The Death of Chaos (16 page)

East of Lavah, Sligo [Candar]

THE MAN IN the cyan sash looks at the drawings on the sheets before him. “How will this help us against the red demon? Or to reclaim our heritage in the Ohyde Valley?”

   “Knowledge is always helpful, Ser Begnula.” The man in brown smiles and his eyes turn to the window, where the season's first snowflakes drift lazily by the glass. “I offer knowledge. You and your master can use that knowledge or not.”

   “And who will you offer it to, if we do not? The red demon?”

   “Like everyone, I must eat, and knowledge is my trade.” Sammel offers a shrug as he turns away from the window.

   “A chaos wizard like one who serves the red demon could explode the powder with one firebolt.” Begnula licks his lips nervously. “For this, you expect golds?”

   “If you keep the powder in the iron magazines and load the guns right from the magazines, nothing will happen. That is how the black folk have handled powder for centuries.”

   “You are sure this will work?”

   “How else has Recluce ruled the seas?” The man in brown nods.

   “Still, the Duke could not afford...” Begnula's voice turns reluctant.

   “I would suggest that your master talk to the envoy from Hamor, assuming you have not already. The Emperor would be more than interested in developing new weapons for his campaigns. ”

   “And seeing them tested, no doubt, far from Hamor?”

   “There is that. But you asked for a weapon to counter the chaos wizard. These will do that. You can even cast hollow shells filled with powder and use them. Or thinner shells filled with smaller lead pellets.”

   “They are the demons' weapons.”

   “That may be, but you are fighting a demon, you say.”

   “You serve both chaos and order. How can that be?” asks Begnula suddenly.

   “Knowledge serves no one. Knowledge rules both order and chaos.” Sammel smiles. “Whoever controls knowledge controls order and chaos. I offer your master knowledge. He may use it as he pleases.”

   Begnula rolls the sheets into his dispatch case, then takes his purse and pulls three golds from it. He places the coins carefully on the edge of the table. “I trust...”

   “As you see fit. Ser Begnula.”

   Begnula looks at Sammel and adds another gold.

   “Thank you. I am always happy to provide knowledge.”

   The functionary of the Duke bows. “Good day, ser wizard.”

   “Good day.”

   Sammel crosses the room and opens the door.

   Begnula bows again after he leaves the cottage.

   The wizard smiles as the other man mounts and wipes his forehead before chucking the reins of the gray gelding. Then he closes the door.

   Sammel walks over to the hearth, where he places another log upon the coals, and then another. He straightens and frowns, his eyes glazing over as if he listens to a distant conversation.

   He takes the glass that had been upon the table and crosses the room, where he sets it on the floor in the corner. He purses his lips and stares. A fountain of unseen chaos flows from the glass, then ebbs, then flows...

   Sammel concentrates once more, and the glass appears to vanish, but a wavering curtain of mist or heat appears in the corner.

   With a faint smile, Sammel walks back to the hearth. After a time, he wipes his damp forehead and waits. Abruptly, he vanishes from sight, and the cottage appears empty, low flames from the coals in the hearth the only motion.

   The faintest of scrapes whispers from beyond the closed front door.

   . The door bursts open, but no one enters.

   For a long moment, the door wavers in the wind, and the hearth coals flame up in the breeze that sweeps into the cottage. Whhhst! Whhhsttt! Two small rockets burst in the corner, sending up a sheet of flame.

   Hhhsstt! Hssttt! The firebolts slash from the unseen figure that stands before the stones of the hearth, and two charred figures fall through the doorway.

   The flames begin to rise in the corner, then twist and die amid the shards of glass.

   The wind gusts through the open door, and the door bangs against the wall, then slams back against one of the bodies, then crashes against the wall again.

   Sammel reappears before the hearth and wipes his forehead on his sleeve. Then he crosses the cottage and studies the two black-clad bodies. Both clutch stubby weapons that look like tubes atop rifle stocks. More standard blades lie tangled in burned trousers and legs.

   The wizard lifts one tube weapon by the wooden stock and sets it on the table. Then he concentrates once more, and the bodies turn to white ashes, as do the blades and the remaining tube weapon. He turns toward the corner of the cottage, and the blackened wood and darkened rough plaster flake away, leaving the wall apparently untouched. Sammel looks at the blackened floor planks and a thin layer of ash appears over now - unburned wood.

   With a deep breath, the white wizard closes the front door before he walks to the single closet in the cottage where he extracts a willow broom. He begins to sweep all the ashes toward the hearth.

