Mage-Guard of Hamor (44 page)

During the remainder of the patrol and scouting on threeday, Rahl had sensed the unknown mage-guard or white wizard screeing him twice more, but he had made no effort to increase his shields when he had felt the intrusion, uneasy as that had made him. Should he have kept himself more tightly shielded? If he did, he got tired more quickly, and he alerted the other mage to his abilities. If he didn't, he revealed his position. There didn't seem to be a good answer, and he really wanted to talk to Taryl about it. Belatedly, he realized that he should have discussed it sooner…except that he couldn't have because he hadn't known that he could sense someone using a glass to find him.

Because Rahl and fourth and fifth squad did not return to Lahenta until well after sunset on threeday, and because Rahl felt he needed to talk to Taryl, he did not stop at the chandlery to check on how Khelra was coming with the replacement truncheon. But when he reached the barn that was serving Third Company, Drakeyt handed him a message from Taryl that said the overcommander would be unavailable until immediately after muster on fourday, when he expected to see Rahl.

At that point, Rahl wondered if anything was going to turn out as it should. He'd found no sign of rebels or their tracks. He'd been detected by a rebel mage, and he couldn't even meet with Taryl to report what little he knew or to get some advice on how to deal with the mage who was screeing him. On top of that, two mounts in fifth squad had gone lame, and Rahl still had no idea if he'd have a replacement truncheon. Drakeyt informed him that none of the other squads had found any trace of rebels, and Rahl had to wonder if he was just imagining things when he used the glass.

Needless to say, he slept less than well and woke well before dawn, shivering in his bedroll. The air was damp and chill, not quite cold enough for frost, but a dew of ice-cold water covered everything outside the barn, and Rahl's breath was like steam in the chill air even inside the barn.

Once he got himself ready and moving enough that he wasn't shivering, Rahl took out the screeing glass and hung it from a rusty spike in a corner of the barn where he was not too close to anyone and concentrated on trying to locate the nearest rebel force. As soon as the mists cleared, Rahl studied the small glass carefully. The entire grassland area looked to be filled with troops, with cooking fires glowing in the predawn gloom, and smoke mixing with a faint and misty fog that softened the outlines of everything.

He tried to imagine the image as if seen from higher and farther away. The mists swirled, and the image reappeared. There were more troops and fires than before, extending for several kays—or so it seemed. For a moment, Rahl just looked, then released the image. What he had seen hadn't looked or felt like an illusion, but the only solid indication he'd had that his visions in the glass were in fact real had been his finding the broken kaystone.

He didn't see Drakeyt. So he ate stale rations—all the rations were stale—and then saddled the gelding.

Since Taryl had ordered Rahl to report to him immediately after muster, Rahl was at the chandlery/cooperage before muster. He didn't have to knock.

Khelra opened the door even before he set foot on the narrow porch. “Figured you'd be here early. Looks like all of you are going to be moving out pretty soon.”

“That's likely, but I haven't been told yet.”

“It's on the bench. I've been working and polishing it. There's a way to harden it without making it brittle.” She turned.

Rahl followed her through the dimness.

The truncheon lay on the workbench beside the scabbard. Rahl just looked at the smooth length of dark oak, the slightly curved iron guard, and the iron bands below the guard and at the blunt tip of the truncheon. The grip was of crosshatched bone. Rahl could sense the internal order that resided in well-crafted work…and perhaps more than that. “It's beautiful.”

“Because it's all one piece. It's part of an old staff,” Khelra explained, “I didn't use rivets on the grip. That's why there's an iron cap on the end of the hilt, and that iron circle above the grip. Some of it's crude, but I didn't have much time.”

Rahl laughed warmly. “If that's crude, I'd really like to see a fine piece of your work.” He lifted the weapon, amazed at its balance. It was slightly heavier than the one Taryl had given him, but that was because of the iron. The heavier weapon might serve him better in any case. He slid it into the scabbard. It fit as though the two had been made as a set.

“You said two silvers,” Rahl said, reaching for his belt wallet.

“I did.” Khelra's voice carried amusement…and wariness.

He handed Khelra five silvers. “It's worth more than that, but…even majers don't have a lot of coin.”

“That's more—”

Rahl almost said, “My life's worth more than five silvers.” He did not, realizing that would sound callous and somehow cavalier. Instead, he replied. “What you did is worth more than you asked for. I'm only being as fair as I can be.” That was also true. He did have more coin, but he didn't dare give her as much as her work was worth.

