Darknesses (4 page)

T
wenty-two
men rode eastward
along the river road, two scouts well ahead and out of
sight, and then Alucius, Zerdial, and the rest of first squad. Alucius had left
his senior squad leader, Longyl, at the post and in charge of the other squads.

The
patrol followed the tracks of fifteen or so riders.

“Their
tracks are headed both ways, sir,” Zerdial observed. His breath steamed in the
the cold and clear midday air.

Alucius
glanced at Zerdial—the thin squad leader for first squad. At times, Alucius
hadn’t been certain that the young squad leader would mature fast enough to
keep holding the position, but with Alucius’s help, Zerdial had grown into the
job—as had Anslym, the second squad leader. His other three squad
leaders—Faisyn, Egyl, and Sawyn—were seasoned veterans.

“They’re
already back across the river,” Alucius said. “They crossed, went west as far
as Tuuler. They turned back there and came this way to somewhere ahead. Then
they retraced their path along the road and crossed back into Lanachrona.” He
had a good idea of why the riders had gone farther east, but he wanted to see
if he happened to be right. He did not Talent-sense anyone close by, besides
his own men, and he would have been most surprised if they had found the
riders.

“The
scouts did report that there were tracks both ways on the ice, sir.” Zerdial
frowned. “They didn’t raid Tuuler.”

“There’s
little enough to raid, and the houses are stout stone,” Alucius pointed out.
“Most folk here have militia rifles.”

“But…why…”

“They’re
not here. Let’s just see if they went so far as the second cataract.” Alucius
gestured to the road ahead. “It’s not that far.”

“Yes,
sir.”

The
first two weeks after Twenty-first Company’s return to duty had gone by slowly,
very slowly, each ten-day week feeling twice as long. The third week had begun
the same way, and while Alucius had not accompanied every squad he had sent out
on patrol, he had accompanied about half the patrols, and on one other
occasion, the patrols had found the tracks of riders who had crossed the frozen
section of the River Vedra from Lanachrona, then returned.

As
first squad continued to ride eastward, Alucius studied the road and the
scattered trees between the road and the fields to the north. To his left, on
the south, was the river, less than fifty yards wide. The ice, which farther
downstream had been thick enough to support a wagon team, was clearly thinner,
and less than a half vingt ahead, Alucius could see breaks and cracks in the
ice, and even one small spot of open black water.

On
the north side of the road, beyond the trees, the snow-covered fields were
untracked, unmarked by man or mount. Only the road and, at times, the shoulder
held hoofprints. Half a glass passed, and Alucius could hear a low rumbling in
the distance, coming from upriver, somewhere beyond where the river curved
northward for a time before turning back eastward. The center of the river was
largely clear of ice, although the edges and banks were ice-encrusted, but the
black water was so smooth it almost looked like a dark mirror.

The
tracks of the riders continued eastward, and so did Alucius and first squad,
along the banks of the river. Only traces of ice remained near the banks, and a
steamy fog rose from the black water.

“Sir?”
ventured Zerdial. “Why would they keep going eastward, then turn back? Past
here, there’s no ice and no way to cross.”

“Think
about it, Zerdial,” Alucius said.

As
the column rode around the gentle curve, where the road followed the river, the
low rumbling turned into a far louder roaring that filled the air, with enough
force that the branch tips of the scattered junipers along the river road were
already bare of the snow that had fallen the day before.

“Sir!”
Zerdial gestured to the pair of scouts ahead, who had ridden off the road and
almost down to the edge of the river.

When
the squad reached the scouts, Alucius nodded to Zerdial.

“Squad
halt!” ordered the squad leader.

Alucius
glanced upriver, even as he urged Wildebeast to the right and down to the
riverbank, where the scouts waited.