   “Mere black iron will not prevail against knowledge...” He shakes his head, but he looks first at the weapon on the table and then toward the east, and he frowns.

 
 After he finishes sweeping, he replaces the broom, then draws back the cloth covering the bookcase and looks for a time at the volumes. He reaches out to touch one, then draws back his hand. “To come to this, where each touch shortens your life, dear volumes...”

“IF ANYONE COMES, Rissa, tell them that I won't be back for at least three eight-days. I'm under the autarch's command.” I kept strapping my bedroll and waterproof behind the saddle. My saddlebags had a lot more dried fruit than on the last trip-a lot more food, and no tools.

   “You just got back from one o' those, Master Lerris, and here you go again. No way for a craftmaster to work.” Rissa held the lamp in one hand. The other hand was on her hip. “What's a body supposed to do if you don't come back and the commander doesn't?”

   “Then, you're free to do as you like.” I finished strapping the bedroll in place and set the staff in the lanceholder.

   “Master Lerris, you joke about those things too easily.”

   “What else can I do?” I took a deep breath. “I didn't exactly volunteer to be a soldier or a soldier's wizard.”

   Rissa shook her head, and she was right. I had volunteered. Was I a fool, knowing that Krystal could die if I didn't help? Or was I deluded? Krystal was the professional soldier, not me, and maybe it was more likely I'd be the one doing the dying. I tried not to shiver at that.

   We both worried about each other. Was that love? Did order or chaos really care about love? I knew the answer to that one, not that I liked it.

   My stomach tightened as I realized I had answered- maybe-one of my own questions about my father. If order did not care about love, then had he had any choice? That bothered me. Could I do what I felt was right, whether it was orderly or not?

   With no pleasing answers in mind, I led Gairloch out of the stable and into the yard, still before dawn, and barely light. A chill blustery wind whistled out of the west, bringing the icy chill of the Westhorns, and whipping through my hair. I felt in my belt for the knitted cap. I didn't like to wear it, but I wouldn't freeze my ears either, not if it got that cold. But, thankfully, I didn't need it yet.

   I patted Gairloch and climbed into the saddle.

   “Wizards...” mumbled Rissa.

   I looked down and realized she was holding back tears.

   “We'll be back, Rissa. Make sure everything's in good condition for us to come back to.” I bent down in the saddle, awkwardly, and touched her shoulder, letting a bit of order flow into her.

   She started to sob, and I understood once more how much I didn't understand. I patted her shoulder again, but she only sobbed more. “Just... you... be going... Master... Lerris... be... all right... here...”

   Finally, I nudged Gairloch toward the road, and toward Kyphrien and the barracks of the Finest, where I was to meet Yelena. Krystal had left even earlier, but neither of us had wanted to give up the last night together.

   The sky had a few high and puffy clouds moving eastward quickly, and that probably meant a long bright day that would be cold indeed.

   The road to Kyphrien was untraveled. Most of the streets there were deserted in the dawn light, and even the market square was almost empty, except for two women who carried buckets of water up the stone-paved avenue. I saw the flickering of a handful of lamps, and smelled wood smoke from the chimneys.

   Weldein was waiting for me by the gate to the Finest's barracks.

   “The others are at the outliers' barracks toward the eastern gates, Order-master.”

 
  “Am I late?”

   “No, ser. The force leader left to ensure the outliers would be ready.”

   I rode through the eastern section of Kyphrien, down the lower avenue, without saying much. I would have liked to have ridden with Krystal, but, as a practical matter, moving all the forces at once through places like Dasir and Jikoya would have put too great a strain on the local facilities. So Krystal and the main forces would follow a day later.

   I hurried along to meet up with recently promoted Force Leader Yelena and three squads of the Finest and two squads of outliers-one of them Tellurians, the other Meltosians.

   The sun had barely edged over the horizon when I reined up Gairloch in the yard in front of the outliers' barracks. A number of the outliers were still strapping packs and bags on their mounts.

   Yelena was mounted, talking to the squad leaders, who had circled their horses around her.

   “There he is! See... there is the wizard, the one with the invisible sack.”

   The voice was familiar, and I didn't quite groan. Instead, I eased Gairloch toward the Tellurians. Shervan-the very first outlier I had met when I came to Kyphros, the one who still told of my “magic sack”-waved from the third row. The squad leader looked at me.

