Darknesses (31 page)

Northeast
of Iron Stem, Iron Valleys

I
n
the late afternoon,
the herder rode slowly at the rear of the flock,
chivvying the lagging ewes forward, toward the northwest and Westridge, and the
stead itself. Wendra had been forced to take the flock farther to the southeast
than she would have liked, but the quarasote nearer the stead had far less in
the way of new growth.

The
lead rams had slowed, and she could sense their apprehension. As she urged her
mount forward, she lifted the rifle from its holder, scanning the red sandy
ground and reaching out with the Talent-sense still new to her. As she neared
the rams and slowed her mount, less than fifty yards ahead of her Wendra saw
the faintest puff of sand. In the warm and still late afternoon, there was no
wind.

She
reined up and took out the heavy rifle, waiting for the sander to emerge, even
as she looked back. She did her awkward best to project a warning to the lead
rams and was rewarded to see that one of the rams—Lamb’s offspring, she
thought—snorted and pawed the sandy ground between the quarasote bushes.

Abruptly…a
green radiance surrounded her, green suffused with black.

Her
eyes flicked from the now-boiling ground to the soarer that had appeared less
than three yards from her.

You must draw on the darkness within you. Press it into the
bullets. Draw on the darkness…

How
could she draw on the darkness? What darkness?

This darkness…

Wendra
could sense a series of threads, black threads twined with green, that ran from
her, and from the soarer. Then she understood—and drew upon the darkness.

Then…she
cocked the rifle and waited.

A
purplish mist swirled above the boiling sandy red soil. Then the sander
emerged, almost instantaneously—one like no other that Wendra had seen—a
creature of blackish purple, rather than of tan and crystal skin.

Crack!
The first bullet struck the creature full in the
chest, and though it shuddered, it stepped toward the herder and her mount.

Wendra
fired again—and struck the creature between neck and shoulder, the point where
Royalt had insisted the creatures were most vulnerable. That shot staggered the
dark sander, but it took another step.

A
third shot, and then a fourth followed.

After
the fourth shot, a purplish mist swirled around the sander. Abruptly, the
creature raised an arm, but before completing the gesture, it pitched forward
onto the sandy soil, one outstretched arm striking the new growth on the
nearest quarasote bush.

A
short pillar of purple flame exploded upward, then subsided, leaving a rough
circle of blackened ground.

For
a moment, Wendra held the rifle ready, prepared to use the last cartridge.
Then, she reloaded quickly. Only after several long moments did she feel that
the sander—or another one—would not return.

Her
eyes dropped to the quarasote bush brushed by the strange sander. As she
watched, it blackened and shriveled, then disintegrated into a pile of ashes.
She swallowed, but her eyes turned to the rams, then the rest of the flock.
They were all there, although the lead ram snorted once, as if to tell her that
they should move on.

Wendra
put forth the feeling of moving, and the rams began to walk to the northeast,
giving the blackened ground a wide berth.

She
only glanced back once, but the circle of blackness remained.

A
nother
three days passed
before Alucius led his vastly diminished forces out of
the Upper Spine Mountains and into the dry and dusty plains of eastern
Lanachrona, where it had rained little or not at all in the season that had
passed. The heat was that of full late summer, not harvest, and the dust was
fine and pervasive.

While
Alucius had hoped to return the bodies to Emal or Dekhron, the heat and the
overly rapid putrification had made burial necessary as soon as they had
cleared the mountains and reached an area where there was actually soil. There,
after looking over the twenty-one graves, Alucius had said a brief prayer to
the One Who Is, wondering, not for the first time, whether his prayer was more
wish than substance.

They
had not seen, and Alucius had not sensed, any more Talent-creatures. He still
wondered why they had been attacked. A warning of some sort? Like the dreams?
If he had only had dreams—those he could have dismissed—but the hidden chamber
and the attacks by wild pteridons made dismissing those concerns impossible.
Did the dream figures exist somewhere? Where? Was it that Alucius was some sort
of obstacle to someone? It seemed as though he was always an obstacle to
someone or something. Except the soarers. Were the soarers and the
alabaster-skinned people enemies? Or did both want to use him? He shook his
head; he still had no answers.

