Scepters (58 page)

“Have
him come in.”

The
marshal stood as Alucius walked in. “Colonel. Please take a seat.” The circles
remained under Alyniat’s eyes, but they were not quite so black, and his silver
blond hair was longer and disheveled. He brushed it back off his forehead as he
reseated himself behind the stack of maps.

“Colonel…
you look well.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius wasn’t about to mention that he was still sore in too many spots,
especially around his ribs.

“How
long before you can ride?”

“I’m
riding now,” Alucius pointed out. “The healer thinks I can trade the heavy
splint for a brace early next week, and I could certainly ride then. It will be
a while longer before I can lift a blade or handle a rifle.”

“But
you could ride back to Tempre next week?”

“If
I don’t have to fight.” Alucius smiled politely. “Are you saying that I
actually might be able to return to the Iron Valleys?”

Alyniat
stood momentarily and extended a sealed envelope. “This arrived late last
night.”

Alucius
took the envelope, broke the double seal, and began to read.

Colonel
Alucius—

The
Lord-Protector was most gratified to hear of your successes in destroying the
Matrite spear-throwers and distressed to have learned of the extent of your
injuries. Later reports of your progress have cheered him greatly, and he would
like to extend an invitation for you and your three companies to return to
Tempre at your earliest convenience, but not earlier than prudent in your
recovery. He extends his personal best wishes, and hopes for your early and
complete recovery, as does the Lady Alerya.

You
will, of course, be honored once more, and the Lord-Protector would hope that
you would accept an invitation to supper in his private apartments once you
have returned to Tempre…

The
missive was signed by Frynkel and bore both his seal and that of the
Lord-Protector.

Alucius
understood clearly the last paragraph—both the honor and the likely conditions
that might come with it. He looked to the marshal.

“I
also received a letter, saying that you would receive a request to return to
Tempre with all three companies, and that you would be honored upon that
return. Is that… ?”

“Yes,
sir. Whenever I feel that I can ride.” Alucius smiled faintly. “I’d say next
week, once the heavy splint is off.” It wasn’t really the splint, but he hoped
that his ribs would be better by then. Only two of them ached any longer—most
of the time. At times, all four did.

“That
would be good.” Alyniat paused. “I will offer my own thanks once more, Colonel.
In addition to the destruction of the crystal spear-throwers, you and your
companies accounted for the deaths of more than ten Matrite companies. Your
actions have changed the entire balance of power here in the southwest. For
that, both personally and professionally, I am most grateful.”

“Thank
you, sir. I am sorry that there was no way to capture either weapon. The way
that they were built meant that they could not be disabled—only destroyed.”
Alucius cleared his throat. “That’s not quite accurate. They could be captured,
but only when they were not in use, and we could never get close enough with
sufficient force when they were not in use.”

“Do
you think they could build another?”

“I
would judge it is possible. It will take at least a year, and possibly longer,
based on what I know.”

“A
year…” mused Alyniat. “Two at most.”

“You
could prepare…”

“How?”
Alyniat’s eyes fixed on Alucius.

“The
spear-thrower is not terribly effective against stone. Rebuild the gates to
your key forts so that the spear-thrower cannot be used against anything
wooden. Perhaps a stone wall ten yards in front of the gates and wide enough
that the spear-thrower could not be used at an angle. It cannot be used without
a great deal of sand. That suggests that it will be most effective in the north
in warmer weather. Also, the Matrites are not nearly so effective in small
groups. I would send raider groups into their territories and pick off as many
patrols as possible. The greater the losses now, the longer before they can
build up the forces necessary to protect a spear-thrower for its use.” Alucius
almost shrugged, but managed to stop the gesture—knowing that it would have
been painful.

“What
else?”

“If…
if
they do rebuild one, it cannot travel quickly
except by the high roads because it is so heavy. If you control the high roads
south, you can restrict its use.” All of what Alucius said seemed simple and
direct enough to him.

The
marshal nodded. “All very simple, but effective. Like you.”

“I’m
too young and inexperienced as a commander to attempt anything terribly
complicated.”

