Mage-Guard of Hamor (54 page)

“No, ser.”

“You need some food and rest, because I'll need your help for what comes next. There's no point in killing any more of their troopers and wasting ours. Not here.”

“Ser?”

“We didn't attack the other hill. That's where the senior commanders are. We have it surrounded. I have something else in mind, but we need some rest, and I'll need your help. Just follow me for now.”

“Yes, ser.” Especially after what Taryl had just told him, Rahl couldn't help wondering just what else Taryl had in mind, but he knew the overcommander wouldn't say. Rahl just let the gelding follow Taryl's gray.

After Rahl ate a large and hot meal of tough mutton and boiled potatoes, Taryl ordered him to put his still-damp riding jacket on the back of a chair in front of the fire in the ancient hearth, then lie down on a pallet in the corner of the single bedchamber in the small cottage that served as Taryl's makeshift headquarters. Rahl was still thinking about protesting that he wasn't tired when his eyes closed.

When he was next aware, he was walking through a barn where the Third Company troopers—those who were left—kept staring at him when he wasn't looking at them. But every time he turned to check, everyone smiled or looked away suddenly. Why were they acting that way? What had he done?

Then a voice startled him. “Rahl…it's time to get up and get to work.”

Taryl's words jolted Rahl awake, and he realized that he'd been dreaming. Slowly, he sat up, glancing around and seeing that it was still light outside, although he could tell from the angle of the sunlight that it was well past midafternoon.

“There's some ale on the table there. You need to drink some before we leave,” announced Taryl. “Eat some of the bread, too.”

“Did you get any rest, ser?” Rahl stood and walked to the table, where he picked up the mug Taryl had pointed out and took a long swallow. The dream still bothered him.

“Enough. Not so much as you, but enough.”

Rahl had the feeling that the older mage had gotten some rest, but Taryl still looked tired. “What sort of work, ser?” He broke off a corner of the loaf and ate some, chewing slowly. The bread was stale, and crumbs flaked off.

“While we've been resting, Marshal Byrna and First Army have encircled the eastern hill, the one with that stone fortress on top. Some of the rebel companies have surrendered, but the rest are rather defiant. That may have something to do with the fact that there are a few senior officers and several chaos-mages and former mage-guards inside those stone walls.”

“What exactly are we going to do?” Rahl had more of the ale. How could he still be so hungry?

“A version of what you did on the road to Lahenta, except with greater precision and for a far shorter time.” Taryl smiled bleakly. “We're going to turn the ground beneath the fort into ooze, but only for a very short time. We will create a thin line of order around the hill, and each of us will do half. You'll be on the southern side, and I'll be on the north. Once the order-circle is complete, we will begin to delink everything on your side. After a few moments, it will continue on its own.”

Rahl nodded. He remembered that all too well, except that it wouldn't go outside the order-boundary.

“It will, if you leave it long enough, because it will keep digging down. And you need to keep your shields full at all times.” Taryl paused, and added firmly, “At all times, for the rest of your life—assuming you want to have a long and healthy life.”

Rahl looked quizzically at Taryl. The overcommander couldn't mean that, could he?

“I do mean it. You've already created more enemies in a year than most mage-guards do in a lifetime, and because you're supporting the Emperor, you'll make more before this is all over. Your shields are your defense against them.”

Rahl took another swallow of ale, as much to cover his confusion as because he was thirsty. “I understand about the shields…”

“What was Undercaptain Craelyt's reaction to you?”

“He tried to kill me, but…you, Captain Gheryk, and Jyrolt—Captain Jyrolt, I mean—you have all been most fair….”

“The danger is never from those who are knowledgeable and good, Rahl. It's always from those who offer a facade of goodness and are not and from those who do evil while honestly believing that their deeds are for a greater good. The first will try to destroy you by catching you unawares, and the second will catch you unawares because they have no idea what they are truly doing. Because they do not, you cannot wait to shield yourself until you perceive their intentions. Your best defense is shields that will keep them from knowing anything.”

Rahl understood that. What he was having a hard time understanding was why anyone would think a mere senior mage-guard presented a threat, especially one so junior as Rahl was. Still…Taryl's words made sense. Rahl
had
learned that. He made the immediate effort to tighten his personal shields.

