Cadmians Choice (58 page)

“I’m going in closer.
Watch and offer cover if anyone fires.”

“Yes, sir!” the
undercaptain called back.

Dainyl decided on a
flight path that would offer minimal exposure. By coming over the low mountains
to the northwest, barely above the tops of the scattered junipers, and then
turning south, he could get a view of any defenses hidden in the rocks, as well
as the back side of the single stone structure. The one clear advantage offered
by the skylances over the lightcannon was afforded by the pteridons themselves,
who functioned not only as flight platforms, but as lifeforce conduits that
recharged the lances almost instantaneously. Since both the skylances and the
lightcannon had to be based on the same mechanisms, they both required sunlight
for continued operation, although they were probably good for a handful of
discharges in darkness.

The difference
between the weapons meant, Dainyl hoped, that during the day the lightcannon
could not be used as often as the skylances, particularly if the compound
remained largely sealed behind stone. For that reason, among others, he wanted
to make a flight pass over the area before too much full sunlight fell on the
compound.

Down . . . down and
right. . . into the turn ... lower... just above the trees. Now! Hard right and
due south!

Holding his skylance
at the ready, Dainyl drew on what lifeforce he could, and strengthened his
personal shields just before he swept over the last of the trees and into the
open air just above the cliffs. As he had suspected, a lightcannon had been set
up amid the rocks to the north of the complex under the mountain. Two alectors
turned, trying to swivel their weapon to bring it to bear on him.

He triggered his
lance. The blue-white flame flashed true toward the lightcannon.

A wave of white
energy flared skyward, but Dainyl and his pteridon had already passed over
where the lightcannon had been.

Suddenly, light
blazed around him, so much that he could not see or sense, and his shields
barely held.

Up . . . left.. .
tight turn .. .

The angle of the turn
carried Dainyl and his pteridon far enough west that the higher and rocky
sections of the cliffs blocked the second blast from the lightcannon.

Still, he was shaking
from the effort of holding lifeforce shields, and he let the pteridon continue
a gentle climb westward, releasing his shields and trying to recover some
strength. A few moments more under attack, and he and probably the pteridon
would have been dust sifting down through the hazy sky.

He glanced back,
noting that the remaining circling pteridons of first squad had returned fire.
He squinted. One pteridon was circling higher, grasping a skylance in one claw.
The pteridon was flyerless.

Dainyl needed to make
another attack, for the simple reason that he was one of the few Myrmidons with
personal shields strong enough even to get close to the lightcannon near the
clifftop. From what he’d sensed, it was far more powerful than the others, and
he didn’t want any more casualties among the Myrmidons than necessary.

To make another
attack run, he needed even less exposure, and to fire his skylance first. From
what he could tell, the weapon was mounted directly above the cliffside
entrance, concealed somewhere in the redstone boulders. He had concentrated on
the first site he had seen, and he should have been looking farther ahead. That
had been stupid.

Then again, when had
any Myrmidons fought against lightcannon? He shook his head, both at his
stupidity, and to clear his eyes.

Right... and lower. .
.

The pteridon made a
descending right-hand turn, and Dainyl straightened on a course fixed directly
on the occasional light blasts that flashed skyward from the top of the cliff
section of the compound. He edged his course line slightly right, so that he
would clear the edge of the cliff just slightly to the south of where the
lightcannon was positioned.

Lower.. . barely
above the trees... just past the edge and hard left.

Dainyl had the
skylance ready once more. He triggered it as the pteridon dived clear of the
rocky ledge, adjusting his aim toward the concentration of energy that marked
the lightcannon hidden behind an aperture a yard wide.

The skylance beam
slashed into the half-hidden weapon.

Hard left... up . ..
just above the trees.

Stones and stone
fragments exploded skyward, and more stones and boulders cascaded down from the
cliff.

Despite the cool air
flowing past him, Dainyl was damp all over. Inside his flying gloves, his hands
were wet. He replaced the skylance in its sheath for a moment, and allowed
himself a brief moment to stretch slightly while the pteridon began a climbing
right-hand turn skyward. Then he lifted one hand and then the other, turning
each hand into me wind to let the cool air help dry them. Then he reclaimed the
skylance.

