Darknesses (16 page)

“You
two are resourceful. Very good. It will serve you—and us—very well.” Weslyn
smiled yet again. “Did you know that we are already receiving brownberries in
Dekhron? And without tariffs, even the lower crafters can afford them.”

Alucius
got the message that the colonel had said all that he was about to say. So he
listened, and commented politely, until supper was over. After more
pleasantries the two outpost captains excused themselves and made their way out
into the still-light evening. The sun was poised over the western river bluffs,
its white light tinged with green as it dropped toward the horizon. The two
walked silently out through the gates and along the causeway until they were
certain they were alone.

“I’m
sorry, Feran,” Alucius said. “I didn’t—”

“It’s
not your fault, and I don’t hold anything against you. But I meant it. I’d be
sanded if I’d take an assignment where there are only two months out of ten
without snow. And they are going to pay that stipend.”

“You
think Fifth Company…”

“They
feel the same way. A third of them came from Soulend—or Iron Stem—to get out of
the cold. You think they want to serve in a place three hundred vingts closer
to the Ice Sands?”

“He
decided to promote me to force you out,” Alucius pointed out.

“We
both got sanded. You couldn’t afford that kind of buyout, could you?”

“It
would force my family into poverty. They’d have to sell the stead, and they’d
still end up owing hundreds of golds.”

“That
much?”

“Low
hundreds,” Alucius admitted, “but there wouldn’t be any way to pay them.”

“Well…at
least you’ll get a few more coins out of it.”

A
few more coins, and much more trouble. As he watched the sun set, Alucius reflected.
Troubles just compounded themselves. He’d gotten captured by the Matrites. To
escape he’d had to use his Talent to destroy the power behind the Matrial’s
torques and kill the Matrial. But to get accepted back in the Iron Valleys,
he’d had to stay in the militia, if as an officer, rather than a squad leader.
And now he was being sent to fight a nomad conqueror who had routed the army of
the largest and most powerful land in Corus.

He
pushed away the sense of self-pity. He’d managed to get back alive, when most
didn’t, and his abilities had been recognized, and he had been able to marry
the woman he loved—even if he hadn’t been able to spend much more than a month
a year with her. With even the thought of Wendra, the wristguard felt warmer.

I
n the
hot summer evening,
Alucius sat at the small writing desk in his
quarters and blotted his forehead with the back of his hand. He was more tired
than he’d thought. Still, he needed to write Wendra, and tired as he was, he
was too restless to sleep. He picked up the pen and dipped it into the inkwell,
slowly putting down words and phrases. After finishing another page in his
ever-growing letter to his wife, Alucius read over the lines, conscious that he
had best be most careful about what he put to paper.

The change from the militia to
the Northern Guard has not affected the time I am required to serve. That
remains the same, but it appears my duties will change. Twenty-first Company
has been assigned to an expeditionary detachment being sent to assist the
Landarch of Deforya. We will be departing in slightly more than a week. I have
been promoted to overcaptain, in charge of both the Twenty-first and Fifth
Companies, but I also remain as commander of the Twenty-first…We have been
working hard to make sure that our companies are as prepared as possible for
the coming ride…

Some
of the preparations were not what the colonel might have wanted, because
Alucius and Feran had made a few decisions of their own, including finding
goods in the back of the storerooms that they could sell locally to raise more
coins for any supplies they might have to purchase along the way. Neither the
colonel nor the Council would have known what was there, or been able to sell
it, and so far as Alucius was concerned, that meant that he and Feran were not
taking anything, but merely providing for their companies.

…Colonel Weslyn was most
insistent that one of our first preparations was the sewing of our new blue
shoulder patches in place on our tunics. That is necessary, I gather, so that
the Southern Guards with whom we will be riding will know that we are all now
together. After all the years of hearing of the militia and being a part of it,
it is hard to get used to being the Northern Guard. But times change, and we
must change with them…

Alucius
was certain that his family would fully understand the meaning behind the words
about Colonel Weslyn, although he doubted that either Royalt or Kustyl could do
much. Still, he wanted them to understand exactly what sort of a man Weslyn
was—and wasn’t.

Nodding,
he set the letter aside for the moment, not wanting to write a conclusion until
he knew he had a messenger to send it west.