“Good. Now…you know that once the delinking process goes on for a time, everything within the circle will sink. Once the rebel fortifications and forces have sunk out of sight, we will have to restore the links, or before long we will not have a town of Selyma, and the Awhut River will feed an ever-growing swamp. You should know when to begin restoring the links.” Taryl nodded briskly. “Let's go.”

Rahl reclaimed his riding jacket, which was now dry and warm for the first time in days, and fastened it before following the overcommander out of the small stead dwelling. Rahl's gelding and Taryl's mount were tied outside the small cottage. Both had obviously been groomed and fed. The late-afternoon sky was clear and looked colder than the brisk breeze that swirled around Rahl as he mounted.

Taryl did not speak as the two mage-guards began to ride southward toward the remaining rebel stronghold, accompanied by two squads of headquarters troopers, with two leading the way.

Less than a quarter kay from the grassy flat below the eastern slope, Taryl turned to Rahl. “I'll wait until you begin the circle. That way, I'll know you're in position.”

“Yes, ser. How far down from the fort do you want the circle?”

“Just enough to encircle the remaining troops. Some may be able to escape once they understand what is happening. That's why our forces are drawn up below, but they're far enough away to make it hard for archers and chaos-fire. You'll probably have to ride uphill somewhat from Fifth Regiment—Commander Shuchyl is holding much of the south side. Don't go any closer than you have to.”

Rahl nodded.

Taryl offered a brief smile. “Here's where we part…for the moment.”

When Taryl turned right and began to ride directly toward the north slope of the hill holding the small stone fort at its crest, only one of the squads escorted him. The other remained with Rahl as he continued southward along the highway toward the gap in the hills. The log-and-stone barricade had been removed, and the logs and stones piled beside the shoulder of the road short of the walled cut through the gap.

Rahl glanced back. He could not only not see the older mage, but he could not even sense Taryl. That sort of invisibility to order-or chaos-sensing was what Taryl expected of him, clearly, but would he ever be able to do that so effortlessly?

As he made his way southward, Rahl was most careful to maintain shields, although he kept his order-senses especially alert when he and the headquarters troopers rode through the walled section of the road between the two hilly ridges. Nothing happened, but he breathed more easily once he was on the south side.

He turned the gelding onto the trampled grass and headed toward the Imperial companies that were formed up a good half kay downslope from the remaining rebel forces. The rebel troopers formed a barrier around the stone fortification, an action that Rahl found somehow counter to common sense. Weren't walls supposed to protect troopers, not the other way around?

The entire hillside was silent—or as still as thousands of troopers and mounts could be in a brisk breeze—with both sides poised to attack once an order was given. As Rahl neared the rear of the Imperial formation, he looked upslope. He really didn't want to try to set an order-circle from half a kay away, but he also didn't wish to have to get any too close to the rebel lancers and troopers—or any archers or chaos-mages remaining with the rebels. He also doubted that he could maintain a sight shield and set an order-circle at the same time—not to mention protecting himself from possible firebolts from the mages in the fort above.

After a moment, he guided the gelding between two companies and continued uphill. As he neared the front of the formation, a majer turned his mount and headed toward Rahl.

“Captain!”

Rahl continued to ride.

The majer reached Rahl just as Rahl was abreast of the first rank of troopers.

“We're to hold here, Captain!”

Rahl turned and looked at the officer. “That's correct. You're to hold here. And it's ‘Majer,' by the way, and I'm operating under the orders of the subcommander. You might recognize the headquarters squad.” Rahl smiled, but extended his order shields just slightly, with enough force to press the officer back in his saddle. “If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get on with what I'm doing so that more of your troopers don't get killed unnecessarily.”

Rahl could sense both fear and anger within the majer, and he was already beginning to tire of that reaction. He forced cordiality into his voice, but projected a sense of absolute power behind the words. “You're here to do your duty, Majer, and I'm here to do mine.” Then he urged the gelding forward, but only at a slow walk. Riding quickly would be one way to get the rebels charging down on him.

Behind him, the majer reined up, but Rahl could still sense anger.

“How far, ser?” asked the squad leader.

