella stood in the archway, a scroll in her hand, and circles under her eyes, though they were certainly no deeper than those under Krystal’s eyes.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said.

  Krystal gave me a wry smile, and I grinned, and made my way toward the wash house. After washing up, I carried the staff and my damp shirt up to Krystal’s room. Herreld opened the door for me.

  “Show ‘em how, Master Lerris?”

  “I think the commander did that. I managed to stay in one piece.”

  “More than most folks, these days.”

  I spread the shirt on the sill beneath the open window where, in the heat, it would be dry long before noon. Then, bare-chested, I sat on one of the chairs and read more of The Basis of Order.

  Krystal arrived later, much later, around noon, bearing two pitchers and some bread and cheese.

  “Nice view.”

  “I try.” But I had cooled down a bit and pulled on a shirt before I sat down with her at the table.

  We ate without saying much. We were both hungry.
>
  “More problems,” she finally explained. “Bandits on the south river road, not more than ten kays from Ruzor. So I sent Weldein and his squad out, along with a few others. Then, the Nordlan ship sent word that they wouldn’t unload unless we sent a guard detachment. Beggars and people screaming for passage all over the piers.”

  “We don’t even have any real idea if Hamor will attack.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “No,” I admitted. “They’ll attack. That’s what they do. Evil is as evil does.”

  “Are they evil or just greedy?”

  “Does it make any difference?” I swallowed some redberry. “I mean, in a way, Sammel was the same. He was greedy for knowledge… and he couldn’t stop using it even when he knew it was evil.” I was trying to explain to myself as much as to Krystal.

  “Why was Sammel so evil?” Krystal sipped some of the amber ale, then some more. “You said that he was mostly trying to share knowledge. Why was that evil?”

  “He was treating knowledge as if it were order-or chaos-itself.”

  Krystal got this puzzled expression that told me that I wasn’t making much sense. She set the mug of ale on the table. I tried again.“One of the big differences between order and chaos is that it’s almost impossible to create pure order. You have to order something, but a chaos-wielder can throw chaos-fire at people-and that’s close to pure chaos. Well… Sammel was just providing what he thought was pure knowledge-and pure knowledge is a lot like pure chaos-an awful lot of it’s used for bad purposes.”

  “Are you sure? It seems to me that knowledge isn’t good or bad. It’s like a sword-you can use it to protect or kill.” I laughed.“That’s a better explanation than mine.”

  “Why?” Krystal took a sip from the mug. “Because…”I dragged out the word, “When you lift a blade for real, someone always gets hurt-whether you’re protecting or killing. Knowledge is like that.”

  “Ooooo… That explains a lot.” She frowned. “If knowledge always means someone gets hurt, that creates chaos, and that means Recluce has to oppose new knowledge, doesn’t it?”