Scepters (34 page)

“Or
he will be condemned all across Corus for having unleashed the butcher of the
north on the hapless steers of Hyalt.” Tarolt laughed. “Even those worthless
steers will play their part.”

“This
Alucius is far better than you think, as an arms-commander, Tarolt,” observed
the Recorder. “He could be back in Dekhron before spring, and that would not be
for the best. The grid will not be fully ready by then, and we cannot accept
mass translations without a fully powered grid. Waleryn is having to proceed
more slowly with the Praetor, and that will delay the next translation.”

“He
is proceeding, is he not?”

“His
work is going well, if not quite so quickly as we had planned.”

“It
never does, not when one must deal with steers. Even translated Talent-steers
are often less than satisfactory.”

“How
is Halanat?” asked Trezun.

“He
is better than many, and his trading has provided the golds we need.” Tarolt
paused and took a swallow from his own goblet. “We might be able to make other
matters work for us. The Regent of the Matrial is likely to break through the
lancers of the Lord-Protector. She will hold Southgate by the turn of the new
year, if not within weeks. What if she sends that troublesome Marshal Aluyn
against Tempre with one of the crystal spear-throwers?”

“You
think that the Lord-Protector would send Majer Alucius against the
spear-thrower?”

“If
Wyerl is dead, what will Marshal Frynkel recommend? What other choices will he
have, if he must save Tempre?” Tarolt’s white eyebrows rose. “Or to hold
Southgate, if the Regent is less successful.”

“I
will see what we can do with the sub-crystal to plant those thoughts.” The
Recorder paused. “I still cannot determine what created it, but we can use it
as though it were a Table.”

“That
is secondary to its use… for now. You have some time.”

“The
Regent is already mostly ours, and the idea makes sense. The Lord-Protector
will always threaten her. The Matrial did not attack, and look what happened to
her. The Regent will see that kind of reason.”

“As
do all the steers, she will accept what is plausible,” said Tarolt. “Especially
if it fits her inner desires. That is always the key to persuasion and
manipulation—plausible appeal to desire.”

The
Recorder’s fingers touched the base of his goblet, but his eyes were a world
away.

It
was just past midafternoon on a cooler and hazy Decdi when Twenty-eighth
Company, leading the column, turned onto the eternastone road that would take
the entire force two days northward to the manned way station. Once there,
Alucius wanted his lancers—and their mounts—to get some rest. He also wanted to
see if there was any information on what else was happening in Lanachrona.

He’d
managed to get a few more reports on the town of Hyalt and the other camp from
the scouts—without losing any more. Waris had reported that the town appeared
half deserted, and Rakalt had confirmed that a second camp did exist northeast
of Hyalt, with stables and barracks for three or four companies.

Even
after going over the reports with the scouts, Alucius had very mixed feelings
about moving away from Hyalt. Part of him said that he should have just plowed
in and attacked the two camps, and part of him worried that he knew too little.
The first part of the campaign had certainly not been a failure. The three
companies had effectively killed almost four rebel horse companies, reduced the
natural defenses of the major enemy staging camp, and determined the bases of
the forces opposing him, with relatively light losses—except in terms of
ammunition. In the end, ammunition had been the deciding factor. While he had
enough for a few more fights, he doubted he had cartridges sufficient for
attacks on both rebel camps. For that reason, he’d also finally sent a second
messenger ahead, directly to Tempre, to request more ammunition, along with a
more complete report on events to date and on the general situation in the
Hyalt area—or what he and the scouts had been able to observe.

He’d
also come away with close to fifty spare mounts, some of which were so poor as
to be useless, but perhaps those could be sold for other purposes.

He
still fretted about the last rebel attack and the use of boys and graybeards.
Was it a diversion, or had it been designed, as Feran had suggested, to destroy
support for the Lord-Protector? Or for something else that he had not even
thought about? His lips tightened. However it had been meant, the result had
been to make his task harder, because the killing of boys and old men would
create more resentment and anger against the Lord-Protector. What also worried
him was that there was even more behind that strategy.