   I doubt that I looked very impressive, not in browns and carrying only a staff.

   “Greetings, Shervan.” I nodded to the man mounted beside him. “It's good to see you, too, Pendril.”

   The squad leader edged his mount toward me and away from Yelena. His eyes flicked between me and Yelena. For some reason, Yelena was smiling.

   “This will be an adventure, following the wizard. Did I not tell you, Pendril?”

   Pendril grunted, and I approved.

   “And wait until I tell Barrabra...”

   “Shervan,” I said clearly, “first we have to go where we are going, and then we have to come back. You cannot tell anyone unless you come back. The more attention you pay to your squad leader, the better your chance to come back. He is a fighter. I am a wizard.” I saluted him and turned Gairloch back toward Yelena and Weldein, nodding to the squad leader as Gairloch carried me past him.

   “... see. I told you he was a wizard, and a smart one...”

   “Shervan, be quiet-for once,” said Pendril in a tired voice that carried. “Or what I have to say to Barrabra will make what the wizard said sound like love talk.”

   I grinned, but I could do that since I was looking toward Yelena.

   “Listen up,” snapped the Tellurian outliers' squad leader, a stocky man with a brush mustache.

   I reined Gairloch up beside Yelena.

   “Not bad. What made you think of that?” asked Yelena.

   “I don't know, except it sounded like Shervan would be blabbing about how he knows me all the way to Hydlen. That wouldn't help him or his squad leader.”

   “You might actually make an officer someday.”

   I doubted that. I just let Gairloch keep pace with Yelena and her staff as we headed out in the dawn over the east road toward Dasir and Jikoya and, unfortunately, toward Hydlen and one white wizard.

BEHIND GAIRLOCH, I could hear the sounds of hoofs, harnesses, and the occasional clink of metal on metal. I felt like someone was looking at me, but my senses didn't feel anything like chaos, and I hadn't seen any vulcrows. I turned in the saddle, surveying the rocky walls, the stunted cedars, and the narrow ribbon of water to the right of the road. Nothing.

   I looked up, but the sky remained misty, with flat gray clouds hanging over the Lower Easthorns. Nothing flew in the misty drizzle, not even a vulcrow.

   My gloved fingers brushed the wood of the staff, but it remained merely wood bound in iron. I wiped the dampness off my forehead with the back of my glove.

   Now less than a day behind us, but too far behind for me to hear or sense, followed Krystal and the larger force. I hoped that they stayed far behind-far enough behind that the wizard looked for us-even though that wasn't exactly Krystal's or Kasee's plan.

   “How far before we get to this turnoff?” I asked.

   Yelena turned in the saddle. “We'll stop here. Let them water their mounts.”

   “Hold up! Stand down...”

   “Water your mounts by squads...”

   “... leave the upper part for drinking...”

   The quiet commands still echoed through the dampness and the grayish mist. Almost-freezing mist was worse than snow in some ways. I never got quite warm, and with my order-control I couldn't quite complain about freezing, even to myself.

   In the middle of the mist that wasn't quite a drizzle, Yelena spread the rough map on the boulder. “Here is where we are. It's about ten kays up this road from where we entered the Khersis Gorge. If we followed the river, we'd end up at the pass here, and then it's only a few days down to the brimstone springs. We could save some time if we take the cutoff just below the pass rather than the earlier one up ahead.”

   “Is that a good idea?” I asked.

   “That's closer to where the springs are.”

   “That's also closer to where Gerlis is, and he's bound to be waiting for some sort of response to incinerating the commander of Kyphros. I would be. He hasn't shown much respect for boundaries so far.”

   “But...” Weldein started to speak, then stopped as both Yelena and I looked at him.

   Since riding up the direct road to the valley in which the spring lay was as good as blowing on a loud trumpet to announce our arrival, we were looking for the side road that I had taken on my way back that would provide us with a more roundabout approach.

   I studied the map, looking for the trail. It didn't look that far ahead on the gorge road. “We take this trail to this pass here, under these-”

   “The Two Thieves, they're called,” interposed Yelena.

   “-and then take this road here...”

   “That's almost eighty kays, and we'll end up in Hydlen south of Arastia. It's less than ten kays difference if we take the one just below the pass.”

   “That's just too close.” I waited, but they all looked blank. It seemed simple enough to me.

   “What's the one direction that Gerlis won't expect an attack or scouting force to come from?”

   “From inside Hydlen. That's clear enough,” said Yelena. “But do you think his troops are just going to let us ride through Hydlen and do nothing?”