As he gained
altitude, he could see that a thinning cloud of rock dust rose from where there
had been what amounted to a lightcannon port.

As he circled back,
Dainyl surveyed the area once more, looking for other possibly hidden weapons.
He could sense no other energy concentration, but he didn’t doubt that there
would be others before too long.

His eyes lifted to
the flyerless pteridon. The creature would follow the squad back, indeed,
follow the squad until another rider was assigned.

Dainyl frowned. He’d
lost two Myrmidons in as many days, and that was more than he’d lost in all the
years that he’d been a company commander.

Mykel awoke slightly
before dawn on

Quinti, surprised
that he did not feel any pain in his back, only a small amount of stiffness.
From what he could tell, whatever else the soarer had done, she had speeded the
healing. Or had his linking more directly to the world done that? Or both? Why
the soarer might heal him, if she had, was another question, but he wasn’t
about to turn down such a gift. He dressed quickly, packing his gear and
carrying it out to his mount in the half-ruined stable. After checking with the
company commanders of his command, the one heading out to Tempre, he made his
way to the long room that served as a communal mess, where he had cheese, hard
bread, and dried mutton, washed down with the local watered wine, which was
weak and close to vinegar. As always, of late, he remained alone.

As Mykel left and
headed for the courtyard, Rhystan appeared. “You look better this morning, sir.”

“I feel better. A
good night’s sleep helps.” Mykel had to admit that he felt better—physically,
at least. Using his improved senses, he studied the captain. Rhystan’s aura was
darker than that of most people, a deeper brown. Mykel suspected that, in time,
he might even be able to tell where people had been born. If he had that time
to learn.

“You’re about ready
to head out?”

“They’re forming up
now,” Mykel replied.

“I wish you well in
Tempre, sir.”

“The same to you,
here.” Mykel shook his head, then went on. “If you have to deal with the
rebels, there are a few things to keep in mind. First, as I told you last
night, those shiny uniforms are a form of armor that stops bullets, but
multiple impacts will bruise them, sometimes badly, I’d judge. Still, up close,
head shots are more effective. Second, the tripod weapons need power from the
carts. I’d try concentrated fire against the carts. If they explode, they’ll
take out any rebels nearby.”

Rhystan cleared his
throat, gently. “I don’t believe you mentioned how to take out the tripod
weapons, sir.”

“It could be that I
didn’t. The carts do explode if enough bullets hit them.” Mykel wasn’t certain
how he knew that, but he felt he was right.

“You didn’t mention
that to the submarshal, did you?”

“I did mention the
weapons. I thought he would know their capabilities.”

“For so direct an
officer, sir, you ...” Rhystan broke off and shook his head.

“Now it’s your turn,
Rhystan. Never tell an untruth. Never conceal what a superior already knows.
But choose carefully when and how you let him know what he doesn’t know and
doesn’t want to.” Mykel laughed, briefly, and not quite harshly. “As you know,
I can speak directly to the dangers of telling senior officers what they don’t
wish to hear.”

Rhystan smiled,
faintly.

“You’ll do what you
think best. We all do. Events decide whether our judgments were accurate, and
sometimes, accurate judgments are more fatal than inaccurate ones.”

“You’re rather
cynical this morning.”

“It comes with
improving health.” Mykel smiled. “I need to be riding out. I did recommend you
get promoted. I hope it happens. I also hope you have an uneventful picket
duty.”

“So do I, sir. Good
fortune in Tempe.”

“Thank you. We’ll
need it.” We’ll need more than that. Mykel turned and headed back to the
courtyard and his mount.

Undercaptain Fabrytal
rode up to within a yard of Mykel almost as soon as the majer appeared in the
courtyard. “Fifteenth Company stands ready to ride, sir.”

“Clear the courtyard,
then, and form up outside the gate.”

“Yes, sir.” The
undercaptain turned his mount. “Fifteenth Company, forward. Reform beyond the
gates.”