He loosened his belt, then replaced the scabbard that held the new truncheon.

As he adjusted the scabbard, a faint smile touched the corner of her lips. “May your order sustain you, Majer. The Emperor is fortunate to have you serving him.” She grinned for a moment. “You even sound almost like you belong in Merowey.”

“I'm from much farther away, but I appreciate your words.” He nodded. “I have to report for duty. Thank you. I can't say how much I appreciate it.”

“You have, Majer. A crafter can tell when something's appreciated.”

Again, when Rahl left the cooperage, he could feel her eyes on his back…as well as a certain wistfulness. He was glad Khelra couldn't see the flush on his face.

Outside, he mounted quickly, noting that his breath no longer steamed, but the air remained cold and raw as he rode back to the barn and where Third Company was forming up for muster.

Drakeyt glanced at Rahl as the mage-guard rode up beside him. “How did she do?”

“Better than I deserved.” Rahl smiled, then drew the truncheon and extended it so the captain could see.

“Much better,” Drakeyt agreed. “But you'll need it.”

Rahl was all too certain that he would.

After muster, Rahl excused himself and rode back to the square and Gorsyn's mansion. He had to wait in the foyer for a time, before an undercaptain appeared, opening the door to the study.

“Majer…the overcommander will see you now.”

Rahl followed the young officer's gesture and stepped into the study, closing the door behind him.

Taryl nodded to Rahl, but did not rise from behind the desk that held an array of maps of various sizes. “I see you managed to replace your truncheon.”

“Yes, ser,” replied Rahl, rather than point out that he did listen to Taryl, and more than just occasionally. “I wanted to report to you last night, but it took us a while to carry out a full scouting of the old road to the south.”

Taryl nodded. “What did you discover?”

“There's no sign of rebels at any time recently, but there was something else. A white wizard or a chaos-mage…well, it felt like one of them was looking at me with a screeing glass. I don't know that, but that was the way it felt.”

“If you felt it, then it doubtless was.” Taryl frowned. “If you could sense them, you're not using enough in the way of order shielding.”

“More shielding takes more effort, ser. I can't seek out rebels nearby for as long or as well—”

Taryl snorted. “You're giving me the same kind of excuses you gave the magisters in Nylan. Of course, proper shielding takes effort. Proper anything takes effort. If you don't work at it, you won't get any stronger. The more you stretch yourself, the more able you become. Without me around, you're slipping back into lazy patterns, and you're failing to demand enough of yourself.”

Although Taryl had not raised his voice, Rahl felt as though he had been tongue-lashed with fine order-whips. “Yes, ser. I'll work on that more.”

“You should have been working on it all along.” As almost always, Rahl could not sense what the overcommander felt behind his shields.

“Yes, ser. I used the glass again this morning,” offered Rahl, trying to change the subject.

“What did you discover?”

“The grasslands south of Thalye—I think that's where they are—are filled with troopers and lancers. It's hard to tell, but I'd say that they might outnumber your forces.”

“They probably do. The grasslands favor lancers over mounted infantry, or foot, not that we have many of those.” Taryl cleared his throat. “Captain Drakeyt will be joining us shortly, and I will be explaining what Third Company will be doing in preparation for the coming battle. There will be one, you know. Golyat did not want to fight in the hills or too far from Nubyat, but the midlands are well suited for his lancers.”

“They're like the ancient mirror lancers, aren't they?”

“Golyat always wanted to emulate them, but his lancers are far less capable than the Cyadorans on whom they were modeled. For one thing, he cannot formulate true cupridium. His lances are polished iron over spruce or something similar. They're heavier and not nearly so strong.”

“Can anyone formulate cupridium today?”

“It's said that the white wizards occasionally expend the effort to create special blades for white wizards, but that may be a rumor.”

There was a quick knock on the door of the distiller's study, and an undercaptain eased his head into the room. “Captain Drakeyt is here, ser.”

“Have him come in, Smadyn.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Overcommander…Majer.” Drakeyt nodded to both Taryl and Rahl.

“Thank you for being so prompt, Captain. Normally, of course, you would receive orders through the chain of command, but since you are on detached duty and will remain so, I find that it is better than I explain your orders directly so that there will be no misunderstandings.” Taryl looked to Drakeyt, then to Rahl.

