Darknesses (11 page)

After
the six left the room, Alucius went back to his maps and calculations.

A
lucius
was up early on Octi,
well before sunrise, riding alone along the river
road, eastward toward the shallows. Although he had the observations of five
scouts and their squad leaders, as well as Longyl’s thoughts, he still felt he
needed a better feel for the river at the shallows, the land, and what might
already be happening. He also did not wish to draw attention to his concerns by
riding out during the day, and although Vinkin would doubtless not say
anything, Alucius doubted that the duty sentries would be so circumspect. But
for him to ask for their silence would guarantee that everyone would know he
was deeply concerned.

In
the darkness before dawn that was little barrier to a herder’s night vision, he
finally reined up on the shoulder of the river road nearest the so-called
shallows. There he sat astride Wildebeast and studied the banks, the shallows,
and the far shore, and beyond, both with his eyes, and with his Talent-senses.

He
was relieved not to sense any mass of troopers on the far shore, but there was
a small group of men sleeping beyond the levee on the southern side, and
Alucius suspected they were scouts or an advance group for the
attackers—whoever they were. That meant that he would have to post his own
sentries later in the day.

After
taking a long slow breath, he considered the land and the river. The river was
wider than either upstream or downstream, nearly a hundred yards, but
shallower, with only a space of twenty yards where the main channel was more
than a yard and a half deep. One advantage Alucius could see was that the main
channel ran far closer to the southern shore. The attackers would see that as
an edge, because they could cross the deeper water close to their own side and
farther from the rifles of any defenders. From Alucius’s view, that meant that
there would be more riders in the water, with nowhere to go except into his own
fire—if he waited until the bulk of the attackers reached the northern shore.

The
grass running down from the river road to the water’s edge wasn’t that high
yet, barely over knee length, and certainly not high enough to cover a squad of
men, except on their bellies, and Alucius didn’t like giving up mobility,
especially when his company had to face twice that many.

He
eased Wildebeast closer to the river.

The
ground within ten yards of the river was still very soft, enough that a horse’s
hoofs would sink deeply, and after the first squad or so, the ground was likely
to be very slippery. Alucius glanced to the southern bank. There the grade was
steeper. With the recent days of mild and dry weather, he could hope that the
attackers would not realize the difference, or that the soft ground extended
much farther on the north side.

He
checked and probed the ground as he moved back, until he was satisfied that he
knew where the footing was firm and where it was not.

Then
he considered where he could place his squads…based not just on what he thought
but what his squad leaders had suggested the night before.

The
sky was turning light gray-green when he turned Wildebeast back toward Emal,
and while the men behind the levee on the southern bank had awakened, they
certainly were not preparing for an attack in the glasses immediately ahead.

But
the attack would come within the next handful of days. Of that, Alucius was
certain.

Lyterna,
Illegea

T
he
space in the Council Vault
was called the smallest hall, and it was
almost fifty yards in length and fifteen in width, with ceilings easily ten
yards high. Walls and ceilings were of polished redstone, but a redstone that
did not reflect light, for all its apparent shine and shimmer. The ancient
brackets no longer held light-torches, as they had in the days of the Duarchy,
but oil lamps whose light created a puddled glow on the thirty or so Myrmidon
officers gathered on and around the stone dais at the north end of the hall.

Aellyan
Edyss paced back and forth as he spoke, occasionally stopping and gesturing.
“…we have word that the Praetor’s forces are moving through the South Pass.
They have a device that can melt the ice and also cut through armor.” The nomad
commander looked across the ranks of his subcommanders. “It takes almost a
quarter of a glass for them to set up the device. We will attack the devices
with the pteridons and the skylances before they can bring them to bear. Once
their devices are destroyed, then you will attack.”

“How
many horse troopers does the Praetor bring?” asked an older commander, with
tinges of gray in his sleek black hair.

