Mage-Guard of Hamor (29 page)

Clearing the road of the rubble and stones took almost a full day. They had more than enough horses to have handled the work more expeditiously, but what they didn't have was enough rope and canvas, even after sending troopers back up to the rebel camp. In the end, the troopers carried and pushed or rolled most of the smaller boulders into the boggy area below the road. The single makeshift sling and tow was reserved for the comparative handful of truly massive boulders. One was so large that they had to leave it in place, but, by using all the stones in the area, they managed to widen the road just enough that a wagon should have been able to get around it.

Rahl wasn't certain that he would have tried it with a heavy timber wagon, but he hadn't seen any of those in the last eightday, and the main force could deal with the one huge boulder. Just to make certain, both Drakeyt and Rahl wrote dispatches with details about the attempted rockslide ambush, and the need for engineers to move the large boulder from the lake road. Rahl's dispatch went to Taryl, and Drakeyt's to his commander. They agreed on sending two troopers to reduce the possibility that one might be waylaid or injured, then traveled several kays past the end of the lake to a better bivouac.

The following day dawned misty and colder, cold enough that there was frost on the grass and the trees—also cold enough that Rahl shivered when he forced himself out of his bedroll. At least it hadn't rained again, and his boots were almost dry. After eating cold field rations, washed down with colder water, he groomed the gelding, if quickly, and saddled him. Then he mounted and joined Drakeyt at the front of Third Company. Glad as he was for the heavy jacket, Rahl was still shivering as he sat in the saddle while the company formed up.

Drakeyt turned, and said with a smile, “People who say there's no winter in Hamor haven't been in the Heldyn Mountains or in the hills here.”

“I didn't expect it to be this cold,” Rahl admitted. “Or this wet.”

“Neither did I,” replied Drakeyt, “but the majer cautioned me. He was born just east of Dawhut, and it can snow there, and that's warmer than here, he said.”

“Snow?”

“Not often, but it does.”

Rahl looked westward out along the road. Several thin lines of gray-white smoke rose into the clear green-blue sky. “More smoke than I'd expect. We're still something like eighty kays from Dawhut.”

“I'd wager those are backwoods stills. They don't pay tariffs, but so long as they don't try to sell their Vyrna, or what passes for it, they don't owe any tariffs.” Drakeyt laughed. “I imagine they trade for a lot.” He turned back forward in the saddle as Quelsyn rode up.

“Third Company, all squads accounted for, ser.” Quelsyn's voice was as crisp as the air itself.

“Very well, squad leader. Prepare to ride.”

“Yes, ser.” Quelsyn turned his mount. “Company! Forward!”

Once more, as the sun rose higher into the sky, the worst of the chill vanished, although the day was cooler than those previous, perhaps because of a northerly wind. Also, as on the day before, the road remained deserted except for Third Company.

Midmorning came, and Rahl could sense little beside occasional steadholders, if log huts in small clearings could be considered steads. The trails of smoke from the backwoods stills had vanished, perhaps because the air was slightly warmer or because the wind dispersed them.

Shortly after midmorning, while allowing a brief pause, Drakeyt dismounted and checked his maps, then turned to Rahl, who was glad for the respite, although he was no longer sore all the time.

“We should be coming to a small river before long,” Drakeyt said. “I just hope there's a bridge. Fording a river when it's this cold…” He shook his head.

“So far there have been bridges,” Rahl pointed out, “and now we're even closer to Dawhut. Why wouldn't there be a bridge? Or do you think the rebels might have destroyed it?”

“It's possible. There's not much point to destroying little bridges. We can just splash through the small creeks. This is the first really large bridge, and it's the first one that's not near a town.”

Rahl almost pointed out that they'd heard nothing about bridges being destroyed and, besides that, Dawhut was reportedly still under Imperial control, but he held his tongue when he considered the two attacks he'd already experienced had been even farther from Dawhut and the rebel-held coast than where they now rode. He just nodded.

The sun had almost reached its zenith, but the day had not warmed appreciably since midmorning, not with the north wind strengthening. Third Company continued to ride westward over and around low hills. In time, they came to a longer, if gentle grade. Rahl had the feeling that Third Company was being watched, yet he could not sense anyone nearby.

At the top of the next rise, Rahl looked out over a grassy valley, no more than half a kay across, with a narrow river running down the valley. Rahl smiled as he made out where the plain stone bridge crossed the river—more toward the far side of the valley. Farther to the north, the valley widened almost into a rolling plain, with but scattered stands of trees. To the south, the valley narrowed into a gorge that had obviously been cut by the river as it descended from the higher hills there. From the brown banks of the river, Rahl suspected that much of the flow had to be seasonal, or that it dropped off in the fall and early winter, which would certainly fit with Drakeyt's feelings about rainfall. Still…they'd had several heavy rains in the past days, and the rainfall might well have been heavier in the hills.