“Yes, ser,” replied both officers, almost simultaneously.

Taryl smiled pleasantly. “Tomorrow all our forces will move forward to the south side of Thalye. There you will conduct routine scouting, but you will not initiate any contact with the rebels. They have drawn up some four kays south of Thalye, doubtless to remain clear of uneven terrain and to draw us away from the higher ground of the hills to the north of the town. At the proper time, we will allow ourselves to be drawn into battle on ground that seems to favor them.” The overcommander looked at Rahl first this time, then at Drakeyt, before continuing. “Third Company has become very effective in showing initiative and in operating independently. Rather than attempting to integrate your initiative into the main plan for this coming battle, I intend to place you on the far-left flank—not out of the battle, but where you can use that initiative to make a difference.” After a pause, the overcommander added, “There is also another reason. The ground there borders bogland and swamp, but there is a narrow corridor of solid ground that could be used for a feint or a limited attack. I would prefer not to have major forces diverted when we are likely to need all the companies we have.” Taryl stood and pointed to the map. “Here is where the road from Lahenta enters the grasslands, and where the rebel forces are likely to be arrayed…”

Rahl studied the map and listened, as well as trying to get a hint of what Taryl might have in mind beyond what he said, but the older mage's shields were impermeable and let nothing slip. All Taryl radiated was concern and an attempt to make clear what he wanted from Third Company.

As outlined by Taryl, on fiveday, Third Company scouted the way in advance of Second Army from Lahenta. Well behind Third Company, a long column of troopers—and behind them supply wagons—made their way along the paved main road to Thalye, the road that would eventually carry Second Army to Nubyat—if they could defeat the rebels. This time, Rahl made certain his shields were stronger. He also practiced as much as he could with his new truncheon, trying to get the best feel he could of the weapon and how it handled. Settling into Thalye that night was uneventful.

Well before dawn on sixday, Drakeyt and Rahl led Third Company out of Thalye by a side lane that skirted the hills to the north and east of the town, and then turned southward toward the boglands due south. The grasslands that stretched south of Thalye were more to the southwest. The outriders were only a few hundred cubits ahead, because there were no trees and little cover, and the grass that was usually knee high had been beaten down by winter to calf height in most places.

“It may be an honor to be trusted with protecting the flank,” murmured Drakeyt under his breath, “but why do so many honors involve getting up before the sun?”

Rahl just smiled in the deep gloom. His question was different. Why was it that no matter how much he did and learned, it never seemed to be enough for Taryl anymore?

He extended his order-senses, checking the lane ahead, but at least for the next kay, it was empty of anything that could be an enemy threat, although he could sense a wild dog and several large rodents. He could not yet sense the boglands, but there was a vague feeling of what he could only have described as chaotic order ahead and slightly to the east. The air smelled of firesmoke drifting on the light breeze from the south.

Overhead, the stars were beginning to dim as the sky slowly lightened. More to the west, Rahl could make out a few puffy clouds that looked gray but would doubtless turn whiter once the sun rose. He didn't think they heralded rain, but even if they did, they were barely above the horizon and seemingly not moving, suggesting that they would not reach Thayle or Third Company until late in the day, if then.

To his right, in the distance, Rahl thought he could make out points of flickering light. Cookfires? Why hadn't the rebels just taken Thalye and settled in there? Was there something he didn't know? Or Taryl didn't?

“There are a lot of fires out there,” Drakeyt said quietly.

“And a lot of rebels.”

They rode without speaking for almost a kay, and by then the sky had lightened enough that only the brightest stars remained visible. Rahl had been trying to use his order-senses to determine where the swamp and boggy land began and was getting a strong feeling that the northeasternmost edge was less than half a kay ahead, just beyond the last of the low hills to the east of Third Company. The faint odor of rotting vegetation bolstered his impression.

“The swampy land starts just ahead, less than half a kay,” he finally said.

“Can you tell where the part in the middle of it is that we're supposed to watch?”

“Not yet.” Rahl could sense movement to the west. “Second Army is beginning to move out of Thalye and into position.”

“What about the rebels?”

“I can't tell,” Rahl admitted.

After riding almost another kay, Rahl began to get a very uneasy feeling, not because he sensed rebel forces but because he sensed something else entirely.

“We're almost in position,” said Drakeyt.