“Most
are horse troopers, but they cannot ride and fight as well as we do. We would
judge that they bring six thousand riders. You each are worth two of them. So
we outnumber them.” Edyss smiled. “Also, they will not expect an attack from
the skies. None have done so in the generations upon generations since the
Cataclysm.”

“When
do we leave?” asked another, younger, captain.

“Tomorrow
at dawn. The Myrmidon Horse will ride south toward the point where the Lost
Highway emerges from the Spine of Corus. You should arrive there two days
before the Lustreans do. We will not leave for several days because the
pteridons can travel faster. I wish to see if there are other weapons here that
we might use.”

“We
have enough to destroy them!” came from the back of the group.

“We
do indeed,” replied Edyss. “But the more tools and weapons we have, the more we
can take with fewer losses, and the sooner all of Corus will be ours. Is that
not our destiny and our right?” He raised a clenched fist. “Is it not?”

“Destiny!
Destiny!” The chanted word rolled through the smallest hall, like the thunder
of a great storm sweeping off the Spine of Corus and down across the plains of
Illegea.

T
hree
days passed from the Octi
when the Lanachronan farmer had delivered his
warning. It was late on Londi afternoon before the Twenty-first Company scout
hidden in the blind on the northern shore slipped back through the grass to his
mount and rode back to Emal to report that a number of riders had briefly
appeared on the levee on the southern shore of the shallows.

Three
glasses before dawn on Duadi, another scout reported activity on the southern
bank. Shortly thereafter, Alucius and Twenty-first Company rode eastward along
the river road, through the moonless darkness, under a sky filled with stars
that shed little light on the way ahead, not that Alucius needed any. Still, he
was all too conscious of the fact that his men would be firing through the
darkness, and he hoped that the river’s surface would provide enough of a
contrast. He had taken the quiet liberty of bringing two rifles and extra
ammunition for himself.

Alucius
had also slipped on the nightsilk undervest over his undergarments. That gave
him three layers of nightsilk, with padding in between two of them, across his
chest and torso, and a single layer on his arms and legs. The nightsilk
wouldn’t do much for his head, but, since he had the vest, there was certainly
every reason to wear it, and none not to.

As
they neared the curve in the river road immediately to the west of the
shallows, Alucius turned in the saddle and ordered, in a voice pitched just
enough to carry, “Silent riding. Pass it back.” He couldn’t hear the whispers
past the first few repetitions, and, if he couldn’t, he doubted that the
attackers across the river could. He looked ahead, but the road was clear,
except for a single scout posted on the back side of the road, and barely
visible, even to his night vision and Talent-senses.

Another
half vingt farther on, he reined up next to the scout. “Waris?”

“Yes,
sir?” The scout’s voice was low. “They’ve got riders bringing ropes across. Did
just a bit ago, leastwise.”

“Are
they going to put in posts to anchor them?”

“Looks
that way.”

“We’ll
form up and wait. Let us know when they start to cross in force.” Alucius could
have slowed or turned back the attack by stopping those who were setting up the
rope guides, but that wouldn’t have accomplished much except warning off the
attackers to another time and place, when Alucius had less supplies, and
probably fewer men and less ammunition.

He
turned Wildebeast, rode back to Longyl and the individual squad leaders, and
said in a low voice, “Form up as planned.”

There
were nods in the darkness, and the five slipped away, quietly enough, Alucius
hoped, that they and their squads would not be heard as Twenty-first Company
waited. Longyl eased away and into position between squads one and two, as all
the squads re-formed on the lower ground on the north side of the river road,
where they could not have been seen from the river, even in full light.

Alucius
took a position at the front of third squad, where he’d be in the middle, and
most able to use his night vision and Talent to the greatest advantage in the
early volleys. Before long the sound of sledges could be heard, dull, measured
clunks against heavy wooden posts. Then they died away.

Faisyn,
mounted beside Alucius, leaned toward the captain. “How much longer, sir?”