He
picked up the old history—
The Wonders of Ancient Corus
—and
leafed through the pages until he reached the section on Deforya. Shortly,
after several pages, one section caught his eye.

The ancient maps from well
before the Duarchy had called the place “the land of great sorrow,” and map
notes stated that none had lived there in tens of generations…Yet the land was well
suited for the plumapples and the tart green apples, and indeed there were
orchards there, if long abandoned, and the ruins of a large town, with
dwellings that had once been of fine stone.

The Duarches Riemyl and Fuentyl
could not countenance the waste and offered those who had offended the Duarchy
grants of property there, providing that those who accepted remained within the
province they renamed Deforya, after the ancient term for a place of plenty…All
who came into that immense open land were most pleased with the patents on
tenure granted to them…

The iron mines in the eastern
part of the province were discovered during the stewardship of the Duarches
Antyn and Brytil, and were made possible by the ingenious waterworks still in
use under the Landarches…

The
“place of great sorrow”? Alucius searched through the history for some time,
but he could find no other reference to sorrow in Deforya or anything that
might shed light on it. Yet books often did not tell the entire story. Some
histories still termed the soarers and sanders as mythological creatures, and
he’d never found any mention of them in all the histories he’d read in
Madrien—or, for that matter, of the wood spirit who had given him the key to
the torque.

Legends
often had truth behind them…but it was hard to discover the stories, let alone
the truth, if you weren’t born in a place. Coming from a herder family, Alucius
well understood that.

He
found his eyelids drooping, then he yawned. He was tired.

Slowly
he closed the history and set it on the desk. Then he stood and stretched.
Tomorrow would be another long day.

F
rom
the far side
of the narrow stone bridge over the River Vedra, where he
was mounted on Wildebeast, Alucius watched as the troopers of Twenty-first rode
single file over the bridge from Emal to Semal. Outside of two youngsters
perched on an old stone wall behind Alucius, no one in either town appeared to
be watching, although there might have been a few peering through shutters. As
the troopers rode toward him and began to re-form on the narrow dusty street
below the southern causeway, Alucius took a quick glance back at Emal Outpost,
its stone walls now holding but two squads of foot, who were to be temporarily
relocated to Sudon within the week.

From
the walls of the post, his eyes shifted to the bridge. As one of the first acts
of “union” visible in Emal, Feran had been ordered to remove the guard posts on
both sides of the bridge—and the iron gate. The new masonry looked it, but in a
few years it would fade under the weather, and outsiders would never know it
had been a guarded bridge. Alucius wondered what people would remember and what
they would choose to forget, for forgetting was a choice as well.

He
glanced down, checking once more the double brace of rifles in the holders on
each side of the saddle in front of his knees. He was doubtless breaking some
regulation by carrying two, but he certainly couldn’t ride back for another in
the middle of a battle. For the same reasons, one of the packhorses carried
spare rifles for Twenty-first Company as well.

Once
Twenty-first Company was in formation in the dusty, squarish, packed-dirt area
to the south of the causeway, and Fifth Company was ready to cross the bridge,
he rode forward to the head of the column. “Twenty-first Company! Forward!”

“Forward!”
Longyl repeated from halfway back along the column.

“First
squad! Forward!”

“Second
squad…”

Rather
than have two companies of horse crowded into the middle of Semal, he and Feran
had agreed that Twenty-first Company would ride to the southern edge of the
hamlet and wait there for Fifth Company to rejoin them. As he rode along the
dusty street, Alucius glanced at the handful of dwellings and the few shops,
one a chandlery of sorts, and another a cooperage and carpentry shop. A hundred
yards farther south was a smithy.

A
gray-haired farmer stood by the wall on the east side of the road, just beyond
the small smithy, with two small children, one on each side. The man raised his
hand, then bowed his head. So did the children.

Alucius
realized that the man was the farmer who had warned him, and he tried to recall
the man’s name…but could not. Almost ashamed, he extended his Talent senses,
finally coming up with a name.

“Abyert,”
Alucius said, reining up Wildebeast short of the man, “I must thank you once
more, and wish you and your grandchildren well. It is not likely that I will be
returning to Emal, for I have been sent to serve in the east, but my good
wishes go with you.”

The
farmer’s face paled at the mention of his name.

“There
is nothing to worry about,” Alucius said, Talent-projecting warmth and
reassurance. He could feel the farmer’s relief.