Alyniat
laughed. “Don’t, even when you’re more experienced. Complicated plans just have
more ways to go wrong.”

Alucius
had already thought that, and had decided against saying so.

“I
won’t keep you longer, Colonel.” Alyniat paused. “By the way, do you know that
you’re the youngest majer-colonel in the history of the Southern Guard?”

“No…
I didn’t.” Alucius wasn’t surprised. He was too young to be a colonel, but
Marshal Frynkel and the Lord-Protector had needed him—and needed him to be
independent, and so had Alyniat. “But you had a great deal to do with that.”

“I
did.” A wry smile crossed the face of the blond marshal. “Promoting you was far
easier than arguing and took less time. I figured that I couldn’t lose.”

“I’d
be either dead or successful. Dead, the rank wouldn’t have mattered, and if we
were successful, who would challenge your decision? And, either way, since I’m
a Northern Guard officer, you wouldn’t have to deal with any problems that followed.”

“That’s
one of the things I like about you, Colonel.” Alyniat chuckled. “You’re an
idealist, but a very realistic one.” He stepped toward the door. “You can
choose when you leave, but I would appreciate your letting me know.”

Alucius
rose from the chair. “You can be assured that I will, Marshal.”

Even
though his ribs were beginning to ache more, he forced himself to leave the
fort at a measured pace without betraying the growing pain. He still needed
more rest than usual—a great deal more. As he mounted the chestnut, he just
hoped that he’d improve more by the middle of the next week.

The
following Quinti, two mornings after the healer had replaced the splint with a
removable brace, Alucius and Feran and what remained of the three companies
rode out of Southgate headed for Tempre. No one saw them off, and there were no
fanfares or much of anything else, for which Alucius was grateful. The
wristguard showed that Wendra was healthy. Although he knew there was no way he
could have gotten any messages, he still wished he could have gotten some word.

Five
days later, they reached Zalt, but Colonel Jesopyr had been sent north to take
charge of rebuilding and refortifying the post at Dimor.

While
Captain Kuttyr was most pleasant and helpful, Alucius had to admit that he
missed Jesopyr.

A
week later—ten long days—they were less than five vingts out of Tempre, and
Alucius was riding at the front of the column with Jultyr and Thirty-fifth
Company. The day before, Alucius had sent Fewal and Rakalt ahead with a message
to Southern Guard headquarters announcing their impending arrival. The last
thing he wanted was to show up with three companies that no one had counted
upon—although he doubted barracks space would be a problem, not with the majority
of companies still in the southwest. Alucius wasn’t sure whether to call the
area the southwest, southwest Lanachrona, south Madrien, or old Madrien, and he’d
seen all four terms used in dispatches. So he’d opted to use the semineutral “southwest”
in his reports to Marshal Frynkel.

Alucius
was tired, and his ribs and arm had begun to throb, as had happened later in
the day on most of the journey northeast toward the capital city of Lanachrona.

“What
do you think will happen in Tempre, sir?” asked Jultyr.

“Not
all that much. The Lord-Protector will commend everyone, thank me personally,
give you furlough, and send us back to the Iron Valleys. They’ll send you
replacements, give you some training, and in a season, you’ll be back in the
southwest. Two seasons, if you’re fortunate.”

“As
Overcaptain Feran says, sir, you’re most optimistic.”

“Rulers
have needs. They seldom care what ours are. If they’re good, they’ll try to do
something to meet ours, but whatever they do won’t compromise what they need.”

“Suppose
not, sir.”

“They
won’t stay rulers if they don’t look out for the country first.” Alucius did
not say more because he saw riders ahead.

Those
riders were four Southern Guards, waiting on the east side of the high road.
The four caught sight of the banners and straightened in the saddle before
riding toward Alucius and Jultyr.

“Colonel
Alucius?”

“Yes.”

“Marshal
Frynkel sent us out to meet you. Your quarters and barracks are arranged, and
Captain Wasenyr will be briefing you on the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?”
asked Alucius.

“Yes,
sir. All three companies will receive the Lord-Protector’s unit commendation.”

Alucius
could sense Jultyr’s concealed amusement.

