Darknesses (20 page)

O
n
Quinti,
Alucius was at the head of Twenty-first Company, riding
southward out of the city of Dereka toward the misty peaks of the Barrier
Range, barely visible in the distance beyond the orchards and grasslands. The
road south was not of eternastone, but it was paved—at least for the first five
vingts out of the city and for as far as Alucius could see. Paved or not, it
was dusty. Since Twenty-first Company was fourth in riding order among those
from Lanachrona and the Iron Valleys, and since the Deforyan forces were up
front, there was enough dust that Alucius found himself wiping the fine grit
off his face and forehead almost every vingt.

Longyl
rode beside Alucius. “No aqueducts or orchards along this road, but the ground
looks the same. Wager they could grow plumapples here, too.”

“They
probably could, if they had water and people to tend them.”

“There
were a lot of people in Dereka,” Longyl mused. “They weren’t garbed all that
well, either.”

“Some
of the buildings were empty, the old ones,” Alucius pointed out.

“I
didn’t see any new ones.” Longyl laughed.

Neither
had Alucius. He also realized something else. With all the briefings and
meetings on Quattri, and the need to clean and repair gear, they’d effectively
been kept busy enough not to really explore Dereka.

For
almost a vingt of travel, he considered what he and Longyl had just talked
about, the few words he’d overheard from the streets about water, the painful
lack of experience of Overcaptain Shorak.

Then
he turned to Longyl. “You’re in charge here for a bit. I need to talk to
Captain Feran for a few moments.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
eased Wildebeast out along the shoulder and headed back toward Fifth Company,
noting the narrow-bodied wagons and packhorses stretched out for half a vingt
behind Feran’s last troopers. Transferring the ammunition and equipment from
the wider Lanachronan wagons to those of the Deforyans had also been a
complication, but the majer had assured them it was necessary because the road
to the Deforyan outpost in the Barrier Range was too narrow for the wider
wagons.

Feran
lifted his arm in greeting as Alucius neared and swung his mount alongside the
older captain. “Coming back so you can swallow even more dust?”

“You
know how I love dust,” Alucius said with a smile. “I was thinking. About the
supper with the Landarch.”

“Best
food we’re likely to have until we get back home.”

“Probably.”
Alucius paused. “You were sitting with the captains. What were they like?”

“We
had a better time than you did. Most of them were long-termers like me.”

“Most…or
all of them?” Alucius asked.

“All
probably…or so close as not to make a difference. Why?”

“Some
of the overcaptains were younger than I am…years younger. They came from the
families of large landowners.”

Feran
nodded. “The captains really command the companies, you think?”

“In
most cases. I’d say they run the companies, the way the senior squad leaders
run the Matrite companies.”

“If
it works…?”

“I’d
wager it works a great deal more effectively than if the overcaptains actually
gave commands. Or at least the junior overcaptains.”

“Does
this have anything to do with the nomads?” asked Feran politely.

“If
we’re fighting with the Deforyan Lancers, it does. It also explains why Heald
and I got promoted. One reason, anyway.”

“Oh…”
Feran shook his head. “…son of an underweight sow!” The exclamation was low,
but carried to Alucius. “All they’ve ever done is chase small bands of raiders,
and now you’re telling me that there aren’t any brains in the overcaptains?”

“No…I’m
saying that you can’t tell. They all have their rank because of family, and
some might have brains, but until we get into a fight, we won’t know.”

“That
also tells me why the overcaptains don’t like talking to me,” Feran went on.
“I’m just a poor working officer, not the son of a landowner.”

“I’m
considered a failure, because I’m an older son of a landowner who is an
officer,” Alucius pointed out with a laugh. “They only answer my questions when
they have to.”

“You
know…Overcaptain Alucius,” Feran said ruefully, “every time you start to think,
I end up getting worried. Couldn’t you have just let me think everything was
going to be all right? At least for another day or so.” Feran’s expression
turned mock-mournful.

Alucius
laughed. So did Feran.

What
else could they do?

Alustre,
Lustrea

V
estor
looked at the green circlet on his collar,
the token of valor, then down
at his weakened left arm. His lips tightened, and he smiled, coolly, his eyes
going to the narrow windows and the silver-green sky they revealed.

He
walked to the main workbench, where he inspected and tightened several silver
clips on the assemblies within the black metal containers, assemblies that
would hold crystals. After a short time, he moved to the crystal tanks, where
he surveyed the progress there. Casually, he eased around the end of the last
tank to the smaller workbench in the corner, a space easily overlooked.