The
man’s eyes did not meet those of Alucius. He replied, “We will offer our best
thoughts for you, Captain.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius nodded a last time, but as he began to ride away, he caught the
farmer’s words.

“…children…he
is one of the great ones, a lamaial even…do not forget that you have seen him.”

A
lamaial? Alucius frowned. The mythical hero or villain who was fated to bring
back the Duarchy or stop it from returning? Then he shook his head and grinned.
A lamaial? No. Just a herder from north of Iron Stem who only wanted to return
to herding—and his wife.

He
urged Wildebeast along the shoulder of the road to catch up to Zerdial and the
vanguard.

T
wo
days of riding the dirt roads
south from Emal had left Alucius and
Feran—and all the troopers—hot and dusty. North-eastern Lanachrona suffered the
same lack of rain as had the Iron Valleys. What crops there were were short and
stunted, and in many fields there were brown shoots that had died from lack of
moisture. Every wind was filled with fine grit, and even by late morning a haze
of dust was everywhere Alucius looked.

About
a glass past midafternoon, the two companies reached the outskirts of a hamlet
with no roadstones or signs. Fewer than twenty dwellings lay scattered across
the south side of a gentle rise and above a narrow stream. None of the
wooden-sided houses had been stained or painted in any recent year, and most of
the outbuildings slanted. While Alucius had often felt that the clean-lined
stone dwellings of Madrien had put the dwellings of the Iron Valleys to shame,
the hillside dwellings made even those in Emal look palatial.

“The
farther south we get, the poorer the people are,” Feran said, from where he
rode—momentarily—beside Alucius.

“We’re
farther from the rivers, and the land probably isn’t as rich. No bottomland and
not that much water, and no rain…”

“How
much farther to the high road, do you think?”

“According
to the maps, less than five vingts. If this hamlet is Yumel,” Alucius replied.
“Then we have to ride east on the high road another five vingts or so to the
road fort at Senelmyr.”

“Feel
strange riding up to a Southern Guard outpost.”

“We’ll
send a scout as a messenger well in advance.” Alucius’s tone was dry.

“What
do you think about this business?”

“There’s
too much we don’t know. The Lord-Protector wants something from us, and it’s
not just to get us out of the way. If he wanted that, we’d all be somewhere on
the old north road to Eastice or Klamat. I just can’t figure out what it is
that we have that they don’t.”

“We’re
more expendable,” Feran pointed out.

“That’s
true, but it also means he’s got something he wants us expended on, and it’s
got to be the grassland nomads to the south of Deforya or the Lustreans. Either
way, someone is trying to move west, and the Lord-Protector wants to stop them
before Lanachrona gets too involved.”

“Maybe
he’s using us to buy time while he consolidates his grip on Southgate.”

“That
could be.” Alucius shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“So
we will.” Feran nodded to the rear. “I’m headed back to see how my laggards are
doing, and I’ll check on the packhorses.”

“Thank
you.”

After
Feran rode back along the edge of the road, past Twenty-first Company, Alucius
kept studying the road ahead and the dwellings they were passing, both with
eyes and Talent. Not a single soul had ventured out of the dwellings in Yumel
as the two Northern Guard companies passed through. Alucius didn’t blame them.
He doubted the people had even heard about the forced union, and blue silk
shoulder triangles wouldn’t remove the concern about troopers in black moving
through traditional Lanachronan lands. Even with stops for water and brief
rests, it was midafternoon before the column of riders and packhorses neared
the road fort at Senelmyr.

They
were over a vingt away when two Southern Guard troopers, accompanied by Waris,
the scout from the third squad, rode westward toward Alucius and his vanguard.

“They’re
expecting us, sir,” Waris called.

“Good,”
Alucius replied. “Thank you.”

With
that, the two companies followed the Southern Guards back to the road fort.
There was no sign of a town. The fort, while larger than Emal Outpost, was far
less imposing, consisting of a brick wall, barely two and a half yards high,
and a series of low buildings looking more like sheep sheds than barracks or
stables.

A
majer in the cream and blue of the Southern Guard stood on the wooden and
roofless porch of the first building inside the gates. Beside him was a
captain.

“Twenty-first
Company! Halt!” Alucius ordered. Then he rode Wildebeast over to where the
captain stood. “Overcaptain Alucius, Northern Guard, Majer.”