The
majority of the scattered steads that they had passed after that were
abandoned, the grass on the rolling rises little more than desiccated stalks,
and the small fields mere patches of sandy dust. The waystations had water and
little else. For the provisions that Alucius had received from the Landarch, he
was more than thankful.

In
midafternoon, through haze and dust, Alucius could see a rider ahead, moving
toward the column—Waris, who had been one of the two scouts sent forward.

Waris
rode back along the high road and turned his mount to come alongside Alucius.
“Sir…there are four Southern Guard messengers, and they say they have a
personal message for you from the Arms-Commander of Lanachrona.”

“For
me, and not Majer Draspyr?” asked Alucius.

“They
were quite clear, sir,” replied the scout.

“Ah…sir…perhaps
just the one with the message,” Egyl suggested from where he rode beside
Alucius.

“Have
them all ride to us, but invite the three without the message to join the
vanguard,” Alucius said.

Egyl
nodded.

When
the messenger in the blue and cream of the Southern Guard arrived, he managed
not to show overt surprise at the reduced forces and their tattered appearance,
but Alucius could feel his shock nonetheless.

“We’ve
been fighting for almost a season, trooper,” Alucius said dryly, “and we’ve
either been outnumbered or fighting Talent-creatures that haven’t been seen
since the Cataclysm.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
forced a smile.

“Sir,
we were ordered to deliver this to you personally and asked to have you open it
immediately.” The messenger moved his mount toward Alucius.

Egyl
intercepted the flat, sealed message, then leaned sideways and handed it to
Alucius.

Alucius
took it, broke the seal, and began to read.

Honored Overcaptain Alucius—

Word of your triumph in
defeating the grassland nomads and turning back their invasion of Deforya has
reached the Lord-Protector. He is most pleased with your success and would wish
to reward you in person, for your leadership, and for your achievements and for
those of the troopers under your command…

Alucius frowned. The last thing
he wanted to do was meet the Lord-Protector.

Therefore, you are to return to
Salaan, where you will return any Southern Guards to the commander of Salaan
Post, then to Dekhron. After reporting to Colonel Weslyn, you are to proceed
immediately to Tempre by the high road, with a full squad of your own choosing
from among those who accompanied you. The guards bearing this missive will
remain with you for the journey. Once in Tempre you are to report to the
Southern Guard headquarters, and to me personally, before you meet with the
Lord-Protector…

The
message—or orders—bore the signature of a Marshal Wyerl, Arms-Commander of
Lanachrona, as well as an elaborate gold seal.

To
go to Tempre? Why? If the Lord-Protector had wanted to reward Alucius, he
certainly could have done so with far less effort. And if he had wanted Alucius
killed, that, too, could have been done more easily. By effectively telling all
of the Southern and Northern Guard that Alucius was to be rewarded in Tempre,
that made his death less likely. Or did it?

What
if he were attacked by brigands along the way? Or was he becoming overly
fearful?

“Sir?”
asked Egyl.

“The
Lord-Protector is pleased with what we have done, and commends everyone. We are
ordered to Dekhron first. After we report there, he has requested that I bring
one representative squad and travel to Tempre to receive his congratulations in
person…”

“In
person?” blurted the messenger. “That is a great honor.”

Alucius
feared it was a far greater honor than he wished to receive.

T
he
high road west was straight,
dusty, untraveled, and long. It took
Alucius’s tired force a week more after leaving the Upper Spine Mountains to
reach the road fort at Senelmyr. There he insisted that they rest for two days,
much as he wanted to finish the journey. The small Southern Guard detachment
remaining at the road fort was helpful in repairing an axle on one of the
supply wagons—helpful, but withdrawn.