Less
than a vingt upstream was a rocky escarpment, over which jet-black water
steamed as it dropped a good hundred yards into the pool below. For more than a
hundred vingts above the falls and for a good four vingts below the cataract,
the river was ice-free, running rapidly over the rocky shallows, with foglike
vapor rising from the water. Roughly three vingts westward, the riverbed
deepened, and the ice cover began. By another four vingts farther south, the
ice was solid enough to hold a wagon team, and it stayed that solid all the way
westward until slightly north of Tempre.

Alucius
reined up short of the scouts.

“Looks
like they watered their mounts here, sir!” Elbard, the older and stockier
scout, shouted to make his voice heard over the roar of the cataract. “Probably
early this morning, maybe before dawn.”

There
were also boot tracks in the already ice-crusted snow at the edge of the river,
more than just a few.

“It
looks like they filled their own water bottles, too,” Alucius suggested.

“Yes,
sir.”

“No
tracks east of here?”

“No,
sir. They watered and turned back west.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius nodded to the two. “We’ll be heading back to Emal now.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
rode back up the slope to the road, where he reined in Wildebeast beside
Zerdial. “We’ll head back now.”

“Yes,
sir.” Zerdial cleared his throat. “First squad! To the rear, ride! Scouts to
the van position!”

The
captain and the squad leader rode along the shoulder until they were at the
head of the double-filed column that was first squad.

Once
first squad was settled back into an easy pace westward, Alucius turned in the
saddle and looked at Zerdial. “What do you think?”

“They
came up here for water. That’s at least an extra glass of riding each way.”
Zerdial frowned. “It would spare them the time it would take to chop through
the ice, but why couldn’t they just stop for water at one of the hamlets on the
other side?”

“Why
indeed?” asked Alucius.

“They
didn’t wish to be seen, sir?”

“That
would be my guess, Zerdial.”

Alucius
had figured that aspect out almost immediately, but what bothered him was that
he couldn’t figure out why the riders hadn’t wanted to be seen. The tracks made
it clear that they had come from Lanachrona, and none of people in the hamlets
on the Lanachronan side would have cared or said anything if the riders were
Southern Guards. That meant that they weren’t—or that they weren’t in uniform.
But brigands would have had far easier pickings to the south, and, despite the
warnings from Dekhron, Alucius had trouble believing that Deforyan raiders
would have traveled almost three hundred vingts—through the coldest section of
the Upper Spine Mountains in winter—to raid some of the poorest hamlets in the
Iron Valleys—or the one town with a militia garrison. He also didn’t like the
idea of Southern Guards not being in uniform.

Neither
possibility was one that he liked, and that meant that, if the tracks
continued, winter or not, he’d have to shift the patrol schedules to before
dawn to see what he could find out.

Tempre,
Lanachrona

T
he
Lord-Protector,
his face appearing a good ten years older than when he
had taken office three years before, walked briskly into the plain
marble-walled room, hidden deep beneath the palace, a structure erected
generations earlier with great care not to disturb the ancient room and what it
contained. He glanced at the Table of the Recorders, a device appearing more
like a dark lorken-framed table than the artifact from the Cataclysm that it
was. The Table’s shimmered surface appeared but to be a mirror. It was not.

The
silver-robed Recorder stood on the far side of the Table, waiting.

“You
said you have finally discovered something about the mysterious officer whom
you thought had brought down the Matrial,” offered the Lord-Protector.

“I
will call forth what I have discovered, Lord-Protector. You may be both
surprised and amused.”

“Amused?
Is anything amusing in these times?” The Lord-Protector frowned, but stepped to
the Table and looked down.

The
Recorder cleared his throat softly, then concentrated on the ancient glass. The
mirrored surface that appeared but fingerspans thick was replaced by ruby mists
that looked yards in depth, mists that swirled before dissipating to reveal an
image.

A
tall and broad-shouldered officer in the black of the Militia of the Iron
Valleys rode along a snowy road, flanked by two squad leaders. Although the
captain was only slightly larger than the others, his presence, even through
the Table, conveyed an impression of authority and command, making him seem far
larger and older than he was. In addition, around his image flickered an aura
of green and silver, and at times, he vanished entirely.