For
a long moment, he stood over the bench, then slid back the green quartz surface
to reveal a polished and silvered metal circle, recessed beneath the oak that
held the quartz top. He took several deep breaths. After a time he
concentrated, staring deeply into the ruby mists that appeared, tinged somehow
with both purple and pink.

Amorphous
dark shadows, suggesting figures, appeared, then vanished, and immediately, a
section of a diagram appeared.

Even
as he concentrated on memorizing the diagram, suspended against the
multicolored mists, Vestor’s eyes flicked intermittently to the amber crystal
affixed to the side of the metal mirror.

The
amber crystal began to glow, and Vestor stepped back from the workbench, just
as it shattered. The once-polished surface of the metal appeared tarnished, as
if by fire, but had neither deformed nor cracked. Vestor replaced the quartz
cover slab, quickly, then took out the engineers’ markstick and began to sketch
and write out all that he had seen in the metallic mirror.

His
right hand was deft as he transferred all that he had seen. When he finished
and beheld his handiwork, a smile of modest satisfaction appeared—momentarily—vanishing
as he set down the markstick and used his good right hand to massage the left
forearm he had leaned on while he had been copying the diagram.

His
eyes dropped to the green circle. “…hardly enough…” But the words were so low
that not even an observer behind the nearest wall, had there been one, would
have heard.

F
our
days later,
the ten companies, followed by supply wagons and packhorses,
were riding single file along a narrow trail in the middle of the Barrier
Range, whose slopes, while not nearly so steep as those of the Upper Spine
Mountains, were far drier and composed of a combination of ancient lava and red
sandstone. The road had turned from stone into the dusty trail two days
earlier. At first, it had wound through sandy red hills, covered with
outcroppings of black rocks, occasional growths of cacti that made the quarasote
hills of the Iron Valleys look lush, and scattered thorn trees with silver
leaves that were sparse and smaller than a child’s little finger.

The
thorn trees had vanished once they had reached the actual mountains, but the
cacti had remained, although they were even more scattered and more ancient.
Overhead, the sun was white and hot. Except at the two waystations, where there
were springs, there had been no sign of water anywhere, and few signs at all of
animal life, except for scratlike creatures, and the occasional ravens,
circling for carrion. On both sides of the trail loomed reddish gray peaks,
peaks without a hint of either vegetation or moisture.

With
the narrowness of the trail-like road, Alucius understood all too well why the
Deforyans used packhorses and narrow-bodied wagons to bring supplies—and the
fact that they did so, and apparently had for generations, gave him a greater
understanding of why the Lord-Protector worried about Deforya falling to the
nomads, because it would be so difficult to retake from a superior force.

“No
wonder they call it the Barrier Range,” Longyl said from slightly behind and to
the left of Alucius.

“We
aren’t even to the middle of the mountains,” Alucius replied, wiping away even
more of the fine and gritty red dust that seeped everywhere. There was no
breeze at all, and the dust rose and hung in the air, waiting to cling to the
troopers and officers. Once more, Twenty-first Company was riding fourth in the
contingent from the west, and that meant ninth out of ten companies. Only poor
Feran was eating more dust. “Not quite anyway.”

“Don’t
see why the nomads would even want this land,” Longyl said.

“They
don’t. They want Dereka and the high road and the trade that travels it. They
already control the southern high road to Lustrea.”

“Seems
like we’re always being sent out to save one bunch of traders or another some
golds.” Longyl shook his head. “You’d think that this Aellyan Edyss would have
some better use for pteridons than taking lands to get more golds.”

“Maybe
he does,” Alucius said, “and maybe all the traders can’t imagine him wanting
anything but golds. But…” He paused for a moment, then went on, “if he does,
that makes it more dangerous for us, because he’ll want Deforya whatever the
cost.”

“You
think he wants to claim the dual scepter? I always thought that was just a
story.”

“It
is a story, or a legend, whatever you want to call it,” Alucius said. “No one’s
ever seen it. That’s what my grandsire said, years ago. But everyone thought
pteridons were a legend, too.”

“I
wish they’d stayed a legend,” Longyl replied. “You know, sir, things are never
dull around you. Not for long.”

“We
could use them being dull,” Alucius replied. “For a good year. Starting now.”

“They
won’t be,” Longyl prophesied.