“As close as we can get without them wanting to charge us.” Rahl extended his order-senses, trying to feel any indication that the lancers directly across the open grass from him—if several hundred cubits uphill—were thinking about attacking.

Slowly, Rahl continued uphill, but at an angle, away from the center of the stone walls.

Whhhsttt!

Rahl just let the firebolt splatter on the grass a good sixty cubits uphill.

The next firebolt was closer, but he merely order-nudged it so that it burned into the mud-spattered grass some thirty cubits to his left. The third one was noticeably weaker, but by then Rahl was closer than he really wanted to be to the mounted rebel troopers—a distance that seemed little less than 150 cubits.

He reined up and began to study the area around the stone fort. Then he shrugged and began to project his thin and unseen order line. He had perhaps a third of his half completed when he began to sense Taryl's work.

Another firebolt soared out from behind the stone walls and down toward Rahl. He diverted it and tried to concentrate on completing his order barrier just below the surface of the ground. He managed to get another third completed when a single set of trumpet triplets sounded, and the rebel lancers in the company closest to him and the headquarters squad quickly dressed their lines and began to charge toward him. Moments later, two more balls of chaos-flame arced toward him.

This time, Rahl hurriedly flung the chaos back at the lancers, using order to flatten and narrow the chaos into a thin line—almost like a chaos-whip snapped by order.

Lancers went down and piled into each other.

Using that delay, Rahl struggled to extend his order-line more to the west to reach the section of the unseen perimeter that Taryl was constructing.

Just as the two halves joined, three or four more chaos-bolts flared toward Rahl.

Rahl threw them at the rebel lancers, then reached out and began to start delinking the order-points inside the order-perimeter, but he kept having to divert his attention to block or divert what seemed like a rain of firebolts.

Then he realized that the rebel lancers were charging once more.

“Ser?”

“This way!” Rahl urged the gelding eastward, almost paralleling his order-perimeter while trying to stay on the gelding, keep distance between him and the lancers, and continue to order-delink the ground inside the order-line.

The lancers pulled up, letting Rahl move away from a position directly below the small stone walls, but the firebolts kept coming, if intermittently.

Rahl could sense a far greater wave of delinking and ooze formation on the north side of the hill, but then, he told himself, even as he tried to keep adding to the process, Taryl hadn't been under attack all the time.

Then…just as Taryl had predicted, the ground everywhere under the fort and the rebel troops seemed to liquefy all at once. The fort and the higher ground began to sink. Rebel troopers and lancers started to ride downhill in every direction.

With a huge sucking sound, everything inside the order-line vanished into a grayish brown ooze. Moreover, the hilltop had vanished as well, leaving a flat expanse of ooze level with the top of the order-perimeter created by the two mage-guards.

For a moment, Rahl just looked.

Then he could sense Taryl straining to restore order, and he immediately devoted himself to that. For a time, he felt as though he were trying to hold back a wave of mud with a sieve, and he could feel the suffocation and strangulation of hundreds of men, but slowly, slowly, the edges of the ooze solidified. Then, in apparent reversal of the process, everything solidified…and all those thousands trapped within the hill and still alive died, crushed to death by the return of solidity.

Under that wave of death and chill, Rahl began to shiver so violently that he had to grab the saddle rim to steady himself. So many deaths…so many all at once.

Abruptly, he forced himself to straighten. He could sense Taryl—and there was no way he should be able to sense where the older mage-guard was unless Taryl was wounded or in trouble.

“We need to get back to the overcommander!” Rahl started to urge the gelding forward, not down the hill, but farther eastward, around the flattened and solidified hilltop that had entombed thousands of men. Then he shook his head. The flattened area above him was solid, and it provided a far quicker route.

Rahl could sense the hesitation of the headquarters squad, but he did not hold back, not when Taryl might be in trouble. He galloped across the grayish brown clay, so hard that the gelding's hoofs sounded as though he were riding a paved road.

On the other side, Taryl was by himself, a good five hundred cubits above the other headquarters' squad, as well as above the marshal's massed forces. As Rahl reined up beside Taryl, the older man was white and ready to fall from his saddle—that was the way he felt to Rahl.