“They
don’t give many of those, sir. That’s because it comes with two weeks’ pay for
every lancer as a bonus.”

“That’s
good to know,” Alucius replied. “Lead on.”

As
the four lancers swung in front of the banners at the front of the column,
Alucius turned to Jultyr and shrugged.

“We
were cheap at the price,” Jultyr said dryly. “Still, the men will appreciate
it. They’ll make sure to pay it before we get any replacements.”

Alucius
couldn’t help smiling at the veteran’s assessment.

The
sun was low in the west, shining through a hazy sky and offering only slight
warmth by the time the four lancers escorting Alucius and the three companies
turned off the high road and then onto the Avenue of the Palace.

Looking
down the Avenue and through the space between the two green towers that dated
back to the Duarchy, Alucius could see across the River Vedra to the
southernmost part of the Westerhills. Unlike the northern Westerhills, where
the trees were junipers and pines spread widely on rocky and sandy ground, the
trees north of Tempre were mixed pine and softwoods growing far more closely
together.

As
they neared the palace itself, with the stone-walled gardens of the
Lord-Protector on their right, the lancers turned right on the avenue fronting
both the palace and the headquarters complex of the Southern Guard. Behind both
structures to the north was a long ridge that extended to the river in the west
and well into the distance to the east. There were no structures on the top
third of the ridge.

Alucius,
getting more sore by the moment, shifted his weight in the saddle as they
neared the gray granite walls of the Southern Guard headquarters, modest in
size against the low hills directly behind the gray buildings. As before, when
he had been in Tempre, there were but four guards flanking the gateposts. The
guards looked up briefly, possibly surprised to see such a long column of
riders. Behind them, the main headquarters building rose four stories, with
clean gray walls looming over the paving stones that covered the space inside
the walls. The exception was the small walled garden set forward of the
squared-off portico that was the main entrance.

The
four lancers rode around the east side of the building and into the rear
courtyard, a space cut out of the hillside, with the stables to the right, and
barracks and quarters behind, but forward of a stone wall that rose almost
fifteen, yards. They continued turning, toward the portico that marked the rear
entrance. Standing on the steps above the mounting blocks were several figures
in Southern Guard uniforms. As they rode closer, Alucius recognized Marshal
Frynkel, but not the captain with him, nor the lancers behind the two officers.

The
lancers reined up, and Alucius ordered, “Column, halt!”

Frynkel
stepped forward. “Colonel Alucius, Overcaptain Feran, Captain Jultyr, Captain
Deotyr, and all the lancers of the Fifth, Twenty-eighth, and Thirty-fifth
Companies… welcome to Tempre and Southern Guard headquarters. Your efforts can
truly be said to have been critical in saving Lanachrona, and for that you will
be recognized and rewarded at an official ceremony on Duadi. Later, Captain Wasenyr
will go over the details with you.” Frynkel inclined his head to the
dark-bearded young captain standing back and to his left. “On behalf of the
Lord-Protector, I wanted to welcome you all to Tempre.” A nod from the marshal
clearly ended the welcome.

Alucius
inclined his head. “We thank you, Marshal, and the Lord-Protector. We are
pleased that we have been of service.”

Frynkel
stepped forward. “Colonel, I would appreciate the honor of your company and
that of Overcaptain Feran at supper this evening.”

“We
would be pleased.”

“Good.
Captain Wasenyr will fill you in.” Frynkel’s smile was pleasant, but Alucius
could sense the tiredness behind the expression. “I’ll let you get your men and
yourselves settled.”

“Thank
you, sir.”

The
lancer escorts urged their mounts into a slow walk.

“Forward,”
Alucius ordered.

Once
the three companies were drawn up outside the stables, Wasenyr and three squad
leaders met them.

“Colonel,”
offered the bearded captain, “the squad leaders will show your companies what
sections of the stables are assigned, and the barracks areas. Once you’ve taken
care of what you need to here, I’d be pleased to escort you and your officers
to your quarters.” A lopsided smile followed. “You may have noticed that we’re
somewhat understaffed here from the way things were in the past.”