Once
Alucius and the remnants of four companies resumed their travels, they rode for
another five days before nearing Salaan. Just before midafternoon, south of
Salaan the high road turned abruptly north, one of the few sharp curves on any
of the high roads, and the only one Alucius could recall that did not involve a
junction.

Heslyn,
one of the guards sent as a messenger, was riding with Egyl, behind Alucius and
Feran. “Overcaptain, Salaan Post is just before the bridge over the river.”

Alucius
turned in the saddle. “How far from here?”

“Five,
six vingts,” replied Heslyn.

Only
when the column was within two vingts of Salaan, the town’s low dwellings
visible on the northern horizon, did Alucius begin to see more than scattered steads
and dwellings rising out of the brown-grassed rises. The only trees were those
planted close to dwellings, small orchards of a tree not more than five or six
yards tall.

“What
are the trees?” Alucius finally asked.

“Apricots,”
answered Heslyn. “They dry well. We eat many of them.”

Alucius
couldn’t recall seeing dried apricots in Iron Stem.

“They
don’t send them north,” Feran said. “Wonder why.”

Alucius
shrugged. “Another thing they don’t tell officers. Among many.”

“You’re
just finding that out?”

“Along
with other things.”

Feran
chuckled.

Within
a quarter glass, they reached the first houses on the southern side of
Salaan—low structures with only slightly slanted lean-to roofs, their outer
walls covered with stucco plaster shaded an off-white. Windows were narrow
slits, without shutters, and none of the houses had front porches, only stoops
in front of narrow doors.

“The
traders have their dwellings to the west, on the bluff overlooking the river,”
Heslyn volunteered.

“Of
course,” murmured Feran.

Alucius
looked westward, but could not see over the more modest dwellings.

There
were handfuls of people along the high road north of the troopers, but they
slipped away, so the troopers rode past houses with closed doors and without
people in sight. Those around the central square of Salaan did not vanish, but
moved off the high road and the surrounding streets, to the entryways and
narrow overhangs of shops—not porches, but areas of shade, from where they
watched the riders. Alucius picked out a chandlery, a cooperage, a potter, and,
surprisingly, a weaver’s shop—as well as an inn. The inn’s sign had no
lettering, just the image of a tankard. With the exception of the high road,
all the other streets entering the square were unpaved.

“Friendly
folk,” observed Feran.

“Don’t
suppose the people in Iron Stem or Dekhron would go out of their way if three
companies of Southern Guards rode through,” Alucius said.

“But
they won,” Feran pointed out.

Not the people in Salaan,
Alucius thought. He had expected
Salaan to be a larger place.

“Won’t
be far, now, Overcaptain,” Heslyn offered. “Half vingt or less.”

Because
Alucius had been ordered to leave Twenty-third Company in Salaan, he had
brought forward Sarapyr and Aelyn—the only two survivors of the company. They
rode directly behind Egyl and Heslyn.

As
Alucius rode northward out of the square, the most obvious structure as they
neared the river was the gray eternastone of the bridge over the River Vedra, a
bridge Alucius might once have called grand, rising as it did behind and above
the low dwellings. But that would have been before he had seen the massive and
graceful structures over the Vedra at Hieron, or the stone canyon through the
Upper Spine Mountains.

As
he neared the structure, he could see that the bridge held a roadway twice the
width of the high road, but without the dividing curb of larger bridges. The
stone guardhouse on the southern side had not been removed, as Feran had been
required to do with the one in Emal, but the gates had been opened wide and
chained back, and there were no Southern Guards in evidence.

“To
the right, sir, just before the guardhouse,” Heslyn suggested.

Alucius
nodded to Egyl.

“Column
right!” ordered the squad leader.

Alucius
turned Wildebeast to the right, down a walled lane barely wide enough for three
horses abreast, toward a set of open gates thirty yards away. The two guards by
the gate scrambled erect as they caught sight of the riders.

Alucius
reined up short of the guards.

“Column
halt!”

“Sir?”
the voice of the younger guard wavered.

“Overcaptain
Alucius, Northern Guard. We’re on our way to Dekhron, returning from Deforya,
with orders to return those of Twenty-third Company here.”