“He
is in yet another uniform. Is he a mercenary?”

Before
replying, the Recorder took a deep breath and allowed the image to vanish, to
be replaced by a mirror that but reflected the ceiling. “I think not,
Lord-Protector. For whatever reason, he was captured by the Matrites. From what
I can discern through the Table, he was born the heir to a herder family in the
Iron Valleys, and, because of his Matrite service, involuntary as it was, has
been required to serve more time in the militia. He currently commands a horse
company at Emal.”

“And
their Council of idiots does not know this?”

“No,
Lord-Protector. He has doubtless used his Talent to avoid their discovering
such.”

“I
do not like that he is a militia officer. Can you do anything through the
Table?” The Lord-Protector went on, answering his own question. “Of course not.
The Table is useful for gathering information, and that is all.” He looked down
at the blank surface, then back at the Recorder of Deeds. “Continue to watch
him, and let me know should he accomplish anything that I should know.”

“Yes,
Lord-Protector.” The Recorder inclined his head slightly, then straightened.

“It
is better not to act when it is not necessary, but…we may have to act
otherwise. We may indeed.” Without another word, the Lord-Protector stalked
from the small marble-walled chamber.

The
Recorder glanced at the blank silver surface that had once more become a
mirror. His face was impassive, despite the darkness in his eyes. Once the
Lord-Protector had left, he again beheld the Table, his face bathed in a faint
purple glow that radiated from the images he had called forth.

O
utside
the headquarters building,
a howling wind blasted what otherwise would
have been a light snow against the stone walls and shutters. Every so often, a
particularly violent gust pushed cold air and puffs of white past the windows
and inner and outer shutters.

On
that dreary Duadi, barely into yet another winter week, Alucius sat at the
table in the officers’ and squad leaders’ mess, looking at the stack of papers
before him. There was a sheet—or more—on each man in his company, and the
company captain had to make a seasonal report on each, then send the reports to
militia headquarters in Dekhron. Since winter was already more than half-over,
despite the snowstorm outside, and since Alucius was not sending out any
patrols in the blizzard, he had decided to use the time to work on the seasonal
reports. With the stepped-up patrols he had in mind, time for reports would be
scarce in the weeks ahead. Even short handwritten statements took time when the
company captain had to write a hundred on the troopers and five on the squad
leaders—except that since Twenty-first Company was understrength, Alucius only
had to write ninety-four reports on troopers.

There
was a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“Sir,”
said Longyl, the senior squad leader, “you sent word for me?”

“I
did.” Alucius gestured to the chair on the other side of the small mess table,
waiting until the older squad leader had seated himself before speaking. “I’d
like your thoughts on Reltyr. I’ve already had a few words with Faisyn.”

“I’d
rather not say much, sir.”

“Neither
did Faisyn, and I can understand that,” Alucius said quietly. “He’s got a wife
outside of Wesrigg, doesn’t he?” He was trying to use his Talent to pick up
feelings…clues. While he could have talked to Reltyr directly, he disliked
going around both the senior squad leader and Faisyn, his third squad leader.
“She’s worrying him.”

“Yes,
sir, but he’s a good trooper.”

“Most
of the time. Unless someone baits him about her? Is that what happened? Or
didn’t she expect him to return from Madrien?”

“Both,
sir,” Longyl admitted.

“You
don’t think discharging him will help, then?”

“No,
sir. More likely he’d kill her and the fellow hanging around her.”

“What
have you and Faisyn told Reltyr?” asked Alucius.

“Told
him that he still had a job to do, and that he had a choice. He could stay
until his term’s up and get his pay and mustering-out bonus, or he could stay
in and get the re-up bonus. Or he could walk out now, get caught and flogged
for abandoning duty, maybe shot dead for desertion.”

“You
think he’ll stay in line?”

“For
now.”

“Do
you want me to draw him aside and tell him that I know times are hard for him,
but that he’s a good man, and that we need him?”