“Waris
will let us know,” Alucius murmured back, “once the first riders of the main
body of riders are nearing the shore.”

Alucius
let his senses range across the river. The attackers had two ropes—or
cables—running across the Vedra, and each was attached to a heavy wooden post
sledged into the river bank roughly five yards up from the water’s edge. Two
half squads of mounted raiders were stationed ten to fifteen yards up the
gentle slope from the shoreline, each group above one of the guide-rope posts.

Beside
Alucius, Faisyn shifted his weight in the saddle, clearly worried that Alucius
was waiting too long.

A
figure on foot slipped over the crest of the road and ran toward Alucius. “Sir!
The first raiders—the main body—they’re about fifteen yards offshore.”

“Twenty-first
Company! Squads to firing positions!”

“Third
squad, to firing position!”

“First
squad…”

“Second
squad…”

As
the commands were called out, Alucius rode forward immediately, knowing
Faisyn’s third squad would be behind him, up the north side of the road, over
the road, then ten yards below the shoulder. There he reined up Wildebeast and
slipped the first heavy rifle from its case.

Within
moments, Faisyn was beside him. “Ready, sir.”

Below,
Alucius could see, through the darkness, the guards posted above the guide
posts turning and peering uphill.

“…someone’s
up there…”

“…more
than a few…”

Alucius
checked around him. First squad wasn’t quite in position, but there wasn’t time
to wait. “Twenty-first Company, fire!”

“Get
into position, first squad! Fire!” Longyl’s voice rode over the other commands.

“Third
squad, fire!”

“Fourth
squad…”

The
initial volleys were aimed at the half squads stationed at the river’s edge,
guarding the posts to which the guide ropes were attached. Alucius fired five
shots, Talent-willing each shot at a raider, then shoved the rifle into the
holder, and reached for the second rifle. He was on his seventh shot before
there was a single
crack
in response.

By
the time he emptied the second rifle, most of the guards were down. As he
reloaded the second rifle, Alucius called out. “Twenty-first Company! At the
men in the river! Fire!”

“Third
squad, at the men in the river! Fire!”

“Fourth
squad…”

“Second
squad…”

The
first raiders were reaching the northern bank of the Vedra, and the others in
the shallower water spurred their mounts forward, but the water was deep
enough, and the bottom muddy enough, that even in the shallower water near the
shore, the horsemen were having trouble clearing the river. As Alucius had
hoped, there was enough contrast between the river and the raiders that each
raider stood out like a dark cutout target.

Alucius
finished reloading both rifles and began to fire once more. While he knew he
was hitting most of those raiders he aimed at, there was enough of a sweep of
death scything through the raiders in the river below that he could not tell
for certain exactly how accurate he was, although he was well aware that he was
contributing a disproportionate amount to the death toll. No one would know,
and that was definitely for the best.

He
reloaded a third time and continued to fire, but there were fewer targets
nearing the northern bank of the Vedra. There were a handful of muzzle flashes,
one from the shoreline, and several from the water, but Alucius didn’t hear or
sense any bullets coming near him as he continued to fire through the darkness
that was more like early twilight to him, picking off raider after raider as
the attackers neared the shore.

Around
him, from the corners of his eyes, he could see the flashes from the heavy Iron
Valley rifles, as well as hear the deeper-sounding reports from each shot.

Almost
without thinking, he reloaded once more and continued firing.

The
more distant raiders began to turn their mounts back to the southern shore,
trying to cross the deeper water of the main channel. One rider was swept under
the guide ropes, and he and his mount struggled to get to shallower water.

Despite
the withering fire from Twenty-first Company, perhaps ten or fifteen raiders
had managed to get onto the bank. But they were having trouble making their way
across the wet and slippery ground—as Alucius had planned. As he glanced up to
see the eastern sky graying, he realized that the fight had lasted longer than
he’d thought.

He
aimed at the lead rider and squeezed off another shot.