“Yes,
sir. I’m sure you’re welcome, sir. We’ll fetch the overcaptain, sir. Just ride
in.”

Alucius
nodded and continued into the dusty courtyard where he reined up. “Hold
position!”

They
didn’t have to wait long.

The
overcaptain who appeared shortly was thin, graying, and a good fifteen years
older than Alucius. And nervous. He looked up at Alucius. “Overcaptain? I
received word that you would be returning Twenty-third Company.” He glanced
past Alucius, clearly looking for more blue-and-cream uniforms.

“Overcaptain.
Sarapyr and Aelyn are the sole survivors of Twenty-third Company.” Alucius
turned Wildebeast slightly so that the Southern Guard officer could see the
two.

“Two
men…just two?” The Southern Guard overcaptain’s voice wavered between
disbelief, concern, and horror.

“You
may not have heard,” Alucius said quietly. “We faced over a hundred companies
of nomads. We also had to fight off pteridons ridden by nomads with skylances.
We broke them and killed close to seventy companies. We did take some
casualties.” He smiled coldly. “We left with six officers and over five hundred
troopers. We came back with three officers and a hundred and sixty troopers.
Oh, and the Deforyans lost over half their lancers as well.”

The
Southern Guard overcaptain shrank under Alucius’s gaze. “We weren’t told.”

“Twenty-Third
Company was the company that faced the pteridons first, and they took very
heavy losses from the beginning, before we could find a way to destroy the
beasts. Sarapyr and Aelyn can tell you all that happened. They showed great
courage and unbelievable bravery,” Alucius concluded. He decided against mentioning
that all the troopers had done the same.

“Majer
Draspyr? Captain Clifyr?”

“They
were both killed leading their men. The Lord-Protector and Marshal Wyerl
already know all this.” Alucius smiled, professionally. “We still have to reach
Dekhron. I’m not their commander, but I strongly suggest that Aelyn and Sarapyr
deserve a healthy furlough.” He turned, “Aelyn, Sarapyr?”

The
two Southern Guards eased their mounts out of the column and to the side.

The
overcaptain looked from the two troopers to Alucius, then back at the troopers.

“Furlough
would be the least that they deserve,” Alucius said mildly, projecting a sense
of rightness and justice.

The
overcaptain radiated confusion.

“I’m
supposed to meet with the Lord-Protector,” Alucius added. “I’m certain that
he’ll ask me about the Twenty-third Company.” This time Alucius projected
command and power.

The
overcaptain stepped back. “Yes, they should have furlough. They should.”

Alucius
smiled. “I’m glad to know that. So will the Lord-Protector.” After a moment, he
added, “We’ll be on our way.” He glanced to Feran and Egyl, then ordered, “To
the rear, ride.”

As
the column made its way back out through the open gates, Alucius could hear the
whisper from Heslyn to Egyl. “Is he…I mean…”

“He
leads from the front and stands behind his men. Always has,” Egyl replied. “Saw
him take a bullet in the shoulder and never wince. Finished the battle, too.”

That
was an exaggeration, but Alucius wasn’t about to correct Egyl, not in front of
anyone. He did look to Feran and give the slightest of helpless shrugs.

Feran
grinned back, then murmured, “Good thing you’re getting out. Be impossible to
live up to your legends.”

Alucius
just hoped that neither the colonel nor the Lord-Protector—or Marshal Wyerl,
for that matter—had any unpleasant surprises along those lines.

The
hoofs of the mounts echoed on the bridge, without other traffic except for two
wagons heading southward, empty, back to Salaan. Alucius glanced at the River
Vedra. The cracking mud banks on each side told him that the river was flowing
well below normal levels. So did the trade piers to the west, where temporary
extensions had been built farther out into the water. Only a single barge was
tied up, with a handful of loaders moving barrels about on the stern section. The
guardhouse on the northern shore, once manned by the militia, was empty, but,
unlike on the southern side, the gates had actually been removed.