Longyl
fingered his chin, squared the broad shoulders that topped a stocky,
barrel-chested torso, then spoke. “I’d not be suggesting, Captain…”

“But
it might help because he knows I’m married, and you’re not, and he might feel I
understood?” Alucius added, after a moment, “I’d have to tell him that we’d
discussed his situation.”

“Still
might help. Might tell him that you’re watching.”

“I’ll
talk to him this afternoon.” Alucius concealed the sigh he felt. In the end, so
much came down to fear. He was the captain who had the reputation of seeing
more than he did, of surviving more than he had, and of being the one no one
wanted to anger or upset—for all that he’d never raised his voice in anger or
ever violated militia—or, in the past, Matrite—regulations. Of course, he’d
bent more than a few. “What about Ashren? How is his arm doing?”

“Much
better, sir. Looks like it will heal fine.”

Alucius
only had questions about two of those in third squad, but that was two more
than in the first two squads, because he’d been forced to watch the first and
second squads more closely. Faisyn, Egyl, and Sawyn were experienced squad
leaders, and Longyl had been a great help. Alucius looked at the older man for
a moment, then asked, “What do you make of the tracks across the river?”

“Someone’s
scouting.” Longyl pulled on his left earlobe for a moment.

Alucius
waited.

“I’d
say it has to be the Southern Guard, but they don’t want anyone to be able to
prove it’s them. If we were fighting, I’d say that we’d be seeing an attack.”
Longyl studied Alucius.

Alucius
smiled, faintly, knowing that Longyl wanted Alucius’s opinion, but didn’t want
to ask—a sign that Longyl wasn’t absolutely certain. “They’re scouting, and
they’re probably Lanachronan—or paid by the Lord-Protector.”

“Sir,
there was a message about Deforyan raiders…” ventured Longyl.

“That
was sent from headquarters almost a month ago. No one’s actually seen either
the riders or the scouting parties.” Alucius nodded. “Is third squad up to a
patrol before dawn? Tomorrow, if the snow lets up?”

“I’ll
tell Faisyn to have the men ready.”

“He
might want to inspect their rifles. If we run into these brigands, or whatever
they are, they may need them.” Alucius grinned momentarily. “Don’t have him
tell them that, yet. Just that the captain expects their rifles in working
order whether they’re riding in a blizzard or a downpour.”

Longyl
grinned back. “Yes, sir. What time?”

“Three
glasses before dawn. First squad will accompany us as well. I’ll tell Zerdial
shortly. You get to hold the post.”

Alucius
could sense the squad leader’s resignation…and acceptance. Although riding out
before dawn in winter was miserable, Longyl preferred action to post duty, but
someone had to be in charge of the squads not on patrol. And since the
early-morning, midday, and late-afternoon patrols hadn’t found anything but
cold trails, Alucius needed to take the patrol this time. “If we don’t find
anything, I’ll have fourth squad out the next dawn, with second squad…” He
stood.

So
did Longyl. “I’ll pass the word, sir.”

“Make
sure that they’ve all got their scarves and full undergarments.” Alucius
paused. “If you’d ask Egyl and Zerdial to come over?”

“Yes,
sir.” The squad leader nodded, then turned and left.

Alucius
reseated himself and took out the sheets that held the past reports on Egyl’s
fourth squad. Outside of the vague reports on nonexistent Squawt raiders to the
west and the supposed Deforyan raiders around Emal, neither he nor Feran had
received any more information or instructions from militia headquarters. He
feared he understood why. Given the uneasy peace between Lanachrona and the
Iron Valleys, the Council certainly wouldn’t want Colonel Clyon sending out messages
warning about hostile Lanachronan activities, but Clyon did what he could to
alert his all-too-few captains and companies.

Then,
if Alucius happened to be reading the veiled messages correctly, and if he did
run into Lanachronan Southern Guards in Deforyan or brigand guise…

The
young captain shook his head. If…
if
that happened,
he’d decide when he had to, based on the situation.