Madness in Solidar (41 page)

“How long do you think Demykalon will wait?” asked Alastar.

“Another quint. Just to be careful.”

“Do you think that I'm mistaken?”

“We can all be mistaken. I don't think you are. Demykalon wants to strike against the Collegium. It's only a question of when.”

“And with what.”

She nodded.

Less than a full quint later, a humming, not quite whistling, sound filled the air, followed by a splash in the River Aluse some twenty yards north of the Bridge of Desires.

Alastar managed to turn and see the last indication of the impact, white-tipped water being thrown south. Even as he glanced back upriver, a second whistling-humming sound was followed by others. Then came the explosions, seemingly unceasing, one after the other.

“Imagers!” snapped Alastar as he raised a concealment. “Follow me! You're under a concealment. Hold shields from here on.” As he urged the gelding forward, he could see people hurrying out of the shops and the few dwellings between them on the west side of the road, some already staring at the shattered middle span of the Bridge of Desires.

At that moment, he could also see smoke coming from a point due west of the Bridge of Desires.
A totally hidden cannon emplacement?
He winced, but trying to change his plans now would only make things worse. He kept riding, hoping the third cannon emplacement wouldn't do too much damage before they could get back to it.

Covering the five hundred yards or so between the lane and the entrance to the spur of land seemed to take several quints, although Alastar doubted that even half a quint had passed before they were within yards of their goal. There were no longer just five mounted army troopers posted along the edge of the West River Road, but more like a company, half with blades unsheathed and at the ready, along with small round shields, and half with heavy rifles out, alternating rifles and blades.

So they can stop attacks at a distance and also deal with infighting.

“Khaelis, Warryk, and Lhendyr! Pepper across the troopers! As much and as fine as you can. Rein up! Remove girths and cinches. If they attack you, use iron darts to kill. Thirds! Stay with the other maitres! Blades out and ready! Alyna! Close on me! We're moving through.”

While still holding the concealment, Alastar extended his own shields into a wedge anchored as evenly as possible to his saddle and the gelding and urged his mount forward toward the middle of the mounted troopers. As he charged through a narrow gap widened by his shields, whose impact pushed aside bewildered troopers, some of whom flailed at him futilely with their blades when they came inside the concealment, Alastar found his own eyes watering from the pepper, too fine to be pushed aside by shields. He sneezed, once, and then again … and again.

Once through the company of defenders, and past the last line of scrubby trees, Alastar could make out six cannon in an arc facing south with a slight angle eastward, directly at Imagisle. Two more fired and recoiled as Alastar reined up and ordered, “Halt!”

There was no shelter and no cover, just fifty yards of ground from which most brush had been removed.
Frig! All that rock, but none where we could use it.

“At my command, hot iron into the ammunition. Then hold the strongest shields you can, Anchor them to the rock below and slant them at an angle to deflect shrapnel upward and over us. Ready! Image!”

The roar was deafening. Brilliance and blackness swept over them. The ground beneath them shuddered. When the sound of the initial explosion died away, Alastar still could not hear, for all the ringing in his ears. Nor could he see clearly, even after dropping the concealment, from the brightness of the explosion and the earlier impact of the pepper. The swirls of intermittent smoke made seeing even more difficult. Light-headed as he felt, Alastar immediately contracted his shields just to protect himself. That helped some. After several moments, he surveyed the area. All of the cannon carriages had suffered enough damage, with several having wheels on one side or another broken, that none appeared able to be used. As for the gun crews and any others …

Alastar swallowed as he made out bodies and parts of bodies. Then he straightened and looked to Alyna, who appeared unfazed, if with a serious expression on her face.

She extended a water bottle, saying something he could not hear, but he had no doubt it was to say it held lager or the like. “Thank you.”

After taking a long swallow of the dark lager, Alastar looked south, and another puff of smoke reminded him of the third cannon emplacement. He took another swallow, then gestured.

Alyna frowned. “What?”