“Majer
Draspyr, Overcaptain. It’s good to see you and your troopers.” Draspyr was
blond, blue-eyed, and had a thin scar running along his left jaw, the faintest
line of red. He offered a warm and open smile. “Greetings.” His voice was a
mellow baritone that went with his welcoming smile.

Alucius
managed to smile in return, although he was put off by the coldness that lay
behind the apparent friendliness. “Greetings, Majer. We stand ready to join
your forces.”

“We’ll
talk about matters once you get your men settled. If you would join me here in
the conference room, in say a glass.” Draspyr nodded to the captain beside him,
then to a squad leader who had appeared. “Captain Clifyr and his senior squad
leader will help your companies get settled. You and Captain Feran, of course,
have quarters here with the other officers.”

Clifyr
stepped forward exactly one pace and looked up at Alucius. “Sir…if you and your
men would follow us. Your companies have the barracks nearest the east wall.”

Alucius
and the two companies followed. Once he was convinced that the barracks and
stables were adequate, if barely so, and after he’d settled and groomed
Wildebeast, he and Feran followed Clifyr back to the front area of the road
post.

The
officers’ quarters were about the same size as those at Emal Outpost, if
sparsely furnished, with only a bunk and an open wardrobe and a small table and
a stool. The shutters on the single window sagged, and the bunk mattress was
old and thin.

Alucius
managed to wash up himself and his dirty undergarments, hanging them from a
line he strung between bunk and wardrobe, before heading to the conference room
to meet with the majer.

The
majer stood as Alucius entered. There was a large map spread on the old and
battered circular table, one of eastern Lanachrona and Deforya.

“I
trust the quarters are adequate.” Draspyr snorted. “If hardly so. Still, they
are superior to way stations and camping in the open.”

“I
am sure we have both seen better and worse,” Alucius replied politely.

“Just
so.” Draspyr studied Alucius for a long moment.

As
the majer did so, Alucius used his Talent-sense to pick up the other’s
feelings—mostly of curiosity, although there was a muted feel of superiority.
He waited for the majer to speak.

Draspyr
gestured to the map, almost abruptly. “You can see the blue line there. That’s
the old northern high road. It goes from Borlan through Deforya and the
Northern Pass all the way to Alustre. We’ll be taking it to Dereka. After that,
we’ll be on local roads south to the Barrier Range. Our task is threefold.
First, we are to provide a presence to assure the Landarch of the support of
Lanachrona. Second, we are to determine the degree of threat actually posed by
the grassland nomads. Third, if we are attacked, or the Landarch’s forces
accompanying us are attacked, we are to fight to the best of our ability.”

“Do
you know whether the grassland nomads are moving northward? And how quickly?”

“The
Lord-Protector has received very reliable reports that large numbers of horse
companies are riding northwest of Lyterna toward the Barrier Range border with
Deforya. It would seem unlikely that they are doing so for peaceful reasons.” A
cold smile crossed the majer’s lips as he looked down at the map momentarily
before continuing. “The other two companies of Northern Guards will be joining
us either late tomorrow or on Sexdi. Overcaptain Heald will be in charge of
that detachment, as well as commanding the Third Company, and Captain Koryt is
commanding Eleventh Company.”

Alucius
managed to keep a pleasant smile on his face and hoped he hadn’t revealed the
shock. He’d served as a scout, not even a squad leader, under Heald, who was a
good, but not outstanding officer. Koryt, far less competent, had been the
company commander Alucius had been forced to make a fool of in order to return
to the Iron Valleys. Feran was far, far more qualified than either of the other
Northern Guard officers, unless they had improved greatly. Alucius reproved
himself for the thought about Captain Heald, considering that Alucius himself
had certainly improved since he had last served under Heald.

“Do
you know either officer, Overcaptain?”

“I’ve
met them both, but Overcaptain Heald is the only one I’ve seen in action,”
Alucius replied. “He held off the Matrites near Soulend for almost a season
until the Council could send reinforcements.” He’d also lost more than half the
company, some of the troopers unnecessarily, but Alucius did not mention that.

“What
do you know of Captain Koryt?”

“Very
little, sir. I only met him for a fraction of a glass sometime over a year
ago.”

Draspyr
nodded sagely. “I’ve been told that you have the most combat experience, but
were the most junior as a captain, before you were promoted.”