Alucius
agreed. He didn’t think that matters would stay dull, not for more than the
time it took to reach the southern side of the Barrier Range where the Deforyan
patrol camp was located. Recalling the references to the mountain spirits,
Alucius had been scanning the areas beside the trail frequently, but without
success.

He’d
been unable to detect any sign of either the blue-violet creatures he had
sensed in the Upper Spine Mountains or of any other large living beings. He
also realized that the sense of sadness or sorrow he had felt in Deforya—and
which had seemed to dissipate as he had ridden south—was gone. In its place
was…nothing. Rather, the lifewebs were sparse, and the sense of aliveness that
underlay most land through which he had traveled was gone. Even the Upper Spine
Mountains had felt alive, if subdued. Until he had reached the Barrier Range,
Alucius wouldn’t really have thought about the difference.

“Something’s
going on up there.” Longyl stood in his stirrups. “They’re stopping.”

“Column
halt!” Alucius called out the order, even before he heard the order.

Before
long, a trooper appeared. “Overcaptain, sir, all officers to the front.”

Longyl
glanced at Alucius.

“We’ll
see,” Alucius said. “Have them stand down and make sure they drink.” He eased
Wildebeast forward, then around the trailing troopers in Eleventh Company.

He
had to ride over a vingt along the winding trail before he reached the head of
the column. There, the majer over the five Deforyan companies and Majer Draspyr
waited, mounted and facing the other captains and overcaptains.

“Majer
Weorynak,” began Draspyr, “requested this brief meeting. Behind us is the body
of a nomad scout. We believe he was a scout. The majer will have a few words to
say once you have ridden by and taken a good look at the nomad.”

Alucius
was the next to last to ride up to the side of the trail, with only Feran
behind him. There were two bodies there—one of a man and the other of his
mount. Both desiccated figures looked to have spent weeks—or years—in the heat
and dryness, yet the glittering blue breastplate of the nomad held but the
slightest coating of dust. The nomad had been dark-haired, but surprisingly
fair-skinned, wrinkled and weathered though his face had been—and young. The
mount had been a gray, but had been reduced to skin and hair shrunken around
bones. The two lay in a heap as if they had been struck down instantly. The
rider’s right hand still grasped a rifle, as if he had just lifted it clear of
its holder. While similar to both Matrite and Deforyan rifles, it was not quite
the same, and the steel of the barrel was more obviously blued.

Alucius
rode past, then returned to the others, silently. After Feran pulled up beside
him, the Deforyan majer cleared his throat.

“This
trail was empty when the last dispatch came through here, no more than four
days ago,” Majer Weorynak said. “You can see what the spirits of the mountains
can do to a man who rides alone. It is advisable to ride at least in pairs.” He
turned his mount away, as if to indicate that he had offered all that needed to
be said. The Deforyan officers also turned their mounts.

“That’s
all,” Draspyr announced. “Back to your companies.”

Alucius
eased Wildebeast around and started back down the trail toward Twenty-first
Company, reflecting. The Matrites had also had a policy against scouts going
out alone. At the time, he’d thought it was just another way to keep
torque-wearers under control, but had there been another reason—one never
voiced. Or was it coincidence?

He
had almost reached Twenty-first Company when he heard a voice behind him.

“Alucius?”

At
Feran’s call, he slowed Wildebeast and eased to the side of the trail in the
space between Eleventh and Twenty-first Companies.

“What
do you think?” Feran asked.

“The
same as you do, I’d wager. Whatever did that might be able to pick off single
troopers, but they won’t do much against larger forces.”

“Column
forward!” came the command from the south.

Alucius
gestured to Longyl, who repeated the order.

Alucius
and Feran had to ride shoulder to shoulder as they continued along the dusty
incline.

“First…pteridons,
and now these…spirits,” Feran said.

“I’m
more worried about the pteridons,” Alucius replied. “The Deforyans have dealt
with the spirits for generations. No one’s seen pteridons since the
Cataclysm—not until now.”

“You
think that whatever it was that killed the nomad might be helpful? Reduce the
number of nomads?”

“I
don’t know.” Whatever had killed the man, Alucius knew, was rare, and there
weren’t that many. That he could tell from his Talent, and he had doubts that
the creature or creatures could stop an invasion of thousands of nomads backed
with pteridons.

For
that matter, he wondered, not for the first time, what sort of tactics he or
anyone could use against well-armed riders, backed by flying creatures that had
already routed one of the largest forces in Corus.