Alastar could barely make out the words, but replied, speaking as loudly as he could without shouting, “There's another cannon emplacement near the Bridge of Desires. I didn't see it before. We need to deal with it, you and I and a third. It's smaller. We need to see how the junior maitres are faring.” He turned the gelding, took another swallow of lager, corked the bottle, and then extended it to Alyna.

She shook her head. “I have another.”

Alastar slipped the bottle into one of his saddlebags. When he did, he saw more bodies, both of men and mounts, clearly those who had been behind the three imagers and to either side of their shields. Beyond the fallen, almost a score of troopers remained near the road, all of whom seemed to be wounded in some fashion.

Alastar turned the gelding and rode back toward the road, Alyna slightly to one side and back.

“Anyone else who moves gets the same!” declared Lhendyr, who had clearly taken charge, and positioned himself at the head of a wedge formed by the three junior maitres, with the thirds on each side.

“Lhendyr, you and the junior maitres finish up here. Take all the weapons and mounts from the troopers. They can fend for themselves. Lead the mounts you can find easily back down toward Imagisle. If anyone gives you trouble, do whatever's necessary.” Alastar wished he didn't have to leave the surviving and wounded troopers to their own devices, but he didn't have the resources to deal with them, and the last thing he needed was army troopers on Imagisle. Then he added, “Alyna and I and Chervyt need to see what we can do about the other cannon emplacement.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Chervyt!” Alastar called out toward the thirds. “Close up and follow us!” Then he and Alyna circled around the wounded and captured troopers and headed south, with Chervyt hurrying to catch up. Turning to Alyna, now riding beside him, he said, “I can't believe I missed a cannon emplacement so close to Imagisle. It's almost as if … Frig!” He shook his head. “Desyrk! The little bastard! I'd wager he went to his brother, and he used a concealment to move cannon from the emplacement we just destroyed.”

“He's probably still there, then,” replied Alyna. “Neither Demykalon nor his brother would let him leave. They'd fear he was being used or that your discipline was a ruse.”

Alastar saw another puff of smoke, then a second, followed by some time before there was a third and then a fourth puff. “Just two cannon, I'd guess.”

“Just two?” Alyna's tone was sardonic, then changed to concern as she added, “Drink more of that lager.”

“Yes, my lady.” Alastar definitely wanted those words back.

“I'm not your lady … or anyone else's, Maitre.” The words were not stinging, if firm, but somehow almost gentle while unyielding.

“My apologies. Your advice is good.” Alastar extracted the water bottle and took one swallow and then another.

Alyna took out her second water bottle and did the same.

Alastar finished his bottle by the time they were within a block of where the two cannon continued to fire. He saw no sign of troopers anywhere. Smoke clouded the entire block, making it difficult to discern exactly where the cannon were concealed, and he reined the gelding to a slow walk, then a stop, pondering. The kind of explosion that he'd created on the point would likely cause damage to the adjoining dwellings and shops.

“Anyone nearby should have fled,” suggested Alyna, almost as if he had spoken the words.

Alastar imaged hot iron needles—but nothing happened. Then he saw several of the iron needles glowing on the sidewalk in front of the shopfront from which another volley was fired. “He's holding shields…”

“How can he do that and have the cannon fire?” asked Alyna.

“He can't…”
Unless his shields are set so that the muzzles protrude.
Without knowing where the cannon were, Alastar couldn't very well image something down the barrel, and to move to where he could see that might well expose him to the cannon—and he doubted that even his shields could withstand that kind of impact. “We'll have to crush his shields. Rather … I'll have to do that, and when I signal, you image more hot iron needles.”

“Can you … after all you did?”

“Desyrk can't be that strong after holding shields himself. Besides…”
What else can we do to stop the damage on Imagisle from getting worse? Every cannon shot destroys something or even may kill someone.
Alastar could only hope that his and Akoryt's preparations were minimizing the casualties. “Ready?”

“I'm ready when you are.”