Abruptly,
fire slammed into his right shoulder, and Alucius felt himself nearly twisted
from the saddle. He could barely hang on to the rifle, even though he was
firing left-handed, as always. He did manage to right himself in the saddle and
holster the rifle. His entire chest and shoulder was both numb—and a mass of
fire—simultaneously.

Stars
flashed before his eyes, and he could barely see. He steadied himself with his
left hand on the pommel of the saddle. Each breath hurt.

“Withdraw!
Back across the river. Withdraw!” That command came from the southern shore of
the River Vedra. “Withdraw!”

Alucius
just hoped that he could hang on until he was certain that the raiders had
indeed withdrawn.

“Are
you all right, sir?” That was Faisyn, easing his mount up beside Alucius in the
faint light of dawn. “Seemed like most of their shots were aimed at us, maybe
at you.”

“I
think so…we’ll see in a bit,” Alucius replied. The pain wasn’t getting any
worse, and he wasn’t quite so light-headed. He remained in the saddle, waiting
for the dawn to reveal the full extent of the carnage.

Already
the handful of raiders on the shore had turned their mounts back, and the river
was mostly empty, although a number of Twenty-first Company troopers continued
to fire. As Alucius watched, another raider clutched at his chest, then sagged
in the saddle. One shot hit a horse that collapsed into the main channel,
dragging its rider down with it.

Faisyn
glanced at the ammunition belt that Alucius wore, a belt that held mostly empty
leather loops and but a few cartridges. “You let loose a lot of rounds, sir.”

“As
many as I could,” Alucius admitted. He lowered his eyes to his shoulder, taking
in the small rent in his tunic. Through the gash in the black fabric, he could
see at least one splash of metal flattened against the nightsilk outer layer of
his undervest. He had no doubts that, without the vest, he would have already
been dead.

Alucius
gently cleared his throat. “Twenty-first Company! Cease fire!” Even calling out
the command hurt, and it was probably unnecessary because the river and the
northern shore were clear of any living raiders.

As
the sky lightened, the extent of the carnage became more obvious. There were at
least fifty bodies in the shallow eddies just below Twenty-first Company, and
almost that many on the slopes above the bank. Alucius could see others farther
downstream.

Cleaning
up the mess was going to be another problem—and seeing if there was any real
evidence to prove that the raiders were Deforyan or otherwise. Alucius shifted
his weight in the saddle—and winced.

“Are
you sure you’re all right, sir?” asked Longyl, reining up beside Alucius, his
voice showing concern.

“I’ve
been better, but I’m not bleeding. I am going to be very sore.”

“At
least some of them were shooting at you. Even I could tell that from over where
I was. Do you know why?”

“They
probably felt that if they took out the commander, you’d break off or not fight
so well,” Alucius suggested. “I can’t think of any other reason they’d shoot at
the most junior captain in the militia—or that they’d even know that.” He would
have laughed, but he knew laughing would hurt, and doubtless would for days, if
not weeks.

“They
weren’t raiders, then,” Longyl said.

“Mercenaries,
I’d guess. Another way for the Lord-Protector to put pressure on the Iron
Valleys and yet be able to deny that he is.”

“You
think so, sir?”

“It’s
only a guess,” Alucius said tiredly. But he knew it was more than that. “We
need to get on with things. Have the men collect the weapons and the stray
mounts, those that there are. And pass the word to the other squad leaders.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Glad
he could rely on the senior squad leader, Alucius looked to the south bank of
the Vedra. As the sun cleared the river to the east, flooding the land and
water with green-tinged white light, Alucius could see no sign of living
raiders, just the bodies everywhere, including one caught in the guide ropes,
being tugged at by the current. Low mutterings from troopers, the heavy
breathing of some horses, and a few moans were the only sounds.

Breathing
shallowly, Alucius continued to watch from the saddle, scarcely moving, as the
troopers combed the bank and the river’s edge.