“That
is probably true, sir.”

“And
that you always get the task accomplished, generally with lower casualties than
expected, and…shall we say, greater consternation among superior officers.”
Draspyr’s blue eyes twinkled, but the twinkle was not so much of humor as of
satisfaction at having delivered a statement containing knowledge that had been
hard-won.

“That
is also probably true, sir.”

“Have
you ever directly disobeyed an order, Overcaptain?”

“Only
when I was escaping from Madrien, sir.”

Draspyr
sighed, but the expression was mere affectation. “The chain of command will run
from me to you and Overcaptain Heald separately and directly. Neither of you
will be subordinate to the other. I believe that is the best way of handling
that.”

“Yes,
sir.” It was doubtless the only practical way that Draspyr could see, and, from
Alucius’s point of view, it was far better than Alucius reporting to Heald.

“We
also brought two wagons filled with cartridges for your weapons, Overcaptain.”
The smile vanished. “Marshal Wyerl had thought about refitting your companies
with standard rifles—until he received the reports about the pteridons.”

“Pteridons,
sir?”

“It
appears that Aellyan Edyss has managed to obtain some pteridons. He used them
effectively enough to kill the Praetor of Alustre and rout his army. The
Lord-Protector and Marshal Wyerl thought that since your weapons are designed
to deal with predators such as sandwolves and sanders they might be of equal
use against other Talent-cursed creatures.”

“They
might be, sir,” Alucius agreed blandly. “We’ll have to see when the time
comes.” Whether Aellyan Edyss had pteridons or not, the majer thought he did,
and Alucius could see no reason for the majer to be deceived. Why he and four
Northern Guard companies had been assigned also made a great deal more sense—as
did the particular companies assigned.

“You
don’t sound that surprised, Overcaptain.”

“I’ve
learned that in Corus anything is possible, Majer. I’ve seen the crystal
spear-thrower of the Matrial and the silver torques of Madrien—and I’ve seen
sanders appear out of the soil and vanish into it almost as swiftly. We have
leschec pieces that are pteridons and legends, and eternal high roads which
show no sign of aging.” Alucius smiled ruefully. “If the Lord-Protector has
solid word that the nomads have found pteridons…then I have no reason to doubt
him.”

Draspyr
laughed, a sound which contained actual humor, before he frowned and asked,
“Crystal spear-thrower?”

“A
weapon which fires hundreds of crystal spears about this long—” Alucius held
his hands a half yard apart. “The first one exploded in the battles around
Soulend, but one of the Matrial’s engineers rebuilt it.”

“You
have seen that weapon?”

“I
was wounded in one of the battles at Soulend where it was used.” Alucius could
tell that the majer had not been told about the crystal spear-thrower. From
what he’d heard and seen of Lanachrona, that did not surprise him.

“It’s
good that you and your men are used to the unusual.” Draspyr glanced up as
Captain Clifyr entered the conference room, near silently, and bowed, without
speaking. “One last thing—we’ll go over commands, early tomorrow, then we’ll
undertake some maneuvers just to make sure that we’re using and understanding
the same orders.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Until
after morning muster tomorrow, Overcaptain.”

Alucius
inclined his head to the majer, then waited for the bow from Clifyr before
nodding in return. He left the conference room door slightly ajar as he left,
listening.

“Doesn’t
look that dangerous, sir…” murmured Clifyr.

“For
all of that youthful and open face he has, Clifyr, he’d turn you and your
company into sow sausage in less than a glass. He’s a marks-man who hits more
than half his targets in combat, and that’s unheard of. He’s a top blade with
either hand, and personally killed well over a hundred men in combat…”

“Sir?”

“That’s
from the Recorder of Deeds…Now…we need to discuss your reports…”

Alucius
tried to pick up more, but at that point one of the two officers closed the
door to the conference room. Recorder of Deeds? Who or what was the Recorder of
Deeds? And how would he know about Alucius?

Feran
was waiting by the door to his quarters—adjoining those of Alucius.

Alucius
motioned for the older officer to join him in the quarters he’d been assigned.
He closed the door, but after all the riding, he scarcely felt like sitting.

“What
did you find out that we haven’t guessed?” asked Feran.

“Things
are even worse than we’d thought.”

“We
knew that. Tell me how they’re worse.”