“The grass looks good. It might be worth stopping for a time and letting the mounts graze,” offered Drakeyt. “We'll see if it's as lush as it looks from here.”

Still, as they rode down into the valley, Rahl could not get over the feeling that they were being observed, even though he could neither see nor sense any sign of anyone within a kay. Finally, he said to Drakeyt, “I can't help but feel like we're being watched.”

“That's always possible, and more likely the closer we get to the coast, or even to Dawhut.”

Once the company reached the valley floor, Rahl kept looking toward the river, but the grass was close to waist height away from the roadbed, more like swamp grass, and he could only see the banks, green on top, then brown below. The closer they got to the bridge, the more the roadbed rose from the grass on each side.

“That's too tough for the horses,” Drakeyt observed.

Rahl looked at the grass again. There was something about it.

At that moment, he sensed something like a vast release of order, like a wave of something…A wave? “Drakeyt! Have the company ride for the high ground! Now! There's a flood coming! Now! Over the bridge! The hills here are closer.”

Drakeyt didn't hesitate. “Company! Charge! Hold formation! Hold the road!”

Rahl bent forward, just trying to keep astride the gelding and to stay abreast of the older captain. He used his order-senses to impart urgency to the gelding, and could feel a slight increase in his mount's speed.

As they clattered over the bridge, Rahl glanced to the side. That brief look chilled him far more than the north wind had. The riverbed was close to forty cubits wide and at least five deep, and the dampness of the dark earth of the banks showed that it had been flowing at that depth until recently.

From the south, he could hear a dull rumbling roar that built with every moment that passed. He darted a quick look to the south, but he saw nothing except what he had seen before—a near-empty riverbed and marsh grasses on each side of the river. Even looking to one side unbalanced him, and Rahl had to grab the gelding's mane to keep from bouncing out of the saddle.

From that moment on, he watched the road and hung on tightly. Riding the half kay between the west side of the bridge and where the road began to climb the hillside seemed to take forever, and the gelding began to slow on the upslope. Rahl urged his mount on, conscious more that there were those behind him who might not make it if he flagged in climbing the hill. The roaring grew louder…and louder…and then began to diminish slightly.

Finally, near the crest of the hill on the west side of the valley Rahl pulled the gelding off the road and turned to look. The entire valley was filled with seething brownish water. He thought he saw some chunks of ice as well. His eyes went to Third Company, still strung out on the hillside road. He could see several mounts and riders in the water, and he began to count those clear of the torrent. From what he could see, three and possibly four squads had made it clear.

Behind him, Quelsyn's voice rose over the rushing surge of the waters below. “Third Company! Form up!”

Rahl didn't see Drakeyt anywhere nearby, but he finally located the captain near the edge of the water, where he had thrown a rope to a rider and was using his horse to drag both trooper and mount to safety.

Rahl could feel a sour taste in his mouth. Why hadn't he tried to help someone? He knew he could barely ride, but shouldn't he have tried? Slowly, he eased the gelding back down the road. Maybe he could do something else.

By the time Rahl reached the lower part of the slope, still a good fifteen cubits above the lowest point in the road between the bridge and the hill, Drakeyt had pulled another trooper clear of the water. Rahl didn't see any more troopers or horses, and the fury of the water was subsiding.

Drakeyt looked stolidly at the water, a turbulent temporary lake that was already beginning to disappear. Then he turned to Rahl. “I think we lost four or five troopers out of fifth squad, and several of the pack animals and spare mounts. Oh, and we lost the captive from the avalanche trap. Some of the spare mounts did manage to swim clear. It could have been worse.” Drakeyt paused. “How did you know?”

“I didn't know,” Rahl admitted. “I just sensed it. They created a dam of some sort upriver, and then broke it with an explosion or something. That was what I felt, and when I saw that there wasn't any water in the riverbed…when we've had rain around here recently…that was when I realized what they'd done.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Drakeyt said. “We're only one company. They'd save that kind of destruction for the main force.”

“If they could,” Rahl mused. “You said that it didn't usually rain that much until later in the year. It could be they were afraid that their dam would collapse before the main force got here, and they wanted to try to get something from their efforts.” Rahl glanced back eastward. The water level had begun to subside, enough that he could tell that stone bridge was gone, as was much of the causeway through the marshy middle part of the valley. “Crossing that won't be easy, not unless they rebuild the causeway and the bridge. It's bound to slow down the main force. Maybe that was what they had in mind as well.”