Alastar reached out with his shields until he encountered resistance, then began to press. For a moment, there was resistance to Alastar's efforts. Abruptly, that vanished—and then everything exploded around him, with the same violence as had occurred on the river point. He managed to hold his shields even as he and the gelding were thrust back yards, if not farther. The gelding stumbled, almost going to his knees before recovering.

“Alyna!” Alastar could not even hear his own voice for all the ringing and echoes in his ears. Dust and debris cascaded over and around his shields. He kept looking for Alyna, then took a deep breath as the dust cleared and he saw debris flow down and off her shields. After a moment, he could see that she appeared untouched. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. What about you?”

“A little tired. Other than that…” Alastar paused, then glanced around, looking for the third. “Chervyt!”

“Back here, sir.”

Alastar glanced over his shoulder. “You're not injured, are you?”

“No, sir. I don't think I could raise a shield right now, though.”

“You did when you needed it. Move back up the road a hundred yards or so.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We ought to do that also,” suggested Alyna, pointing to where the concealed cannon had been. Less than twenty yards ahead of them, low flames began to grow amid the wooden sections of the collapsed shops.

Still looking for signs of troopers or Desyrk, Alastar turned the gelding, moving more into the center of West River Road, empty of others, except the imagers. “Desyrk must have exploded everything in hopes of destroying us.”

“I think that's what he did,” replied Alyna. “I just don't think he was where it hurt him.”

That, unfortunately, made sense. Desyrk wasn't the type for self-sacrifice, even seeking revenge.

“He can't have gone far,” said Alastar.

“That may be,” answered Alyna dryly. “But if he's holding a concealment, how do you suggest we find him?”

Alastar did not speak, but imaged powder-like dirt at a height of three yards, like a blanket, over the space in front of the ruined shops and north and south of that as well, then watched to see if it revealed anything. The dirt settled evenly, showing nothing. “Now, we'll head for the alley.”

Moments later, the sound of hooves on stone, coming from the alley behind the silversmith's shop where Alastar had reined up, suggested someone departing in haste. Alastar shook his head. “There's no way to catch him now.”

“You don't think that's a ruse?”

“Since when has he ever stood up directly to those he thinks are more powerful?”

“You don't think much of him.”

“Not after the way he acted in dealing with Taurek and Bettaur. Do you?”

“I never did. He's another lazy pretty boy.”

Alastar glanced at the burning remnants of the shop that had held the two cannon. While he likely could have imaged out the fire with water or sand, he wasn't about to waste the energy, not when he and Alyna would need to image-repair one of the bridges even to get to the Collegium.
And when there still might be other surprises.

Alyna followed his gaze. “It might not spread too far.”

“And it might, but at the moment, that's something the locals will have to take care of.” Alastar felt callous saying that, but he didn't know how much more imaging might be required, and for the past weeks, if not years, no one in L'Excelsis or elsewhere in Solidar had exactly been helpful to the imagers.
But can you blame them?
He thought about extracting the water bottle from his saddlebag before he recalled that it was empty. Instead, he concentrated.

A rain of wet sand and water blanketed the flames. Even before the sandy rain stopped falling, Alastar's head was throbbing. He wished he had more lager.
You shouldn't have done that.
Except he remembered a small cot and a family no one had helped.

Alyna extended her water bottle. “I have some left. You need it more than I do.”

Alastar didn't argue. “Thank you.” He finished the lager in her bottle and returned it. “That helps.” He thought his headache was throbbing slightly less. He hoped that wasn't wishful thinking.

“I'm glad you did that.” Abruptly, she turned her head and gestured southward. “Here come Cyran and the others.”

Alastar followed her gesture, then called, “Chervyt! Meet Maitre Cyran and tell him I'd like to have him join us here.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, the third urged his mount southward.

While Cyran, Taryn, and the junior maitres and thirds rode toward what remained of the Bridge of Desires, Alastar surveyed what he could see of Imagisle. A wall of thick gray smoke rose from the center of the Collegium, either from the administration building or from the dining hall, if not both. A thinner plume rose from somewhere along the green, most likely from one of the maitres' cottages.