“We've got another problem,” Rahl said. “There's a road through the bog. It's not on the maps, but it goes right where the overcommander said the solid land is. It's an older road, and you can't see it from here because the grasses have grown up over the part just east of us.” Rahl wasn't certain he would have noted it in full light, but he'd been using his order-senses on the land rather than looking at the vegetation.

“Frig!” muttered Drakeyt. “Odds are that the rebels know it, and if it goes very far, they could be counting on using it.”

“They might not. You can't see it easily.” Rahl gestured. “You see that tanglevine clump there? The road runs just this side of it.”

“It's all grass there.”

“That's what I said. But there's no grass covering it a half kay farther east, and I think it swings more to the south.”

Drakeyt shook his head. “We're supposed to take a position that will command this rise and the possible way through the bog. That's here.” He lifted his left arm and turned in the saddle, raising his voice. “Form up, squads across, first squad to the right, fifth squad to the left.”

Quelsyn repeated the orders.

The rise where Third Company had halted was barely that, the top of the gentle slope being barely four cubits above the grasslands to the southwest.

In the early predawn light, Rahl could also see that the so-called grassland held more than the brown-tipped knee-high grasses that predominated. There were bristle bushes—looking like green hummocks from which protruded saw-toothed leaves as long as a man's arm—as well as scattered creosote bushes and the twisted low mounds of tanglevine. Not surprisingly, there were more of the clumps of nastier brush on the eastern end of the flat where Taryl had begun to position the companies of Second Army, and an even greater concentration closer to Third Company.

“Drakeyt…I'd like to take half of fifth squad and ride down that old road a ways. I can't sense anyone for a half kay, but it's harder to sense around swamps and bogs.” Rahl also had to figure out what he could do, not just to stop any attackers, but to disable or kill them. He still didn't much care for that part, but any he didn't kill could end up killing him or Drakeyt or the troopers of Third Company and Second Army.

“Might be a good idea. There's no one moving toward us from their side. Not yet. Be careful.”

Rahl nodded. That also meant he shouldn't go far enough to get cut off or not to be able to get back if the rebels launched an attack. He rode to the right flank of Third Company and reined up beside Lyrn.

“Squad leader, I need five men to cover me while I'm checking for a possible route for an ambush by the rebels.”

Lyrn stiffened slightly. “Yes, ser.” He turned. “Astahn, you and the four others in your file go with the majer.”

“Yes, ser.”

After the five broke out of the squad and lined up in front of Rahl, he spoke quickly. “There's an old road through the swamp. I need to see how far it goes. All you have to do is follow me.” He paused. “Unless we get attacked, and then we'll make a strategic withdrawal.” He offered the last words sardonically.

Astahn smiled; the others kept straight faces.

“Let's go.” Rahl turned the gelding and headed off the rise, nearly due south and toward the grass-covered end of the old road. He had the definite feeling that he needed to learn before the sun rose what might be using the road.

As he rode into the grass that covered the end of the road, he could sense that the road had not just been worn into the ground by use, but that sometime in the past it had been carefully constructed through the swamp. The clay in which the grass grew had been packed over loose stones and gravel sunk into the swampy ground. Over time, either the ancient causeway had sunk or the swamp had risen, because the grass-covered surface was little more than a handspan above the water from which grew marsh grasses, moss, and less appealing plants.

“…how does he know…”

“…don't want to know…”

Rahl smiled tightly at the murmured words of the troopers new to Third Company. After riding a little more than half a kay, he reined up and let his order-senses range farther south.

For a distance of almost a kay, there were only about fifty cubits of solid ground flanking the old road on each side. South of that narrow strip, the road ran through an area at least several hundred cubits wide, but for how far Rahl could not tell. On the north and grass-covered end of the road behind them, but about half a kay south of where Drakeyt had stationed Third Company, the solid ground remained a narrow strip until it reached the grasslands.

The approach that came to Rahl's mind was to see if he could find a way to isolate any rebel lancers or troopers on that narrow stretch. Based on what he had done in the hills, he could certainly turn the northern end into swampy ooze, but once the attackers discovered that, they could just withdraw and ride around the boglands.

Were there any attackers coming?

He pressed his order-senses down the narrow road, trying to focus away from the swampy area that impeded his sensing. After a moment, he nodded. Troopers were riding northward, most definitely, but they were more than a kay away, possibly even farther.