Neither
Alucius nor Deotyr said much for a good half glass after they started directly
north. The lands on both sides of the road might once have been meadows or
pastures, but they had long been untended and held a preponderance of thornbushes,
with only scattered areas of true grasslands. Then, Alucius reflected, the area
around Hyalt seemed partial to thornbushes.

“How
long will we be at the way station, sir?” asked Deotyr finally.

“Four
days—that’s what I’d planned on, but that depends on how soon we get the
ammunition.”

“We
had a wagon full of it, sir, didn’t we?”

“We
did, but about half of that was for Fifth Company, because the larger
cartridges are hard to get in lower Lanachrona. We wouldn’t have enough for an
attack on the rebel camps, not if they send lancers at us the way they have.”

“It’s
almost a slaughter, the way they attack,” mused Deotyr.

“Only
so long as we have bullets and space between us,” Alucius said dryly. “With
their numbers, a more equal fight wouldn’t be something you’d look forward to,
would you?”

“Ah…
no, sir.”

“Majer!”
The shout came from a lancer riding along the side of the high road from the
rear.

“Here!”
Alucius gestured, although it should have been unnecessary, since, while
heading Twenty-eighth Company, he was the only rider in the black and blue of
the Northern Guard.

The
lancer was Skant, and he eased his mount beside Alucius. “There’s lancers
moving up on us from the south, really pushing their mounts. They’re less than
half a vingt back. Overcaptain Feran wants to know if he should engage.”

Alucius
did not reply, but glanced northward. Perhaps three-quarters of a vingt ahead,
the road passed through a stone-walled cut in a low rise that ran east and west
in both directions so far as he could see. He strained to sense what might lie
ahead. Was there a sense of a vague purpleness? He glanced at the road cut,
then stood in the stirrups and half turned to look back southward. There were
no hills or obstructions to vision on either side of the road to the south—except
the knee-high to waist-high thornbushes that were even thicker than they had
been farther south. His nightsheep could have taken care of those—although it
wouldn’t have done their wool any good.

Alucius
settled back into the saddle, looking at Skant. “Tell the overcaptain that we’ll
ride on about another half vingt and halt the column. Have him move the wagons
to the middle of the column. I’ll have Thirty-fifth Company move out beyond the
road to provide additional fire. He’s to engage as he sees fit once we halt. I’ll
hold Twenty-eighth Company in reserve.”

An
expression of concern and puzzlement crossed Deotyr’s face, but the captain
said nothing.

“Half
a vingt and we halt,” said Skant. “Wagons to the middle. He can engage, and
Thirty-fifth will move out to the flanks with covering fire.”

“That’s
right, Skant.”

“Yes,
sir.” The lancer turned his mount and rode back along the shoulder.

After
a moment, Deotyr spoke. “Sir?”

“Why
did I only offer Thirty-fifth as covering fire? Look ahead. See that rise? Don’t
you think it’s strange that we’re being attacked from the south as we near
that?”

“You
think they’ll attack from the north as well?”

“I
don’t know. If they don’t, there will be time to pull Twenty-eighth out, but
once a company’s off the road here, with all that thorn, it takes time to
re-form, especially if the rebels come charging down the road. But if I don’t
send Thirty-fifth off road and out, they don’t have any angle to provide
covering fire.”

Deotyr
nodded.

After
riding back and providing Jultyr with detailed instructions, Alucius hurried
back northward to rejoin Deotyr and Twenty-eighth Company. He kept studying the
road, both to the north and south. Before long he could sense riders on both
sections, but only about a company in each direction. Again, that didn’t seem
to make much sense, but Adarat or whoever was commanding might be thinking that
the surprise of a rear attack would be sufficient. Like everything else in
Hyalt, the situation bothered Alucius.

The
three Lanachronan companies covered the thousand yards, and the rebels to the
north remained concealed. Alucius waited longer, another three hundred yards,
until the column reached a point where the ground beyond the road on each side
formed an almost imperceptible rise that was mostly clear of the thornbush.