The
entrance of the high road into Dekhron reminded Alucius of Hieron, because the
causeway clearly predated much of the trade section close to the river, and
ramps and inclined roads had been built later to connect to the eternastone
surface. The buildings were much more like those in Iron Stem, mostly of stone,
and with either tile or slate roofs. A number of those nearest the river piers
were two or even three stories in height. While not crowded, merchants, buyers,
passersby, and occasional beggars were all visible on the streets and lanes of
Dekhron. A number looked up at the passing troopers, but almost all looked away
as quickly as they had lifted their heads.

Disinterest?
Veiled anger? Alucius could sense both, as well as regret.

“Little
more lively here,” observed Feran. “Best if we turn at the street short of the
square. Runs straight to headquarters.”

Unlike
in Salaan, the headquarters of the Northern Guard was not on the river, but
slightly north and to the west. Alucius had no doubts that was because the
space closer to the river and the high road were far more valuable to the
traders who had controlled the council and the militia. “I thought that was it,
but you’ve been here more than I have.”

“More
than I’d like,” Feran admitted. “Would have liked to go back to Emal.”

Alucius
nodded. So would he, but they’d been ordered to Dekhron.

Dekhron
felt tired. That was the only way Alucius could have described the town. Once
he might have called it a city, but half its streets were dusty packed clay,
and only the area around the river piers contained even halfway-imposing
structures.

The
column turned westward and rode on, passing smaller dwellings. Now and again, a
child looked up at the dusty troopers, and once, a mother dragged a youngster
away from the dusty avenue.

Headquarters
was a much larger version of Emal Post, clearly visible from several hundred yards
away, with a stone wall enclosing a space almost half a vingt on a side, and
stables, barracks, and officers’ quarters all of dressed limestone, with
split-slate roofs on all the buildings, and stone pavement covering all the
courtyard spaces. The two troopers at the front gate stiffened as they caught
sight of the column riding down the avenue that paralleled the river.

Alucius
rode forward, then slowed Wildebeast. “Overcaptain Alucius and four companies
reporting as ordered.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
didn’t wait for acknowledgment, but just kept riding, gesturing for the rest of
the column to follow. He had barely reined up outside the stables on the south
side of the outpost when Colonel Weslyn appeared, followed by a captain and
several squad leaders. The colonel wore a well-tailored and immaculate black
uniform with the blue silk shoulder wedges. Alucius was all too aware of his
worn uniform and the hastily mended rent in his sleeve.

“Overcaptain
Alucius! Welcome back! You and your troopers have done the impossible.” Weslyn
smiled broadly. “That’s what the Lord-Protector claims, and who are we to argue
with the Lord-Protector?”

“It
all depends on what you mean by impossible, Colonel.” Before Weslyn could
answer, Alucius added, “We killed pteridons and their riders who used the
ancient skylances, and we destroyed over seventy companies of nomads after the
Deforyans were trapped and surrounded. The Landarch of Deforya awarded us the
Star of Gallantry and reprovisioned us and sent us home. The Lord-Protector agreed,
and here we are.”

“Indeed
you are.” Weslyn offered another overbroad smile. “I imagine you are road-weary
and would like to settle your men.”

“And
our mounts.” Alucius looked back toward the end of the column at the supply
wagons. “We do have some supplies left. Not many, but some that might be
useful. They’ll need to be unloaded. I’m sure you have some troopers who could
do that.”

“That
we do.”

Alucius
would have distrusted the colonel’s helpfulness, even had he not picked up the
sense of anger and discomfort behind the pleasant words. He waited.

“Arms-Commander
Wyerl has conveyed his appreciation of the tasks you accomplished and he has
commended the Northern Guard. Once you have gotten your men quartered, and
settled in the visiting officers’ quarters…As an overcaptain in charge of
multiple companies, you rate senior officers’ quarters.” Weslyn paused, then
went on. “Majer Imealt and I would like to take you and your officers to
dinner, not just at the mess. You deserve better than that.”