“We need to ride farther south, quickly,” he told Astahn.

While they rode at a quick trot, Rahl kept trying to judge just how far away the oncoming rebels might be and how many were in the force. From what he could sense, they were only moving through the gloom at a walk, but there were far more than a single company, possibly even an entire battalion.

Rahl finally reined up after he thought they'd covered another half kay. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself in the saddle, then concentrated on sensing the causeway just to the south of his small band.

In the end, the best he could do was to use order-delinking on the clay beneath the rock for a section of road some fifty cubits wide and running from one edge of the swamp to the other. Then he just waited, letting the delinking process continue, trying to keep his senses on the advancing rebels.

The sky was markedly lighter when he forced himself to concentrate once more to stop the actual delinking. The ooze-building would still continue, if he'd calculated correctly, but this time Taryl wouldn't be able to fault him for not stopping the process. While it was more a matter of feel as to when the full impact would occur, Rahl believed that the crusty area on top would continue to soften, but it would take the passage of many mounts, a hundred he hoped, before it began to weaken, but the weakening would speed up with each horse and rider. With more time or more mounts, that section of the road and causeway would turn into a particularly awful swamp ooze.

Despite the chill, he was sweating heavily by the time he finished—and he was only half-done. His hands were shaking slightly, and he was light-headed. A swallow of water helped, but only a little. He fumbled some hard ration biscuits from his saddlebags, then turned the gelding.

“We're heading back. They've got troopers headed this way, maybe a whole battalion.”

He began to chew on one of the biscuits, taking sips from his water bottle as he rode.

“How'd he know…”

“Mage-guard…notice how polite the captain is to him…”

The biscuits helped. Rahl needed to remember that he needed to eat something after he did strenuous magery. He knew he should, but he often got caught up in what he was doing and forgot.

Rahl decided to set the second ooze-trap about a third of a kay from the edge of the grasslands. Once it became clear to the rebels that the road was a trap, most, if not all of those not ensnared would have to try to make their way through the swamp, and he wanted to make sure that they had a fair amount of swamp to cross, but he also wanted to be able to see where they were headed.

This time he didn't bother with a crusty top. He didn't want anyone passing this section of the causeway without ending up in ooze that seemed bottomless. He was even more light-headed than before. He managed to swallow some water, but he dropped a biscuit into the grass because his hands were unsteady. After eating most of the rest of the travel biscuits in the second pack, his head began to clear, and he rode slowly back toward Third Company.

Rahl had just returned the troopers to fifth squad and reined up beside Drakeyt in the early light when he could see and sense the gathering of lancers to the southwest, their armor and lances glittering orangish in the early light of a sun that had barely cleared the low hills to the east of the swamplands.

“They'll be on us before long,” Drakeyt said quietly. “Must be close to twice as many troopers and lancers as we have.” Unspoken was the question as to why Taryl was even fighting a battle when the Imperial forces were so outnumbered, and when the marshal's forces had not yet joined Taryl's.

“We'll need to be more effective, then.” Rahl knew Taryl had planned something, even if he did not have any idea what that might be, and could only hope that his trust in Taryl was well-founded.

“They're moving in good order. They don't look like raw recruits,” replied Drakeyt.

Rahl shifted his weight in the saddle, then fumbled for another pack of biscuits—his last, but he had the feeling he did need to eat more. He had just finished the crumbs of the last biscuit, washed down with a hefty gulp from his water bottle, when a series of high-pitched trumpet calls rang through the air.

Rahl could sense the waves of oncoming lancers. While most of them were aimed at the center of the Imperial line, a smaller concentration had broken off and was headed toward Third Company. “Lancers headed our way.” Even as he spoke, he realized the words were stupid. Drakeyt could see that as well as Rahl could.

“Third Company! Weapons ready!” Drakeyt looked to Rahl. “We'll have to let at least some of them through and catch them on the back side.”

Rahl concentrated, trying to sense more than the oncoming lancers. “They've got a company of troopers behind them.”

“They would. That's experience, and it means we'll have to try something like an angle charge.”

Rahl tried to recall exactly what that was from the tactics books he'd read, because it wasn't what it sounded like, or not exactly, and he'd never seen Drakeyt order it in maneuvers. His eyes flickered from one body of lancers to the other while he tried to think of what he could do. He certainly couldn't hold an order shield of any size for long, and what he could hold would barely protect the front of a squad.