Mykel mounted quickly
and rejoined Fabrytal outside the garrison, as he waited for reports from
Loryalt and Matorak.

“How long a ride to
Tempre, sir?” asked Fabrytal.

“Four days, I’d
judge, but it could be more if we ride into bad weather.”

“What’s Tempre like?”

“I’ve never been
there. I’ve seen it from the north side of the Vedra. It’s a trading city. It’s
smaller than Elcien or Faitel, but it’s got two of the green towers and a river
port. There’s no Cadmian compound there. We’ve got two companies in Krost.
Those are the closest that I know about.”

“Do you know why we’re
being sent there, when all the action’s here?”

Mykel grinned at the
undercaptain. “No... I don’t know exactly why we’re being dispatched to Tempre.
We’ll get orders once we’re near there. I have the feeling we won’t lack for
action, though.” Unfortunately.

“You think the
Squawts have crossed the river... or they might?”

“That’s unlikely, but
we’ll find out around Novdi or Decdi.”

Loryalt rode up,
followed by Matorak.

“Seventeenth Company,
ready to ride.”

“Second Company,
ready to ride. Wagons ready to roll.”

“Thank you.” Mykel
nodded to Fabrytal. “Fifteenth Company, lead the way. You have the scouts.”

“Yes, sir.” The
undercaptain stood in the stirrups. “Scouts out! Fifteenth Company! Forward!”

As his three
companies rode along the high road northward out of Hyalt, Mykel kept looking
to the west. He could not see thee First Hyalt, on picket duty, but he did see
five pteridons headed southwest, presumably to relieve those circling around
the regional alector’s compound.

While he knew in his
thoughts that all beings struggled for power and control, he couldn’t help but
wonder what sort of power was involved with the alectors’ rebellion. They
certainly controlled the world, and they lived well. His lips quirked, and he
shook his head.

He’d have to use the
time on the ride north, both to continue training and sharpening the skills of
the three companies, but also putting into practice what he’d learned from the
ancient soarer and from observing the

submarshal—assuming
that he could. He pushed the doubts away. If those two could master greater
control of the forces that suffused the world, surely he could gain some better
control.

Once they were well
clear of Hyalt, Mykel dropped back to ride with Undercaptain Matorak. He’d
spent less time than he probably should have with the undercaptain and what
time he had spent had been largely devoted to training and instruction.

Matorak was one of
the darker-skinned Cadmian officers, and a good ten years older than Mykel, a
former ranker who had been squad leader, and then a senior squad leader, before
being promoted to undercaptain. His lifethread was sandy golden brown and
stretched to the southeast.

“Can you tell me any
more about this deployment, sir?”

“There’s a problem in
Tempre. Once we near the city, we’ll be joined by some of the Myrmidons and
given more detailed orders.” Mykel smiled pleasantly. “The submarshal hasn’t
chosen to provide more information yet.”

Matorak nodded
slowly, not questioning.

“Why did you join me
Cadmians?” asked Mykel.

“As a boy, I decided
I did not wish to grow desert nuts and work in the quarries dragging out the
golden marble. When I could, I walked to Soupat and waited for the Cadmian
recruiter. The Cadmians from Southgate come once a year.”

“Is growing me nuts
that difficult?”

“One must make sure
that nothing grows near the nut tree. Even the slightest sprig of green in the
soil will attract the giant crickets, and they will strip the trees. The
apprentice growers must sleep in the groves every night in the spring. They
must sleep lightiy and wake when the crickets hum. My brother killed a hundred
crickets one night. He was beaten because he missed two of them, and they ate
the flowers on one tree. I thought I would rather work in the quarries until my
cousin’s leg was crushed between two slabs of marble. My father said that I was
ungrateful, and that I would die alone in a far country.”

Matorak laughed. “I
said nothing, but I thought that was better than dying young in my own land.”

“I can see why you
became a Cadmian,” Mykel said. “What is the desert like near Soupat?”

“In the day, it is
like the ovens my mother used to bake bread. Everyone sleeps in the late
afternoon. We ate late in the evening, and slept for four glasses so that we
could get up and work just before dawn.”