“The marshal might have to take the older road, but that will split forces. The submarshal would have to retrace his progress some as well.” Drakeyt shook his head. “That will take longer. That route hasn't been scouted past Istvyla, and they won't be able to get nearly the supplies they need because there aren't many towns or steads on it. Right now, we can't even send messengers back.”

“They'll have to ford the river, but the water level is already dropping,” Rahl said. “By late today or tomorrow, it might be passable.”

Drakeyt took a deep breath. “Let's head up.” He stood in the stirrups. “Everyone to the hilltop! Form up there by squads!”

Rahl turned the gelding and rode beside the older captain. What else could he have done? He'd known that they were being watched. He'd told Drakeyt. He just hadn't expected a flood. He still wasn't certain if there had been an order-or chaos-force behind the torrent. By the time the water had reached the valley, all he'd felt had been immense natural chaos.

Even though he knew it was petty, he was also getting annoyed at Drakeyt. Although Rahl had scarcely been on a horse before, he had personally captured rebels, thwarted an ambush, given enough of a warning that most of Third Company had escaped what could have been total destruction, and the older captain hadn't even said a word.

During the remainder of fiveday, Rahl had taken second squad south along the hills at the western side of the valley to see if they could better determine the cause of the flood, but that had been fruitless—unless they had wanted to spend eightdays climbing rocky cliffs—because the southern part of the valley ended in sheer cliffs, and the lower part of the gorge through which the river flowed ended in the middle of those cliffs in a waterfall, with rock too steep and treacherous to climb, even on foot. Rahl had no doubts that there was a more roundabout and easier access to the upper gorge, but he could not see or sense it, and with darkness falling, he turned the patrol back. Third Company spent the night barely sheltered by a section of woods on the western rise overlooking the partly flooded valley.

Early on sixday, which dawned clear and frosty, Drakeyt sent off messengers with a report on the flood and the destroyed bridge. Once it was clear that the two troopers had safely forded the lowered river and were on the solid part of the road to the east, the captain ordered Third Company to continue westward on its scouting mission.

Drakeyt did not speak to anyone, other than giving orders, until the company had covered several kays, when he finally turned to Rahl, who rode beside him. “Have you any more warnings or concerns?”

“No. There's no one close, not that I can tell.”

The older captain pursed his lips, then lowered his voice. “We're slower than we should be. By the time the submarshal's forces join us in Dawhut, it will be midwinter, if not later. The rains will come more frequently, and they'll be heavier and last longer.”

Rahl forbore to point out that they really had no idea whether Dawhut lay open to the Imperial forces or the rebels held it. In the end, all he said was, “We can only do the best we can.”

“And remember that the marshal won't find it good enough,” added Drakeyt sardonically. “Success is due to the marshal's brilliance, failure to the shortcomings of junior officers.”

Rahl was slightly surprised at Drakeyt's words. Not at their accuracy, but at the fact that the captain had voiced them. He managed his own reply. “Shortcomings being the inability to overcome the impossible and predict the unpredictable?”

“Something like that.” Drakeyt gave the slightest of headshakes. “I'd be happier if we still had Marshal Charynat commanding the campaign.”

“Do you know who's in command of the rebels?”

“No one's said, and if anyone would know, the majer would.”

Taryl might well know, but he'd not told Rahl, and there wasn't much point in suggesting Taryl knew, then admitting he hadn't informed Rahl.

Drakeyt turned and studied the road ahead once more.

The sky remained hazy, and the air cool, with a light wind out of the north. Although it was hard to tell, Rahl felt that the rolling hills were lower with each kay. There were certainly more steads—except they were estates with larger dwellings, almost mansions, and smaller dwellings around them, set amid fields and orchards. Stopping and inspecting each of the grand holdings slowed their progress even more—and seemed almost futile—since no one recalled seeing any rebel forces.

How could they not have seen
something
?

Abruptly, Rahl smiled. Magery—that might explain it. He hadn't sensed any chaos or order around the people that they had questioned, but that didn't mean some sort of sight shield couldn't have been used, and some sort of order might have made building whatever dam had held the water far easier. But that raised other questions, such as why the attacks and traps were so scattered. That suggested the rebels didn't have many strong mages and were trying to create an impression of strength while slowing the advance of the Imperial forces.

He shifted his weight in the saddle. At least he had begun to gain some skill at riding, and he had managed to stay in the saddle on the headlong charge to escape the flood. His eyes swept the countryside, now showing not only estates and smaller holdings, but bog meadows with workers in them, and a distillery here and there. It looked almost as orderly as Recluce, not that Deybri or the magisters would ever admit such.