   “Probably not.” I forced a smile. “Would you prefer to face the wizard coming up this road?” My finger outlined the road ahead. “Or possibly run into some Hydlenese troopers on this trail? Do the Finest patrol all the back trails in Kyphros?”

   “Of course not. The outliers do some of it.”

   “And five squads aren't a match for a squad of whatever the Hydlenese use as outliers?”

   This time Freyda grinned at Yelena. The force leader, a dubious promotion under the circumstances, shook her head. “We'll still be lucky to get back in one piece.”

   “I know. This way there's a chance.” I looked around. “How long before we reach that trail?”

   “It should be just a few more kays.”

   “It's on the south side,” offered Freyda.

   I had to trust their judgment, since I was no scout and had only taken the road once, and then I hadn't been in the best physical or mental shape.

   No one said anything else, and Yelena folded up the map and put it into her case. “Mount up!”

   “... mount up...”

   “... finish up...”

   “... not in the water, you idiot!”

   I climbed back on Gairloch and turned him to continue up the canyon in a generally eastward direction.

   The clink of metal and the sound of hoofs echoed back through the gorge, and the low murmurs of wet troopers underlay it all. I looked back to see if I could hear Shervan or Pendril, but through the drizzle, one outlier looked like another.

   Gairloch seemed to have covered a lot more road than a mere two to three kays before I pointed to the left. “Is that it?”

   “That looks like it,” admitted Yelena. “It's headed toward the Two Thieves.”

   The trail was the same trail-just a trail, but where it left the main road it was still wide enough for two horses abreast.

   “It can't be that easy,” mumbled Weldein.

   It wasn't. In the first place, the drizzle turned into rain, and then into a light snow that didn't stick. In the second place, the trail hadn't been maintained in a long time, if ever, with pits and potholes everywhere. I had noticed that before, but it was worse with a whole force. Gairloch did fine, and no one said a word after Freyda's mount came up lame from stepping in a puddle that had a pit in it. The injury was more like a sprain, and I managed to infuse it with a little order, but that meant Freyda had to take one of the few spare mounts and lead her mount for the rest of the day.

   Then we hit the valley of death, with wet ash and more ash, with the smell of wet fire and death. And with the sense of death and gloom.

   “Shit...” mumbled Weldein.

   “... hell of the demons of light...”

   Yelena looked at me and rode closer. Her voice was low. “You didn't tell me about this.”

   “I told the commander and the autarch.” I swallowed. “I'm sorry.”

   She surprised me. She just shook her head sadly. “Was this where... Ferrel...”

   “Yes, but there's no way to prove it.”

   “You came through this, and you're bringing us back through it?” asked Freyda.

   “It's the best way.”

   “... take the best way through demons' hell...” muttered Jylla, a shade paler.

   The talk died into silence when the outliers followed us into the narrow valley. I tried not to think about the power involved, but that didn't really work when I could feel the remnants of chaos creeping out of the rocks.

   Gairloch put one foot in front of the other, and I hung on.

   When I saw the first clump of grass at the other end, I took a deep breath. Weldein took one as he passed the first scrub cedar on the left side of the trail.

   I kept thinking about using order to strengthen chaos to defeat Gerlis, and it almost seemed insane. Maybe it was. Maybe the whole order-chaos conflict was insane. I didn't know. All I did know was that Gerlis was waiting for me in the valley of the brimstone spring.

   Not long after we passed the ashes, the rain came down in sheets, just long enough to soak us. Then the sky cleared, and the cold wind picked up.

   That night, we camped in a narrow valley with water, and some grass, and it was cold, not chill like in Kyphros, but almost winter-cold, for all that we were in the southern part of the Easthorns that weren't that much more than hills, probably not much taller than the Little Easthorns that divided Kyphros and Gallos.

   “No fire?” I asked.

   “No fire,” Yelena affirmed.

   All of the Finest were bundled up in their riding jackets, and the outliers wrapped themselves in blankets as well. I wore my jacket and cap, but I wasn't huddled into a ball the way most were.

   Weldein looked at me. “Aren't you cold, Order-master?”

   “No.” I wasn't cold, at least not miserable, freezing cold the way they all were. I supposed that the one advantage of the mist was that the chaos wizard would have a hard time finding us. Even as I thought about it, though, I wondered about the uneasy feeling that had come and gone in the last few days. Was Gerlis somehow watching us?