“Column,
halt!” Alucius ordered. “Thirty-fifth Company! To the flanks!” He turned to
Deotyr. “Captain. Have Twenty-eighth form into a staggered front from five
yards out from the shoulder of the road on one side to five on the other side.
If you get a rebel attack, don’t open fire until they’re within a hundred yards
unless they’re moving at gallop. In that case, you’d better start firing at a
hundred and fifty yards. Is that clear?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“I’m
moving back to the center so that I can see what’s happening on both sides.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Not
without misgivings, Alucius moved back toward the middle of the formation until
he was within yards of Jultyr and to the slightly higher ground beyond the east
shoulder of the road, trying to see and sense what was happening both to the
north and the south.

Feran
spread Fifth Company and waited until the rebels were within a hundred yards.
Then Fifth Company opened fire. Although he could not see them, Alucius could
feel the waves of death and the purple miasma that dissolved with each death.
He could also sense the rebel forces to the north, moving southward into the
shadows of the road cut ahead, as well as several wagons. The wagons bothered
him, but he couldn’t determine why or what they contained.

“Rebels
to the north!” The call echoed from one of Twenty-eighth Company’s outriders,
galloping southward. “They’re forming up on the road.”

“Twenty-eighth
Company, hold!” came Deotyr’s command. “Rifles ready. Prepare to fire.”

Alucius
half nodded. He noted that the northern force of rebels was still a good four
hundred yards away. Then he turned his Talent to the south once more.

This
time the rebels attacking Fifth Company did not continue to charge blindly
forward. After the shock of the first volleys shredded through their ranks,
they turned their mounts and rode off the road, half east and half west. That
worried Alucius, especially when he saw that they were re-forming two hundred
yards away. He turned the gray and shifted his study to the north, where the
oncoming maroon-clad rebels were less than two hundred yards out from
Twenty-eighth Company.

From
the north, it seemed, a burst of crimson emptiness flashed over Alucius, along
with a momentary, but intense, chill. He forced himself to infuse the shells in
his rifles with darkness, even as he had the first rifle out of the holder, his
eyes scanning the skies and the land beyond the road. He forced himself to
ignore what happened to the north—at least for the moment.

A
wild pteridon appeared some seventy yards to the southwest, almost a hundred
yards into the sky. Alucius could tell that it was about to dive directly at
him, even before it half folded its wings.

He
concentrated on the pteridon, squeezing off one shot, then a second.

A
ball of blue flame exploded from where the Talent-creature had been and
plummeted into a thornbush, which exploded in flame.

Alucius
turned, catching sight of something else, a single horned sandox lumbering
toward the eastern flank of Jultyr’s lancers.

It
took Alucius a single shot, but the creature had appeared so close to the last
of the lancers that the bluish flames surged over the outermost lancer,
enveloping him in flames. His screams were brief, but Alucius shuddered. He
continued to search for more of the Talent-creatures even as he heard Deotyr’s
command.

“Twenty-eighth
Company! Fire at will!”

The
cracks
of shots from north and south echoed around
Alucius as he searched for another Talent-creature, and he almost missed the
pteridon coming in from the north.

“Look
out!” someone yelled.

He
twisted in the saddle and used the last two shots in the first rifle to hit the
pteridon, but once more the bluish firebolt resulting from his successful shot
flared downward, barreling into the chest of a lancer’s mount. The man, quick
of thought, jumped clear, but the horse’s scream was agonizing.

His
second rifle out, Alucius scanned land and sky, but the crimson emptiness, that
legacy of the Duarches, was gone.

The
rebel company from the north continued to ride southward, lancers falling to
the fire of Deotyr’s men, until the rebels were less than thirty yards from
Twenty-eighth Company. Abruptly, at that moment, a single long trumpet blast
came from somewhere. The single note wavered but held. As one, the rebel
lancers who had attacked from the north threw down their rifles, turned their
mounts, and galloped back along the eternastone road, back to the north.