With all the days of sleeping in the open, Rahl had not been able to add to his letter to Deybri, although he did think about her…and dream. Dreaming of a distant healer seemed impossible. Stupid, some might say, but he could no more not dream of her than breathe. The magisters would never let him return to Nylan, no matter how accomplished an ordermage he became, and Deybri had already said—more than once, and firmly—how much she had hated being in Hamor.

Rahl pushed his thoughts away from her and concentrated on the road.

Several hundred cubits ahead, just before the road curved gradually to the right, the brush in front of a stretch of trees had grown up to almost shoulder height within ten cubits of the road, so high that Rahl lost sight of the first outriders. Beyond the trees was a stubbled field behind a rail fence. Absently, Rahl probed that area of high brush, but could sense nothing living, except small creatures—rodents and perhaps a jay or a traitor bird. He wondered if the brush had grown up over an old fence because there was some structure inside the brush but near the front. He shook his head. Just so long as there weren't any rebels.

Suddenly, the mount of one of the second outriders stumbled. The brush shuddered, and a hail of arrows or quarrels flashed across the road. A number struck the trooper and his mount—with enough force that the horse and rider went down.

For a moment, Rahl just rode on, his mouth opening. Then he started to urge the gelding forward.

“Rahl! Are there any rebels near?” demanded Drakeyt.

“No.”

“Then, hold up. You don't want to set off another trap.”

Rahl reined up, scanning the area with his order-senses again. The horse was screaming, and he had to concentrate. “There's no one near.”

“Company! Halt!” ordered Drakeyt. “Arms ready!”

Rahl probed the brush, far more carefully. What he had thought was an old fence in the brush was more structured. He turned. “There's something hidden in brush. I'm going to circle around behind it.”

Drakeyt nodded. “Be careful.”

Rahl eased the gelding onto the shoulder of the road for a time, then into the brush, easing his way forward. He could feel that the trooper was dead; his mount's screams had died to a slowed and labored breathing. Rahl could sense that the horse would not last long.

He could sense another section of what he had thought was fence…and another beyond that, and both concealed by high brush and grasses.

“There are two others!” he called back.

Two older troopers rode up to join him.

“Can you show us where, sir?”

Rahl explained exactly where the two were, and the troopers dismounted.

In moments, after making sure no one was near the devices, they had sprung the traps, and then began to disassemble them, quickly, and with little interest in preserving them. Rahl moved closer and watched carefully.

Drakeyt joined them, then turned to Quelsyn, who had also ridden up. “Have a detail bury Honyk, but give me the pouch with his personals.”

“Yes, ser.” Quelsyn turned his mount back down the column, returning with three troopers, who eased the dead trooper away from his mount.

Rahl turned his attention back to the two troopers who had disarmed the last two quarrel-throwers. While the two troopers worked quickly, it still took some time for them to remove all the sections of the devices. There had been three of the traps set in a row. The construction was simple enough—a counterweighted board on an axle of sorts with quarrels set in wooden tubes. The counterweight was held by a cord running in a pipe to a trigger plate buried a span under the road. If a horse or a heavy wagon pressed on the wooden plate, it was depressed and a sharpened piece of metal cut the cord, releasing the quarrels. Rahl could appreciate the engineering of the mechanisms, because it was simple, yet could have been built elsewhere. Installing it would not have taken that long for several men.

“How did they keep it from being set off by locals?” asked Quelsyn, peering down at the hole in the ground where the first trigger plate had been.

Rahl studied the wooden box that was the plate assembly, then nodded. “There's a space here for an iron rod. They probably had a cord attached to it and pulled it out before we got here.”

Drakeyt looked at Rahl. “That means someone is just ahead of us, watching us.”

Rahl nodded. It also meant that whoever it was knew there might be a mage-guard with the company because they remained out of his range of order-sensing.

“It's another way of trying to slow us down. Now…we'll have to be even more careful.”

“If we're looking for things like these,” Rahl said, “I'd better be farther ahead, at least with the second outriders.”

“That will make you more of a target,” Drakeyt pointed out.

Rahl offered a grin he didn't feel. “Everyone's a target, sooner or later. I won't do the company much good if I'm not where I can sense things.”

“Try not to get yourself killed,” Drakeyt replied. “I'd hate to explain it to your overcommander.”

Rahl nodded.

The captain turned to the older troopers who had disarmed the quarrel-throwers. “Just bust up that crap and toss it into the forest, except for the quarrels. They might come in useful. We've got a town or two to scout.”

A town or two or more, and who knew how many more devices and traps? Rahl let his order-senses range over the quarrel-throwers again, trying to get a better feel for them.